did you know you're the only person that came into my head seeking to understand something that can't often be understood? i got a lot of whys, but not a lot of could there have ever beens.
( that makes him interesting. that makes him dangerous, potentially. )
and i'd like to know more about the man attached to the face i'm imagining when i'm jerking my dick at night.
jacking my dick, you mean? no, but i could be very easily. ( it doesn't take much. and because danny's not going to let him turn this around on him completely: ) are you giving me permission?
[ A beat. That accelerated hum of seperate thought, rapid-fire consideration compacted into the span of a few seconds, colors the quality of the answer Nikolai offers: ]
( in his right mind, danny's thoughts are cold and lifeless, a horizon-defying desert where all the oases are frozen over. nikolai's yes is a spike through the ice, cracking open a watery tomb better left closed. there is no bottom to danny's oasis: fall in and you'll never stop falling.
either way, nikolai gets a spike back: molten, blistering like the siren lick of a flame on bare skin, luring him in, closer. maybe he's touching himself, or maybe he's only thinking about it. )
Slowly, [ is a throwaway instruction. The kind of passing stipulation laid out simply to see if Danny will kick against it or not.
The spike is a hook, like Danny's knife had been a hook. A precipice. Nikolai toes up to the edge, looking down, reaching after that flare of heat. The buzzing whir of some separate train of thought doesn't ebb. It runs apace, a rumbling motor of questions, weighing and assessing as Nikolai tells him: ]
( another one back, rapid-fire, a game of psychic tennis:: )
i've never transformed.
( he almost did, once. but the threat out of it was drowned in whiskey and fucked out of him. nikolai says slowly like he might say be a good boy now, and danny's hand loosens automatically where he's white-knuckling his fattening dick through his fly. )
No. But I remember her bringing me back. How badly it hurt.
[ It's a relief to impart this, this thing he's carried for months, and put it into Danny's hands. Danny is many things, violent and jagged and sharp-edged, and maybe he will take these admissions and use them to hurt him, but—
If it's hurt, Nikolai doesn't think it's the kind of hurt he'd had to guard against in the Ravkan court. ]
( now here's a real secret, something he's never told anyone, a pause spared before the drop while he rolls onto his belly and forks a crumpled scrap of fur between his thighs, hips grinding lazy circles as he rides his dick into the ground like he'd ride a hand or a mouth (nikolai's hand, nikolai's mouth, nikolai's severed spinal column and zoya's perfect doll face awash in blood, asking what the hell did you do?).
he shivers, teeth indenting his forearm just over the scar quentin carved into him. )
in the fog, when she'd kill me after she was done with me, i didn't rez like everyone else. she'd bury me in the woods. i must have dug myself out of a thousand graves.
[ How long until Nikolai has a list of resurrections? This place seemed tailored to it, an inevitability to be weathered. But all that inevitable pain didn't quite compare to— ]
She was cruel.
[ How many Lantsovs had been cruel? Kirigan could tell him, if Nikolai ever asked.
This divergence buzzes in the background of their connection, the link between them cinched closer and closer as Nikolai asks: ]
Why did she do that to you?
[ And then, a low murmur beneath that question: ]
Don't come until I tell you. Wait for me
[ An absence of a secret proffered in return, but maybe there's something made clear in these questions anyway: what Nikolai wants to know, how he asks Danny to stay his hand. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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( that makes him interesting. that makes him dangerous, potentially. )
and i'd like to know more about the man attached to the face i'm imagining when i'm jerking my dick at night.
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[ Flippant, but not insincere, on the way to: ]
Is that what you're doing now, while you're prying after my secrets?
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For now, yes.
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well then.
as his highness pleases.
( in his right mind, danny's thoughts are cold and lifeless, a horizon-defying desert where all the oases are frozen over. nikolai's yes is a spike through the ice, cracking open a watery tomb better left closed. there is no bottom to danny's oasis: fall in and you'll never stop falling.
either way, nikolai gets a spike back: molten, blistering like the siren lick of a flame on bare skin, luring him in, closer. maybe he's touching himself, or maybe he's only thinking about it. )
tell me another secret.
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The spike is a hook, like Danny's knife had been a hook. A precipice. Nikolai toes up to the edge, looking down, reaching after that flare of heat. The buzzing whir of some separate train of thought doesn't ebb. It runs apace, a rumbling motor of questions, weighing and assessing as Nikolai tells him: ]
I can't remember what happens when I transform.
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i've never transformed.
( he almost did, once. but the threat out of it was drowned in whiskey and fucked out of him. nikolai says slowly like he might say be a good boy now, and danny's hand loosens automatically where he's white-knuckling his fattening dick through his fly. )
do you remember dying?
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[ It's a relief to impart this, this thing he's carried for months, and put it into Danny's hands. Danny is many things, violent and jagged and sharp-edged, and maybe he will take these admissions and use them to hurt him, but—
If it's hurt, Nikolai doesn't think it's the kind of hurt he'd had to guard against in the Ravkan court. ]
Do you remember it? Dying? Coming back?
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( now here's a real secret, something he's never told anyone, a pause spared before the drop while he rolls onto his belly and forks a crumpled scrap of fur between his thighs, hips grinding lazy circles as he rides his dick into the ground like he'd ride a hand or a mouth (nikolai's hand, nikolai's mouth, nikolai's severed spinal column and zoya's perfect doll face awash in blood, asking what the hell did you do?).
he shivers, teeth indenting his forearm just over the scar quentin carved into him. )
in the fog, when she'd kill me after she was done with me, i didn't rez like everyone else. she'd bury me in the woods. i must have dug myself out of a thousand graves.
no subject
She was cruel.
[ How many Lantsovs had been cruel? Kirigan could tell him, if Nikolai ever asked.
This divergence buzzes in the background of their connection, the link between them cinched closer and closer as Nikolai asks: ]
Why did she do that to you?
[ And then, a low murmur beneath that question: ]
Don't come until I tell you. Wait for me
[ An absence of a secret proffered in return, but maybe there's something made clear in these questions anyway: what Nikolai wants to know, how he asks Danny to stay his hand. ]