forum Opportunistic Omnivore: Scavenging the Remains of the Divine || OxO || Closed || 18+

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

The party split up, with Eurion practically dragging Sláine to their room after grabbing the key and meds and Aideen getting dragged along to the other room to avoid any thieving incidents. The moment they were safely behind a door, Sláine made a beeline for the bed, stripping off his travel clothes as he did so and tossing them into a corner along with his weapons and bag. His movements were as rushed as he could make them, but his shaking hands made the process a little slower than he was a fan of. Once he was down to just the loose button up and his pants, he dropped face-first onto the bed and let out a low and pent-up groan.

"I fucking hate magic," the prince grumbled into the pillow. Then he turned his head to look at Eurion, and there was that concerned furrow to his brow. But he didn't try to get up to help or make demands again, knowing how the assassin had reacted the last time he did so. Instead, he offered a soft suggestion. "You should at least clean it. Ward off infection. Fresh bandage." His arms curled beneath the pillow his head rested on. "I'd offer to stitch it, but I don't know if I have the supplies, and I doubt I'm the steadiest hand at the moment."

Then he just… watched him. Not for any part reason, at least outside of the gnawing worry that Eurion doesn't actually like him or feel like he does, and would want to cut off anything they've done that's toed the line at "friendly". But Sláine wasn't able to get his fill of the assassin as they walked for fear of the others catching on, so he was making up for lost opportunity. His gaze was soft and heavy lidded, but unwavering.

Eurion hummed his agreement at the prince's first statement. Where Sláine was rushed with his movements to strip off his clothes, Eurion was not, if only to make sure he didn’t lose any of his things or injure himself more. His cape was first to go, boots and pants quickly switched out for the ones he had nicked from Sláine in the morning. He was wary of his shirt, although it followed not long after. He knew the prince was going to have to see the wound sooner or later. Eurion rummaged through his bag to find the roll of bandages that Sláine had given him earlier, glancing at him for a moment before he turned his attention back on himself.

He had started to bleed through the bandages, and as much as it killed him to admit, Sláine was right- he should clean it. Eurion unwrapped the bandages from around him to reveal the wound. The bleeding was easing, but not fast enough, and over the course of the walk it seemed to have gotten worse. It was a grim sight, to say the least, even the assassin made a face as he moved for the small basin in the corner of the room, “It doesn’t need stitches.” It probably did, but that could wait. If by the time morning came it hadn't made any improvement, he would stitch it up, but for now, Eurion was too tired and too sore to care. He grabbed a small rag from where it sat on the side of the basin, wetting it and gently dabbing it against his skin.

Eurion held back a groan, biting his lip instead as he cleaned off the blood and dirt, making sure to be gentle but as quick as he could. Fuck it hurt, and he could feel Sláine watching him.

Shirtless, wounded, wearing his clothes once again and finally in a private room. Had he not been so focused on making sure he wouldn’t get an infection, Eurion might have gone red. All he wanted to do right now was lie next to the prince, to be held and to hold him, rest, and talk when they were both more clear headed.

Sláine warmed despite himself at the sight of Eurion swapping into the prince's clothes, even if it was just the pants for now. He shouldn't like the sight so much, or be oddly proud of himself like he was when he successfully caused trouble, like he had accomplished something worth being proud of. But it also reminded him of the uncomfortable leather digging into his hips, and the doubtless grime sticking to the inside of his current shirt. With another groan, though this one more annoyed than relieved, Sláine rolled off of the bed and dug around his bag. First were his pants, and he slid on a loose and thin pair that hung off his hips and was incredibly comfortable. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, focusing intently to ward off the shaking, and eventually slid it off to swap it with a fitted sleeveless shirt.

When changed, the prince came up behind Eurion to get a better look at the wound, though he kept to himself despite everything in him screamed to help, to kneel down and sew the wounds shut because he didn't trust Eurion to take care of himself properly. Hypocritical, he knew, but those instincts didn't care about that. But he didn't touch and he didn't try to boss the assassin around with his own care. The prince could work his way up to that, test his limits and steadily work to push them back. For now, though, he simply got a better look and sighed a little.

"That was reckless," Sláine softly chided, "It could've been a lot worse." The wounds were nasty, nearly too deep, and still bleeding. At least Eurion was cleaning it. He sighed again and knocked his forehead against the assassin's shoulder in a tiny headbutt, then remembered one last thing he had to do. As he released his previously woven magic, he leaned back so as to not hit Eurion with the uncovered horns, and Sláine could feel his bottom canines poking between his top teeth once more, back to normal once more.

The headache only doubled down on him when he realized just how bad it was. The prince winced from the sharp pain and moved away to grab a painkiller, hoping that it eased some of the aches of his cuts and bruises too.

“It’ll heal,” Eurion mumbled, focusing on cleaning the wound and not crying out in pain too much. When he finally deemed it clean enough - which, by his standards wasn’t as good as it could have been- he rebound his side. Not his best work, but it was tight enough that it would hold the wound together with enough pressure to hopefully stop the bleeding this time, “Besides, it wasn’t like there was any other choice.”

Had he not done what he did they wouldn’t be having this conversation. The night stalkers wouldn’t die unless attacked correctly, and when they were up against three, time hadn’t been on their side. Nothing had been on their side. Ambushed, attacked, and their original plan had gone to shit merely moments after it had started. Merely swinging at the beasts in hopes of a critical hit was never going to work, and so, Eurion had done what he did best- gone for the kill, even if he injured himself in the process.

He didn’t bother to put a clean shirt on, opting to leave it off in favour of moving his arms too much and ripping the wound open more than it already was. It had been hours since the attack, but the assassin could still feel the slightly tingly, constricting feeling of the magic that the night stalkers had used against them. He could figure out the reason why, but he wasn’t putting much thought into it, either, not when he saw the prince wince at his own pain, concern growing into his usual frown.

Eurion watched as Sláine took the painkillers, and didn’t look away until he was sure they had been swallowed, allowing him to relax just a small amount. He should have taken some himself was more concerned with making sure the other was okay than himself. When he finally looked away, he moved to the bed, carefully sitting before lying on his back with a soft grunt as he tried to get comfortable- not easy when you had a huge fucking gash in the side of you.

Sláine curled his nose at the taste of the pills as they went down dry, even if he knew that they would help eventually with his headache. Licking his teeth to get rid of the chalky taste, the prince grabbed the rest of the pills and headed over to the bed, where Eurion was slowly attempting to settle down and get comfortable. He hadn't missed the hovering, feeling the assassin's eyes on him while he took the painkillers, and there was a glitter of humor in his eyes as he came up to the bed.

It felt like ages since they had shared a bed together. Sláine was unsure, his thoughts all muddled from the hours of overthinking, the ambush, and the throbbing in his head. But he pushed himself to act normal, to be as comfortable around the assassin as he had been the night before. With a soft sigh, Sláine slid back down onto the mattress and settled onto his stomach once more, the meds held out for Eurion to take. From the looks of it, the two would be taking care of each other.

"Hey," he called, his voice soft and eyes settling on the assassin next to him, happy to be so close without needing to justify it. As if trying to solidify that reality, he shifted closer and propped his chin on his crossed arms, mindful of getting too close and possibly moving the other too much, and oddly happy to have the weight of his horns back. Now that they had the freedom to talk about anything they wanted, he was at a loss for words. Did he talk about their trip? Make jokes that he wouldn't have dared made in the presence of the others? Broach the subject of their steadily shifting relationship? Sláine traced the outline of Eurion's figure, noting the lean muscle of stealthy work that was capable of pinning him to the bed. He couldn't find anything witty or humorous in the moment, so his exhausted mind settled on a too-truthful statement. "I missed you."

Eurion propped himself up with one hand, gladly taking the painkillers that Sláine held out and being quick to take them, grimacing slightly at the taste but more than happy to get them into his system. He shifted slightly, using the few, squashed pillows to support his back as he moved backwards, a sort of half sitting half lying state so he was able to see the prince better without having to strain his neck.

"You're too far away." Was his grumbled response to the other's words. He wanted Sláine next to him, leaning on him. He didn't care about the pain in his side, he just wanted the prince and was unhappy that Sláine wasn't currently settled into his body. Of course, they weren't that far apart, but even just the smallest bit of space was too much for him. After having to pretend like nothing had happened all day, they finally had the space to talk, to touch, and Eurion was going to make the most of it.

The assassin was ready to drag the prince into him if he didn't move, and the near pout he was currently sporting he hoped was obvious enough to convey what he was thinking. The talking could wait until a little later. They had all night to do that, and right now they were both too tired to bring up what they were both thinking. He wanted to spark that conversation, but the way Sláine looked at him, that tiredness he knew he also was wearing, for now, he just wanted to hold him, even for five minutes. If either Aideen or Caoimhe walked in Eurion knew he would probably yell at them to get the fuck out and leave them alone. After having to deal with the silence and the shared looks when they hoped the other two weren't watching, the thought of them interrupting was far from pleasant.

Sláine's grin was quick to spread, unable to help himself when Eurion was so cute with his grumbled words, which were on the verge of a demand. It shouldn't have made him feel lighter and warmer than he already was, to know that Eurion wanted him closer—and the only closer that was possible was body-to-body. But now that he had the assassin's complaint and adorable pout seared into his mind, he couldn't stop himself at just touching.

The prince lifted himself up without a word and shuffled closer. Had Eurion not been injured, he would've happily returned this morning's gesture and settled into the man's lap. But he was sporting a nasty wound that Sláine didn't want to disturb more than necessary, so the prince hooked a leg over Eurion's and laid himself partially on top of the assassin, chin on shoulder and arm resting over chest. He made sure his horns weren't hurting anyone or being a nuisance as he got comfortable, then relaxed into Eurion with a heavy sigh that released all the tension he had been holding up until that moment. This is what he had been missing as they traveled, the comfort Eurion provided with just a simple pout and his natural warmth. "Better?" he asked, humor and relief mixing in his tone.

There was no denying that the longer they spent together, the more they wanted from one another, and that was cause for a discussion. They should be focusing on recovery, or talking about the wrongness of the entire conflict within the woods. They shouldn't be more concerned with touch. Sláine shouldn't be rejoicing and savoring the instant drop in Eurion's guard with that damn pout. It was funny—the assassin would've never made such a complaint when around the others. The teasing had been a pleasant surprise, but it was all targeted at Sláine, as the others had done so. But that private demand was more intimate, more vulnerable, than he imagined Eurion was comfortable making around anyone else. How he became the exception would probably always be a mystery to him, but he was happy, and would continue to bask in Eurion's softer side.

Eurion slung an arm around Sláine as if he was going to move away now that he finally had him in his arms, or maybe even disappear. The assassin rested his head against the prince, settling his head between his horns and breathing him in with a long breath, "Much better."

He let his eyes slip shut, simply just enjoying being able to hold the prince once again. In such a short amount of time Sláine had managed to slip by the walls Eurion had built and weave his way into his brain and take up a good portion of his thoughts. He figured it was because Sláine had seen him when he was his most vulnerable and hadn't yelled, hadn't judged, and had offered support and comfort when no one else had ever done so. How even thought Eurion had gone to the palace to kill him the other night, he had still been there to help. It confused Eurion just as much as it confused the prince, quite frankly, how a stranger had slipped through the cracks for the first time in a long time and he wasn't mad about it. Eurion was enjoying it, in some way. The want for someone, to be able to hold and be held, comforted and supported. Those deep desires that he had hidden away for such a long time resurfaced whenever Sláine was in his thoughts- which was often considering the amount he had turned his mind towards him during the walk.

There was so much he should say, but for now, he took to simply tracing the muscles on Sláine's back, "How's your head feeling?" He asked after a few moments, shifting so he could rest his forehead against the other's.

When that arm wrapped around him and held on so fiercely, Sláine decided that he quite liked how clingy Eurion could be. They both were, really, in a sense. The prince could never quite make himself pull away anytime he was given a taste of the man, always finding himself wanting to bury himself away from the world and into Eurion's body, or reluctant to make the man move when Sláine was the one holding onto him. But when it was Eurion pulling him tighter, trapping him against his chest as if the world would steal him away, Sláine was happy to press into him in a reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

The less amount of fabric between them was a new sensation, though one that the prince wasn't overly opposed to, since he could feel Eurion's heartbeat better against his wrist, the warmth they shared, and the assassin's soft touch to his back. Sláine closed his eyes to melt into it all, and only turned his face up towards Eurion's a fraction when he felt his forehead rest against his own, like an acknowledgement of the action, and approval. As if they couldn't bear to be apart in any way, and had to be as close as possible. Sláine hummed, content, though his answer slightly contradicted that contentment. "Killing me," he whispered, just a ghost of a smile on his lips, "but I'll live. It should fade soon, anyway." With just a tilt of his head, he playfully bumped their noses. "I won't bother asking about your side, I know you'll lie, but how about you?'

If he hadn't known better, he would say that they were already a couple, lounging together after a long day and simply enjoying themselves. They certainly acted like it, intimate but not dipping into deeper territories, checking in with each other after a fight. Sláine had thoughts, of course—urges that were innocent in a different context—but this was good too. He liked this. He liked breathing in Eurion and knowing the other was doing the same, like they wouldn't be wholly relaxed if they didn't.

The worry that Eurion felt towards Sláine was new. After never having worry about someone for most of his life it was almost overwhelming. The urge to tend to and take the pain away from him, to hold it for himself if it meant knowing that the prince wouldn’t be in pain anymore. All the thoughts, feelings and sensations swirling around in his mind had his heart beating a tad faster than it should have, only because it was so new to him.

If this was what they were like now having not spoken about whatever it was that had settled between them and caused the two to be drawn to each other, what would they be like in a week? How would it be when they made it to the festival? Eurion presumed there was some explanation to the quickness of the development, why he felt so attached. He’d never payed attention when it came to romance in Fae culture and was starting to regret dismissing the topic so quickly in his younger years. There was always explanation for these things, there had to be.

Eurion pushed the thoughts aside. He’d work it out later, if ever. Maybe when they made it to his homelands he would. For now, he simply returned the nose bump with one of his own, “It hurts like a fucking bitch,” He had been tempted to lie, but if felt okay when it came to telling Sláine about how he was really feeling, “It’ll be fine soon.” Just as the princes head would be okay, so would his side, even if it took a bit longer for the painkillers to kick in.

He was enjoying the closeness, how comfortable he felt in the others presence and was content to not move for the rest of the evening. Their little bubble of comfort and security has return, and they could finally enjoy one another without having to hide it.

Since Sláine was a twin, he knew nothing but worry for another. He and Caoimhe had popped out of the womb worrying about each other, and it only amplified while thralls for Seiger for the entirety of their lives. They had found fleeting moments of freedom here and there, and spent those moments wreaking havoc, befriending the staff, or curled up together in silence just to catch their breaths. Every step of every day, Sláine was worried about Caoimhe. If he ate enough, if he got enough sleep, if he was actually happy. With over eighty years of worry, his bones were practically steeped in it.

But this fierce care and worry over another that wasn't family, the desperate urge to comfort Eurion and distract him from his pain in any means possible—that was new. Sláine wanted to get as close to the man as possible if it meant making him feel a little more okay. His entire being thrummed with the urge to check on Eurion's wounds, to care for him himself because he knew that the assassin had done the bare minimum with care. But they were both comfortable, and Sláine was pretty sure that Eurion would whine and complain about him moving, as if he would be going too far away.

His hand slid up to cup the side of Eurion's face, fingers idly tracing the edges of his ear. "I know sleep is necessary, but I don't want to lose time like this." The admission was soft, like he wasn't quite sure if it was okay to say that. But he had to. Aideen and Caoimhe could be as affectionate as they wanted to be around them, even if they kept the PDA to a minimum anyway. But Sláine couldn't so much as walk close to Eurion for too long without fearing a side-eye and too many questions he couldn't answer. It wasn't fair, and he was more than a little bitter about that, especially now that the intensity of his longing was crashing down onto the prince while he had Eurion in his grasp.

Eurion let his eyes fall shut softly at the touches, his ear twitching softly as he leaned into it. With every touch, even the slightest bit of contact, he could feel that invisible pull towards the prince growing louder and stronger within his chest. Every moment they spent together like this, even though the number had been minimal as of yet, it just caused the want and need that he felt to be near Sláine, to check in, to touch and hold and care and worry to grow.

They were supposed to be nothing. They were supposed to be strangers who had been tasked with a mission that was entirely too dangerous and probably impossible, and they weren’t supposed to have any connection at all. But here they were, on the second night of knowing each other, cuddled up and talking about how they wanted more. More of the moments like these where all they could do was speak to each other softly and hold one another as if they had known each other for a lifetime already. A connection that was entirely outrageous and absurd to the both of them, one that wasn’t possible but yet it was, and neither of them fought against it.

“We have all night to rest,” Eurion said, “We don’t have all night to talk.” Because they needed to, well, they didn’t have to, but they should. To work out what it was that they were, what they might lead to, how the hell they were going to keep it a secret if it continued because the assassin had no doubt that the first prince and his lover would be less than thrilled to know that their friend was getting it on with their assassin, of all people.

He knew it was coming. Of course it was. They couldn't continue on with their lives without addressing the rapidly changing relationship. They were practically nose-to-nose and cuddling, talking softly about the care they had for each other, even if not explicitly stated. Sláine had missed Eurion, despite being just a few feet away from him for hours; but it just wasn't the same as right now, where they were invading each other's space and holding one another like they were going to be gone if they blinked too slow. A talk was needed, lines needed redrawn. They needed to be on the same page, no matter how much Sláine disliked the idea. The prince didn't want things to shift in a way that harmed their current dynamic. He liked it the way it was, even if he steadily wanted more. Eurion pulling away for a multitude of reasons was to be expected, but it'd suck.

Still, Sláine acquiesced, albeit with a soft groan of protest. "You're right," he allowed. This conversation needed to be had, and properly. So he pulled back to see Eurion clearly, putting space between their faces, though his hand stayed where it was—he wasn't that good.

Even if he didn't like the conversation topic, or the possible outcomes, he did have something he wanted to know, and it was as good of an introduction as any. "If my title didn't exist next to my name," Sláine said, voice serious but face apprehensive, "if it wasn't there to sway anything… what do you want? What would you want?" If he wasn't a prince, would Eurion still want him? Or, alternatively, if he wasn't a prince, would Eurion be more inclined to want him? It was no secret that their occupations clashed, but they weren't so disalike, and Sláine had a feeling that was a possible thought going through Eurion's mind. An assassin and prince? Never to happen.

But said prince was a rule-breaker, and hardly fit for the title anyway. If Eurion wanted what he did, he'd stand by the assassin no matter what to ensure that he got everything he asked for.

Eurion moved a little, if only to adjust himself from the throbbing in his side. His usually hard features softened, and he placed a gentle hand over where Sláine's own was positioned on his face, "I couldn't care less whether or not you have a title," He started, "This shouldn't just… happen as it has, but," He paused, taking a moment to consider what and how he wanted to say what he was thinking.

"I'm not good with all this shit, I don't know what's normal and what isn't, but I do know that whatever it is that we have I- I like it." Whether it was fate, destiny, some weird Fae shit or some fucked up trick the Gods were playing on him just watch it all crash and burn the minute they decided they were bored with watching and toying around with their assassin, Eurion didn't care. It didn't matter, in truth, the reason behind why they felt so strongly for one another in such a short period of time, as long as they were both okay with it, as long as they both wanted it, then it didn't matter.

The assassin didn't know what he wanted when it came down to the crux of things. Did they just leave things unlabeled, have their fun while they could over the time they had together and leave it at that? Or when - if - they finally returned back to the palace, would Eurion stay? Would Sláine want him to stay? What Eurion wanted didn't matter to him. After spending his whole life in the service of others and disregarding his own needs, the assassin still felt that his say didn't matter, even with the prince. He could confess the desire that he had to explore further, to see where things led but in the end, it wasn't his choice, things never were his choice.

Eurion was going to be the death of Sláine, and not because of an assassination. The prince waited anxiously for Eurion to sort through his thoughts, that aborted sentence chewing through Sláine's nerves and confidence and nearly cutting him down. His hopes had lightened some with the reassurance that his title wasn't in the mix, at least from what Eurion claimed, but then the assassin had to go and remind them both that what they were experiencing shouldn't be happening. Sláine hung onto that 'but', desperately hoping that it led to good things.

He wanted this. He wanted Eurion sharing beds with him, comfortably sitting himself in the prince's lap whenever he wanted, teasing him in the dead of night once the others were gone and couldn't hear Eurion laugh and see him smile. He wanted the privileges that came with being involved with the assassin, not just for himself, but for Eurion. Sláine wanted to see him happy, to let him explore himself and his wants outside his servitude. It was a slightly selfish way to help the man experience things, but the prince already knew he was greedy when it came to Eurion. Even the way he touched him and wanted to do so much more was greedy, but so long as Eurion liked it, he wouldn't stop.

Sláine let out a small breath, though the simple sound had nothing on the crushing weight that lifted from his chest. "I like it too," he said, maybe a little breathless. "Normal is boring, and we aren't boring people." He would've moved his touch to Eurion's chin like he had done before, had the hand over his not been there—not that he was complaining. "This… what we have… I really like it. I like you. And I want to get to know you better, in a lot of different ways. But I think the most important thing we should figure out is what we want this to be. What are the limits, what is okay," Sláine bit his lip, feeling foolish even if it was necessary, "if… we want to define what we are to each other."

Eurion let his hand trail down Sláine's arm and back again, the motion more to soothe his own heart rate than anything else. He was just as relieved as the prince was hearing that he liked it, too, because even though he figured it was clear enough through actions, there was always an extra comfort that came with hearing the words, "Should we define it, right now, at least?"

He didn't know if it was the smartest idea, considering they barely knew each other beyond the small conversations they had had in private up until now. It wasn't like they had been given a lot of time during the day when they were tired, injured, and worried about how it might look to the others in their party.

"Sláine you… you got through a wall of mine that has been up for a long time," Eurion let his gaze scan the prince's face, searching for something but not quite knowing what, "You did it in a few fucking hours and- and I'm… I'm glad you did," The invisible binding between them had Eurion's thoughts turning back to the prince, which had him wanting to be close to him while they walked, touching his hand if only to blame it as an accident just to touch for a moment. That meant something, this connection didn't just happen unless it was important, Eurion knew that much and remember that much from the little he knew of romance, "I want to explore it more before we settle on anything."

Because there was always the chance that when Sláine found out more about his past, looked more into who he was, he could drift away, decide and realise that, even with that connection, Eurion wasn't a good person, wasn't his person, or fun or whatever the fuck it was.

"Okay." Sláine curled further into Eurion, hyperaware of that soothing touch to his arm but finding his own sort of comfort from it. That is what he liked about this thing so far—the immediate comfort they could pull from one another, the simple touches that did everything to keep them happy and comfortable. Even he wanted to nose his way into Eurion's neck like he had back in the Wolf's Shed, but they still had a conversation to finish, so he settled for his own idle movements of his thumb. "Then we explore."

It wasn't a bad idea. In fact, Sláine perfectly understood Eurion's reasoning behind wanting to hold off on any defining. They were new to each other, and Eurion sounded relatively new to romance in general. They had this time together to test waters and learn each other, while getting a grasp on what sort of thing they wanted from one another. Sláine didn't want to call it just 'fun', because then that would diminish the effect Eurion had on him. If it was just 'fun', then he'd have no problem spending the days five feet apart. But for the moment, it was a rightfully confusing and gray situation that they had the time to figure out and adjust along the way. No one was rushing them, no one had to know; it was just the two of them.

The prince smiled up at Eurion, soft but with just a small hint of his usual spark in his eyes. "I told you I'm a gentleman. It's all charm." He did cave into the urge to hold the assassin's chin, thumb tracing just over the man's bottom lip as he did so. "As counterintuitive as it sounds, I'm glad you showed up. I've never—it's always been me and him. Then Aideen showed up, and it was me, and him and her. I can't say I've had anyone in my life that I felt was a gift, or someone who wasn't there for someone or something else."

He was saying this wrong, he just knew it. All the languages he mastered, all the tongues he could tie together with ease, and Sláine couldn't even speak the language of his own emotions. His brows furrowed in a sort of endearing frustration at himself. "You're not the only one glad for this. I wouldn't ask for anyone else." And before Eurion could protest, Sláine turned his face into the man's lower shoulder and spoke against his skin while peeking up through his lashes. "Shush."

Eurion snorted, the urge to argue and disagree over the fact that Sláine had practically called him a gift into his life. He was no gift, he was just lucky timing, in his mind. Instead, the assassin wrapped both his arms around the prince, one arm around his waist, and the other over his lower back as he brought him into a full embrace. He didn't want to ever let go, not of this. He wanted to see just how far they could go together and what his actually meant, little by little, enjoying the time they had in private, teasing each other as best they could during the day around the other two. No, Eurion didn't want it to just be a bit of fun, and the thought scared him more than the attack had earlier today.

Trust didn't come easily, and connection didn't come easily, but he had the prince he had been sent to kill pressed against his chest, the assassin was wearing his clothes, and they were sharing a bed for the second night in a row. He had no idea what it was about Sláine that had these feelings growing in him, because none of the other people he'd met over his life, the short flings, none of them had created this sort of warmth and comfort in him, not even the teenage romances he had had over a century ago. It was the prince, it was Sláine and something about him, specifically, and there had to be a reason as to why.

Eurion wanted him regardless of the title Sláine held, whether or not he had been sent to kill him in the first place. Something brought them together, something created and caused that bond and Eurion was determined to figure out why, and what, but for now, he simply nuzzled Sláine's cheek with his nose as if to try and pry him away from his shoulder.

"I don't want it just be… fun," He wanted to make that clear, "But something more… only if you want the same, though." Because if Sláine didn't, he wouldn't press, and he would pull back no matter the difficulty. Especially considering the want to kiss the man now that they were so close and had managed to talk about what it was that they wanted with one another.

Sláine couldn't stop himself from smiling and laughing a little as Eurion moved. To make it easier on the injured assassin, Sláine shifted closer, practically laying half on top of Eurion with their legs tangled and the prince absolutely in love with the feeling of Eurion's arms around his body pulling him into a fuller embrace. The dreaded conversation was going better than planned, Eurion didn't argue with him about how the prince saw his appearance, and he was far too comfortable with the assassin playing pillow for him, no matter how injured. Neither could let go or stay away; if anything, they continued to get closer and closer. That was okay, though. Sláine had no qualms with that.

Eurion requesting not to make it just about fun came right at the perfect moment, like he had read the prince's mind. So they both didn't want casual fun. This was it for them, at least for the time being. When Sláine did "not just fun," he was exclusive, even if his partner wasn't. They didn't have to be together, or even labeled as nothing more than a partner in crime, but the prince liked sticking to one person you were interested in. And he was very interested in Eurion.

"Good." The prince smiled even more at the nuzzle to his cheek. It was cute. far beyond cute, especially when he could feel the slight force behind it. "I want it to be more than just fun, too." Later, they could discuss what that 'more' could be when they had things figured out. Right now, they were set to explore, and Sláine wouldn't rush it. He'd also need to have a conversation with Eurion about his wants being second to Sláine's. Only if you want to. The prince didn't want Eurion thinking that he couldn't ask for things without approval or allowance from Sláine. He was his own man, with his own thoughts and desires—clearly. But that was far down the road, and not something to be learned quickly. The prince would be patient for the time being.

No, now was time for the cause for the adorable nuzzling. It felt insistent, like a silent 'Look at me.' The prince popped his head up in response, wondering what else Eurion had to add, or what he wanted Sláine himself for.

Eurion lifted one arm to rest and gently tangle in the back of Sláine's head, feeling the curls, the softness of his red hair, how he framed his face so beautifully, how he found him beautiful, especially wrapped in his arms like he was. Whatever happened between them, during the course of this trip and otherwise, Eurion knew he would remember this moment in particular. How the other looked lying on top of him nearly, the assassin's arms wrapped around him, his soft his lips looked and how fucking close they were, too.

When Sláine moved his head away Eurion found it hard to drag his gaze off his lips, flicking between the prince's eyes and mouth. He hoped his look would convey what he was thinking because words were starting to fail him, and he was unsure as to whether he should ask, whether Sláine would even want to kiss him. He could feel his cheeks warming at the thoughts of what it would be like, how the urge had arisen and taken him a back a little but he wasn't complaining. They shouldn’t, but he desperately wanted to.

Romance was not his thing, it never had been, and he had always been confused as to what was right, what was wrong and what was acceptable. Eurion hadn't felt nervous around another person in an intimate setting for years, because usually, it didn't matter. Things were quick and there was no connection involved but this was different. Eurion was worried and he cared about what Sláine was thinking, how he felt, and what he wanted when in every other instance he had paid little mind to it over the basic care for someone in that setting.

Not anymore. Not with Sláine because there hadn't been anyone else he had wanted to be like this with, and he doubted there would be many, if any, others.

Eurion wasn't being subtle.

It was endearing, though. Sláine liked how the assassin could be so forthright with what he was asking for sometimes. Any other time, Eurion was closed off, expressionless, with just barely-there hints of emotion flickering across his face. But here, now, with that hand twisting into his hair and his body beneath the prince's, he was nearly an open book. Sláine loved it. But that didn't mean he wouldn't tease, just a little, to get back at Eurion for ever suggesting he couldn't charm someone into a bed with him.

Sláine shifted upwards some, still careful of hurting Eurion in the process, then leaned his head back down to smile against the assassin's shoulder. The prince knew what the man wanted. It was obvious from the way Eurion stared down at his lips, but didn't ask—that's what the nudging was for. And Sláine wanted it too, no doubt about that; he had been thinking about it for way too long and way too often. But now that he was faced with the opportunity, he wanted to have some fun, to draw it out a little and drive Eurion crazy, maybe get another pout and grumbled complaint again. The prince's hand over Eurion's chin slid to cup the side of the man's neck in a loose hold, feeling a faint pulse beneath his palm. He wondered if he'd feel it kick up soon.

A butterfly kiss, right where Sláine had hid his face into the assassin's shoulder. It was a barely there graze, the gentlest press of his lips without moving. Then another, a little further up. Sláine focused on his slow and gentle administrations as he worked his way closer and closer to where the assassin wanted him, and each kiss got just a little bolder, lingered a little longer. He kissed his way up Eurion's shoulder and chest until they became face-to-face, and Sláine was smiling as he looked back up to him. With the loose hold he had on the assassin's neck, he turned Eurion's face just so until their lips were so, so close, close enough that Eurion would be able to feel his smile despite not actually touching. "I think I can attract people just fine," he whispered, voice just a little rougher from the thought of kissing Eurion. "I've got a gorgeous man right here with me."

The prince's head tilted, just a little, enough to brush his lips over Eurion's. A question.

The assassin’s pulse did in fact increase the closer the prince got to his lips. It was torture, really, to feel Sláine’s lips against his skin but not where he wanted them to be. To feel them slowly moving up to his face until there was barely any space between them. Eurion frowned a little, only out of frustration because the teasing couldn’t have come at a worse time, “Just shut the fuck up.” He didn’t want to think about how the prince had just called him gorgeous, how he was smiling against his lips.

Because not a moment later, Eurion was pressing his own against Sláine’s. His hand tightened in the princes hair as if to hold him there in case he pulled away too soon. Of course, if the prince did make a move away the hand wouldn’t stop him, but as their lips pressed together the want to kiss him harder, longer, arose.

The kiss for now was soft, almost unsure as to whether this was okay or if he was doing something wrong. Gods had it been a while since Eurion had kissed someone like this. Soft, sweet, but with the undertones of wanting something more, needing something more. If the assassin hadn’t been injured he probably would have pulled Sláine into his lap, or maybe even flipped them over to trap the prince under him so he could draw out the kiss for longer. Because those sparks, the way his heart picked up and the urge to push, to ask for more felt both greedy and right. It was a kiss that he would be thinking about all of tomorrow, especially considering they wouldn’t be able to be like this for gods knows how long again. Eurion was going to make the most of it, and the way he pressed his lips a little harder against Sláine’s he hoped was indication enough.

The way their lips fit together, how comfortable and fucking good it felt to be like this? Eurion was addicted, that much was clear to him, and whatever it was that bound the two of them together only seemed to strengthen.

Sláine would've laughed if he had the chance. He got the exact response that he wanted, and then some. He hadn't expected a blatant demand like that, or for the assassin to cuss him out, but the prince was pleasantly surprised. Then Eurion was leaning in, kissing him, holding Sláine in place by his hair, and all his humor melted away until there was nothing left but the lips on his and the pulse thumping against his palm.

The second he got a taste, any possible thought of pulling away disappeared. Realistically, it was just a kiss. But it was Eurion he was kissing; this gorgeous, protective, brilliant man that lit up when he smiled, that was clingy and demanding when he wanted something enough to not be insecure about asking. Sláine couldn't deny how smitten he was already, and as the kiss remained soft and sweet, he couldn't deny how much he wanted more. It translated in how he held the back of Eurion's neck, that slightly desperate grip doing the same as the one Eurion had in his hair. He wanted to take as much as he could have before they spent hours apart once again—apart, but together, tortuously unable to be like this. The prince wanted to be able to kiss Eurion quiet when he joined Caoimhe in the teasing, or to physically comfort him in the moment whenever something happened, not hours later.

He wanted so much, and this simple kiss was the tipping point in his slipping control over his urges. The assassin pressing harder into the kiss didn't help manners at all.

Sláine did pull away, but not very far, and even that little bit of separation killed him. But it was for a good cause. The prince shifted, careful of his knee and hand placements so as to not hurt Eurion, and he lifted himself up to be over the man. It would be so much easier if he could be just a little rougher, more able to be entangled with the assassin, but it wasn't possible with an injury, so this was the best he could do given their situation. But he wanted more, and he hoped he was reading Eurion right in that he shared that want, and in this new position, the kiss could be deepened. Sláine didn't hesitate this time and leaned in, connecting their lips in a slightly more desperate kiss.

Injury be damned, Eurion didn’t want careful, he cared less about whether Sláine was careful or not because the longer their lips stayed together the harder it became to seperate. Even the prince moving for a split second just to readjust the positioning was too long and Sláine was being far too gentle. Sure, it wouldn’t be a great time for anything to go wrong with the wound, it would most certainly be the worst timing but Eurion’s hand was already moving from where it was sat around the princes waist and going lower, pulling the other against his chest until there wasn’t a degree of separation between them and Sláine was comfortably in his lap with their lips locked together.

Considering both their tired and injured states, Eurion knew they shouldn’t go further then this, but with the deepening of the kiss, it was difficult to hold back, especially now the prince was settled in his lap. His stomach burned, his heart raced and he could feel that connection growing stronger and stronger and shining brighter than it had ever done that morning.

The assassin didn’t shy away when it came to what he wanted now they were in private, now that they had talked and were both on the same page. It showed when Eurion moved the hand that was holding Sláine’s head to around his neck, the other comfortable with where it now sat lower on the prince. It should have been difficult, slower, to get to this point, but they weren’t normal, their connection wasn’t normal and Eurion didn’t care now that he was fully aware of that tugging that kept bringing him back to the prince, as if it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to show itself.

With the kiss deepening it was easy to tell they were both just as desperate for this as the other, from the way they held each other, how he hoped Sláine felt that this was just as right as Eurion felt it was.

Maybe he should've been the responsible one, maybe he should've discouraged anything more than a few lazy kisses so they could really explore the thing blooming between them. Logically, the prince knew that this thing they shared wasn't normal and that they should be focusing more on figuring it out bit by bit than trying to devour each other. But logic made no room for how soft Eurion's lips were, or how his very blood and magic thrummed and seared him from the inside at every touch and kiss. How it felt to be grabbed and moved because the assassin was impatient and infuriatingly neglectful of his own physical wellbeing. Logic knew nothing of that, and the prince didn't care for logic's ignorance.

Sláine made a small noise of surprise when Eurion's hand moved lower and urged him closer, on top of the assassin. He had half a mind to scold Eurion for doing such a thing, threaten to revoke kissing if his wounds started bleeding out again, but as he swung his leg completely over the man's lap to straddle him, he found that he didn't care to. Revoking it for Eurion meant he couldn't do it himself, and that was extremely unpleasant. So Sláine shut himself up by kissing his assassin, his hands moving to cup Eurion's face as if he needed to make sure he'd stay right there. As an experiment—because neither of them seemed capable of slowing down anytime soon—the prince parted his lips in an invitation that Eurion had the choice of accepting or declining. This, just being in his lap and being inseparable, was good enough for him, even if he burned to keep taking, to be greedy and reckless and take everything Eurion was willing to give and allow. The ball was entirely in Eurion's court.

Sláine had no doubt that this was intended. He had been put as Eurion's mark for a reason, even if his brother had been tacked on. Eurion had meant to be intercepted, then stashed with the younger prince. With the way things snowballed from there, how they couldn't quite leave each other's side when they needed to, it had to be something pulling them together. Sláine didn't know what, just that it made him happy—and a bit delirious with want for more from the addiction that was Eurion and his lips. Nothing could stop him from wanting more of this.