"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
03-02-2017, 04:13 AM (This post was last modified: 03-14-2017, 03:10 PM by Dovev.)
I love you, I love you, I love you..
The words repeated in his mind; a last wish, a plea, a prayer. Stay with me. But it was useless. She was long gone from him. And it was his fault. It was no less than he deserved. He was much less than she deserved.
His body was stiff and shaking, spent too long curled in the snow of the mountain. Teeth chattering, he eventually -somehow- got up, driven by no more than natural instict to survive. He stumbled into the forest, at the base of that looming mountain, tripped and collapsed where the snow quickly faded into cold earth. With a hard thump, the weight of his bone-thin body collided with the earth, and he knew he wasn't getting back up again; not any time soon.
He was forced to lay awkwardly, the armor of bone plates on his body protruding out of him in grotesque monuments of protection, guarding a beast the world would rather be removed from this earth. The discomfort was so distant as his body quaked and shuddered with chill, hypothermia setting in, and barely-contained pain. The welted and angry skin around the ivory plates finally lacked the flow of blood that always seemed to be spilling from around them as they grew more; the blood too slow and frozen in his body after being healed then buried in ice and snow.
The cold was everywhere. It should have been warmer in this place, but he was too far gone. Too far chilled and no visible fat and muscle to insulate any warmth. He was supposed to be searching, hunting. Supposed to be killing a man made of iron, directed to take him or take his life. Or die trying. And he had, he'd searched for him. But he had seen her and everything else fell away.
And then she was gone. Forever. And no longer could his highly-trained mind force her out to the recesses so he could focus. No longer could he forget her, even for a brief moment. Because he'd told her his heart in three simple words. He'd promised, he'd vowed. Silent and unassuming, but there in his words where she couldn't find it. I love you.
Once again, Disastardly had awoken to a whole new world. This time, in the aftermath of shared passion with Dovev and Zoryn, the world in question was one she wasn’t entirely certain she liked. A world in which she was a mother-to-be. It had taken a while for her to realize it; she was hardly close with her own train wreck of a mother, and she’d escaped her last encounter with her boys unscathed. Reproductively anyhow. Deliciously, gloriously scathed in body, just not knocked the fuck up.
Shitty timing, apparently. She hadn’t been so lucky this time. And Zor, he was even more wrecked than she was, if that was possible. Her sweet, vicious teddy bear was pretty damn hung up on his Dov, but Diz was happy to play with whatever toy presented itself. Her boys were exquisite, pleasure wrapped in pain, wrapped up again in such delightful packaging, but if Dov wanted to go knock up his mom and get all wrapped up in somebody else, well, it made no particular nevermind to her. She still had her Zor.
Ugh, and whatever whelp the three of them had managed to produce, but that was really more of a burden than a blessing. It was already starting to round out her belly, starting to change her in ways she did not appreciate a damn bit. And not just physically, either.
For example.
Diz wasn’t, as a general rule, one to give a shit about people’s feelings. Not too terribly long ago, if she’d stumbled across Dov looking like such a ragged pile of skin and bones and old blood, her first instinct would have been to poke and prod and piss him off, kick him while he was down and see if there was enough fight in him to kick back. Trade a few blows, tear each other up a little bit, fuck, and consider it a job well done.
Now?
She stopped next to him, tilting her head to look him over dispassionately. “Damn, Dov, you look like shit.” Okay, so the poking part still held true. Her next words surprised her, though. “I know it’s not exactly our style, but do you...want to talk about it?” And she didn’t even sound disgusted or put out by the idea. What the hell was that about? Fucking weird.
Another shudder, another shiver. He was so damn cold, and with his heart bleeding out. Maybe letting her go hadn't been the right thing to do. He never knew what the hell was right. Maybe he should have fought for her like he wanted to, beg for her to give him a chance. To.. change. Try to be.. better for her. God, was that even possible? He would have tried. For her.
But he let her go, listened and watched with tears so openly claiming his face as she flew away. Forever. Because she deserved better, and he was selfish and controlling, and it was wrong to be him, so he did what he never wanted to. He was all wrong, so it must have been right to do it. To let her go.
He sighed, his body trembling, clenching his teeth so they wouldnt chatter more. And then she was there, the person he least expected to ever happen upon him without Zoryn around to initiate. Fucking Diz. Smartass as always, with her stupid mouth. Damn, Dov, you look like shit. His jaw twitched, immediately annoyed as he forced himself to sit up, and he pinned her with cold, black eyes. I know it's not exactly our style but do you... want to talk about it?
That stupid fucking mouth.
No? he spat incredulously. How the hell could she ever think he'd want to talk to her? The only time he had ever been mildly interested in her mouth was when it was kept busy and quiet. Or mostly quiet, anyway. And he wasn't even close to being interested in that, not even if Zor were here to start his shit again. Not ever again. They got what they wanted, he couldn't do it again. He couldn't do it.
He glared at her, growled as his body shook so violently again. He looked so weak, so pathetic. He was these things now. Let love claim him and dull him, and he didn't care. He'd do it again. For her.
Don't just stand there, get the fuck down here and warm me up. He quaked, shivered. He needed her and he hated it. Was she getting fatter? What the hell, he was practically dying and she was gorging herself on whatever food she could find.
Dov’s incredulous stare was about right, yeah. Diz snorted and rolled her eyes at her own idiocy; softness wasn’t something she did, wasn’t something he’d want from her. “Stupid question,” she agreed, the corner of her lips quirking just a little upward as he growled at her. He ordered her to cuddle him, and she smirked. If he didn’t clearly need it so badly, she’d tell him to fuck off for bossing her around. Well or purr and tell him to make her.
Or at least she told herself she would’ve, even as she lowered herself to lie next to him, her body pressed against his skeletal frame. She draped her neck across him in a move that should have been uncomfortably intimate. Would have been, if he hadn’t been shivering so hard. Lucky for him, Diz was running a little hotter than usual these days, and not in a fun sexy way either. Matter of fact, she had just about zero interest in banging her bony lover, disturbingly content to just lie wrapped around him instead.
She could have asked questions, but he had as much of a smart mouth as she did, and it didn’t seem worth the effort to get shot down and mouthed off at and pushed away, especially when pushing her away would only end up hurting him. Or at least making him freeze to death. So. Whatever, fine. She trailed her lips along the still-bare skin at the juncture of his shoulder and neck and held him close, quiet sounds of comfort slipping out despite her better judgement when the shivers were at their worst. And she let her body do what it was good at just now: throwing a hell of a lot of heat, since she’d apparently turned into a goddamn furnace.
He wished he could wipe that stupid smirk off her face, especially because he knew exactly where her thoughts had gone at his demand. Make me. But those words never left her and she just quietly settled in next to him. He stared at her like she'd grown two heads as her pretty neck draped over him without a single smartass remark or hesitation, just a sweet gesture in what he assumed was supposed to be companionable silence.
He nearly smarted off to her, because that's what they did, snap and snarl and insult, attack and probably makeup in some wild and wicked way or another. Huh, not likely. Oh, but then her body heat finally began soaking into him, gradually seeping into his chilled bones with a flow of warmth so similar to another that made his heart ache. He moaned against that heat, against that pain in his chest at a love so very lost, his eyes pinching tight as he battled the thoughts he could no longer bury and push away.
Her lips brushed along his bare skin, and it wasn't the cold that made him shiver that time. His skin prickled and he nearly snapped at her, almost demanded she not touch him and get the hell out. But why the hell not? Only a touch, only more warmth for his frozen body and deadened heart. A heavy sigh pushed from his lungs, his head bowing to rest his nose against the earth.
I've lost everything, he said quietly, probably to himself. The bland and bored tone in his voice betrayed the shards of glass digging into his throat and the wetness clawing at his black eyes. Maybe he needed to mourn. Did he even know how to? All he ever did was cause harm, destruction, upheaval. All he ever was, was wrong. He had never seen it, never cared, until Leliana. Until he found her, gently pressed her to the ground beneath him-- he groaned; so much suffering inside him tearing him apart. Leliana.
God damn, even thinking her name hurt like hell and he forced himself to swallow those shards of glass, forced himself to breathe stupid, shuddering breaths when everything inside just wanted to cease to function. How long would it take to overcome this? How long until this wound healed on its own?
Dov tensed up at first, and Diz could hardly blame him. She wasn’t exactly acting like herself, was she? All quiet cuddles and sharing body heat without a single snarky comment or pointed prod or anything. Not even a hungry purr or a provocative bite, just holding him and letting the way her body had turned into a furnace do some good for someone other than the whelp slowly taking shape inside her.
And slowly that warmth started to sink into him, easing the shivers and shudders, until moaned and shivered underneath her gentle touch for a very different reason. Huh. Gentle wasn’t exactly something they’d tried before, too caught up in the taste of blood on their lips, the feel of teeth sinking into flesh, the sharp pain chased by tongues and lips the fuel to the flame that burned between them. Interesting. The idea of a repeat of the inferno that had gotten Diz in her current predicament, that didn’t sound especially appealing just then. But somehow those soft little touches felt...good.
She was glad when he interrupted that almost disturbing train of thought by quietly, dispassionately murmuring that he’d lost everything. “Everything?” she asked quietly, still gently stroking his shoulder. Everything. She had no real idea what that meant, not to him. Unlike Zor, she hadn’t exactly made a habit of watching Dov, of learning more about him than the shape of his body, the feel of him, the way he touched her, the sounds he made while she tore into his skin, the ones he made when he came undone. Zor had mentioned other girls, but he’d cared far more about who Dov fucked than Diz ever had.
Something about his mom, and a kid. Which hadn’t really surprised Diz; Dov was the delicious kind of fucked up she was intimately familiar with. People like them didn’t do clean and sweet and pretty, not if clean and sweet and pretty wanted to stay that way. She’d never tried, had never gotten tied up and tangled in anyone the way Zor was in Dov. Not after watching the way their mom had fawned and obsessed over their dad, the twisted empty ache in her gut that made Ravyn come back to him, made her want to please him, made her give herself away in the doing.
Nah. Love didn’t run in her blood. And she wasn’t about to dance with sick obsession either, with turning herself inside out trying to be enough for someone who barely looked her way, or for someone who hated that he wanted her, hated that he loved what she did to him. No sense in getting emotionally involved, when all it did was fucking gut you.
Still. Clearly not everyone was as good at staying detached. Like Zor. And apparently like Dov, though god knew it wasn’t either of them he was wrecked over. She felt a moment of quiet concern, found herself damn glad it wasn’t Zor who’d stumbled across their part-time lover lamenting how he’d lost everything. Probably he’d be hurt, hearing everything didn’t have fuck-all to do with him. Diz, on the other hand, had never expected to be anything to Dov other than what she was. Someone he’d gotten a taste of, someone who fired his blood now and again.
So it cost her nothing to lie with him and hold him and trail her lips along the skin still exposed around the bony growths of armor and just let him deal with whatever had left him like this. Whether he wanted to deal with it out loud or not, well, that was up to him.
The aching, biting cold and the chilled shudders that followed along with it finally eased, finally let his frail-looking body settle and still against her heat. And it felt good, so good. So did that gentle touch, her wicked lips against his sensitive skin. He ducked his head and exhaled, tried not to show how much the simplest caress could undo him so easily, held himself so still as he remembered someone else with the weight of the loss slumping his shoulders.
Everything? she echoed quietly, and his mind turned back to her again. She was... different. Soft and calm. Not the wild thing he knew, craving and seeking both pleasures and pain tangled together in a sharp moment of ecstasy. Not biting and tearing into him as he tore into her, tasting each others blood as they did the same with Zoryn, all together. That was the only Diz he knew, the one he hated even as he drove himself into her with his teeth buried deep in her skin. He hated that she distracted Zor, hated that she distracted him, hated that she knew all the best ways to insert herself in the middle of it all.
And that goddamn mouth of hers.
But here and now she was completely different, and he wondered if she was always this way without Zoryn to stir it all up. It was doubtful. She had a wicked sharp tongue that he didn't think could ever be soothed, even with a slow and sensual pass of his own. And yet there she lay, curled and wrapped around him trying to keep him warm without even a flicker of lust in her eyes. Was it pity? Was it because he had no one else? Did she not think much of him unless her brother was around to toy and taunt her into taking them both?
And he let himself be curious as he sat and stared at her, his face unreadable. He let himself be distracted from the pain in his pathetic chest at losing the one he fell in love with. It never should have happened. And now he'd never really be able to let her go.
But here was Diz, and she was known to be so very distracting.
Suddenly there was an eager gleam in his eyes, and he lunged for her, shoved her down hard and pressed himself on top of her. That was the only quick movement, the only roughness, and he instantly settled.
His heavy-lidded gaze drank her in, every last starving detail, the black of her, the white of her, the sexy curves and hollows, until he finally -finally- met her provocative eyes. He held them as his head lowered to her, barely passed parted lips so painstakingly slowly over her hot skin, breathing her in. He trailed and hovered over her breast, her neck, the line of her throat where his slow movement slid to a pause.
Dizzy, he whispered low, brushing his lips across her sensitive flesh. Everything he did was tender and sweet, something she'd never seen from him before. Something she probably didn't even care for, this vicious vixen. But he could make love this way, he knew. If it were Leliana here with him, pressed beneath him as she had been so long ago. Only Leliana. Distraction, distraction, he reminded himself, and pulled himself up enough to lock intently onto her eyes again, her face. Diz.
He held his breath and stared down at her, and gave her one good, deliberate rock, as slow and purposeful as the rest of the things he'd done to her so far.
Dov studied her, stared at her, and Dizzy could see his mind working, the gears turning as those infinite black eyes lingered on her skin, traced the lines of her face, and finally met hers. She watched the look in his eyes shift from grief to hunger, and knew as he shoved her down and slid on top of her that he’d thought of a perfect way to distract himself from his pain.
Diz was good, after all, at being a distraction.
She expected teeth dragging along her skin, expected blood and pain and the fight that made things fun, made them both burn, made them both lose control. Instead, he settled on top of her, settled into her, and just looked at her. His dark gaze roved her body, traced the tangled lines where dark and light clashed on her skin, and slowly, so slowly, made its way to meet hers.
Fuck.
A nervous fluttering in her belly warned her they were entering uncharted territory here. There was something dangerously delicious in the way he touched her then, so gentle. Slow and tender, where they had only ever been sparks and conflagration. Diz wasn’t stupid enough to think there was affection in his touch, in the trailing of his lips along her skin, in the way he whispered her name and chased it with a kiss. Or at least she told herself she wasn’t that stupid.
She tried to lash out, to bite into that delectable skin, to chase him back to familiar ground and the dance of pleasure and pain they knew so well. Really, she did. But her body didn’t listen, melting beneath that sweet, gentle touch. A warm glow caught in her belly, spreading through her veins, and she drew in a ragged gasp as he rocked against her, pressing her face into his neck and moaning as she arched into him.
“Dov.” His name came out a breathy sigh instead of the familiar hungry growl she’d always used before, and when she finally touched him back it was just as gentle, just as sweet. She trailed delicate kisses along the wasted hollows of his neck, rubbed her cheek against the fall of his hair and breathed him in. That nervous flutter grew, mingling with the heat of his touch and making her burn in a whole new way.
One that scared the fuck out of her when it crept into her chest, a soft warm glow she didn’t trust for a heartbeat. Get the fuck off me, she tried to growl, but it came out a soft, aching, drawn out “Mmmmm.” And instead of pushing him away, instead of chasing him off and protecting herself from that goddamn glowing warmth, she pressed her lips to the sharp curve of his jaw and dragged in a shaky breath, reveling in the weight of him, in the softness of his touch, in the way he whispered her name against her skin.
Hated how she invited herself wherever the hell she wanted, when she was most definitely not wanted. Hated that smartass mouth of hers, even when she knew just what to do with it. God, and she definitely knew what to do with it. Hated that too, that she was so damn sexy. Hated that he could ever want her. Hated that she looked so beautiful sprawled beneath him. Yeah. Diz. Beautiful. Fucking insane.
He hated that she made perfect sense.
He just hated her.
God, but he loved that look in her eyes. Her brazen, obnoxious confidence slipped away and surrendered to him under the weight of his sweet attention, flickering with uncertainty. Nervous. That was a damn good look on her, and he craved more. He loved that she knew him, the real him, and still wanted him. No, he hated that; wanted Leliana to know him, to want all of him. But she was gone, lost forever; could never love the real him. He should just let it go, stop hoping for the impossible. Distraction, though. Sweet distraction.
But he loved to stare down at her, this new Diz he didn't know and secretly wanted to discover, this soft and warm woman that took him by surprise. Loved to drink in every delicious detail in her face as she reacted to him, as he rocked so purposefully against her. He was eager for that response, uncertain how she would take it, this other side of him she didn't know. Could she want all of him, or would she only ever desire the dark and wicked side? Damn, and he shouldn't care. Shouldn't want to know, shouldn't test it. But he did.
And so he showed her what his love could look like. Not just the wild passion, the hungry and seeking and deliciously rough. But the soft, and the sweet. The tender. All the rest of him, the missing pieces she didn't have. Passed his lips over her body so slowly, studied every beautiful edge and corner of her. Gave her some damn amazing pressure under the press of his hips.
She moaned against his neck, arched into that deliberate rock against her body. It singed him, burned straight through every fiber of his being. It laced his blood in ecstasy, spiked his heartbeat, fueled a fire that reached every inch of him. Ah, fuck. She wasn't supposed to like it, was she? Wasn't supposed to feel this damn good. But she did like it. She wanted it -he did too. And when she sighed his name, soft and aching, his breath stopped and he stared down at her, taken aback, and amended it. She didn't just want it. She wanted him.
Right?
And then she turned it on him, that gentle attention. Don't touch me, don't touch me. But he couldn't warn her, couldn't speak. His eyes closed as she pressed tender kisses into his neck, swept her cheek against his hair. He forced out a slow, shaky exhale as those soft lips finally made their way to his jaw, had to fight the urge not to turn his head and take them with his own as he groaned inwardly. Goddamn it, Diz.
This was so bad, so dangerous. She wasn't supposed to like this, he wasn't supposed to like this. She should be biting into him and tearing flesh, demanding him to get the fuck off her, returning them to the way of things that they knew. Chasing them away from this that he was suddenly afraid they could not turn back from. This, that he suddenly wanted a hell of a lot more than he should. What the hell had he gotten them into this time?
And he was afraid. Fucking terrified.
He should definitely stop. Take them back to safety.
Don't stop.
Ah, fuck, why did she have to know him?
Any pathetic attempt at restraint was dashed away in that soft little plea, any hesitation at all, if there had been. Because he definitely didn't want to stop. And he stared down at her again, starving for that face he swore he hated -When the hell did Diz get beautiful?- and he gave her another good rock. And damn he wanted to do a lot more than that. Could she see how he wanted this? Did she want it too? Not like he did.
But not yet. Not yet. And his head bent to her neck again, kissing her in a slow and sensual dance of tongue and lips as muscles rolled beneath his shoulders with another deep push against her. Dizzy, he murmured into her neck, low and needing, begging. And for once it was not a plea to make him stop; But a plea to never stop him. Don't stop this. He wanted her.
He was dangerously close to making love to her. He thought he might. He wanted to. But it wasn't love, was it? God, he didn't even know anymore. At the very least it would be some desperately amazing sex. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe he'd be able to stop after, and let her drift away and back into her brother's bed. He could do that, couldn't he? He never gave a damn about her before, he hated her each time she showed up, so maybe. Maybe things could just go back to how they were before, when they were done here. When he opened himself completely and gave her all that was left of him.
She was the only one that truly knew him.
He hated that she made perfect sense.
The burn of his careful kisses trailed up to her throat, around to the tender flesh beside her jawbone. He pinched there, just barely, so sweetly, the wet of his tongue savoring her, the graze of his teeth that knew her so intimately, the press of his lips that wanted so much more of her.
I want you, he admitted, he promised. His body heat blanketed her, his weight balancing comfortably, pressing in all the right places. He kissed her again, her cheek, gradually down toward her mouth. But he stopped just in the corner, his tongue resting in the meet of her lips with another kiss, searching her eyes to try and find what this would mean to her, if it meant anything at all.
Fuck. It was too much. The nervous fluttering in Dizzy’s belly got worse with every pass of Dov’s lips, every whisper of his breath against her skin, so goddamn soft and gentle. Every breath she drew was just a little too shaky, and she couldn’t quite hold back the breathy little gasps and moans he drew out of her with those exquisite lips. This wasn’t her; the way she melted against him and trailed her lips along the line of his throat, it was so foreign to her, so new. So dangerous.
She knew better than to get tangled up in emotions. She fucking knew better. But he murmured her name, soft and aching and desperate, and the reasons why this was a terrible idea faded away, lost in the quiet yearning that lit up her chest. Fuck. “Dov.” She didn’t recognize her own voice, so heavy with want. Not just for his body, not just for his touch, though god he was setting her on fire with every press of his lips to her skin.
It was more.
He was more.
Her head fell back as he trailed kisses up her throat, his lips slowing to linger just behind her jaw. “Yes,” she whispered, gasping as his teeth pinched sensitive skin. His tongue coaxed a soft, hungry sound out of her as she arched up into him, wanting him, needing him to give her more.
“I want you.” There was weight to his words that hadn’t been there in the heat of passion before, something more than the taunting, vicious hunger they’d given into time and again. God, and it felt good. Too good. Her heart raced as he stared into her eyes, raced and quaked and cracked open until she couldn’t quite tell if it was terror or desire that had her breath coming in quick panting gasps, had her searching the infinite black depths of his eyes, had her worrying at her lower lip nervously with teeth that existed to sink into his skin.
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “Give me all of you, Dov. Please.” Her teeth played at her lip as she tried to bite back the words that would set her down a path she’d never wanted to travel, not before tonight. But with his eyes on her, with the weight of his body pressing down on her, with the fierce need splitting her chest open and spilling her secrets out into the air between them, she couldn’t stop the rest from pouring out. No matter how naked it made her feel, no matter how shaky and vulnerable.
For once in her life, it didn’t matter how scared she was, or how badly he could hurt her. There was no wicked grin, no sharp teeth bared to drive away anyone who could break her before they had a chance. All that existed was those endless black eyes really looking at her for the first time. “And if it’s what you want, I’ll give you all of me too.”
