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

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

Eurion was more than happy to accept the invitation that Sláine laid out for him and was quick to take him up on it. The deeper the kiss became the harder it was going to be to stop. He knew they should, that they should slow down but wound and rules and slowness be damned because the prince was addicting in a way that no one else had ever been. As much as their occupations clashed everything else felt right, too right. It was almost impossible just how perfect it felt to have Sláine in his lap, his hands on his face and tongue clashing.

They really should fucking stop, but any rationality left the assassin the moment their lips had met and that burning desire inside him lit up faster than it had in the morning. His soul yearned and burned and craved for more than it had ever done for anyone else, and the thought had Eurion's hands squeezing and testing and wanting to touch and take more. Yes, they were exploring, they weren't going to define anything because that would be stupid if things turned sour but it didn't stop Eurion from wanting to have Sláine be his. His prince. His own, and only his. Everything practically screamed at Eurion to say it, to mutter the words against the prince's skin until Sláine didn't forget it.

Before he could stop himself Eurion was kissing Sláine's jaw, and then his neck, by his ear and taking his time to kiss and explore every bit of skin he could get his lips on. He wanted to bite, to mark and leave them in places where Aideen and Caoimhe would definitely see them if only to stake claim that the prince was his because the possessiveness he felt was overwhelming. He didn't, but Gods did he want to, and settled on a muttered, "Sláine," against the prince's skin. His voice was breathless, low and hoarse and laced with that want and protective possession he felt for for him.

Too much of their surroundings and obligations faded away in the face of this moment. Eurion's eagerness only heightened Sláine's hunger for more, until it was a near thing that he didn't make a suggestion that they do something incredibly stupid in the moment. The world spun around him, but this time it wasn't due to his magic, but rather from the overwhelming feeling that was hitting him over and over again, only piling up the longer they went. Everything within him demanded he stay there, to encourage everything, just to get another taste of Eurion over and over again until he had sampled everything, and could go back for more in full.

It was a little terrifying, how quickly the connection between them grew, but the prince refused to be scared of something that felt right. Like he finally belonged somewhere—to someone. His breathing stuttered from the squeezing hands, the possessiveness that rolled off of Eurion in waves with each kiss and touch. It only got worse when Eurion ended the kiss just to trail more elsewhere. Sláine tilted his head back and closed his eyes, a low groan slipping from him. "Fuck, acushla," he breathed. Eurion may not've been biting like he wanted to, but his voice, where he chose to linger as if imagining his teeth sinking into the prince's skin, it was clear to Sláine what he was thinking, and he shouldn't have liked it as much as he did.

It felt unfair that Eurion be the only one shirtless. Though his eyes were a little unfocused, but gleaming with desire as they settled on the assassin, he managed to pull himself together long enough to disconnect Eurion and lean back. From there, he grabbed his shirt and tossed it off, barely giving himself enough time to do so before he was leaning back in and returning the favor. He couldn't help himself either, with the urge to mark and claim, and he let himself tease the idea by grazing his teeth over Eurion's skin. "There," he practically purred, smiling a little with a playful nip, "now you can be greedier." And now the prince could feel even more, skin-to-skin.

Gods Sláine’s voice, those groans. It just heightened the possessiveness, the hunger Eurion felt towards the prince. It had him wanting to draw more of those sounds from him, see how many he could get, what caused him to be loudest or make the most. His own low groan was pulled from his lips when he felt Sláine’s teeth against his own, and before he could properly think through what he was doing, Eurion was flipping them over, until the prince was pressed into the mattress and the assassin’s hand was around his neck again, the other above them to keep them steady.

His eyes were dark, those shadows somehow making his gaze harder and conveying just how much he wanted the prince. He couldn’t claim Sláine how he wanted, and it wasn’t a good idea, he knew, to mark and claim and mate when they didn’t know what this properly was but Eurion wanted to. He wanted to see and hear Sláine when he was finally able to have him, make the prince his own. He wanted to watch the prince when he did so, draw everything breath and sound from him and tell him over and over how he was his.

That burning, the way that invisible string pulled at him to call him mine when Eurion had no claim to the prince and no right to call him that, but the urge to say it, to sink his teeth into him? Those instincts were hard to ignore as he let himself squeeze harder, kiss harder, lower, down to Sláine’s chest so he could bite, even just a little, in a place only they would know about for the time being. It wasn’t hard enough that the bruise would last more than a day or two, and it certainly wasn’t enough to dull that roaring to mate the prince how he wanted, but it would have to do, for now, until they had explored more, tested more with one another.

Sláine had about two seconds of fun before he was being pushed, and his foggy mind couldn't comprehend what was happening until he was looking up at Eurion, the mattress was at his back, and there was a hand around his neck once more. Maybe he should've been wary of having an assassin pinning him to the bed, holding him down by the neck, and looking at him like that; like Eurion wanted to pick the prince apart and devour him right then and there. But he wasn't, because not only did he trust Eurion completely, he fucking loved it, and it made his blood boil with heat.

His throat bobbed beneath Eurion's grasp and his lips parted with soft breaths as Sláine gazed up at Eurion. He had the prince completely enraptured with him without even trying. Eurion didn't have to say anything for Sláine to be burning up—the looks he was giving said everything that the prince needed to know, and it was driving him absolutely insane, even as he went pliant beneath the assassin. He wanted Eurion. No, needed. The prince needed him more than anything in that moment; needed to feel that possessiveness in action, needed to feel lips and teeth on his skin and see that same need mirrored in those enchanting dark eyes.

As Eurion took matters into his own hands, leaving the prince utterly at his mercy, Sláine could do nothing but take it or else he'd encourage them to keep going, to prod Eurion's restraint and see what he'd do. His whole body responded to the assassin's lips on his skin, his body over his, that steady squeeze. Sense came to him very briefly, as concern for the other still clung to the prince's instincts. "If you hurt yourself…" he threatened, even if his voice was soft and a bit strained, then tapered off with a huffed groan and tipped his head back a bit. A hand came up to wrap around Eurion's arm, the one he was using to hold the prince's neck, and Sláine resisted the urge to trap the assassin to his body with his legs. If he did that, he'd never want to let Eurion go.

The princes warning didn’t stop Eurion from staying where he was, settling completely in between Sláine’s legs as he left his marks on his chest. It was better than nothing, especially when those ingrained wants and desires were at the forefront of his mind. It was difficult to hold back now that he had Sláine like this - breathless, under his grip and letting Eurion mark him up and kiss where he wanted.

Eurion lifted his gaze from where it sat on the others chest, half closed, and turning his dark eyes up to the prince at his words. The smirk that the assassin sported he was sure Sláine felt against his skin as he kissed back up his chest and neck. Not a moment later, Eurion was moving his hand to bring the princes gaze back to his own. He wanted him to look at him when he spoke, see that he meant every word and that need for Sláine, how possessive he felt for him, how fucking hard it was to not take him right there and make the princes wholly his.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do right now,” Eurion’s tone, he hoped, conveyed the look he was giving the prince, “Not when you look so pretty for me. So you lie there, and let me mark you up.”

As much as his voice was hard, laced with that want, possessiveness, that silent claim he wanted to make real on the prince, if Sláine wanted anything, to stop or whatever it was, Eurion would give it to him, because as much as this was brilliant for him, it wasn’t just about the assassin. Sláine was his own man, but right now, Eurion had him right where he wanted, and he could tell from the way the prince spoke and reacted to his movements they were both thinking the same. How they both wanted to go further but were holding off. Eurion had never felt concerned with where when it came to taking someone, but with Sláine? No, with the prince he wanted to take him, mark and claim him somewhere better than a random inn.

Sláine had known that he liked losing control sometimes, handing it over to someone else so that he didn't have to make all the decisions or be the one in charge. But it was one thing to already know that and have some basic experience with others, and a completely other thing to be on the receiving end of a Fae assassin taking what he wanted and subjecting the prince—a prince of all people—to his every whim and desire with no room for argument.

He had known he fucked himself with that comment, but he couldn't quite find himself caring when he felt that smirk right before Eurion started kissing his way up Sláine's body. The roles were set, and now wasn't the time for the prince to be making demands, not when Eurion clearly had things on his mind and a determination to get as much as he wanted that he could. So he didn't fight it when the assassin forced Sláine's gaze back onto him, and he didn't dare talk back. Well, that would suggest that he could if he wanted to; but the only thing he could manage was a broken noise awfully close to a whimper—not that he'd admit to making such a sound.

Fuck. Eurion had no right to be so comfortable saying such things to the prince, and he absolutely had no business looking and sounding so hot. Sláine could see the barely restrained need to take him right there, the desires that were undoubtably burning at Eurion. All it did for him was burn through his body and make him arch up into Eurion's biting mouth, legs folding up and tense as he fought back the urge to trap Eurion between them. The wound was there, he kept telling himself, it was a bad idea regardless of the assassin's domineering reminder that he was no longer in the position to make demands.

Sláine wanted so much more, if this is what it was like when Eurion lost control of his carefully masked emotions. As much as he was beside himself for reacting so pathetically to being told he looked pretty—and for Eurion, as if he was nothing more than a possession—he couldn't deny how much he was enjoying himself. The soft noises that slipped by him, the blush dusted over his freckles, the twitching muscles, and the hands that wanted to reach out and touch, but unsure of where he wanted to touch—they all spoke for him

Gods, those sounds. Every whine and broken sound that Eurion pulled from Sláine had his insides burning. As much as he knew that this wasn’t the time nor the place to go all the way, it was incredibly difficult to hold back when the prince was arching into his mouth and sounded like that.

And the prince was letting him mark him him the way he wanted and wasn’t protesting, and it made things all the better knowing that he was the one in control. That, if he wanted- which he desperately did- he could move and take Sláine however he wanted and would probably not get a single complaint from the prince about the man handling and the way he would speak to him.

For now, every mark that he made, the constellation of bruises Eurion was leaving on Sláine chest was dulling that burning desire to take him. It softened the want to claim him, even if they wouldn’t be seen they would both know they were there, they would both act like they weren’t, and it would leave room for knowing looks and hopefully draw some redness from the prince that he wouldn’t be able to explain if they got caught. Every instinct that Eurion had to mate and take the prince softened some, although the assassin was aware that it wouldn’t fade until he finally did so.

Because that bond was thrumming under his skin, that pulling and connection seemed like it was pleased with this, as if it was what it wanted the whole time. Now that Eurion was finally giving in, as much as he was painfully aware of it as he kissed up Sláine’s chest back to his mouth, he ignored it for the time being in favour of mumbling against the princes lips, “So good for me, hm?”

"Eurion, acushla, please." Sláine didn't even know what he was asking for. To quit the teasing and torment that the prince loved too much? To do something, anything, to rid him of the burning beneath his skin? To not talk to him like that because it made the prince too warm and too shy? He had nothing, and even his possible complaints held no ground because he had no complaints, they were things he enjoyed but didn't want to admit it or things that tortured him in the best way.

Sláine wanted to be a brat; to tell Eurion off for having quite the things to say and do to a prince when he had just been demanding cuddles not long ago. But he couldn't, because his tongue was tied and lips too close to miss out on and bruises forming on his skin that stung so good. So he stole a kiss from the assassin's lips, and it wasn't soft or chaste like their first kiss. No, the prince was wound up and needy, and Eurion had to know. It should've been hard to miss, but just in case, he has to seal that desperation and need into Eurion's lips and tongue, that rude and perfect tongue.

It didn't last long, though, because Sláine wanted to bite. He kept it contained to just a drag of his teeth over the assassin's lips, but he wanted to mark Eurion back. Hidden, of course—but a horrible part of him wanted to have visible bruises on the prince. Markers that said he belonged to someone else, handprint rings that only they knew what caused them. Gods, Sláine had never wanted such things from someone so badly.

“When I take you, Sláine,” Eurion’s voice was lower than it should have been, eyes darker and laced with the same want and need that they had been before, and if possible, even more so, “It’ll be when I can make you forget your own fucking name.” It was a promise, as loud and clear as he could make it because he meant every word, “And I’ll make you properly beg for it.”

Because here and now? The other two would know what they were doing, everyone would hear it because Eurion had no intentions on being gentle or keeping Sláine quiet, he was planning quite the opposite, and the bed didn’t seem strong enough for what he was thinking, and he knew that from the way he looked at the prince he had underneath him, all the desires and those wants to make Sláine his was painfully obvious.

There was also the matter of understanding what it would do to that bond between them, what it meant when they did. Bonding- mating - Gods he knew fuck all about the topic but it wasn’t to be taken lightly. Something told Eurion that it wouldn’t matter whether or not he took the prince now or later, because that thrumming and burning he felt in his veins, in his core hadn’t flared up for anyone else, and he knew it never would again. He had to know how special this bond really was, and until the assassin knew for certain, he wasn’t going to go all the way as much as he ached to do so. If they didn’t understand what they were properly getting into too… As much as he knew if Sláine begged just the right way it would make it all the harder to hold back, but no, he had to restrain himself and wait as much as it killed him.

The assassin let the prince bite at his lip and encouraged it, “Mark me then,” He returned the passion of the princes kiss with just as much fire, “Use that pretty mouth of yours.” Eurion could tell his words had just as much an impact as his mouth did, and his smirk showed how much he was loving it.

Sláine's eyes grew heavy-lidded and hazy as he stared up at Eurion and listened to him, hanging off every word and hating and loving each one. They elicited such a deep and visceral reaction from the prince that startled a shiver through his body and a throaty groan. Fuck, he should've never let Eurion get this far, because now he was squirming and overwhelmed and just a mess beneath the assassin, subject to any desire the man might have on a whim, and destined to suffer with promises he can't have.

"You can't just say that," he whined, skin darkening with a deep blush that was a mixture of primal heat and that stubborn shyness. Not because of their occupations, but because now Sláine was thinking about it. When Eurion finally took him, there was no doubt that he'd be rough. He'd let himself mark Sláine up without a care about who he was to the kingdom, because when it came down to it, the prince was his. He'd unleash all that possessiveness onto Sláine, and make him beg for more. The prince had no doubt that Eurion would draw out every second of it, keeping Sláine on his toes and focused on nothing but the assassin in charge of him. And if history repeats itself, he wouldn't want just one taste.

Sláine swallowed and diverted his gaze elsewhere, then thought better of it and hid his face in Eurion's neck. He just knew that his thoughts were clear as day on his face, that thinking about it had him going crazy already, and he didn't want to think about how that translates to his expression. Probably embarrassingly eager. Against Eurion's skin, he mumbled, "Now I can't think about anything else, and I can't have it."

Needy. So very needy. The prince was allowed to be needy and act attention starved while trapped beneath Eurion, the assassin perched between his legs, because this man was giving him all the attention and none of it all at the same time. He'a being given everything that they're allowed to have at the moment, but teasing him with the things that he desperately craved and couldn't be given. It was so unfair, but he enjoyed it too much to really complain. Besides, he had a feeling that Eurion liked the reactions he got from the prince. The intent, the sheer need in the man's voice, they were bright signs that this thing was mutual between them, intensity and all. Sláine wanted to figure this connection out soon, because he really liked the promises he was given.

Now hidden and free to Eurion's skin, Sláine started kissing and lightly biting the assassin, not hard enough to bruise but to let Eurion get a feel for his teeth, the oddness of them, the damage they could do if he wasn't at least a little careful.

The chuckle that left Eurion’s lips was deep and silky as he wrapped the prince in his arms as best he could, keeping Sláine’s face against his neck while the other he used to prop himself up just slightly to hold them both in the position. This was more fun then anyone else he had ever been with, more special and all they’d done was kiss and bite and tease one another but it was better then everything he’s experienced in over a century.

Whether it was that bond between them, because it was Sláine of all people or because it had been a while he didn’t know, but Eurion didn’t care because his focus and attention was on the prince in his arms who was whining at the fact that he would have to wait to be fucked and had his face buried into his skin as if he was trying to crawl inside and hide away. As much as all of it was hot, it was still so incredibly endearing to hear and see Sláine blush and whine as he did, and that attraction he felt towards the prince only grew with every moment they shared.

“Skyfall,” Eurion’s tone was definite, laced with the promises he’d made to Sláine about making him beg and all the silent ones he’d made against the princes skin that were now present in the form of his beautiful marks, “A week. You can be good and wait until then.”

Not only would it be one of the most important days in his culture, it would be for them, too. Their relationship that they could develop and explore when they could over the next week before the festival before that moment. If they were both still set in their wants and desires, still so eager as they were now, Eurion had no doubt that it would be worth the wait for both of them. He’d never cared about whether or not these moments were special, but with Sláine? It felt wrong to have that first moment, to take him and claim him in any other way. That bond seemed to glow in agreement under his skin, too, settling a little at the promise Eurion had made to both, it seemed.

It also gave them a chance to figure out why and what that bond was, what it would mean for them and Eurion knew there would be books on the subject in his lands. It seemed just as right as their bodies fit together.

“For now you can keep thinking about it,” The assassin continued, a soft groan being pulled from his lips as he felt the others teeth against his neck, “You can think about all the ways I’ll have you that night, how good you’re going to feel, how pretty you’ll be begging for me.”

A week didn't sound so far off, if you didn't put in the fact that it killed him to be away from Eurion for a few hours, and that was before they had kissed, before the prince ended up covered in marks that would be hidden from the rest of the world while he'd be painfully aware of them. Before the assassin made the promise to fuck a prince into mindless bliss. A week sounded like agony after everything, and they couldn't even pad that out with regular interaction throughout the days. Sneaky moments, maybe, when they were separated from the group or Aideen and Caoimhe had their backs turned, but nothing more.

Sláine's airy sigh against Eurion's neck was dripping with want and frustration, a little sound slipping through that he was hoping would go ignored. Skyfall. A festival where he had wanted to see Eurion open up and let loose, to admire the man from afar in finery and revelry. Now he had something else to look forward to, even if the knowledge of what would happen killed him.

"I'm holding you to that," he murmured, voice still holding onto that tone even if he was trying to assert a little bit of attitude. If anything, it just came across as petulant, especially when he followed it up with a tiny experimental bite at Eurion's neck. No marks. He couldn't make marks there, because the others would question it. "Though, I can't guarantee being good." No, Sláine would steal every moment he could, tease out this hidden side of Eurion just so that he could be subjected to it, even if it tortured him in the process. It was crazy to assume the prince would be good anyway; he was never known to make life easy on anyone when he wanted to have fun.

And this was fun. Sláine might've been whining and desperate for more while complaining about the promises of more, but he fucking loved it. Eurion was the one for him. This assassin, the man that came into his life with the intention of ending it, had ruined him for anyone else. No one would be able to draw out the same noises, the same reactions, the instinctive need clawing at his soul. Something had called to him the night Eurion slept in his bed, and that something had led to them taking care of one another—just to tear each other apart in other ways. The very thought of Eurion being his to have, to steal away from the world, had Sláine finding a safe spot by the assassin's collarbone to bite. Not too hard, because of his bottom canines, but just hard enough that it would bruise—and probably have two suspiciously darker spots within. He was already pleased with himself from just that alone.

Sláine's hands came up to wrap around Eurion's waist, just loose enough that the wounds wouldn't be harmed, but the action was clear enough. Eurion wasn't going anywhere, if the prince had a say in anything. Not now.

Eurion couldn't help the way that his smirk softened into a gentle smile as Sláine wrapped his arms around his waist. As much as they were both hot and ready to devour one another, it wouldn't stop the assassin from noticing the intention behind the action, "I'm not going anywhere, promise." He shifted a little, moving so he was lying on his uninjured side and to allow the prince to cuddle into him if he so wished.

It was a promise that he knew, realistically, he shouldn't make. Their situation was more complicated than simply the difference in their occupations. There was that unexplainable bond between them, which Eurion was determined to figure out when they made it to the Fae lands, but then there were the Gods. The assassin wouldn't let the thought sour the mood that they had created, but it did have him concerned. He doubted they would be very happy with this predicament, whether or not they had designed it themselves or otherwise. Because in the end, Eurion had been sent to kill the twins. Whatever fucked up type of fate existed to have them end up like this he wasn't sure, but either way, it complicated things. Would the Gods demand and command Eurion kill the twins later?

Now that he had Sláine, felt that connection pulling to the prince with every waking moment, the once dormant feeling that wasn't going to lessen in strength, Eurion wouldn't be able to go through with it. He was fucked, royally. If he killed Sláine… the thought was a bit too much to bare, but if he didn't? It would be the assassin once again on the other side of the God's wrath and they wouldn't be so kind. Well, they weren't kind to begin with, but Eurion knew that he wouldn't make it out alive.

For now, the assassin pushed those thoughts away. Later. He would go back to them later, or when he didn't have a choice. Right now he had Sláine in his arms and they were both content in staying this way for as long as they could steal from the world. That silent humming lessening, as if it too, were content with the two of them.

Ugh, Eurion was being sweet, and the prince could practically feel the softened gaze, the blazing heat between them simmering down some now that they had a set time they could go all the way. But the sneaky assassin had made Sláine horny and desperate for something, so he was rightfully a little huffy, even if he wasn't entirely upset. He could still touch and bite and cuddle up to the man; he could kiss him without thinking himself as going too far. The prince could pin and be pinned and steal kisses the moment they found a spot to stay for the night, or in hidden corners. He didn't have to be wary of being affectionate or asking for affection. Still, that knowledge didn't lessen the remaining heat searing his insides.

Sláine huffed a sigh through his nose and bit at Eurion's chest, as if in retaliation. "You're already moving," he grumbled. The prince knew what Eurion meant, and his heart fluttered with the promise, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. Promises like that weren't guaranteed, and the assassin had so many things that could interfere with that, that the prince was a little afraid of jinxing it.

But he didn't want to think about that. Sláine had a gorgeous and hot as fuck man, shirtless and in his arms, opening himself up for the prince's turn for attention-giving. He would've been perfectly content and buzzing high off of Eurion's unwavering attention and control, but this was good too. The prince cuddled into Eurion's chest, biting here and there, but with each twist of his head, he had to be careful of his horns—which had strings of curls tangled within them from all the movement. Sláine got irritated and self-conscious enough of the nuisances that he nuzzled into Eurion's throat, where he knew the assassin could be safe from being hit. "Forgot how much these things can get in the way," he mumbled, "might just mask 'em again." It would be easier, less cumbersome, and Eurion wouldn't have to work around them either.

Sláine, pouty and a tangle of mixed emotions—hot and bothered, shy, craving touch, self-conscious—nibbled and kissed at the assassin's throat and neck where he could reach, no longer biting but just savoring the ability to do just that. A thought came to him, then. There was one other thing that Eurion might've missed about his family genetics, and he wanted to take the attention off of his disgruntlement with his horns. "Did you know there's these symbols down my spine? I got 'em tattooed. It's this thing that runs in the family. We don't really know what they mean, though." Sláine ran a hand down Eurion's back, tracing where the symbols would be on the other man's body.

"Don't," Eurion muttered, "Don't mask them." The assassin used a hand to reach up and fiddle with the hair tangled between Sláine's horns, gently, as if afraid he would hurt if he pulled too hard, doing his best to detangle them as well as he could. He liked the horns, they were different, as much as he could tell they were a little annoying when the prince was trying to nip at his chest, he liked them, and he was also concerned with Sláine using too much of his magic to keep them masked when there was no need to do so.

He couldn't help the soft shiver that rippled down his spine at the touch. A weak point that had always had the assassin melting, and it would put him to sleep if Sláine kept it up long enough, "Why would you get a tattoo if you don't know what it means?" Eurion asked, "What if it's something vulgar, you're stuck with it then."

Eurion wasn't exactly one to talk when it came to tattoos. His own back was covered in one that was a dedication to the Gods he served, and as much as it still looked great, he had come to start to regret it. Only because the hold they had over him had grown the longer he had stayed, the older he became and the more he could tolerate from them. But when he'd first had the piece made and created, it had seemed right. To have the dedication, the reminder, to those that he served, but it still looked amazing, Eurion wouldn't doubt that. It was a good thing he didn't have to see it every day, unlike the ones on his upper body. At those weren't tributes.

Strange family witch things, he thought, especially if they all had the same. Had to mean something, but if they had no idea what it meant then it could simply be a list of places to avoid, or instructions to make dinner, anything, really. Probably a magic thing, Eurion figured, curiosity piqued.

Eurion was so gentle. Sláine knew he could take it if the assassin decided to manhandle him around by the horns the way Aideen sometimes did to the twins, especially Caoimhe. But Eurion was careful as he untangled his hair from them, softly requesting he didn't mask them. It could've been for a multitude of reasons why he didn't want the prince to do so, maybe nothing related to the man's preference, but it helped ease the twinge of worry.

Sláine laughed, though, when it was Eurion's turn to worry over something. The prince tangled their legs together, wanting to be as close as possible still, and a small grin spread over his lips and against Eurion's skin. "I'm stuck with it anyway, acushla," he said, lifting his head to look at Eurion and steal a quick kiss. "It's bone. You can feel it. But some of us tattoo them to make them stand out a bit more." He had noticed Eurion's reaction to the touch and decided to save that tidbit for later. Right now, Sláine wanted to explain his family's magic a little more to Eurion—give a little insight into the witchy family he grew up learning about and living with.

Another kiss, because he couldn't help himself, then one more to Eurion's chin. "Powerful witches have excess magic, yeah? When that happens, it manifests itself in different mutations, which is the part that sets us away from humans, even if we look it normally." So many witches could get away with blending into human settlements, which some have used to lay low. Others have used it to do harm, which he didn't condone, but it was the tossup you got when dealing with the supernatural. "I wasn't born looking like I do now, it was a gradual process as I grew up, and so did my magic."

His family's history and relationship with their magic was a complicated one, so he hummed as he thought about the best way to summarize it the quickest but most effective way possible. "There's a legend we pass down that says an ancestor made a deal with the Middle, which is responsible for holding all the worlds and realities together and regulating them. That's how we have the power that we have, and why we give ourselves up to the Middle when we die. It's a cycle. So the symbols we bear are thought to be connected to the Middle somehow. It's a language I've never been able to translate, and a mystery we're too lazy to solve, so it's just been something we've accepted." Sláine shrugged and peered up at Eurion, finally cooling down some with the cuddles. "Kinda like how our eyes end up looking like they do."

Eurion hummed gently, continuing to detangle the other's hair as he listened. As much as he had learnt about the different forms of magic when he was a child that had been a long time ago, it had always been strange to learn about how the witches were different from the Fae. Especially how the High Witches were even more different than others. Intriguing, Eurion wouldn't deny it, and his willingness to learn and understand more just grew the longer Sláine spoke.

"Interesting," He said, placing a few of his own kisses on Sláine's head, "Someone should look into what they mean, though. There has to be a book or someone out there who knows. Legends tend to have an ounce of truth to them."

Fae magic worked differently, it didn't manifest in physical ways unless you wanted it to, although most found that those aspects were too similar to witches and so they didn't. They had their pointed ears, their more delicate features that came with the long lives they were granted. But even so, not many of the Fae possessed magic, it was the rare few who were granted those skills. The High Fae, nobility, usually, not Fae like Eurion.

"Strange it's in a language none of you can translate or understand, you'd think it would be important." Especially if it came from one of the royal's ancestors. It was one thing that Eurion didn't have to worry about when he came to his own magic. Riddles or strange manifestations, physical giveaways that may show he was of magical ability. Sure, his ears showed he was Fae, but no one would know Eurion would have any power unless they were on the receiving end. An advantage, really, especially when he had become so focused on trying to decipher the Gods riddles and magic, he didn't need anyone questioning his own.

Sláine breathed a soft laugh and relaxed fully into Eurion's embrace, strangely content with the feeling of the assassin combing through his hair and untwisting the strands around his horns. It felt almost domestic, in a sense—Eurion idly fussing over the prince as they talked and cuddled. "This kingdom is over two thousand years old, and my family line probably even older, as we tend to hold onto life for as long as possible to carry out our duty. There may have been answers long ago, but this place's founder didn't carry it on if he did know." He lifted a hand to touch Eurion's face, to trace over the signature Fae ears. "Maybe it's an answer we can find along the way, or sometime else."

Wishful thinking, as Sláine had never seen any record of anything regarding the Middle. Everything he knew about it was miniscule experiences his family had passed down through the generations. His cousin had managed to be welcomed into that divine no-man's-land without the exchange of death, but hadn't come across anything that would help. The Middle was such an ancient and picky plane of existence, almost an entity in of itself, with protections all throughout it to keep the balance intact.

"I think it is important, and that's why we can't understand it," the prince mused. He had never really thought to look more into the origin of his magic, or the symbols on his back. "It's divine, but separate from the Gods. If mortals could harness the language of something so powerful, then what would happen?" Sláine then made a face. "Of course, it had blessed my family for whatever reason, so who knows. Maybe it's been waiting for someone to crack the code, and we've just been fine with settling with what we already have."

One that set his family apart was the manifestation of their magic. All witches, when casting magic, had some sort of manifestation within their hands that showed their usage of magic. Shifters, like Aideen, didn't necessarily have that when they were shifting, but still did when casting normally. Hers showed itself in a simple glowing pattern of teal blue feathers that circled around her wrists, and a formless glow within her palms.

“It would surprise me if there wasn’t at least one book out there that had some information regarding the symbols.” Eurion let his eyes fall shut, and when he finished untangling the last of Sláine’s hair from around his horns he let himself drop his face between them, as if nuzzling and trying to find the right spot to fit his face, which he was able to find within seconds, “The Fae have books on just about anything, we might be able to find something in the Dalthian Library Catacombs.”

Dalthia, the Fae Lands, weren’t as old as Sláine’s kingdom but it came in close, and the immense expanse of catacombs that expanded underneath the library held every book the Fae had managed to create or get their crafty hands on over the years. Of course, the important books were stashed in the royal library, and as of yet Eurion hadn’t been able to sneak through, but there would be something there. Answers. Answers for Sláine’s mystery symbols, for they’re unexplained in able bond, for the Gods and the markerstones.

Regardless of the festival, the trip back to his home would prove beneficial for their journey, as well as providing lots of fun for them all - especially Eurion and Sláine.

The assassin sighed quietly, breathing the prince in and holding him a little tighter than he had been. It was impossible for the two of them to get any closer at the moment as their bodies were pressed against each other, face to skin and tangled up. Having Sláine in his arms dulled the craving he had to hold someone in ways no one had been able to touch. Like an itch that couldn’t be scratched until now, until the prince, and it was finally dulling now he had found him.

“Everyone will be distracted by Skyfall preparations, they will be empty which means we can scout and find what we need without worry.” Eurion just hopes they would, but he had a feeling a trip to the royal libraries may be in order. Good thing he had a prince right in his arms to help get them in.

Sláine nosed his way back into Eurion's neck, fitting perfectly while cuddled up into the other's chest, and closed his eyes. This. This is what he had wanted for ages. Not just the loss of control, but being held by another and sharing the space like they'd never separate again. He understood the tightened grip around him. The prince wanted to do the same—pull Eurion in and keep him tightly pressed to his body until he was sure that this wasn't going anywhere. They could worry about the laters another time, the complications that would ultimately arise down the line because neither one of them had ever been allowed to he happy without hardship. Now was the time to be greedy and soak it all in.

"I told you going to the festival was a good idea," the prince teased, then grinned and arched a little into Eurion as he added in a purposefully breathless tone, "You gonna fuck me in the library?" Desecration at its finest, one that Sláine wasn't seriously suggesting, but he wasn't going to make the week easy on the Fae, not when he'd be tormenting himself.

So many things would be discovered at that festival. First, it had been a means for fun, a bit of time off for the assassin because he deserved it. But the prince had a way with finding reasonable excuses, and it turned out that the bullshit reasonings to go were in fact very real. They'd have their fun, in more ways than just the festival, and then they'd find all the information they wanted and needed to find. Some of it, he didn't mind if they didn't—like the symbols. They weren't overly important to him, and he doubted they meant anything to their mission. But he had no doubt that Eurion would want to look into their bond to figure out the meaning behind it and it's intensity, and then they had the most important information to discover. So many things, all for an initial bit of fun.

Would they be telling Caoimhe and Aideen about them at that time? Or would they keep it a secret still? Sláine didn't want to go on pretending that Eurion meant nothing to him after Skyfall, but he also wanted to keep what they had just between them. There was no telling what sorts of reactions the two would have. A thief was one thing, but an assassin? And one bound to the Gods? Caoimhe might go big brother in the best case scenario, then harass them nonstop about their relationship. This, the secrecy and freedom to be themselves, he really liked it for now. He liked having Eurion all to himself and no one else.

Maybe he was a bit possessive too. Sláine lightly bit the assassin's neck for good measure, even if it wouldn't make a mark. It made him feel a little better.

The tormenting was going to drive Eurion crazy over the next week. As much as it was a good idea to wait, to learn first and hold off rather than taking Sláine when they were both tired, horny and desperate, it was still going to make the assassin go ballistic, especially when he could tell Sláine wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Not when he was arching into him and breathing those words into his ear.

It was all talk, especially suggesting taking the prince in the library because that most certainly wasn’t going to happen, but Eurion wouldn’t lie that the thought turned him on more than it should have, and he had to force himself to not tighten his grip on the prince and make him shut up in a multitude of ways they would both enjoy.

“Only if you want Caoimhe and Aideen to watch and hear you begging for me.” Was his only reply, and his voice was more guttural than it should have been.

Eurion hummed at the bites that Sláine decided to leave and had no qualms with it, even if he wanted to have those marks left on him in places where it was clear he was off the market, they shouldn’t, and so he would take the soft nipping for the time being, cuddling into the prince.

“Regardless, Skyfall will be a time to relax, but it gives us an opportunity to search Dalthia for information while we’re there. The libraries have books dating back to the Founding, that’s over a millennium of history,” Eurion traced the outline of the prince’s horns delicately, “That’s plenty I’m sure we can find.”

As much as he wanted to focus on the task at hand, he couldn’t help but think about the festival, the celebrations and traditions that he would get to experience, to share with Sláine, with all of them. It made Eurion almost giddy to think about.

Eurion's voice. He hadn't realized just how attractive a person's voice could be, but the assassin had Sláine burning up and squirming at the slightest change in tone—not to mention the switch in demeanor, how he spoke to the prince when asserting himself over him. Even as Sláine bit his lip and pressed himself into Eurion, he sighed a little in disagreement. "My brother has already walked in on me before. Once is enough." At least then it had been a time wholly different from now. Sláine was absolutely sure that he'd die if Caoimhe walked in on him and the assassin, heard the things being said, saw how Eurion could have his little brother by the literal throat.

Then he got distracted, both by Eurion's total switch in tone and subject, and the delicate touch to his horns. The prince shivered, feeling every movement as if it were over his skin, even the pressure of the assassin's touch. They weren't quite sensitive, but they might as well be with how Eurion was handling him. Or maybe his body was just hyper aware of everything the man did to him. What were they talking about again?

"Right." Sláine buffered a bit, thinking over the words he hadn't registered quite fast enough. Skyfall. Library. "It's a good place to start, even if it doesn't have everything we need, and I think we'd all enjoy a bit of time to relax." He kissed the hollow of Eurion's throat. "Especially you."

He was looking forward to seeing the festival, seeing Skyfall in action and enjoying the food and drink and dance. He wanted to see Aideen and Caoimhe having fun together and experiencing something knew, especially Aideen. And then Eurion. Gods did Sláine want to see the man happy and having fun while experiencing his culture, something that he never got to have because of the fuckers controlling his life.

This trip was a bit of a "fuck you" to the Gods, in several different ways, even if it would help them in the long run. But Sláine could only think about giving Eurion something to remember—a time to enjoy himself, whether it be with the prince or the festival itself.

One day wasn’t going to be long enough to relax. The festival would span over the course of a week, especially with the eclipse occurring during the same time, maybe even the same day. Eurion presumed it would be. To have Skyfall and the eclipse at the same time was a rare opportunity and if he knew anything it was that the Fae weren’t going to let a chance like that slip away.

“I don’t think even with the festival I’ll be able to relax as much as you’re hoping.” Eurion sighed, nuzzling closer to the prince if that was even at all possible.

There were too many things that could go wrong, too many things that needed to be done before the festivities even began. Like masks, outfits to fit in, making sure the witches were at least somewhat Fae like so they wouldn’t be noticed. He doubted they would be, well, Aideen, at least, the horns the princes had were a dead give away that something wasn’t right and if they were going to enjoy their day then the least amount of trouble they could get into the better.

Although trouble seemed to follow Eurion wherever he went. Whether he liked it or not there was always something that happened. Like the night stalkers. The thought of what happened in the woods had his mind turning to the possibilities of how they may have crossed over, had him aware of his wound and the pain, causing him to adjust slightly with a small wince.

“How do you think the night stalkers crossed over?” He asked Sláine quietly. Probably not the best topic of conversation for their domestic cuddling but the curiosity and worry was eating away at him.

Sláine sighed, a bit disappointed but not surprised that Eurion was being pessimistic about his level of enjoyment. He couldn't blame the man for feeling that way, what with his occupation being and what his life has been for who knows how long. That's why the prince didn't argue, or try to suggest otherwise. Eurion knew himself best, and if he ended up having a better time than expected, then it'd be a pleasant surprise where Sláine could say 'I told you so.'

Altering their appearances wouldn't be much of an issue, if they didn't over exhaust their magic beforehand without some figurative stretches and warm up. Caoimhe would need to either stay close to Aideen to hide her witchiness, or enchant a piece of jewelry that they all hoped she'd keep on. Sláine would probably employ their resident Fae to check over his appearance before they arrive at the festival—just to be sure, not for any other reason. Maybe he should've been a little more worried, but in his tired and comfortable state, he couldn't find it in him to worry about that particular thing.

On the other hand—"I don't know." Sláine traced symbols over Eurion's chest, just to touch him while he mulled over the concerning encounter. "Easiest answer would be a random opening between worlds, unregulated but open enough for them to crawl through. Like maybe two collided and temporarily overlapped." That's how his cousin, the King of Beasts, earned his name. The raig that guarded him since childhood was a creature from another world, and many others had tormented him due to unpredictable openings letting them into their world.

But things couldn't be easy. They were never allowed easy answers. "But there's something off about it. I don't think it's that." Sláine then drew circles and spirals, as if he was translating his thoughts onto Eurion's skin. "Pulling Echta to us to use its atmosphere shouldn't have been as hard as it was. It's practically the most manipulable world we've utilized because it's so small, but it was almost as if something was getting in the way of it, or pulling it away from me."

Eurion returned to fiddling with Sláine's hair, if only to distract himself from his own thoughts, as well as combing through the prince's mess of soft curls. If it had been a struggle to bring Echta to their own, then something was going on in the background that they didn't know about. Considering how the Gods seemed to be insistent on taking the two princes out for whatever reason they had, it wouldn't surprise Eurion if it was interconnected. Or maybe someone was taking advantage of the open distraction.

"Someone's meddling with things," Eurion said, the concern in his voice was subtle, but it was there, "If it was difficult to pull the world through there's something messing with realities. Bringing creatures through that shouldn't exist, too, it's gotta mean something."

And there was also the problem of the suffocating magic that the night stalkers seemed to possess. Any idea of what it could mean, Eurion didn't know, because none of the stories he remembered about the things ever mentioned them holding magical abilities that would cause such an issue. Especially a magic that felt like his own was both cowering away from the stuff. It was wrong, in so many ways. It also didn't help that the night stalkers were creatures that were fucking hard to kill if you didn't know what you were doing. Two critical, aimed blows? The knowledge would allude most if they hadn't heard of them.

"Could it have something to do with The Middle?" He asked. If the reality held and weaved most of the others together, maybe that was the reason why Sláine wasn't able to easily collide them as he was used to. If there was something wrong, someone impacting The Middle? Eurion doubted that the results would be pleasant, and cause more harm to their and many other realities, too. What else might have slipped through the cracks into other worlds different from their own?