[ He might as well be fully blind for all he can see in this goddamn dark. Nothing but the faint flash of Felix's eyes, maybe, the scrape of the blade against Ephemera's chin. The hollow sound it makes and how easy it would be for Felix to kill him then. Punch the blade into his jugular, into his good eye, bleed him out in the dark and be done with that. Would anyone even notice, out here? Would it even matter?
But he doesn't. The knife clatters away. And Felix puts his hand in Ephemera's hair, his mouth on Ephemera's throat and -
I'm crazy, Ephemera almost says. You know that, right? Because he feels insane then. Drifting from one thought to the next and just waiting for it to go poisonous on him. For everything to fragment like it always does because even in armor he's always been brittle. Or maybe not always but ever since he woke up alone, and burned, and his family was gone.
It made sense not to touch anyone in the aftermath. To put on his armor and go out into the world like no one would ever know him as a person again.
No one did. Not until he died.
Felix goes for his belt. For a moment, Ephemera doesn't move. Doesn't jerk away, but doesn't go with it, either.
Then he exhales in a rough hiss and drags his free hand down Felix's chest, over his stomach. And then lower, cupping him over those ridiculous fucking pants. I trust you. And somehow, deep down, he knows it isn't a lie. Because only a crazy person would say that. Only a crazy person could stand in proximity when Ephemera's like this, when he can't hold himself together long enough to pretend, and do this shit.
And only a crazy person would like it. Ephemera likes it, he realizes bleakly. And he so rarely likes sex these days. ]
Thought about it too.
[ His voice comes out rough. Smoke inhalation. Yet another scar. ]
Wanna paint you.
[ He wants to paint on him, Ephemera realizes. Against the skin. The thought burns like a fever dream. He twitches and presses forward, fighting against the grip Felix has on his hair until it goes sharp, until it makes his good eye water from the sting, and puts his mouth on Felix's neck. Just below the jaw, to return the favor and suck a mark there with his teeth. ]
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But he doesn't. The knife clatters away. And Felix puts his hand in Ephemera's hair, his mouth on Ephemera's throat and -
I'm crazy, Ephemera almost says. You know that, right? Because he feels insane then. Drifting from one thought to the next and just waiting for it to go poisonous on him. For everything to fragment like it always does because even in armor he's always been brittle. Or maybe not always but ever since he woke up alone, and burned, and his family was gone.
It made sense not to touch anyone in the aftermath. To put on his armor and go out into the world like no one would ever know him as a person again.
No one did. Not until he died.
Felix goes for his belt. For a moment, Ephemera doesn't move. Doesn't jerk away, but doesn't go with it, either.
Then he exhales in a rough hiss and drags his free hand down Felix's chest, over his stomach. And then lower, cupping him over those ridiculous fucking pants. I trust you. And somehow, deep down, he knows it isn't a lie. Because only a crazy person would say that. Only a crazy person could stand in proximity when Ephemera's like this, when he can't hold himself together long enough to pretend, and do this shit.
And only a crazy person would like it. Ephemera likes it, he realizes bleakly. And he so rarely likes sex these days. ]
Thought about it too.
[ His voice comes out rough. Smoke inhalation. Yet another scar. ]
Wanna paint you.
[ He wants to paint on him, Ephemera realizes. Against the skin. The thought burns like a fever dream. He twitches and presses forward, fighting against the grip Felix has on his hair until it goes sharp, until it makes his good eye water from the sting, and puts his mouth on Felix's neck. Just below the jaw, to return the favor and suck a mark there with his teeth. ]