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contact part deux
if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message
Ah, you think so?
[ He doesn’t fluster, as a rule. But the gazing and caressing have made him blush—something he’s good enough to fake, when needed, but has never been good enough to prevent—and he’s only looking at Byerly instead of casually away because Byerly has already done it for both of them. ]
I suppose scaring all of the new recruits away on their first day is one way to prevent any new spies.
[ He doesn’t fluster, as a rule. But the gazing and caressing have made him blush—something he’s good enough to fake, when needed, but has never been good enough to prevent—and he’s only looking at Byerly instead of casually away because Byerly has already done it for both of them. ]
I suppose scaring all of the new recruits away on their first day is one way to prevent any new spies.
Heroes of Thedas.
[ He takes the open opportunity to stroke his fingertips down Byerly’s exposed neck, in a way meant to be more soothing than amorous, even though it can’t actually help. Poor throat. ]
What about hiring all of Flint’s crew as guards? We could put one on every floor.
[ This is an idea just as horrible as automatic torture, he’s fairly sure. ]
[ He takes the open opportunity to stroke his fingertips down Byerly’s exposed neck, in a way meant to be more soothing than amorous, even though it can’t actually help. Poor throat. ]
What about hiring all of Flint’s crew as guards? We could put one on every floor.
[ This is an idea just as horrible as automatic torture, he’s fairly sure. ]
Oh. You're going to make me randy, doing that.
[ You can't just stroke your fingertips down someone's neck and not have it be a little amorous. ]
But it's an intriguing idea. I can tell you, as someone who's regularly menaced by a pirate, it's quite charming.
[ You can't just stroke your fingertips down someone's neck and not have it be a little amorous. ]
But it's an intriguing idea. I can tell you, as someone who's regularly menaced by a pirate, it's quite charming.
The second-worst possible outcome, [ Bastien agrees through a little laugh from the pinch.
He stops, though, hand reaching around to take what’s left of Byerly’s drink away and set it on the floor so there’s nothing to spill when Bastien starts shifting and encouraging Byerly to lie against his chest, trying to make good on his pledge to hold everything but his feet. ]
He stops, though, hand reaching around to take what’s left of Byerly’s drink away and set it on the floor so there’s nothing to spill when Bastien starts shifting and encouraging Byerly to lie against his chest, trying to make good on his pledge to hold everything but his feet. ]
I told someone I was taken the other day. Or a month ago now, I suppose.
[ Bastien says it lightly enough—not upset, only unsure—while propped on his elbow in bed to contemplate Byerly’s nipple. He’s all sexed out for the night; the contemplation is more affectionately scientific than thirsty. ]
Which I am, in most ways, [ he adds, poking the nipple for emphasis. ] But she only wanted the evening, and she seemed fun. And I...
[ In an ideal world—his ideal world, in which he never inconvenienced or upset people he cared about—he would be bringing this to By either not at all, having divined the correct thing to do without putting either of them through the discomfort of discussing it, or else with his feelings neat and disentangled and easy to explain. But he’s not good at turning his understanding gaze inward alone, and Athessa is gone, and Yseult has that faint aroma of disapproval regarding the entire arrangement, and Alexandrie might be helpful but would certainly wind up personally hurt somehow, and Ellis could listen in comforting silence like a tree while Bastien puzzled it out aloud but he’s fucked off to the Anderfels to die (and see if Bastien cares), and Fifi he’d feel he was bothering with frivolous nonsense, and Florent would earnestly give him terrible advice and probably gossip about it later, and Astarion bites.
So instead he’s bringing it to By tangled and raw, with a shrug and, ] I don’t know.
[ Bastien says it lightly enough—not upset, only unsure—while propped on his elbow in bed to contemplate Byerly’s nipple. He’s all sexed out for the night; the contemplation is more affectionately scientific than thirsty. ]
Which I am, in most ways, [ he adds, poking the nipple for emphasis. ] But she only wanted the evening, and she seemed fun. And I...
[ In an ideal world—his ideal world, in which he never inconvenienced or upset people he cared about—he would be bringing this to By either not at all, having divined the correct thing to do without putting either of them through the discomfort of discussing it, or else with his feelings neat and disentangled and easy to explain. But he’s not good at turning his understanding gaze inward alone, and Athessa is gone, and Yseult has that faint aroma of disapproval regarding the entire arrangement, and Alexandrie might be helpful but would certainly wind up personally hurt somehow, and Ellis could listen in comforting silence like a tree while Bastien puzzled it out aloud but he’s fucked off to the Anderfels to die (and see if Bastien cares), and Fifi he’d feel he was bothering with frivolous nonsense, and Florent would earnestly give him terrible advice and probably gossip about it later, and Astarion bites.
So instead he’s bringing it to By tangled and raw, with a shrug and, ] I don’t know.
[ By hums thoughtfully, turning his head towards Bastien. He tries to read his expression with - Well, with rather limited success, honestly, because Bastien seems lighthearted and mild about it, but Bastien often seems lighthearted and mild about things that are upsetting to him. It might be truly an amusing and curious anecdote; it might also be something causing him deep anguish.
So with caution - caution expressed by adopting a tone of mild, pleasant interest - he asks: ]
Did you take her up on it?
[ Is that the reason he's saying this now? Is this a guilt-ridden confession? Because just because you say you're taken doesn't mean you don't allow yourself to be seduced. And if he did - if he had - how would I feel about it? ]
So with caution - caution expressed by adopting a tone of mild, pleasant interest - he asks: ]
Did you take her up on it?
[ Is that the reason he's saying this now? Is this a guilt-ridden confession? Because just because you say you're taken doesn't mean you don't allow yourself to be seduced. And if he did - if he had - how would I feel about it? ]
No. No, I left.
[ He flattens his hand over Byerly’s chest and looks him in the face, trying to read him right back. ]
But I have before, with other people. Usually when you were busy. [ With Alexandrie. ] I didn’t think—or I don’t know. Maybe I did think it might matter, on some level. I don’t know why I never mentioned it before.
[ He smiles a little uncertainly and drums his splayed fingers once across By’s chest. ]
Does it matter?
[ He flattens his hand over Byerly’s chest and looks him in the face, trying to read him right back. ]
But I have before, with other people. Usually when you were busy. [ With Alexandrie. ] I didn’t think—or I don’t know. Maybe I did think it might matter, on some level. I don’t know why I never mentioned it before.
[ He smiles a little uncertainly and drums his splayed fingers once across By’s chest. ]
Does it matter?
Edited 2021-11-25 01:37 (UTC)
[ Does it? ]
Of course not. I'm not jealous.
[ Of course not. Of course not. Sex is sex. What he and Bastien have with one another is completely separate. Sex is just something grand that they do - quite well - that's layered on top of more interesting things.
But. But for some reason, there's something - more. But he smiles: ]
And how hypocritical it would be to forbid it.
Of course not. I'm not jealous.
[ Of course not. Of course not. Sex is sex. What he and Bastien have with one another is completely separate. Sex is just something grand that they do - quite well - that's layered on top of more interesting things.
But. But for some reason, there's something - more. But he smiles: ]
And how hypocritical it would be to forbid it.
Yeah, it would be.
[ His tone is teasing. He still feels bewilderingly unsettled, but he doesn’t know what else to do with that smile. ]
And if you ever say you forbid me something I will ignore you and ‘accidentally’ knock your drinks over whenever I can for at least six months.
[ His tone is teasing. He still feels bewilderingly unsettled, but he doesn’t know what else to do with that smile. ]
And if you ever say you forbid me something I will ignore you and ‘accidentally’ knock your drinks over whenever I can for at least six months.
You monster.
[ A lazy hand comes out and tugs at his mustache.
And that - That should be the end of it. Yet Byerly finds himself saying: ]
And jealousy is the emotion of men who are beasts to their lovers. It's only a short step from jealousy to locking them up in a tower.
[ A lazy hand comes out and tugs at his mustache.
And that - That should be the end of it. Yet Byerly finds himself saying: ]
And jealousy is the emotion of men who are beasts to their lovers. It's only a short step from jealousy to locking them up in a tower.
[ He turns his head to bite Byerly’s fingers, teeth as lazy and gentle as the mustache-tugging, and doesn’t release them until he needs to say, ]
That sounds like a long step to me, [ illustrated with two fingers on By’s chest nearly doing the finger-splits. ] Plus all of the stairs.
[ But he’s grateful to have been given a foothold, rather than a smooth front, so his smile swiftly fades until it’s faint and serious. ]
I’m not trying to make you jealous. Jealousy is really fear, isn’t it? I never want to be a reason you’re afraid. [ He moves his hand to By’s jaw. ] But if you were jealous, you wouldn’t lock anyone in a tower.
That sounds like a long step to me, [ illustrated with two fingers on By’s chest nearly doing the finger-splits. ] Plus all of the stairs.
[ But he’s grateful to have been given a foothold, rather than a smooth front, so his smile swiftly fades until it’s faint and serious. ]
I’m not trying to make you jealous. Jealousy is really fear, isn’t it? I never want to be a reason you’re afraid. [ He moves his hand to By’s jaw. ] But if you were jealous, you wouldn’t lock anyone in a tower.
[ Bastien dips down to kiss the tip of Byerly’s nose, then lies down flat to look at him across the pillow with his hand remaining compliant and trapped against his stupidly beautiful, entirely trusted face. ]
I don’t know if I want it. I’m getting old, you know, and it’s…
[ He’s quiet again, searching for a way to articulate the difficulty of being a monogamy-prone (unfortunately, involuntarily, despite years of effort at making his heart as enlightened a libertine as his brain) endpoint in a polyamorous diagram. Something he can be sure won’t make Byerly feel guilty or make himself sound anything less than very cool and independent.
There isn’t one. It’s tempting to say never mind and go to sleep instead. He resists, but when he explains, he does it quietly, sounding faintly embarrassed by the whole thing. ]
I miss you sometimes. And if I’m a little lonely, when I know you’re not alone, that feels pathetic and—I don’t want to need more from you than you need from me. But if I go out and find someone I don’t really want, to prove we’re even, that’s petty. Especially if it hurts you.
I don’t know if I want it. I’m getting old, you know, and it’s…
[ He’s quiet again, searching for a way to articulate the difficulty of being a monogamy-prone (unfortunately, involuntarily, despite years of effort at making his heart as enlightened a libertine as his brain) endpoint in a polyamorous diagram. Something he can be sure won’t make Byerly feel guilty or make himself sound anything less than very cool and independent.
There isn’t one. It’s tempting to say never mind and go to sleep instead. He resists, but when he explains, he does it quietly, sounding faintly embarrassed by the whole thing. ]
I miss you sometimes. And if I’m a little lonely, when I know you’re not alone, that feels pathetic and—I don’t want to need more from you than you need from me. But if I go out and find someone I don’t really want, to prove we’re even, that’s petty. Especially if it hurts you.
[ And Byerly, in response to that, tightens his fingers in a less-gentle imprisonment. By thinks of Vincent, then, the man who strung Bastien so cruelly along, who pulled loyalty and love out of him and gave none in return. Or - no, he amends. There wasn't any real cruelty in it, and that was almost worse, wasn't it? Just that indifference of use.
I don't want to need more from you than you need from me. Byerly both understands the sentiment and hates it. Because he doesn't want Bastien to have to feel like this takes a calculation, a game, a competition, something Bardly. ]
I - want you to be mine.
[ His voice is low. ]
And I know. That's wrong. But I want to be the one to have you.
I don't want to need more from you than you need from me. Byerly both understands the sentiment and hates it. Because he doesn't want Bastien to have to feel like this takes a calculation, a game, a competition, something Bardly. ]
I - want you to be mine.
[ His voice is low. ]
And I know. That's wrong. But I want to be the one to have you.
[ Bastien nods in acknowledgment and slight relief, to know he hasn’t been thinking himself into knots over something By doesn’t care about at all. ]
I don’t think it’s wrong to want that.
[ Maybe that’s the Marcher in him. Or just the commoner. Orlesian commoners aren’t nearly as sexually freewheeling as the nobility.
He squirms his fingers in By’s grip, but only to be able to move his hand further back, to scratch the back of his head. ]
You aren’t sleeping with anyone but me and Alexandrie.
[ Not quite a question, in tone, but still seeking confirmation. ]
I don’t think it’s wrong to want that.
[ Maybe that’s the Marcher in him. Or just the commoner. Orlesian commoners aren’t nearly as sexually freewheeling as the nobility.
He squirms his fingers in By’s grip, but only to be able to move his hand further back, to scratch the back of his head. ]
You aren’t sleeping with anyone but me and Alexandrie.
[ Not quite a question, in tone, but still seeking confirmation. ]
[ Bastien hums, considering that—and briefly worrying Fitcher might think he was using her to flirt, now, that time he sent them to the theater together. ]
Maybe.
[ He stops his scalp-skritching so he can squeeze Byerly’s lips into a duck beak between two fingers. A little levity to make this not quite so difficult: ]
I am yours, you know. Whatever else I do, I’ll never love anyone else this way.
[ It hurts to say, knowing it can’t be mutual. An odd shame that turns his cheeks pink.
But it’s nice, too. ]
Maybe.
[ He stops his scalp-skritching so he can squeeze Byerly’s lips into a duck beak between two fingers. A little levity to make this not quite so difficult: ]
I am yours, you know. Whatever else I do, I’ll never love anyone else this way.
[ It hurts to say, knowing it can’t be mutual. An odd shame that turns his cheeks pink.
But it’s nice, too. ]
Oh.
[ An answering flush. An odd, maidenly impulse drives him to bury his face against Bastien's neck to hide his expression. Then he wonders if he looks a fool, and - and then decides he doesn't care. ]
Good. If you did, I'd have to go full Rutyer.
[ An answering flush. An odd, maidenly impulse drives him to bury his face against Bastien's neck to hide his expression. Then he wonders if he looks a fool, and - and then decides he doesn't care. ]
Good. If you did, I'd have to go full Rutyer.
[ Bastien tilts his head into By’s, wraps an arm around him to keep him close, and breathes until the tight ache at the base of his throat is loosened by the pleasure of making Byerly Rutyer flush—a true accomplishment—and of giving him something he needs. After his mother and his father, and after the first time with Alexandrie and the second time, too, and the woman in Antiva, and a hundred fickle friends, of course he’d need this—someone to love him most and love him steadily, without caveats, without leaving. ]
What is full Rutyer? [ he finally asks, recovered enough to sound a touch amused. ] Tower prisons? Murder?
What is full Rutyer? [ he finally asks, recovered enough to sound a touch amused. ] Tower prisons? Murder?
Mm.
[ He buries his face further into Bastien. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve this. He's a miserable, wretched man, a man with a stained soul, and a just universe does not reward men such as him. Certainly not with a clever, kind man who keeps the most delicious mysteries, who makes himself into a gift to unwrap, who's playful and saucy and has the most gorgeous eyes. Men like him die alone. They don't get someone who cares about them. Who looks at them and sees. ]
Strip them of all their lands and titles? So that you lose interest. That is the only reason you like me, right?
[ He buries his face further into Bastien. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve this. He's a miserable, wretched man, a man with a stained soul, and a just universe does not reward men such as him. Certainly not with a clever, kind man who keeps the most delicious mysteries, who makes himself into a gift to unwrap, who's playful and saucy and has the most gorgeous eyes. Men like him die alone. They don't get someone who cares about them. Who looks at them and sees. ]
Strip them of all their lands and titles? So that you lose interest. That is the only reason you like me, right?
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