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

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

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Aideen and Caoimhe watched with matching looks of glee and intrigue when Eurion practically made a beeline for Sláine. The prince stood no chance of getting away or diverting Eurion's attention, not with how intensely focused the man was. He made a strangled noise when his horn was grabbed and he was practically dragged off the couch and along with Eurion into the remaining bedroom, once again not expecting it and getting mixed feelings at the touch. His very being soared at the touch of his mate, being held by him, no matter the kind. But it also wasn't a very forgiving touch, as Eurion made sure he couldn't escape his grasp and instead quickly trail behind to avoid discomfort.

Sit Eurion's single order was obeyed near instantly, with the prince finding the edge of the bed the moment he was released. Sláine didn't know what to expect or how to feel. This… this was undoubtably an ambush, and Eurion wasn't playing nice with his pointed looks and commands. So many possibilities as to what was going on cycled through Sláine's mind as he tried to figure out what was going on and why he was being literally dragged into a room alone with Eurion, when the other had robes and other items in his hand. He could clothe himself just fine. What was happening?

So many questions, so little answers. Sláine sat silently with his hands clasped and in his lap, head bowed but eyes not leaving Eurion. He didn't know what to ask, or even how to. The surprise of the ambush had loosened his suffocating hold on the bond, and his swirling emotions had become too much for his mind to contain on its own, so the dam burst and poured out the excess to Eurion. Confusion was the biggest one, with that nasty fear keeping its teeth in his neck. But there was his constantly present adoration of his assassin, the thrill of being touched once more even if for a moment, the subtle rove over Eurion's figure because they were alone and he hadn't let himself look for too long. Sláine's mate was standing right in front of him, determination clear as day and voice holding no room for argument in just a single word, and the prince was struck silent. Waiting for whatever came next.

Eurion nudged Sláine’s legs apart so he could stand in between them, towering over the other man as he undid the cap of the paint in his hand and trapped him once again. No getting away, no trying to excuse himself or making a runner. The assassin dropped the cap to the bedsheets and dipped his finger in the dark blue paint, letting it cost just his fingertips before he balanced the pot on Sláine’s knee to free his other hand. And with that, he used his thumb and forefinger to bring his princes gaze up to his face, ever so delicate, soft and gentle as if he would old break the other with a touch that was too hard and directing. Unlike his gaze, which was still firm as they locked eyes.

For a moment, Eurion didn’t speak, instead taking to placing the paint on his fingers under Sláine’s eyes, “Avoiding me this last week has given me a lot of time to think,” He started, swooping the paint in an expert motion, “Especially when you’ve been so intent on doing so. I understand why, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t hurt.” Because it did. Every attempt at trying to get Sláine alone to talk had been shut down the entire way. Every time he got close the other moved away so there was distance between them and, even though he understood the reason why, it stung, knowing he wanted to fix things and being unsure as to whether Sláine felt the same.

“The Gods have never been anything less than torturous, and their power has been growing stronger for reasons they won’t say. Their magic terrifies me, what you did to that witch, terrified me.” A calculated pause, especially when he moved to drag his fingers under the other eye, “But Sláine, you’re my mate. Fate has put us together for some reason and deemed us perfect. No matter how opposite we are, what magic you possess, you’re my other half. Fear can be over come, time allows it even if it takes another century but that’s not going to keep me away from you. I don’t give a fuck. Magic be damned, I don’t care, you Sláine Mac Arthfeal, are the man I want to be with. I need you.”

Eurion was going to kill him. Maybe not intentionally, maybe not with an expert blade between his ribs—but certainly with the way he was nudging his legs apart so he could stand between them, stand in his space. Sláine suddenly found it hard to breathe while Eurion was just standing there, nonchalant and fluid with his movements as he got the pot of paint ready for whatever it was he was doing. He tried to not move when the pot was balanced on his knee, but his focus on that singular task was diverted not even a second later at the feeling of fingers on his face, tilting his head up and forcing his gaze up on the assassin. Fuck, like this he was even taller.

It took everything in him to not melt into the assassin's touch. It had been an instinctual response to Eurion holding his face, and still was, but this wasn't the same as the other times. They didn't involve the assassin staring down at him like he was, paint-covered fingers swiping beneath his eyes, and talking about Sláine's avoidance of him. How he had hurt his assassin, when all he had wanted to do was avoid being a burden, a reminder of the trauma and fear the Gods had inflicted on the man. His throat bobbed as he swallowed back the shame and guilt, but it was harder and harder to hold back as Eurion spoke. It shone in his eyes, in the way they dropped down to stare at the spot where Eurion's collarbones met. His body itched to move away, to flinch, do something to get away from that feeling, but he was trapped in that spot in more ways than one.

"I—" Sláine croaked, and stopped when his voice cracked. His hands hesitantly reached up from where they had been twisting together in his lap. Cold, nervous fingers slipped beneath the hem of Eurion's shirt to loosely hold his hips, like the prince wasn't sure if it was allowed or what he was supposed to do with his hands. His eyes jumped everywhere but his mate's eyes as he tried to conjure the words, to figure out something to say. Sláine had hurt his mate, the only man he had felt so strongly about in his life.

It felt like a century had passed before he managed to lift his eyes back up to meet the other's gaze. "I thought I lost you again." Again. Again, because Eurion had been so close to death that Sláine had cried over him and pleaded for him to just hold on. Because the fear in his eyes and the begging to get away continued to play on repeat in his mind. "I didn't—I need you too. So much. And I thought I lost you. I was so scared that I would cause you more pain by being around you, even if it hurt so much. I didn't know what to do."

Eurion’s hands stilled where they were gently placing the paint, small dots and lines to define the man’s features. The blue stood out against the galaxies in Sláine’s eyes and for a moment all the assassin could do was let his gaze soften just a tad before both hands were cupping Sláine’s cheeks, being wary of the wet paint he had already placed, before he was bending down and connecting their lips together in a kiss. It wasn’t gentle, because it had been far too long since Eurion had had the opportunity to be able to touch and hold and kiss his mate how he wanted, and he poured every ounce of desperation and need and longing into it. Every bit of fear melted away, everything disappeared until he was just his lips with Sláine’s and he was holding his cheeks in his hands all soft, just as he should be.

Those sparks flew the moment that their lips met, their bond practically burning inside him. That was what it had been waiting for. After nearly a week of no contact, of Sláine shutting down his end of the bond so Eurion had no idea what he was feeling, finally it felt as if he was whole again. Because his prince, that bond, had him feeling lighter and brighter than he had in years. Decades. Every thought and wish he had made as a child to meet his mate had finally come to fruition and he would be damned if he was going to let Sláine slip away before he even had a chance with him. Not even the stubborn prince was going to stop him, not when he finally pulled their lips apart just a few centimetres so he would be able to talk.

“You’re an idiot, your highness, you have not and you will not lose me.” Eurion would fight the Gods on it. Whatever he had to do in order to keep Sláine by his side he would do it. Be around his magic every day, experience it, learn that it was different and it was okay, he didn’t care. He would do it, for him, for his prince, for them.

The second that it happened, he felt as though there had been no warning. Just lips on his and hands on his cheeks and a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in days. But looking back, there had been the subtlest of warnings. Eurion had looked at him so softly, had stopped in his painting, before going in for the kiss. Like things had never changed, or that the prince hadn't royally fucked things up by letting his fear of being a nightmare to his mate drag him down. It caught him off guard nevertheless, even if he should've known that his needy assassin would want a kiss after so long.

Being caught off guard, though, didn't mean he didn't react. Sláine groaned into the kiss and fully wrapped his arms around Eurion's waist to hug him close, letting the feel of the other's skin sear itself into his own like a brand and the feel of the kiss make its way into his memory. Then he was pressing back, just as desperate for the other, finally melting into the other's touch like he had wanted to. He could feel the bond between them going aflame as they reconnected, and he wanted to be so close to Eurion that it would be impossible to be close enough. Sláine missed him so fucking much. He needed him so much, and that ache over the week only multiplied tenfold now that he had Eurion back in his arms, standing between his legs, and kissing him so desperately and longingly.

Though Eurion only pulled back far enough to talk, Sláine whined in complaint. It wasn't enough. Maybe it wouldn't ever be enough for them, regardless of the silent treatment he had put them through. "Make it a promise," he breathed against the assassin's lips, holding him tight beneath his shirt and staring up at him so sweetly even as need shone in his eyes. "Make me believe you." He already did, but that didn't matter. Sláine wanted Eurion in every way he could right then, like solidifying that this was real. That he hadn't ruined everything between them. Eurion was really here, kissing him, and calling him an idiot.

Eurion couldn't help the smirk that passed onto his lips at Sláine's words, at what was practically a challenge. How his prince had whined when he had parted their lips for nothing more than a few moments. Funny, how they had gone from nothing at all and Sláine had been so intent on keeping it that way had Eurion not ambushed him before, and now he was whining and he could see the need in his eyes. Far too sweet, and definitely far too enticing for the assassin to pass up on, not when Sláine was practically using his eyes to beg him to keep going. Especially considering how tight the other had their arms around him, holding on as if he were going to slip away again. Eurion didn't blame him, had it not been for the paint he probably would have been holding Sláine tighter, too. He supposed he could always reapply it if it ended up smearing because at this point the likelihood of that happening was undeniable.

"As you wish." Eurion was quick to press his lips back against Sláine's, pressing into him harder, pouring as much passion and equal need into the kiss as he could get. There were no words to describe just how good it felt to be able to touch and hold again. To be able to lick into Sláine's mouth and taste him over and over again just as they had at the inn. As if nothing had gone wrong. Because they were okay. They would be, and Eurion was determined and stubborn and he wasn't going to let Sláine think any differently. All he wanted, all he needed, was his prince, and not even the Gods were going to stop him from getting that.

It was why Eurion moved forwards a little, pressing his body against his prince until he was pressed against the sheets and properly trapped beneath his body. The assassin moved his hands, one coming to rest on the other's waist, the other above his head as his kisses trailed down from Sláine's mouth to his jaw, lower to his neck where he stayed. Teeth and tongue moved together until there were bruises forming on the delicate skin, one bellow his ear before he moved them down, biting at every spot he could get at. If Sláine wanted a promise then he would get one, he would have Eurion's marks in the most visible of places, show everyone he was claimed and mated and how Sláine was his.

Sláine had missed this, missed him way too much to care about the irony of the situation. He had spent so long wallowing in silence, neglecting his own need to go over and fall into his mate's chest, that he didn't care that they were currently falling over each other like nothing had happened between them. He didn't care that his words were practically a challenge that Eurion would never refuse. All he wanted was his assassin in his grasp, devouring him whole, and the reassurance that they were okay. The prince was stubborn, that much he wouldn't refute, but he was letting go of that week's stubbornness for the chance at Eurion telling him the truth. Him being needed by the man was all he needed to calm his turmoil and the bond between them.

His grip on Eurion only tightened more when he got his kiss back. He practically plastered their bodies together in his desperation. As an afterthought, though, he let go with one hand to move the pot of paint off his leg to set it on the floor safely out of the way. Then he was back to accepting the kisses and holding Eurion as tight as possible and swearing to himself I'm never letting go. If Eurion could look past his fear of the prince's magic for the sake of them, then Sláine refused to let anything drive a wedge between them again. Neither one would survive it.

It didn't take anything for Eurion to get Sláine laid out on the sheets. He even wrapped his legs around his assassin's hips to lock them together, and his hands moved up at the change in position. One dug into Eurion's hair while the other wrapped around his shoulders, and his head tipped back as his eyes fluttered closed. Yes yes yes. This is what he had been looking for. He hadn't known what he wanted when he made his demands, but now he knew. The old marks had faded after time, so now the prince's skin was unmarred and unclaimed, and Sláine had missed them. But new ones were being made, right at his neck and throat, right where everyone would see and know. He groaned at the feeling of each mark being made and only arched into Eurion for more, happier than he's been in a week.

"Still possessive," Sláine mumbled, like he was trying to be cheeky, but it came out more breathless and pleased than what he was going for. Not like he expected it to go away, nor would he ever want it to. He loved Eurion's possessiveness, his willingness to make sure everyone knew the prince was his and no one else's, that he was not to be touched or looked at in any way that was deemed mildly inappropriate. He loved being wanted so wholly that Eurion was proud to stake a claim on him. It was also the easiest target to hit to get the man riled up, and now was no different.

The noise that Eurion made was far too animalistic, a growl at Sláine’s words as he bit down harder on Sláine’s throat. A real mark, a real Fae claim onto the groove of his throat and collar so the prince was more than aware that he was Eurion’s, so every time Sláine looked in the mirror he would see and he reminded even in the moments where the assassin wasn’t there to be able to kiss at it, make it sensitive until Sláine was squirming under him from the sensations. He needed that mark there. Even though it was lower and would be mostly hidden compared to the others that he had left, it was the most important, and it fulfilled a deep rooted need inside him. That mark had to be there, and he wasn’t going to hold off any longer.

The assassin lapped at the mark he made, kissing at the redness that was now there before he made his back up to Sláine’s mouth, licking his way inside. Once he was satisfied, which would really be never because all he wanted was to devour his prince whole, but for now, he pulled back so he could speak onto the others lips, “You’re fucking mine, Sláine,” His voice was low and rough as he kissed down the other side of his neck, taking extra time and making sure to suck harder, leave those kisses right under Sláine’s ear and in all those sensitive places, “Mine, you got that?” There really wasn’t much room in his voice for argument even if his prince didn’t agree. But from how breathless he was, Eurion knew that he probably wasn’t going to.

He couldn’t help but let his hand that had rested on Sláine’s hip roam, feeling the curve of his hips and waist before splaying out to feel the muscle underneath. The shirt lifted, had he not been pretty much attached to the man’s neck Eurion would have been likely to take it off. For now, though, he simply let his hand explore, moving up his chest and down again, grabbing at any piece of skin he could find. It didn’t make it easy when Sláine had pressed them together, had Eurion locked in with his legs, but the assassin couldn’t care because he was able to touch and kiss and lick at his mate and that was all he wanted.

Sláine's fingers became claws as he gripped at Eurion's shoulders, desperately looking for something to grab when teeth dug into his neck and created a permanent mark. He knew, as he tilted his head back to more room and from the overwhelming sensations, that he would stare at that mark anytime it crossed his sight. The prince would stare into mirrors not just to admire himself, but the mark Eurion left on him. A sign that they were together, that he belonged to someone, and that he'd never be anyone else's. Not that he'd want to; the week without his mate had been excruciating.

He squirmed beneath Eurion as the man lapped at the mark, then bullied his way into his mouth for more. Sláine couldn't get enough of him. He clung to his assassin with his whole body, gripped his shoulders and hair like he was going to lose him if he didn't hold on tight enough. But Eurion was very much there, growling into his skin, making declarations that made the prince's skin blaze. "Yours," he breathed, on the verge of a moan as he was fully aware the others were just outside. Sláine pressed into the touches on his body, burning up from the inside out at how good it felt to be touched again. "Yours, now and always."

The prince's mouth hung open on silent sounds, but his tongue pressed against his canines like he wanted to bite. And he did. He wanted Eurion visibly claimed too, wanted others to not look at his mate and think he was available. Sláine wondered if there were instances of witch mates, what they had done in the past to permanently mark each other as theirs. He wasn't going to focus on that too much, though, as he had more important things to think about. Like Eurion's touch and his mouth on his neck, adorning his skin in bruises that all would see. His legs finally gave up their cage in favor of falling away, giving the man more room to touch and hold the prince. Sláine was in love with everything happening, even if he'd always want more, more, more.

A flicker of a smile crossed over his drunken expression, and Sláine turned his head until his lips pressed against Eurion's ear. Then he moaned. Low, soft, utterly pleased, and just for his mate. "All yours," he whimpered. Just for some added spice.

Eurion gave zero fucks when it came to who was outside, whether Caoimhe and Aideen were listening in, wanting to know if they were okay and had worked themselves out. He didn't care that they should be preparing for Skyfall, for the festival, helping Sláine get ready and decorating him in all the pretty jewels and chains he had collected for him, seeing him in that mask and those robes, too. None of it mattered, and all of it fell away until it was just him and his prince and the burning bond between them. If it had been physical Eurion had no doubt that it would take the form of some hot rope tying them together, keeping them locked and pressed against their bodies. Because no matter how much the back of his mind told him to stop before things became out of hand, he couldn't pull away.

A week. A whole Gods damned week he had put up with Sláine's silent treatment and avoidance and finally, he had his mate back in his arms. If his prince hadn't been so stubborn then it would have been sooner, but some part of him was glad it hadn't been. Because now, Eurion had his lover grasping and clawing at his skin, in his homeland, during a festival that was the most important in his culture. It wasn't just an inn or a camp in the middle of the woods. No, here, it meant something, at least to him, that he was able to have Sláine here.

And the way his prince moaned and whimpered made Eurion lose all sense of sanity that he might have had left in him. Especially when Sláine was doing so right in his ear. The assassin couldn't help the fucking growl that he made in response right back. It felt so fucking good, too, to finally have that permanent mark on his prince. Now that it was there he could feel the bond dancing, burning, in some way settling now that Eurion had satisfied it, satisfied himself with the mark. He didn't think he would ever get tired of seeing it and wanted to show it off to anyone that dared to look at the prince for more than a second in a way that was far too hungry.

When Sláine's legs fell open Eurion was moving one of his hands in an instant, grabbing his thigh in a way that would most certainly bruise as he pushed them open further, as far as he could. His other stayed on his chest, practically pinning him down with his hand and body as he continued to mark up his neck. It was far too good and open of an invitation for him to pass up on, not when Sláine had whimpered how he was his, too. The assassin, if it was at all possible, pressed further into his space, "Mine," Eurion couldn't think, because his mind was focused solely on the prospect that he finally had his mate back, "All mine. No one is gonna fucking touch you again. My mate."

A small, sensible voice in the back of Sláine's mind said that they should slow down, that they had the time after the festival to devour one another. And they should wait. There was a schedule to follow, and based on all the things Eurion came back with and the paint on his face, plenty of stuff to don to be prepared for it. There wasn't enough time in their schedule for fooling around or going in the direction they were clearly going in. He should stop it before it got too far, remind his assassin that they had things to do and they could get back to this at another point.

And the protest was right on his tongue, no matter his overwhelming feelings on the situation. But the chains on his assassin's control seemed to break, and Sláine was subject to his mercy. He bit back a pleasured groan at the bruising grip at his thigh spreading his legs apart even more and the feeling of the other's body pressing into his. Sláine was pinned to the mattress in several ways, and it made his mind hazy with approval. Having Eurion back like this was dizzying. His blood rushed with every bite to his neck, his pulse skyrocketed, and he craved so much he couldn't pinpoint what exactly he wanted. Eurion. Just… Eurion. Nothing more and nothing less, just the man he bore the marks of, who managed to make the prince's blood boil with a single word. Mine.

Sláine panted, unable to take in a full breath from both the pressure on his chest and the crushing need burying itself within him. He accepted all the bites and marks at his neck; encouraged them even with the hand in Eurion's hair keeping him held down, not that it took much to keep the needy assassin there. There was the itching thought of rolling them over, of getting Eurion beneath him so he could return the favor, but he was pinned with both hands and couldn't move even if he wanted to. So he let himself be pliant, gave himself wholly over to Eurion without regret or complaint. The Fae looked like he needed this, and Sláine would happily wear the possessive collar of bruises.

The hand over Eurion's shoulders clawed even more at the man, tugging him closer as he pushed into the prince's space even more. Sláine couldn't think either, not when Eurion was ravaging him like he was. "My body belongs to you," he said, still so very breathless with that false sense of sweetness in his eyes. "Just as I do, it is yours. No one will touch me but you." His thigh flexed under Eurion's hand, like he was pressing back into the other's grip to remind them both it was there. Sláine licked his lips and tugged at Eurion's hair. "And you are mine. My mate, my acushla." His to submit to.

Eurion felt Sláine's pulse increase from where he was nestled against his neck. Felt it against his skin, the way his prince flexed his thigh back against his hand, pressed back into his space. All of it just spurred him on more, had him staying against his neck, licking and biting and making the assassin go fucking insane with it all. Sláine was a drug that he would never be able to have enough of. No matter how much he took from the other, how many marks he made or ways he would eventually have his mate, it would never be enough.

So this was what his parents had spoken of when they had mentioned just how strong that mating bond was. How no matter what there would always be that overpowering sense and need to take more, as much as he could, no matter how long they could be like this. It was insane, almost too much, but the assassin couldn't care less. Not when he had Sláine so breathless right against his ear, when he had him spread open as if they were going to take things all the way. All rationality had left the Fae, and if they wanted to stop then it was going to have to be his prince that told him because the way his mind was foggy, Eurion didn't know if he would be able to stop himself of his own accord.

Everything in his being and mind screamed at him to just take Sláine there, and from the way his grip on the other's thigh seemed to tighten and move inwards, Eurion seemed more than likely to give in to that. Skyfall could wait, they had days to enjoy it, but the same argument could be made when it came to him and Sláine. But after a week of unrelenting torture, from being unable to touch, talk, and claim as he wanted, Eurion didn't want to wait a second longer. Couldn't wait a second longer. Not when he had his mate echoing back his words of how he was his and how he belonged to Eurion and the words just drove every aspect of logic that might have been left in his brain over the edge. only Sláine would be able to bring him down if he so wished.

Because the assassin was moving moments later. Moving back from Sláine's neck no matter how hard his prince seemed inclined to keep him there. He wanted the shirt off. Needed it off. Needed to feel skin against skin and had to recreate those bruises he had left in the inn on Sláine's chest, had to mark him everywhere he could touch and get his lips to, go further. Eurion practically ripped it off.

Sláine folded when that hand started moving up and digging even harder into his skin. He didn't care that Eurion was moving away from his now-throbbing neck, because the man was going down his body like he was starving and Sláine was his salvation—all he did was adjust his hold and palm the back of his head in encouragement. His back arched up to push his chest up towards the hungry Fae's mouth and to aid in the removal of his shirt, even if it was practically ripped off of him anyway. And still, he didn't care. All he could focus on was the look on his mate's face and the burning feeling coursing through his body.

He had never felt like this before. No one had made the prince fold so easily, made him so eager to bear bruises and give in at just the slightest hint of possession. Sláine was obsessed with how intoxicating this man could be. Eurion could take him right there, with just a door and no magic sealing any sounds that the prince would undoubtably make—and he'd happily take it. His body was squirming and so, so hot as Eurion went down on him with an almost feral-like intensity, and he was obsessed with it. How had he gone so long without this man? If only they had met sooner, if only Sláine had run across him when he was younger, he could've had this happiness long ago.

Except—Sláine had been a slave then. One with a fancy title and an outward look of freedom, but his chains had been very real to him. He wouldn't have wanted to drag Eurion into that life, not when the consequences could've been so much worse.

The diversion of his thoughts brought reality back in check, and Sláine sucked in a deep breath to get in enough air to talk. "Eurion, baby," he whined, because he couldn't find the composure to speak normally. Everything felt too good. "We can't—Skyfall. Festival." Words. His thoughts were in a jumble as he tried to collect himself, but he was crumbling at the seams faster than he could rebuild himself. "You like me pretty, yeah? Wait until I'm a pretty package you can unwrap later." Because he had no doubt that whatever Eurion had bought would make him look dressed up and the perfect thing for the assassin to stare at all night.

Sláine's eyes fluttered and he closed them to hide how glassy they probably looked, the prince still in a haze from the intense and overwhelming feelings running through him. He really didn't want to part from Eurion, and that was clear in the way he rolled his body up into Eurion's for more contact. The week had left him touch-deprived and needy, and the sudden desire coming from Eurion was far too much for him to handle well. Should's and shouldn't's weren't registering as quickly as they needed to be. He wanted so much that was opposite of what they should do that it was hard to keep firm with his words. "Tha mi airson gum bi thu gam fuck gus nach eil fios agam dad ach d ' ainm."

Eurion only paused for a moment at Sláine’s words and lifted his gaze to meet his princes. The glimmer in his eye was feral and hungry and shone with just how badly he needed Sláine. That he was ready to devour him and he was almost begging for the man to take back his words. He didn’t want to do anything else. Skayfall be damned he wanted him but that small sliver of logic that shimmered in the back of his mind was called forwards when his lover whined, when it was bought up. As much as he didn’t want to, he would pull away. Not after leaving one final mark in the middle of his chest and the buds on his chest were red and puffy. Then he pulled back, well, kind of. He pulled away enough to bring his head back up to Sláine’s nudging his nose against the others.

His prince did, unfortunately, have a point. Eurion hadn’t brought those chains for no reason, and he could picture how pretty Sláine was going to be when he had him spread out with the silver draping over him. Like a mural, a piece of fucking art and he was all for him. To touch and please, to have begging and squirming and Eurion wished that something happened to prevent them from going to Skyfall. To have them be able to stay just like this, wrapped in each others arms and Eurion being able to mark and claim Sláine.

Although, the permanent mark he had left on his collar was beautifully red for the moment, his teeth marks standing out and Eurion didn’t hide his pleased smirk as he admired it. Admired his mate. As much as the man was hot and sexy he was just downright gorgeous. With his hair splayed out around him like a halo, how his eyes were glassy and half lidded, staring up at Eurion with that look of need and want. Sláine was beautiful, and all his.

Even though they were so close to begin with, Eurion couldn’t help the way he closed just another centimetre of space so he could tease a kiss, speaking onto his lovers lips as his hand moved to palm Sláine below, “When we get back,” His voice was far too rough, “I’m going to have you begging Sláine, and properly claim you until you can’t move without being reminded of me and you’re utterly fucking filled with me.” It was a promise.

Eurion wasn't allowed to look at Sláine like that when his resolve was already rapidly crumbling. He was already on the verge of breaking down and begging to forget everything, forget their companions, forget the clothes and paint—just unleash every want and desire on the prince without mercy. That look did nothing to help matters, nor did his prolonged assurance to mark up Sláine's chest. He squirmed and whined and looked utterly displeased by the removal of the man's mouth on his skin. Them being nose-to-nose only lessened his pout a little, but it wasn't the same thing, and he wasn't even getting a kiss for his trouble. Being responsible wasn't something Sláine wanted to do if it meant not getting something pleasant or rewarding. All he got was a single mark on his chest and his mate stubbornly keeping their lips separated. Unfair.

The mark Eurion had left on him, the one that would stay until the day he died, throbbed as if responding to the assassin's attention. Every mark that formed what was basically a discolored necklace on the prince's skin was warm and made themselves very known, and Sláine fucking loved it. He had missed the feeling of bruises on his skin made by his Eurion, because they had been visible claims to him even if his clothes had hid them at first. They weren't inflicted with any ill-intent or harm, but rather from a dominant passion and just enough pain that Sláine craved even more. Or maybe it was just because they were from Eurion, his mate, and that made everything a thousand times better. He didn't know, nor did his particularly care to find out. It didn't matter in the end, as he had his Fae man connected to him and in his life, and wouldn't ever need to know the touch of another.

Of course, that also meant that Eurion was the one touching him.

Sláine sucked in a ragged gasp, body locking up and his focus narrowing in on that singular point of contact. He couldn't even unfocus on that to seek out a kiss when Eurion got further into his space and teased one. The prince exhaled a soft moan, then squirmed further into the touch because he couldn't help himself. He was needy, and aching, and Eurion was saying the most filthy things, and it wasn't fair. He wanted to do the responsible thing, to hold off until they were back from the festival and everything wasn't put to waste, but it was so hard to end this when he had his assassin handling him how he was and speaking to him in that way. Sláine immediately imagined everything that could happen, every scenario that Eurion would put him through. One common theme was very messy sheets.

"Please," he begged against Eurion's lips. He wanted that. Either then or when they got back, because he wouldn't be able to survive waiting any longer. The incident at the witches' house had been a small reprieve that both satisfied and tortured him even more—this was so much worse. The prince wrapped his arms around Eurion's neck to hold onto something, because he felt like he was falling even when trapped against the mattress.

"Please what?" The smirk that had made its way onto his lips was practically as permanent as the mark Eurion had made on Sláine's skin. Now that he had his prince back in his arms he was going to milk this for all it was worth. Of course, he was more than aware that this would- hopefully- be his life for a good long while, no matter the Gods or his job because Sláine was his and there was no fucking way he was going to be parting ways with him now. Eurion made that silent promise to himself right there, that no matter what the Gods did to him, how they might twist his mind, he was going to stay with his prince. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Come on, Your Highness," The assassin's voice was dripping with seduction and honey. When they were supposed to be parting he wasn't doing a very good job at doing so, "Tell me what you want, hm?"

Sláine was far too addictive. How could anyone pass up the opportunity to have the prince begging like this was beyond him. But Eurion didn't want to think about who else might have had his prince in such a position because it didn't matter. Sláine was his and he was Sláine's and nothing was going to change that. Not when he was permanently marked up, when he had a beautiful array of bruises across his collar. And later, he was going to have so many more. He wondered what the others might think when they would inevitably see his prince decorated in such a way.

Eurion had no doubt that Aideen and Caoimhe would know what they were doing, what they would do later. How they would go at each other like animals after having a week apart. Having finally made up there was nothing that was holding Eurion back anymore. He had Sláine locked in, pinned down and bucking into his palm and the assassin was loving it. He had loved it at the inn but now? It felt so much better, especially when he had that mark. Everything was amplified ten-fold to what it had been previously, including Eurion's overpowering possession and need.

Sláine squirmed in place, bucking up into that hand and trying to shy away because they had just agreed they needed to stop and wait. The prince clearly didn't want to, already backing out of his suggestion to cut this off, but they really did have things to do no matter how good it felt to be back in Eurion's hands and underneath his imposing but so safe body. Sláine trusted Eurion completely to not hurt him despite the constant need for marks and bruises and moments of him physically holding him down. His assassin was safe, and the center of his attention now and forever, but especially right now when he had Sláine trapped in a state of limbo and conflict that was not helped in the slightest by his tone.

The prince tilted his head to brush their lips together. It broke the tease Eurion had going, but he didn't grab a kiss. It was a movement of pleading, asking for one instead of taking, because his mate loved it when he begged. His lips were parted around his heavy breaths, and he was so fucking needy in that moment. What did he want? What was he begging Eurion for? So many things. Sláine wanted that hand to either move or move away and save him from the spinning in his head. He wanted to reenact every proposed scenario that they had sent down the bond to one another back at the witches' house. He wanted Eurion to put bruising fingerprints in his thighs as he tested the limits of the prince's flexibility and made a feast of him. He wanted his head buried in the pillows and Eurion behind him making him scream.

They all swirled in his eyes as he struggled physically and mentally to compose himself into coherency and less desperation. Sláine wanted all of those things at once, but ultimately… "You," he panted, tightening his hold around the other's neck and continuing to ask for that kiss. "I want you." In every way. The sweet and the sultry. The cuddles and the sins. Sláine wanted Eurion above everything, and that's really what he was asking for, wasn't it? His mate. His other half. He'd never stop wanting him.

Eurion couldn’t help but close the gap between their lips not a moment after Sláine had finished speaking. How could he stay away when he had someone so beautiful asking for him? Dragging his lips across his own, asking for a kiss but not taking. Sláine really was a drug that the assassin would never be able to stay away from. From that first touch, his prince had made him feel comforted in a way that no one had ever done. When they had laid together in his prince’s bed, being held, that first morning when Sláine had laid a hand on his cheek… the moment would be seared into his memory forever, just as Sláine would be a constant in his life until the day he died.

The assassin pulled his lips back, resting his forehead against Sláine’s as he nudged the other with his nose. As much as they were both hot and bothered, he couldn’t resist the soft touch that called to him as he bumped their noses together, “You have me, Sláine,” Came the soft reassurance, “You’ll always have me.”

It was a promise that Eurion was determined to keep for as long as he could. He couldn’t, wouldn’t part ways with Sláine. His prince bore his mark and the Gods could go fuck themselves for all he cared because unless he died, he was staying with him. With the prince that he had been intended on killing. The prince that had comforted him through the panic that was all consuming when the Gods invaded his mind, and yet still, even after Eurion had been terrified of the man, Sláine hadn’t rejected the bond, just as he hadn’t.

There was a softness in Eurion’s eyes that replaced that of hunger and need as his thoughts turned from that of completely wrecking the man below him to how he was promising himself that he would stay. Just as he spoke the reassurance and the promise to Sláine he tucked away the same to himself. That stubborn determination that he held was going to make sure that he kept it, no matter what happened between them. Every fight or argument could be overcome because Eurion wasn’t leaving.

When he finally got that kiss that he had been wanting, Sláine melted into the bed even as he pressed into the other's lips. His body was still searing hot and Eurion's touch brought up every possible craving known to him, but the prince melted in the face of his mate's tender kiss. Sláine sighed happily through his nose and leaned into it, a hand coming down to cup the side of Eurion's face just to touch him and hold him there, not unlike the first time he had held the other's cheek.

Eurion felt right. Even just the skin of his cheek against Sláine's hand felt right, like he had been made just to hold this beautiful and perfect assassin with tender hands and treat him with all the care and affection he had been denied. He had been made just for this man, there was no doubt about that, with how well their bodies fit together and their souls aligned just so perfectly. Even in argument and fear, they still found ways to continue on together at each other's side. A setback like this, Sláine was sure wouldn't happen again. Either because of circumstances or because Eurion would not allow it to happen again. The prince didn't think he'd want to go through it again, either. He knew that they would navigate whatever problems that arose between them together next time.

Sláine melted even more at the nuzzle to his nose, though this time his heart followed along with him. He couldn't get over how sweet Eurion could be, no matter the situation, and how easily he could flip that switch within him. The prince bumped their noses back, smiling idly, and stole a tiny kiss. "'m yours," he hummed, content despite the raging inferno of heat and lust in the back of his mind. They could get back to it later. Now was a good time to settle and just bask in the fact that they were together again.

"And just as I'm yours, You're mine." He smiled and nipped his teeth at Eurion's bottom lip, like he was trying to get his canines caught into the mix. "You're all mine. My perfect, amazing mate." That somehow put up with the prince's bullshit for a week. It felt odd, speaking that word when all he had been doing was hearing and thinking it, and only thinking in passing. He still didn't fully understand what it meant to be Eurion's mate, but he would eventually. He could learn. But what mattered was that he refused to leave just because of that. Really, Sláine refused to leave at all. The prince swiped a thumb over Eurion's cheekbone in idle affection and admiration. "I'm not letting you go. Not again. Never again."

"No more ignoring me for a week." Eurion couldn't help but tease just a little, to bring more of the soft lightheartedness into the mix to calm the desperation that he held for Sláine. If it didn't then he wasn't going to let his prince leave the room and they would never get to experience Skyfall. At least not tonight. Whether or not he would be able to let the man out of the room when he eventually got them ready for the evening was a different story. Because he had picked all the decorations and accessories that would have people looking and at the time it had been a wonderful idea since Eurion had loved the idea of seeing Sláine dressed up, but now there was the fact that others were going to be looking. At least people would know they were together. At least he knew that they were together and okay now.

It was more of a relief than the assassin cared to admit. Like a tidal wave crashing and coursing through every inch of his body and through their bond. Eurion hadn't realised just how tense he had been the last week, maybe because it was - for the most part - his natural state of being, but being about his prince was a breath of fresh air. Sláine was the light to the dark that he needed to get him to fucking relax once in a while, he just hadn't realised how strongly the other invoked the feeling until it had been taken away from him once more. Strange how one person could bring about such feelings, but Eurion supposed that that was part of having a mate. Someone to contrast everything that he was and everything he would be. Contrast and complement and fit with him.

The fact that he had gone his whole life without this feeling was beyond him. Looking back on all the incidents in his life where he thought he may have found someone, especially when he was younger, none of those times compared to what his prince brought. No one compared, no one ever would. There was no one else for him now that he had Sláine back in his arms once more.

Eurion leaned into the touch on his cheek, "I'm yours, your highness. Just yours." The hand that had been in between them moved, as much as it pained him to do so. But they should move, and now that things had calmed a little, the heat, if he left it there any longer they really wouldn't be leaving that room. Instead, the assassin moved his hand to slide it around Sláine's waist, and in an expert move, used his other hand to push them up from where he had had Sláine pinned to the bed. He brought them up until they were both on their feet, still pressed together, but at least now they were standing, and Eurion could wrap both his arms around Sláine's waist in a hug.

Sláine rolled his eyes with a huff at Eurion's tease, and snapped his teeth in a slight threat. If he started marking up his assassin when they had to get ready, they'd never leave on time. There was no doubt that Sláine was possessive of Eurion, maybe not nearly as much as he was of the prince, but enough to be upset at the thought of someone flirting with him. But he also knew that Eurion would be hanging onto him the entire night and making it abundantly clear that the prince was not on the table. Sláine wouldn't need to have a mark when he'd constantly be at Eurion's side. Idly, besides the paint, he wondered what his assassin had gotten to dress him up in. The robes were folded up and hiding everything else, and he didn't look in favor of being surprised. Was it flashy enough to draw attention, of did his possessive streak prevent him from doing so even though he liked seeing Sláine all "pretty" for him?

Ah, but he'd find out soon enough. He had a mate to care for, especially when that wave of relief crashed through the bond. Eurion had been physically tense the entire week they weren't speaking, not unlike how he had been when they first met up until the visit from the Gods. Sláine gently stroked Eurion's face and poured a mixture of soft emotions back into the bond. Reassurance, happiness, tenderness, his own swirl of relief at having his assassin back in his arms, that unexplainable warmth in his chest that always bloomed when he looked at Eurion. He gave everything back, like a response to the relief and an apology for holding everything back when he had completely shut the other out.

The loss of that hand had Sláine squirming once more, but then there was an arm wrapping around his waist, and Eurion was lifting them both from the mattress and back onto their feet. Sláine didn't hesitate and melted into the hug, wrapping his arms around the man's neck and holding him as close as possible as he pressed his face into the side of Eurion's neck. "I missed you," he whispered into his skin. "For every second. I'm glad I have you back."

His soul felt settled once more now that the prince had Eurion back in his arms, had his mark and bruises all over his collar and neck, and one on his thigh and chest as well. He had his mate back, and that missing piece he had been wondering aimlessly around without was finally clicked into place. Eurion completed him. Sláine needed him at his side, and even just the knowledge they were together had him happy and content. No more silent treatments; he'd go insane if he did that again.

Sláine pulled back from the hug a fraction to tilt his face up and steal another kiss, a hand sliding back to Eurion's face to idly trace over an ear. The heat and the desperation were good and all, and they did plenty to alleviate that burning need that had been building the entire week without contact—but Sláine had also missed kissing the man more than anything. They had just gotten to that point in their relationship, and it was ripped away from him far too soon. First it had been travel limiting them, and then it had been the fire witch, and it all spiraled out of control from there. A night was not good enough for him. Eurion could get them ready in a minute.

Eurion couldn’t help the way that his arms tightened around Sláine. He needed the contact, the soft contact, just for a moment more. The determination that he had held faded away into nothing more than that relief, but there was the quiet nervousness that had risen when Caoimhe and him had arrived back at that door. That was rising quietly in the background, just as how own shadows were beginning to wrap around the two of them, as if they, too, needed to be apart of the hug to ease their own worries.

Because he had hidden it well, just how nervous he had been. Not because of Sláine’s magic, but that fear of loosing the man before they even began to explore and experience their relationship. For the most part Eurion had been focused, well, too stubborn, to allow himself to do anything but hope and focus on the positive outcome at the end of all of this. That him and Sláine would be okay. It was what kept him going the last week because he wouldn’t allow himself to think about the opposite. It had only grown harder as the days had past and his prince kept avoiding him, until it had built to the moment in front of that door and it had filled every bone in his body. Now, the fear of loosing Sláine because of something he had done, was replaced by the fear of loosing his prince to something else. Someone else. No matter the mark the man bore, how possessive and outwardly wanting he was for the other, there was that tug, that reminder, of what Caoimhe and Aideen had said about witch mates.

Or what if something happened between the two of them that couldn’t be fixed? What if the Gods got to Sláine and fucked them up again and Eurion really did lose him for good? It was calmed by the soft reassurance and happiness he felt from Sláine through the bond, but it didn’t vanish. Those worries were too big to vanish. Eurion kept them at bay for the most part, but it showed on his face. How the worry shone behind those dark eyes, how he held on tighter go Sláine, pressed their foreheads together after that kiss to stay in his space as much as possible.

“I missed you so much more.” Eurion’s voice was softer than it had been for a good long while. He understood why Sláine had avoided him, why the other had kept his distance but it didn’t stop the hurt that had risen. Because Eurion had tried to fix things, to talk before now, only to be met with Sláine disappearing from him. Even though they had been travelling together, he had felt worlds apart from the man, “I can’t- I don’t-“ Words failed him, and Eurion shut his eyes.

The tightened grip around his waist wasn't unnoticed, but Sláine didn't comment or acknowledge it beyond making himself comfortable in Eurion's arms and pressed against his body. The reminder of their time apart, of how Sláine of all people had let the Gods get into his head in some capacity and tear the two apart before they could really be together, brought back that shame and guilt. Eurion had tried fixing things, and Sláine hadn't let him. Not intentionally, but he was still ultimately at fault for the prolonged separation, and the hurt that he put his far too sweet assassin through would always haunt him. Eurion hadn't deserved that treatment from him.

At the end of the day, he could blame the Gods for everything, but it had been Sláine making the choice to shut down and shut everyone out, his assassin most of all. The prince had spiraled into an endless cycle of the pain caused by Eurion's fear of him, and his own fear at being something to cause his mate distress, and it had driven him to the extreme solution of avoidance. His swirling thoughts had blinded him to the signs of Eurion wanting to talk, wanting to make things right once more, no matter the fear of the prince magic. Sláine hadn't seen a single hint of reconciliation, and he regretted it. He couldn't begin to imagine the hurt Eurion had to have been going through, watching his own mate give him the cold shoulder without ever letting a single conversation happen to try and make things work. Just the knowledge pained him to his core.

Sláine bumped their noses, more a nuzzle this time, and carded fingers through Eurion's hair. "I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered. The petname fell from his tongue so naturally, so easily, that it almost didn't feel like he hadn't said it in a week. "I got so caught up in my own fears about us that I didn't—there's no excuse. I hurt you, and us, and I'll never forgive myself for that." And he wouldn't ever ask that Eurion forgive him. He didn't deserve it, not when his mate was in so much distress.

But, before the man had closed his eyes, Sláine had seen a glimmer of worry that felt different. The man's entire demeanor felt off, and Sláine wondered if there was something else on his mind that was worrying him, and he wasn't saying anything. The prince pressed closer into Eurion, if he could even do such a thing, and closed his eyes as he continued to pet the assassin's hair and hold his cheek. "What's on your mind, acushla? You're worried," he added softly, before Eurion could think about denying it.

Eurion understood why Sláine had avoided him for the week and had kept his distance. He probably would have done the same and so blaming his prince for the rift wasn't what he wanted. As much as Sláine had avoided him and shit down any attempts to make things better, Eurion could be a hypocrite to say he wouldn't have done something similar. Maybe not for that long, however. If it had been a normal relationship then things may have been different but it wasn't. They were mates, fated from the moment they were born to the day they die and nothing, not even the Gods, were able to change something so powerful and pure as the bond between them.

But it didn't change the fact that it had hurt watching Sláine shut down all the attempts he had made. Eurion forgave him, he wasn't going to ever hold it against him, but combined with the worries he had about losing his prince, it didn't make his mind any less cloudy. Now that he wasn't focused on claiming the man, that his lust had calmed softly to the back of his mind, Eurion couldn't help but let himself worry, for the first time in over a week.

The assassin didn't want to make things worse with his own fears, whether he thought they were rational or not. But Sláine had already noticed and the chances of him avoiding the question was unlikely considering how stubborn the man was. The pet name did, however, cause a small blush to spread across his cheeks. For the most part, Eurion didn't notice it, more focused on the worry than anything else, but as he took a breath he was more than aware of it, and that only made things worse, "It's not your fault," He started, voice no more than a mumble, "It's Their's," The Gods, for causing all of this, "You don't have to apologise."

Eurion swallowed, taking a moment as he tried to find the right words to convey, at least a little, of the worry he was feeling, "I've waited so long to find you. I thought- I thought maybe you didn't even exist and then all this bullshit happened and-" Maybe he didn't deserve Sláine. Maybe they would be better apart even if it killed him. He kept those thoughts safely tucked away from the bond, "Sláine… I can't lose you. I-I don't know if-"

"Cridhe ciùin." Sláine was quick to frame Eurion's face and gently hush him, concern creasing his brows together. "Steady, baby. I'm not going anywhere." What was bringing up this thinking? Sláine had sworn himself to Eurion not even ten minutes ago, has expressed his joy at being able to claim the man as his and only his—and yet, Eurion was fearing losing Sláine when the prince was standing right there. He opened his eyes again to scan his assassin's face, as if he could read what was going on from proximity alone.

It worried him that Eurion held fear of losing him already. Granted, he hadn't exactly helped himself with the week of silence, but that week had killed him slowly with each passing minute. Sláine wouldn't survive a repeat of that mistake. He swiped his thumbs over his assassin's face and resisted the urge to kiss him silent, to smother those fears until they no longer existed. "I'm right here. You are only getting rid of me in death, and even then, I would find you once more to stand at your side. We are ours. We belong to one another. You aren't losing me."

That blush was the only thing that kept Sláine from completely freaking out over his assassin getting too far into his own head. That had done enough harm to their budding relationship, they didn't need another run by Eurion's racing thoughts. Sláine dipped his head down to kiss Eurion's neck, following a path not unlike the one painted on his own throat, and he lightly nipped at the other's skin right over his pulse point. Maybe that would draw his attention to the prince. "I have been with people before, just as I imagine you have been with others. I didn't know about you, or our bond, but I did know that those people were not for me. In the moment, they may had been, or it may had been good; but in the end, they had fallen out of my life. No one captured me quite as easily or quickly as you had. No one had made me feel as special and cared for as you have."

The prince lifted his head once more and pressed their foreheads together like he could transfer the message directly into the man's mind. "You, Eurion, are my mate. You are everything I need and want from my second half. I feel complete with you, and missing my other half when you are not near. If I can do anything about it, you are not losing me. I won't make myself lost to you, for I would lose myself in the process. I want to explore a life with you. I want you happy and loved and to be there with me anytime I look for you. Because I will look for you, no matter what."