"Illusion? Interesting. We should have a closer look at those." Caleb is incredibly curious aobut whehter the illusions are meant to conceal something, or if they're more for visual effect, a blending of arcane and mundane art. As Yussa says, this space, accessed through the impressive Astral Sea corridor, seems meant to be viewed.
Yussa's mildly sour expression as he gazes up at a cluster of portraits brings a wider smile to Caleb's lips. "Our man Halas looks a little younger here than the one in his study," he muses. "Same sense of fashion, though. Zemnian wizards have not updated our style in several ages, it seems. This red robe ensemble would not be out of place anywhere in Rexxentrum today."
He winks as he shares the joke with Yussa, a wizard who clearly has opinions on style, for which Caleb is exceedingly thankful. Even in his far more simplified adventuring attire, Yussa is a vision of seemingly effortless elegance.
"It's one thing to be timeless, another to be badly ostentatious," he says as he examines the portrait. He finds some of the accessories gaudy, likely meant to show off wealth but drawing attention in the wrong ways. Yussa's own style is absolutely elaborate, but he likes to think the impact is far better than this. There is no elegance here, no sense of aesthetic.
And perhaps his opinion is colored by his distaste for the man in general. While he is impressed with the Folding Halls and all that Halas accomplished here, he has seen things that make even his moral compass move.
Yussa looks over at Caleb and a flicker of a smile flashes across his mouth.
"I much prefer your style to his. You clean up well." Caleb may prefer simple styles, but he wears them well and he has a charm that Halas utterly lacks. Yussa continues on this floor, walking slowly to take in each work as he would in any other gallery. They pass a grouping of paintings of various animals, many of them in motion. One of the illusion spells still at work.
Yussa isn't entirely sure what he's looking for, but he feels he'll know it when he sees it.
Caleb will gladly take that compliment. In fact, his heart does that little leaping pitter-patter when Yussa smiles and tells him he cleans up well. Gods, what even a little praise from this man does to him.
Some of his curiosity is sated as they continue. Many of the paintings with a magical aura are obvious; as Caleb had suspected, the effects of the illusions work in tandem with the art. Caleb thinks this effect is best utilized in landscapes, in a subtle sway of trees in an intangible breeze, or scenes with a wide focus. He particularly likes one of a colorful marketplace with figures moving through it on a timed cycle. It's clever.
He's a little less of a fan of the oddly pornographic piece depicting a nude woman laying on a sandy beach in shallow water apparently being lovingly embraced by some sort of betentacled sea monster. Honestly, the sea monster isn't the problem here; it's the woman's strange proportions, just off enough to be unsettling, and how he can't stop himself from wincing at the idea of sand in tender places.
It's as he's tearing his eyes away from this piece with a grimace that Caleb realizes something he should have clocked a while ago: there don't appear to be any other doors in this chamber. By all appearances, the door they entered through is also the only exit.
"Either this is a dead end, or our way out is hidden," he says, turning a fresh eye on the room with this in mind.
Yussa cocks his head at the pornographic painting, trying to decide why it troubles him. Hardly the subject matter. Maybe it really is the thought of sand in awkward places. Or worse, the thought of Halas standing here ages ago and looking at this same thing. He doesn't look away until Caleb speaks, and when he does it's to look around the gallery.
"My theory is that some of these paintings are doorways. I think we will find very few dead ends here." He won't say none, because there is far too much left to map before he can make any definitive statements. But he would be surprised.
"Let's try the next level up."
He heads back toward the ramp, moving to the next floor. They are greeted by a series of strange landscapes. Yussa feels drawn to them and an almost fond look flickers across his face.
"I think these are depicting the Feywild," he says, turning his head toward Caleb as the other man joins him. After walking through the Astral Sea - even with a barrier - it's nice to see something that feels less.. hostile. At least, it does to him.
Of course. If Yussa's theory is correct--and Caleb suspects it is immediately upon hearing--then this room could potentially lead to half a dozen others or more, depending on how Halas has anchored these portals. Caleb looks on with even more interest, especially at pieces depicting landscapes or rooms without people.
He's glad he doesn't miss Yussa's expression as they reach the next level and find a cluster of landscapes depicting similar but distinctly odd environments. After his anxiety earlier, it's nice to see him so pleased and excited by something.
"Ah. It is as strange and beautiful as I imagined," Caleb says, looking away from the curling leaves of unfamiliar plants and down at Yussa. "I have never seen it myself. Only heard about it secondhand."
From an archfey, no less, but still. Artagan had described the place as utterly boring when he could be cajoled to talk about it at all, but that could hardly be true of any realm responsible for a being like Jester's best friend.
"Oh, yes. A long time ago now, but I have spent time there. It is an echo of the Material Plane." Caleb probably knows that, but Yussa finds himself saying it anyway, nearly falling into lecture mode. "It's geography is similar to that of Exandria, but also in constant flux. There is no way to truly map it onto the Material Plane. I have seen breath-taking natural beauty on this plane, but in the Feywild it is... more. Everything is more. Landscapes can be more majestic, but also more extreme."
Yussa moves closer, studying the different scenes. Some of the paintings feature the illusion that creates movement, others are still. He shifts toward a large painting, taller than he is, depicting a forest clearing with dancing lights.
His Detect Magic is still up, though not for much longer, and Yussa examines what is in front of him.
"There's more than illusion here," he says to Caleb.
Though Caleb is familiar with the facts as Yussa presents them, they're far more interesting coming from him than the pages of a book. His personal experiences leave Caleb feeling intrigued and curious, which doubles when Yussa observes that the largest painting of the set--large enough to walk through, notably--has a more complex arcane signature.
"This must be it, exactly as you were saying," Caleb enthuses, looking from the painting--the doorway--to Yussa with visible eagerness. He lays a hand on his friend's thin shoulder, looking closer himself as though he could see through the magic with his eyes alone. Would it really bring them to that clearing? To the Feywild, or some approximation of it? "There should be a key to activate it. Something within the painting itself, maybe?"
He scans the canvas for anything out of the ordinary--a different texture or color, a stray flower, a pattern in the way the dancing lights bob through the air.
A key, right. Yussa examines the painting, recalling the stained glass in the study. He gets briefly distracted by the dancing lights as they move. There is a pattern, natural like fireflies, but it is not one that seems to mean anything. He shakes it off and looks up as Caleb's hand reaches for a cluster of flowers in the immediate foreground of the painting. He hadn't noticed them before but clearly Caleb had.
"Try those," he encourages. Worst comes, nothing happens. Well, if it's truly the worst then it'll trigger some sort of trap, but he truly does not think they'll find quite as much that here. He feels a shiver of anticipation and swears it echoes in a ripple over the painting when Caleb touches the flowers.
There's a breeze that comes from the painting and the sudden scent of foreign flowers. Where once he could only see the movement in the trees, now he can hear the leaves fluttering in the wind. He gives Caleb an approving smile and gestures toward the painting.
Caleb smiles back, triumphant and near giddy as the gentle breeze ruffles his hair. To him, this is the most exciting new space they've discovered in some time.
"Come with me," he decides, and takes Yussa's hand in his as he takes a careful stride forward, opposite hand extended like he still fears he might meet a wall. He doesn't. His boots touch down on grass and soft earth. With their hands linked, Yussa is only a half step behind him.
The change in atmosphere is immediate. The air is warm like early summer, thick and humid, heavy with the cloying sweet smell of a variety of night-blooming flowers he doesn't recognize and the more pungent scent of loamy soil. It is also charged in a way that Caleb has never quite experienced before, different from the hum of potential in the Astral Sea. The sound of the wind rustling leaves is crisp. The soft, warm glow from the lights drifting overhead is just enough to illuminate the clearing, plants and trees casting shadows that seem to dance as they move, and even in the dark the colors are bright and vibrant. Everything feels so alive. Caleb licks his lips, and the air even tastes different.
He turns to Yussa and momentarily finds himself at a loss. He was beautiful a moment ago, as he always is, but here--it must be something about the light playing through his pale hair and against his brown skin, catching on his gold eyes, because just looking at him takes his breath away.
"This is incredible," he manages, just above a whisper. Somehow it feels wrong to speak much louder. "Is this--does it feel the way you remember?"
He thinks he knows the answer already. Everything is more, Yussa said, and Caleb understands now.
The change is almost welcome after the cool, dry air of the halls, especially when Yussa has been living on the coast for most of his life. He closes his eyes for a moment, denying himself sight only to take in all the other things. The breeze is welcome, breaking up the humidity, and after a few seconds more, Yussa opens his eyes again to find Caleb looking at him. He cannot help a small smile at the expression on the younger man's face.
Caleb's reaction to seeing this place, to experiencing it, is worth whatever trouble they might run into.
"It is," he agrees, his own voice relatively quiet. "And it does."
Yussa releases Caleb's hand, allowing their fingers to brush before fully parting, so that he can move further into the space. He is not entirely certain that it is the true Feywild, suspecting that there might be boundaries of some kind. But he would believe that it is a piece of that place captured here, connected to it still. It feels the same, but the Feywild is dangerous and he imagines that Halas would prefer to have some control over this. Still, it awakens old memories.
He looks over his shoulder at the human man standing by the gateway. It does not disappear so much as fade, and it's possible they'll have to activate it again somehow to get out. He isn't overly worried about that now.
Without hesitation, Caleb follows, leaving the receding gateway behind him. "It is probably similar to the dreadnought chamber--a part of that plane accessible here, but limited in scope," he reasons aloud. The trees around them make it impossible to see how large this chamber is, but the garden is massive, and this could be at least that size.
Whatever the case, Caleb is elated to be seeing and experiencing what is quite literally a world entirely new to him. That he has Yussa to guide him seems entirely fitting.
"I'll admit I was not really prepared for exploration of this sort," he says, smiling still. "But knowing Halas, there is probably some arcane mystery here to be uncovered." He nods his head toward the spot the gate has all but disappeared. "I will remember how to get back here if we need to, so we can look around as much as we like."
He thinks he hears running water nearby, like a small brook or stream. And while he knows the Feywild is a dangerous and deceptive place, that is true of the entirety of the Folding Halls. So long as they are careful, they will be all right.
"Hopefully the landscape contained here is not as mercurial as the Feywild itself," he says. He makes sure to stay within sight of Caleb as he heads toward the running water. Lights dance overhead and in the trees and there is something rather romantic about it, if one forgets the dangers. Yussa cannot deny the allure of this particular plane, which is part of what makes it dangerous. Even he finds himself longing to be caught up in the raw energy here.
Still. He has experience in the Feywild and they are both wizards of considerable talent. Which reminds him.
"Part of that energy you feel is arcane energy," he warns. "And therefore arcane spells are amplified here, sometimes considerably, either in power or duration. Sometimes both."
He pauses, then adds, "And there is the chance that the spell will manifest in a way you aren't expecting or anticipating."
"That is very interesting." Honestly, it only makes him want to try casting here even more, just for the experience. Just to see what happens. "And explains why Halas would wish to keep such a chamber. It must be valuable for experimentation."
The source of the sound is not far into the trees, discovered when they walk in that direction. It is a shallow stream, the water clear enough to see they smooth grey stones beneath. A thick, soft moss grows on many of the rocks along the water's edge, some large enough to be considered boulders, half Caleb's height at least. Caleb suggests that they walk along the stream a ways to see what they find, and they do.
"In Aeor, casting spells above a certain threshold of power is a risk, as it sometimes causes a surge of wild magic," he's musing as they walk, following just a step or two behind Yussa. While he is deeply intrigued by the arcane possibilities of this realm, he realizes as the minutes pass that he is becoming increasingly distracted. His gaze lingers on Yussa, the exposed dip of his neck into his shoulder, the way his sash emphasizes his narrow waist, the curve of his ass in his close-fitting trousers, the way he moves as he nimbly picks his way through the brush in his heeled boots.
Caleb swallows hard and directs his attention over Yussa's head. Not the time.
But it isn't only that. He feels his skin growing hot before long, a flush that spreads through his body, and even his meager few layers are becoming oppressive. Sweat is beginning to break out along the back of his neck.
"Is it getting warmer?" he asks aloud, sure this can't be just him.
Yussa, for his part, loses himself a little in the surroundings. He's listening, interested in Caleb's findings in Aeor, but also wanting to indulge in sensory experiences while everything is so heightened.
"I suppose I should not express such hesitation to visit Aeor when I am clearly willing to spend time here," he muses. To be fair, the Heirloom Sphere itself is in Tidepeak and is immediately accessible to anyone who might need to stage a rescue. Likewise, the Feywild is familiar in a way that Eiselcross is not. Perhaps that excuse is relatively shallow, as well, given that he'd recently gone to another continent for some dirt and plants.
He crouches by the stream to run his fingers over the moss, then looks up at Caleb when he mentions the heat.
"I haven't noticed a change," he answers, gaze sharpening a bit. It could just be a reaction to the environment in general, something Yussa is less prone to in general. Still, it's cause to keep an eye on his human companion.
That Yussa is apparently not experiencing the same thing is mildly concerning. That his brain chooses to focus on the line of Yussa's back as he crouches down, then the way the leather strap of his book holster fits across his flattened chest, is a little frustrating.
"Oh," Caleb says, a heavy exhale tinged with nervous disappointment. "Sorry, I--I will need to pause a moment to remove a few layers. Otherwise I may overheat just from walking."
They find a boulder to stop and rest by, and Caleb goes through the process of unbuckling his own harness and setting it and its precious cargo carefully atop the stone beside him. He pulls his black sweater up over his head and leaves that there as well, then bends forward to pull off his layer of elven chainmail too. Removing armor is a risky choice, but the metal is only locking in the heat of his body and making him hotter. Useful in Aeor, but not so much here.
The undershirt beneath is simple undyed cotton, and air touching his skin through the thin, breathable fabric is a relief. "Much better," he decides, and his lips quirk into an encouraging half-smile directed at Yussa as he pulls his mussed red hair from its tie and hurriedly finger-combs it back into place before tying it back again.
He can still feel how red his skin must be, and the swoop low in his stomach as he looks at Yussa is far from unfamiliar. He knows this is not the best circumstance for that feeling, but he can't will it away and focus on something else as he normally would when the situation is less than appropriate. Yussa is so lovely, and this place in all its strange beauty makes him seem especially ethereal--but not untouchable. Caleb knows intimately the warmth and the taste of his skin, the softness of his lips. And now that he is thinking about it directly, he can't seem to put his thoughts back on the rails again. His heart is pounding. He can practically feel his pulse ticking in his neck.
Yussa gives an understanding nod and offers no further comment, though now he is more keenly paying attention. He watches Caleb remove his layers, catching flashes of skin as he drags off the chainmail, which pulls up the fabric beneath before Caleb can drag it back into place.
He admires the lines of Caleb's body as he fixes his hair. It's hardly the first time he's enjoyed looking at his companion, though it does feel somewhat inappropriate at the moment. Yussa blames the indulgent nature of this place, the difficulty in resisting impulses. He will have to pay better mind.
Still, it is difficult to ignore the warmth that trickles through him when he catches again the way that Caleb is looking at him. Yussa rises slowly and brushes his own hair back from his face. Caleb looks feverish, more than he would anticipate even in a warmer environment. Yussa closes the distance between them to get a better look.
Oh, gods. Yussa is coming closer, and the fuzziness in his brain gets worse. What are they doing that is so important they can't afford a brief detour? Why shouldn't he pull him into his arms here and now? The night is perfect, and Caleb wants him. It's been too long.
Caleb breathes in deeply (which doesn't make anything better; the floral, earthy scent is strong and appealing, and he can smell Yussa's soap and cologne too as he draws near, which is even better) and scrubs a hand vigorously across his face like he's trying to physically shake these thoughts loose.
"Ja," he answers automatically, but amends a moment later to, "well, not entirely, but not so much that I cannot keep going."
Toward their goal. Which is to explore the Feywild, not waste valuable time fucking. But Yussa is right in front of him now, and almost before he realizes he's doing it Caleb reaches down and takes his hand, which he brings up to his mouth. His lips skate over the fine bones of the older wizard's knuckles, and then he kisses each fingertip. His tongue brushes one, and tasting the salt of Yussa's skin makes his breath hitch audibly, nearly makes him moan. His head spins. His eyes flutter closed. He thinks of pulling Yussa's fingers into his mouth and sucking on them one by one.
The quality of Caleb's voice has changed. Possibly something easily ignored or set aside outside this place, but Yussa finds it difficult to do so now. And now that they are close again, he's more aware of the scent of Caleb's soap and his clothes, his sweat. He takes a steadying breath and reminds himself, again, of the nature of this place.
His mind nearly goes entirely blank when Caleb's lips brush over his knuckles and fingertips. The first little sweep of his tongue sparks smoldering arousal and Yussa can feel heat rising in his face.
Caleb has to be under some influence. A lack of impulse control is one thing, but--had he touched something that Yussa failed to notice? He should have been paying closer attention.
His fingers curl loosely against Caleb's.
"Are you certain?" he asks, cautious about the door he is leaving open. "It would be fine to rest here, I think."
Give Caleb time to collect himself, time for them both to recover some energy for spells should they need them.
Of course Yussa would understand. The offer to rest solidifies something in Caleb's mind. Yussa doesn't mind stopping. Their work--and what exactly that is beyond a general sense of exploration and discovery grows ever hazier--can wait. It must wait, even, because he will be entirely useless like this.
"Okay," Caleb acquiesces too easily in a mumble against Yussa's fingers. He breathes, slow and full, filling his lungs. He noses into Yussa's palm, and his mouth slides down to a delicate wrist, kissing the pulse beneath the thin skin there, then tasting it with a swipe of his tongue. "I only need a little while."
His hands fit so nicely around Yussa's tiny waist, and it is so satisfying to cover the elf's smaller body with his own. Caleb isn't so much considering his actions as letting them happen as the ideas occur, fueled by the heated arousal that has only become more insistent and a growing lack of inhibition. Why shouldn't he press Yussa back against the mossy rock and kiss him, hungry and desperate? They're lovers, and Caleb is aching for him. It's been too long since he's plunged his tongue between his lips and explored the soft warmth of his mouth, since he's fit a thigh between Yussa's slender ones and pressed it tight to his crotch so he can feel the heat between the other man's legs.
Caleb is less aware of how quickly he's growing hard than the heady rush of blood through his body, the near-euphoria of feeling Yussa against him, the indulgence of touching and tasting him in way that feels like...like more. It almost startles him when his erection touches Yussa's hip, but only long enough for him to realize how good it feels, moaning helplessly, and press more deliberately against him, grinding between the softness of his stomach and the inside of his hip.
He really should have considered his wording more carefully, or he should have made his meaning more clear. As Caleb's mouth moves over his wrist, Yussa realizes he might have lost the chance to control this. That is wholly confirmed when his back hits the rock near them and Caleb kisses him like a man starving. He can't help a moan and his voice rises sharply, muffled by his lover's mouth, as a thigh pushes between his own.
Ignoring his own simmering arousal now seems... pointless. Yussa arches away from the rock so that he can grind against Caleb's thigh, startled by the need growing in him. There are relatively few layers between them, far less than usual.
He gasps as the kiss breaks and he can feel Caleb's cock hard against his hip. He grips the younger man's shirt as Caleb meets the next grind, bringing their bodies together harder. Yussa rests his weight against the rock, struggling to remember why he'd wanted to put a stop to this. None of the reasons seem at all important.
Yussa's pulse picks up and he drags in a deeper breath. He doesn't want this to stop.
It isn't going to if Caleb can help it. Yussa's muffled moans and the way he arches eagerly into him, clutches at his shirt to encourage a harder grind, confirms everything Caleb needs. Yussa wants this too, so what else matters?
Caleb's hands slide down from the other man's waist to take a firm grip on his ass, dragging him tighter against his rocking hips. He's panting already, and his wet mouth leaves Yussa's to trail along his jaw, all the way up to the tip of a pointed ear, which he flicks with his tongue.
There isn't much between them, but it is still too much. Anything keeping him from the growing heat that he can feel rubbing against his thigh is too much. Yussa is wearing his harness still, and though it looks devastatingly good on him, his spellbook and research journal are cumbersome, heavy, keeping Caleb from melting into him the way he wants to. His cock throbs, straining against his own trousers.
"Take off your books," he murmurs, lips still against his ear. The quality of his voice has shifted, the register lower. "And more, if you want. Gods, I want to touch you everywhere."
Caleb's mouth is hot against his skin and Yussa closes his eyes as he kisses and licks along his jaw. The brush of lips against his ear and the teasing warmth of Caleb's breath make his hips squirm.
Yussa mutters under his breath in Elvish and trusts Caleb to keep him from falling as both his hands leave the man in front of him in favor of getting the book harness off. He leans away from the boulder to let it slide off his shoulders. Then he leans back so his weight isn't resting so much on Caleb's thigh and he lifts his hips to let the harness just drop to the ground. The books are well-protected, he isn't worried.
It's hard to worry about anything just now with Caleb pushing up against him like this.
Yussa drags the knot of his sash loose to let that fall, too. He isn't feeling the same desperation Caleb seems to be, but it's difficult not to get swept up in the other wizard's momentum.
Hearing Yussa speak in Elvish has become such an indicator of his arousal and desperation that it goes straight to his cock. He watches with bated breath as the elven wizard undoes the necessary buckles, and there is something thrilling about the crude thud of books meeting mossy ground. The carelessness, and the desire to continue without interruption displayed by it, is incredibly hot. As soon as Yussa's sash--a beautiful and probably expensive piece--ends up on the ground as well, Caleb is on him again and kissing him thoroughly. His tongue sweeps across his lips and between them. He clutches, squeezes, brazenly and greedily paws at the flesh of Yussa's ass and thighs. The kissing and grinding continues until it is more maddening than satisfying, and Caleb breaks away with a sound that is part frustration and part raw need.
It isn't difficult to get Yussa the way he wants him again. He doesn't stop to ask, just lets him get his feet firmly on the ground again before he turns him around and presses up behind him instead, grinding his clothed cock against his ass. Caleb's lips, red and swollen from hard kisses, trail distractedly over the back of his neck as his clever hands fall to the waist of Yussa's trousers. He plucks them open deftly, but rather than pulling them down, he pushes a hand inside.
His breathing grows shallow as his fingertips delve between his thighs and find the soft, fine fabric of Yussa's smalls noticeably wet and clinging to his folds. He traces that center line once, self-indulgent, before unceremoniously pushing that fabric aside to get at what he really wants. His middle finger glides with such ease along his slit through the sticky wet warmth dripping from him, and Caleb moans outright.
"Fuck," he sighs, undisguised desire and near awe. He drags his slicked finger all the way up to Yussa's clit, makes it good and slippery, easy to rub circles over. "I can feel you getting hard for me," he murmurs, the same tone, focused on the way Yussa grows stiff and swollen beneath his touch.
Yussa leans into the kiss, lips parting to encourage the bold sweep of his tongue. It's dizzying to be pinned like this, grinding together as Caleb's hands grab at him. It ends suddenly and Yussa's eyes flash open. He catches sight of the other man's face just before he's spun around and pressed up against the stone again. He braces himself this time and he can feel the firm shape of Caleb's cock dragging against him as clever hands fight to get his trousers loose.
He's breathing faster by the time a hand slips between his thighs. Yussa shivers and his fingers curl against the rock as one teases against him, first over the fabric and then bare flesh. Yussa bows his head, gasping as Caleb strokes his clit, using his own wetness to make it easier. He can feel his cunt throb.
Rather than answering, he pushes his hips against Caleb's hand, trying to grind against him. It's almost embarrassing to realize just how much he enjoys the way Caleb talks to him when he's feeling more... uninhibited. And it's getting more difficult to remember what plans they had before this moment. Whatever they were, they really don't matter just now.
Yussa leans hard into the stone, then curses again softly as he tries to shrug out of his longer, open tunic. He tries to do it without elbowing Caleb, and when it's gone he's left in a plain, loose cotton shirt not unlike Caleb's. That done, he plants one hand against the boulder again while the other pushes beneath his trousers like he means to guide Caleb's touch.
Caleb hardly even cares where they are now. The Feywild? Sure. But why bother thinking about anything beyond Yussa's body against his, the way he gasps and grinds into his hand. This is all that matters.
His other hand rumples the hem of Yussa's shirt once he's free of his tunic by pushing up beneath it, a flat open palm sliding up his stomach all the way to the edge of his binding, just indulging in the softness and warmth of his skin. The first is considerably busier, wrist flicking back and forth as he strokes Yussa with precision to aching arousal. He absolutely loves feeling him like this, cradled in the palm of his hand, throbbing and hot against his fingers.
A slender hand slips beneath the fabric alongside his and Caleb feels a fresh rush of excitement. His long fingers dip back further again, parting his folds and playing over his entrance as the heel of his palm puts blunt pressure on his clit.
"Good, show me what you want, schatz," he encourages breathlessly, ready and willing to move as directed. He flutters more heated kisses over the back of Yussa's neck, and his hips move with an almost distracted rhythm, finding the best angle to give him something to firmly rut against.
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Yussa's mildly sour expression as he gazes up at a cluster of portraits brings a wider smile to Caleb's lips. "Our man Halas looks a little younger here than the one in his study," he muses. "Same sense of fashion, though. Zemnian wizards have not updated our style in several ages, it seems. This red robe ensemble would not be out of place anywhere in Rexxentrum today."
He winks as he shares the joke with Yussa, a wizard who clearly has opinions on style, for which Caleb is exceedingly thankful. Even in his far more simplified adventuring attire, Yussa is a vision of seemingly effortless elegance.
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And perhaps his opinion is colored by his distaste for the man in general. While he is impressed with the Folding Halls and all that Halas accomplished here, he has seen things that make even his moral compass move.
Yussa looks over at Caleb and a flicker of a smile flashes across his mouth.
"I much prefer your style to his. You clean up well." Caleb may prefer simple styles, but he wears them well and he has a charm that Halas utterly lacks. Yussa continues on this floor, walking slowly to take in each work as he would in any other gallery. They pass a grouping of paintings of various animals, many of them in motion. One of the illusion spells still at work.
Yussa isn't entirely sure what he's looking for, but he feels he'll know it when he sees it.
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Some of his curiosity is sated as they continue. Many of the paintings with a magical aura are obvious; as Caleb had suspected, the effects of the illusions work in tandem with the art. Caleb thinks this effect is best utilized in landscapes, in a subtle sway of trees in an intangible breeze, or scenes with a wide focus. He particularly likes one of a colorful marketplace with figures moving through it on a timed cycle. It's clever.
He's a little less of a fan of the oddly pornographic piece depicting a nude woman laying on a sandy beach in shallow water apparently being lovingly embraced by some sort of betentacled sea monster. Honestly, the sea monster isn't the problem here; it's the woman's strange proportions, just off enough to be unsettling, and how he can't stop himself from wincing at the idea of sand in tender places.
It's as he's tearing his eyes away from this piece with a grimace that Caleb realizes something he should have clocked a while ago: there don't appear to be any other doors in this chamber. By all appearances, the door they entered through is also the only exit.
"Either this is a dead end, or our way out is hidden," he says, turning a fresh eye on the room with this in mind.
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"My theory is that some of these paintings are doorways. I think we will find very few dead ends here." He won't say none, because there is far too much left to map before he can make any definitive statements. But he would be surprised.
"Let's try the next level up."
He heads back toward the ramp, moving to the next floor. They are greeted by a series of strange landscapes. Yussa feels drawn to them and an almost fond look flickers across his face.
"I think these are depicting the Feywild," he says, turning his head toward Caleb as the other man joins him. After walking through the Astral Sea - even with a barrier - it's nice to see something that feels less.. hostile. At least, it does to him.
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He's glad he doesn't miss Yussa's expression as they reach the next level and find a cluster of landscapes depicting similar but distinctly odd environments. After his anxiety earlier, it's nice to see him so pleased and excited by something.
"Ah. It is as strange and beautiful as I imagined," Caleb says, looking away from the curling leaves of unfamiliar plants and down at Yussa. "I have never seen it myself. Only heard about it secondhand."
From an archfey, no less, but still. Artagan had described the place as utterly boring when he could be cajoled to talk about it at all, but that could hardly be true of any realm responsible for a being like Jester's best friend.
"Have you visited before?"
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Yussa moves closer, studying the different scenes. Some of the paintings feature the illusion that creates movement, others are still. He shifts toward a large painting, taller than he is, depicting a forest clearing with dancing lights.
His Detect Magic is still up, though not for much longer, and Yussa examines what is in front of him.
"There's more than illusion here," he says to Caleb.
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"This must be it, exactly as you were saying," Caleb enthuses, looking from the painting--the doorway--to Yussa with visible eagerness. He lays a hand on his friend's thin shoulder, looking closer himself as though he could see through the magic with his eyes alone. Would it really bring them to that clearing? To the Feywild, or some approximation of it? "There should be a key to activate it. Something within the painting itself, maybe?"
He scans the canvas for anything out of the ordinary--a different texture or color, a stray flower, a pattern in the way the dancing lights bob through the air.
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"Try those," he encourages. Worst comes, nothing happens. Well, if it's truly the worst then it'll trigger some sort of trap, but he truly does not think they'll find quite as much that here. He feels a shiver of anticipation and swears it echoes in a ripple over the painting when Caleb touches the flowers.
There's a breeze that comes from the painting and the sudden scent of foreign flowers. Where once he could only see the movement in the trees, now he can hear the leaves fluttering in the wind. He gives Caleb an approving smile and gestures toward the painting.
"I charged in last time. After you."
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"Come with me," he decides, and takes Yussa's hand in his as he takes a careful stride forward, opposite hand extended like he still fears he might meet a wall. He doesn't. His boots touch down on grass and soft earth. With their hands linked, Yussa is only a half step behind him.
The change in atmosphere is immediate. The air is warm like early summer, thick and humid, heavy with the cloying sweet smell of a variety of night-blooming flowers he doesn't recognize and the more pungent scent of loamy soil. It is also charged in a way that Caleb has never quite experienced before, different from the hum of potential in the Astral Sea. The sound of the wind rustling leaves is crisp. The soft, warm glow from the lights drifting overhead is just enough to illuminate the clearing, plants and trees casting shadows that seem to dance as they move, and even in the dark the colors are bright and vibrant. Everything feels so alive. Caleb licks his lips, and the air even tastes different.
He turns to Yussa and momentarily finds himself at a loss. He was beautiful a moment ago, as he always is, but here--it must be something about the light playing through his pale hair and against his brown skin, catching on his gold eyes, because just looking at him takes his breath away.
"This is incredible," he manages, just above a whisper. Somehow it feels wrong to speak much louder. "Is this--does it feel the way you remember?"
He thinks he knows the answer already. Everything is more, Yussa said, and Caleb understands now.
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The change is almost welcome after the cool, dry air of the halls, especially when Yussa has been living on the coast for most of his life. He closes his eyes for a moment, denying himself sight only to take in all the other things. The breeze is welcome, breaking up the humidity, and after a few seconds more, Yussa opens his eyes again to find Caleb looking at him. He cannot help a small smile at the expression on the younger man's face.
Caleb's reaction to seeing this place, to experiencing it, is worth whatever trouble they might run into.
"It is," he agrees, his own voice relatively quiet. "And it does."
Yussa releases Caleb's hand, allowing their fingers to brush before fully parting, so that he can move further into the space. He is not entirely certain that it is the true Feywild, suspecting that there might be boundaries of some kind. But he would believe that it is a piece of that place captured here, connected to it still. It feels the same, but the Feywild is dangerous and he imagines that Halas would prefer to have some control over this. Still, it awakens old memories.
He looks over his shoulder at the human man standing by the gateway. It does not disappear so much as fade, and it's possible they'll have to activate it again somehow to get out. He isn't overly worried about that now.
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Whatever the case, Caleb is elated to be seeing and experiencing what is quite literally a world entirely new to him. That he has Yussa to guide him seems entirely fitting.
"I'll admit I was not really prepared for exploration of this sort," he says, smiling still. "But knowing Halas, there is probably some arcane mystery here to be uncovered." He nods his head toward the spot the gate has all but disappeared. "I will remember how to get back here if we need to, so we can look around as much as we like."
He thinks he hears running water nearby, like a small brook or stream. And while he knows the Feywild is a dangerous and deceptive place, that is true of the entirety of the Folding Halls. So long as they are careful, they will be all right.
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Still. He has experience in the Feywild and they are both wizards of considerable talent. Which reminds him.
"Part of that energy you feel is arcane energy," he warns. "And therefore arcane spells are amplified here, sometimes considerably, either in power or duration. Sometimes both."
He pauses, then adds, "And there is the chance that the spell will manifest in a way you aren't expecting or anticipating."
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The source of the sound is not far into the trees, discovered when they walk in that direction. It is a shallow stream, the water clear enough to see they smooth grey stones beneath. A thick, soft moss grows on many of the rocks along the water's edge, some large enough to be considered boulders, half Caleb's height at least. Caleb suggests that they walk along the stream a ways to see what they find, and they do.
"In Aeor, casting spells above a certain threshold of power is a risk, as it sometimes causes a surge of wild magic," he's musing as they walk, following just a step or two behind Yussa. While he is deeply intrigued by the arcane possibilities of this realm, he realizes as the minutes pass that he is becoming increasingly distracted. His gaze lingers on Yussa, the exposed dip of his neck into his shoulder, the way his sash emphasizes his narrow waist, the curve of his ass in his close-fitting trousers, the way he moves as he nimbly picks his way through the brush in his heeled boots.
Caleb swallows hard and directs his attention over Yussa's head. Not the time.
But it isn't only that. He feels his skin growing hot before long, a flush that spreads through his body, and even his meager few layers are becoming oppressive. Sweat is beginning to break out along the back of his neck.
"Is it getting warmer?" he asks aloud, sure this can't be just him.
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"I suppose I should not express such hesitation to visit Aeor when I am clearly willing to spend time here," he muses. To be fair, the Heirloom Sphere itself is in Tidepeak and is immediately accessible to anyone who might need to stage a rescue. Likewise, the Feywild is familiar in a way that Eiselcross is not. Perhaps that excuse is relatively shallow, as well, given that he'd recently gone to another continent for some dirt and plants.
He crouches by the stream to run his fingers over the moss, then looks up at Caleb when he mentions the heat.
"I haven't noticed a change," he answers, gaze sharpening a bit. It could just be a reaction to the environment in general, something Yussa is less prone to in general. Still, it's cause to keep an eye on his human companion.
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"Oh," Caleb says, a heavy exhale tinged with nervous disappointment. "Sorry, I--I will need to pause a moment to remove a few layers. Otherwise I may overheat just from walking."
They find a boulder to stop and rest by, and Caleb goes through the process of unbuckling his own harness and setting it and its precious cargo carefully atop the stone beside him. He pulls his black sweater up over his head and leaves that there as well, then bends forward to pull off his layer of elven chainmail too. Removing armor is a risky choice, but the metal is only locking in the heat of his body and making him hotter. Useful in Aeor, but not so much here.
The undershirt beneath is simple undyed cotton, and air touching his skin through the thin, breathable fabric is a relief. "Much better," he decides, and his lips quirk into an encouraging half-smile directed at Yussa as he pulls his mussed red hair from its tie and hurriedly finger-combs it back into place before tying it back again.
He can still feel how red his skin must be, and the swoop low in his stomach as he looks at Yussa is far from unfamiliar. He knows this is not the best circumstance for that feeling, but he can't will it away and focus on something else as he normally would when the situation is less than appropriate. Yussa is so lovely, and this place in all its strange beauty makes him seem especially ethereal--but not untouchable. Caleb knows intimately the warmth and the taste of his skin, the softness of his lips. And now that he is thinking about it directly, he can't seem to put his thoughts back on the rails again. His heart is pounding. He can practically feel his pulse ticking in his neck.
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He admires the lines of Caleb's body as he fixes his hair. It's hardly the first time he's enjoyed looking at his companion, though it does feel somewhat inappropriate at the moment. Yussa blames the indulgent nature of this place, the difficulty in resisting impulses. He will have to pay better mind.
Still, it is difficult to ignore the warmth that trickles through him when he catches again the way that Caleb is looking at him. Yussa rises slowly and brushes his own hair back from his face. Caleb looks feverish, more than he would anticipate even in a warmer environment. Yussa closes the distance between them to get a better look.
"Are you feeling all right?"
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Caleb breathes in deeply (which doesn't make anything better; the floral, earthy scent is strong and appealing, and he can smell Yussa's soap and cologne too as he draws near, which is even better) and scrubs a hand vigorously across his face like he's trying to physically shake these thoughts loose.
"Ja," he answers automatically, but amends a moment later to, "well, not entirely, but not so much that I cannot keep going."
Toward their goal. Which is to explore the Feywild, not waste valuable time fucking. But Yussa is right in front of him now, and almost before he realizes he's doing it Caleb reaches down and takes his hand, which he brings up to his mouth. His lips skate over the fine bones of the older wizard's knuckles, and then he kisses each fingertip. His tongue brushes one, and tasting the salt of Yussa's skin makes his breath hitch audibly, nearly makes him moan. His head spins. His eyes flutter closed. He thinks of pulling Yussa's fingers into his mouth and sucking on them one by one.
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His mind nearly goes entirely blank when Caleb's lips brush over his knuckles and fingertips. The first little sweep of his tongue sparks smoldering arousal and Yussa can feel heat rising in his face.
Caleb has to be under some influence. A lack of impulse control is one thing, but--had he touched something that Yussa failed to notice? He should have been paying closer attention.
His fingers curl loosely against Caleb's.
"Are you certain?" he asks, cautious about the door he is leaving open. "It would be fine to rest here, I think."
Give Caleb time to collect himself, time for them both to recover some energy for spells should they need them.
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"Okay," Caleb acquiesces too easily in a mumble against Yussa's fingers. He breathes, slow and full, filling his lungs. He noses into Yussa's palm, and his mouth slides down to a delicate wrist, kissing the pulse beneath the thin skin there, then tasting it with a swipe of his tongue. "I only need a little while."
His hands fit so nicely around Yussa's tiny waist, and it is so satisfying to cover the elf's smaller body with his own. Caleb isn't so much considering his actions as letting them happen as the ideas occur, fueled by the heated arousal that has only become more insistent and a growing lack of inhibition. Why shouldn't he press Yussa back against the mossy rock and kiss him, hungry and desperate? They're lovers, and Caleb is aching for him. It's been too long since he's plunged his tongue between his lips and explored the soft warmth of his mouth, since he's fit a thigh between Yussa's slender ones and pressed it tight to his crotch so he can feel the heat between the other man's legs.
Caleb is less aware of how quickly he's growing hard than the heady rush of blood through his body, the near-euphoria of feeling Yussa against him, the indulgence of touching and tasting him in way that feels like...like more. It almost startles him when his erection touches Yussa's hip, but only long enough for him to realize how good it feels, moaning helplessly, and press more deliberately against him, grinding between the softness of his stomach and the inside of his hip.
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He really should have considered his wording more carefully, or he should have made his meaning more clear. As Caleb's mouth moves over his wrist, Yussa realizes he might have lost the chance to control this. That is wholly confirmed when his back hits the rock near them and Caleb kisses him like a man starving. He can't help a moan and his voice rises sharply, muffled by his lover's mouth, as a thigh pushes between his own.
Ignoring his own simmering arousal now seems... pointless. Yussa arches away from the rock so that he can grind against Caleb's thigh, startled by the need growing in him. There are relatively few layers between them, far less than usual.
He gasps as the kiss breaks and he can feel Caleb's cock hard against his hip. He grips the younger man's shirt as Caleb meets the next grind, bringing their bodies together harder. Yussa rests his weight against the rock, struggling to remember why he'd wanted to put a stop to this. None of the reasons seem at all important.
Yussa's pulse picks up and he drags in a deeper breath. He doesn't want this to stop.
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Caleb's hands slide down from the other man's waist to take a firm grip on his ass, dragging him tighter against his rocking hips. He's panting already, and his wet mouth leaves Yussa's to trail along his jaw, all the way up to the tip of a pointed ear, which he flicks with his tongue.
There isn't much between them, but it is still too much. Anything keeping him from the growing heat that he can feel rubbing against his thigh is too much. Yussa is wearing his harness still, and though it looks devastatingly good on him, his spellbook and research journal are cumbersome, heavy, keeping Caleb from melting into him the way he wants to. His cock throbs, straining against his own trousers.
"Take off your books," he murmurs, lips still against his ear. The quality of his voice has shifted, the register lower. "And more, if you want. Gods, I want to touch you everywhere."
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Yussa mutters under his breath in Elvish and trusts Caleb to keep him from falling as both his hands leave the man in front of him in favor of getting the book harness off. He leans away from the boulder to let it slide off his shoulders. Then he leans back so his weight isn't resting so much on Caleb's thigh and he lifts his hips to let the harness just drop to the ground. The books are well-protected, he isn't worried.
It's hard to worry about anything just now with Caleb pushing up against him like this.
Yussa drags the knot of his sash loose to let that fall, too. He isn't feeling the same desperation Caleb seems to be, but it's difficult not to get swept up in the other wizard's momentum.
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It isn't difficult to get Yussa the way he wants him again. He doesn't stop to ask, just lets him get his feet firmly on the ground again before he turns him around and presses up behind him instead, grinding his clothed cock against his ass. Caleb's lips, red and swollen from hard kisses, trail distractedly over the back of his neck as his clever hands fall to the waist of Yussa's trousers. He plucks them open deftly, but rather than pulling them down, he pushes a hand inside.
His breathing grows shallow as his fingertips delve between his thighs and find the soft, fine fabric of Yussa's smalls noticeably wet and clinging to his folds. He traces that center line once, self-indulgent, before unceremoniously pushing that fabric aside to get at what he really wants. His middle finger glides with such ease along his slit through the sticky wet warmth dripping from him, and Caleb moans outright.
"Fuck," he sighs, undisguised desire and near awe. He drags his slicked finger all the way up to Yussa's clit, makes it good and slippery, easy to rub circles over. "I can feel you getting hard for me," he murmurs, the same tone, focused on the way Yussa grows stiff and swollen beneath his touch.
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He's breathing faster by the time a hand slips between his thighs. Yussa shivers and his fingers curl against the rock as one teases against him, first over the fabric and then bare flesh. Yussa bows his head, gasping as Caleb strokes his clit, using his own wetness to make it easier. He can feel his cunt throb.
Rather than answering, he pushes his hips against Caleb's hand, trying to grind against him. It's almost embarrassing to realize just how much he enjoys the way Caleb talks to him when he's feeling more... uninhibited. And it's getting more difficult to remember what plans they had before this moment. Whatever they were, they really don't matter just now.
Yussa leans hard into the stone, then curses again softly as he tries to shrug out of his longer, open tunic. He tries to do it without elbowing Caleb, and when it's gone he's left in a plain, loose cotton shirt not unlike Caleb's. That done, he plants one hand against the boulder again while the other pushes beneath his trousers like he means to guide Caleb's touch.
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His other hand rumples the hem of Yussa's shirt once he's free of his tunic by pushing up beneath it, a flat open palm sliding up his stomach all the way to the edge of his binding, just indulging in the softness and warmth of his skin. The first is considerably busier, wrist flicking back and forth as he strokes Yussa with precision to aching arousal. He absolutely loves feeling him like this, cradled in the palm of his hand, throbbing and hot against his fingers.
A slender hand slips beneath the fabric alongside his and Caleb feels a fresh rush of excitement. His long fingers dip back further again, parting his folds and playing over his entrance as the heel of his palm puts blunt pressure on his clit.
"Good, show me what you want, schatz," he encourages breathlessly, ready and willing to move as directed. He flutters more heated kisses over the back of Yussa's neck, and his hips move with an almost distracted rhythm, finding the best angle to give him something to firmly rut against.
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