sinbound. [Akira & Earinor] [ENG]

"I ... think that's normal for a wound, no? Your flesh is healing after I cut it apart, so it's only natural, if also somewhat unbearable", Ronan sighed. He knew that there wasn't much he could do for his boyfriend, just talk the pain away, but that was about it, wasn't it? Truth be told, there was nothing he couldn't actually try on his own, but he couldn't fix a wound like that in a day, nor could the blondes body actually do something like that for him, as desirable as it was. In reality, they both were nothing more than cheap slaves that called their own bodies their cages and their souls were trying to run free, but were unable to, simply because they were chained in place with no visible sign of being able to escape anytime soon. Like cagebars, unbeding and unyielding, waiting to be torn open by someone more capable than them - like flightless birds, robbed of their wings, sitting still on a windowsill, gazing onto the world above. Ronan felt like he had no place in the manor of Alster, in this life he was born in and yet people reassured him that he belonged, told him that he was worth, but worth what, exactly? His mind wasn't going to go back on track, simply because he wanted it to - there was no chance in hell that it would.

"You're ... right. I mean, we could get closer, but I - for one - wouldn't want to have sex with you when every sound you could make would cause you pain, so ... this should be fine." This was only the truth and while it was early, too early for his own liking, he knew that Caelan wouldn't take something like this personal, let alone think that Ronan was kidding, or even rejecting all of his past advances. In the end, they were made for one another and while they currently were stuck, trying to figure out how to turn their relationship into something less obvious, they still did as they desired, even if they felt tired, exhausted down to their core. "I'll spoonfeed you, then", he joked, giggling for a while before he saw the blondes own face light up, bright and loving, before he was reminded of his own predicament, seemingly. "I'm just proposing an idea! That's all!", Ronan retaliated, chuckling loudly about it. Wouldn't it be nice? Being Caelan of Fhaergus' wife, the duchess of Fhaergus, free of so many chains that bound him to Alsters rotten ground that he was to govern one day - but alas, even if he were a woman, he wouldn't be loved by his boyfriend as much as he was right now. "If only, right? But unfortunately, magic is something for witches, the devil - and I doubt it exists. So, there's not a single chance to turn me into a woman - just for my father to disown me so that I could serve you." And yet, for one reason or the other, he knew that it would be foolish to try. "Weren't you just complaining about me being eager?", he asked, before he sat up slightly, getting out of that shirt that Caelan seemed to hate, before he lay back down, pressing skin against skin. "Better?"

"And you answered, to which I answered. I'm just saying that the pain will go eventually and it's not surprising that you're feeling like that, that's all", and for once, he wished that the dreams about magic, the myths about legendary wizards and the healing prowess of a spell aimed right right were true. Like that, there would be no scar on Caelans body, or at least not the one that would be on his face from now on, reminding him of the one tournament he lost against an idiot newcomer like him. But alas, all of that was but childish thinking, a dream to never come true because this was still the harsh reality and even if something as fragile as magic was spreading its webbing throughout their world, the young noble doubted he'd be adept at it, let alone be able to control it or have it benefit himself. Now, however, he was losing himself in unimaginable daydreams, right after he'd awoken from that slumber of his and instead of paying attention to his boyfriend, instead of guilting himself some more over severed skin and flesh, over a face forever ruined, he asked himself if - and only if - he could have fixed it, had their circumstances been any different than they were right now. Somehow, it was ridiculous to even consider, was it not? "Don't laugh!", Ronan blurted out, already aware of the fact that his boyfriend was - if anything - in an immense amount of pain that he couldn't help him with, simply because of the fact that while he was responsible for his pain one way or the other, Ronan couldn't do much against it, except offer his continue support.

"I'm not even trying to be funny, I promise!", he yelped, like a hurt dog that was coming back to lick his masters wound after he'd bit him. Was he much more than that? Well, actually, Caelan was the dog and not him, but in reality, what did that matter? They both were disastrous. "I'm not horny! I'm just saying what's on my mind and it's not romantic enough to, uh, you know ... but, really merging sounds not only like a pain but also, what would that make us? An abomination, heir of Alster and Fhaergus?", he asked, chuckling again. This was funny to imagine, Ronan had to admit as much - but in the end, all of this was nothing more than fuel for those skewed daydreams of his, for things unreachable in a world so far away from this one. "The words ...? I love you?" The blonde had just accomplished something that he'd deemed almost unrealistic - confuse him, even though he'd done it so so often already and every time he had, Ronan was left wondering why. "I'll still feed you!" Was this a declaration of love or rather war? "You ... like the feeling of my skin? Why is that?" Caelans calloused hands still felt nice, so warm, almost burning through every patch of skin that they touched and now he wanted nothing more than to relax, to lay here for a while and doze off again, but he knew that he couldn't. "Isn't puckering your lips going to hurt?", he asked, but already moved a bit, just so that their lips could touch with minimum effort. "Though, I do miss kissing you."

"And it won't be the last, I assume." Caelan was - unlike him - too prieful to just set aside his indifferences with this world, instead he yearned for things unimaginable and Ronan could only hope for it to either die down soon enough or for him to eventually grow accustomed to the ways of the world, to the things that Caelan wanted mor than anything else and to this world, so ripe with sorrow, it almost hurt. In the end, he'd find himself at a crossroad, unable to choose between one way or the other and once he'd find himself there, he knew that the only other option was to go straight forward, to not choose a path and rather follow his own desires into the darkness of thing unknown. "I'll make sure there'll be someone to patch you up, then", he announced. Ronan knew that he couldn't ask his doctor to teach him how to desinfect and sew or cauterize a wound, but ... he could learn that himself, couldn't he? Naturally, it shouldn't be that hard and in the end, he could find it to be nothing more than a pain in the ass, especially if he went on about the tangent he was on. Right now, he'd do everything for his boyfriend - and if he had to pluck one of the stars from the sky, Ronan was sure he would at least try to, just to fall and scrape open his knees.

"Is it, really?", he asked, somewhat confused. After all, as red wine left behind stains on clothing, a blade of iron would leave behind a scar, a deep one at that if it had severed more than skin. Ronan knew that all of this was only to justify the means, that in the end, his decisions wouldn't have any weight and that all of this was futile - as soon as someone found out about their affair, the liaison they had, they'd be nothing more than dead meat and all of their excuses would only fall onto deaf ears. "Our child? Caelan, don't be silly. Even if we tried, we couldn't have one to begin with, we are two men", he chuckled, amused by the sheer thought of it. Pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes - probably. And if he had to guess, probably as entitled as he could be - as Declan was - and every bit as energetic as Caelan was. "Also, aren't we too young to think about kids?", he asked, then laughed again and cuddled up to the blonde, like a cat seeking its owners warmth. "An idiot? Does that mean Caelan of Fhaergus is ACTUALLY the horny one?" Of course he was, what else could it be? Ronan sat up, straddling the blondes hips like that and looked down on him, on the poor man who's face had been ruined by a sharpened blade and he sighed as he heard the words that spilled from his mouth. "Alright, kisses are for tomorrow, but ... you know, even if you can't really do anything for me, I can do something for you. Would you like me to touch you, then? Hm?"

"It won't be until it kills you", Ronan retaliated. Caelan would die because he was reckless, sooner or later that was and he could die because he wanted to, because he'd stop being a coward at some point and his own death sounded far more exquisite than he could imagine it. As for what came after that, or before that, he didn't necessarily know - whatever pushed him over the edge would be completely arbitrary and happen sooner than later, that was all there was to it. No matter how much he struggled, or whether or not he tried his best to escape his own fate, Ronan didn't even want to, not after sealing it in stone all by himself. Wasn't it scary, to think that all of this was merely a suggestion made by those who resided nowhere else but his very own mind? In the end, he'd find himself somewhere, completely enveloped by the darkness that he yearned for and hated, at the same time - and then he'd find out that being alive was not only a pain in the ass for himself, but also for those surrounding him, praying for a day better than this one and hoping to appease him, to coax him into doing their bidding. Humans were sad, Ronan knew as much, but if anything, he was among the saddest of them all, barely clawing to the life he'd been gifted.

"And I'm almost the opposite. I haven't laughed in forever but I can't help it, not when I'm around you anyway", he chuckled, exhilarated by the fact that all of this seemed so easy once he'd put his mind to it and started to understand - once he'd found out that he himself was, in fact, not going to die from laughing, from inviting happiness into that bleak life of his. "And? What can you come up with? Dark hair, blue eyes, pale skin?", he asked, seemingly because he was interested in what Caelan pictured - and in sharing what he had in mind, too. In the end, he wouldn't want to admit what he was thinking about, but Ronan sure as hell did; and he couldn't deny it, even if he wanted to. "As hypothetical as getting married to me?", he asked, a sly smile on those rosy lips of his as he started to drag his nails along Caelans chest, ever so softly - this had been what he wanted, no? They were spending time together, in and out of dreams and as long as the world revolved aroun them, he wasn't going to break it. "Please me? Without your mouth? And how are you going to do that, big puppy?" But Caelan already had an answer, Ronan was sure - though, he wanted to hear it from the blondes own mouth, rather than having to whip out the solution of his own mind. "So you could touch me, feel me up, like you're doing right now?", he asked, chuckling. Should he get rid of his pants? "Well, yes, but ... you seem to be feeling better, no?"

"I'll take your word for it!" Ronan would, even if he wasn't here to see it himself - he didn't want to tell Caelan that he had no plans to live that long, to actually become the next Duke of Alster, to be someone that actually gave a damn about others worries as opposed to his own. It all culminated in his own pain, in the gruesome reality of having to realize that - in the end - it wouldn't matter. Once he'd die, Caelan would forget about him, sooner than later. And after that was done, after he'd forgotten, there would be a hole in his heart that he needed to fill, to stuff, with someone else - simply because his beloved wouldn't be around anymore, buried six feet under and busy with decaying. This was everything he'd ever wanted, even if his desire for his boyfriend - his yearning for love - tugged at his heartstrings and kept him in place for now, kept him more alive than he thought he ever could be. Every single time those strong, calloused and burning hot hands touched his exposed skin, Ronan could feel something bubbling up under his skin, a shiver running down his spine - love was simply, albeit hard to grasp and yet, it helped him feel more alive, even though it was unable to rob him of his thoughts completely.

"Mhm", he mused, still smiling. What did he want? What did the two of them want? More kisses, some cuddling, hot breakfast ... wasn't that it? Right now, he wished for the ability to turn back time, to return to the hut they'd secluded themselves in and spend a good chunk of their time just having fun, not needing to worry about anything but basic necessities. "Blonde, through and through? Come to think of it, I think the last time someone of Alsters nobles had blonde hair and blue eyes was ages ago - but alas, I'm also one of the few of us that have pitchblack hair." And it was odd at that, but while he and his mother knew why he looked the way he did, nobody else needed to do - it was fine the way it was. "We could, if we run away." Not everyone had to be as prude as the people of Adrestia in that regard, or did they? All of them worshipped different gods, maybe the southlanders had a different understanding ... or, what about the wolves? "Fair enough, you got me there. Still, I think it would be more enjoyable for me to pleasure you, lest you get a headache from moving your head too much." In the end, maybe sex wasn't actually a good solution either, even if he was stroking over Caelans chest, only to stop and trace the sea of scars, deeply engrained in what he believed to be once smooth skin, too. "Exercise? How?", he giggled - what was the blonde going on about?

"But still, all of your personalities tend to differ. Some of you are quirky, open and loving while others are stern, arrogant liars that claw to the things they can't have. All of Alsters nobles, albeit different in looks, are pretty much the same. Sly snakes with tongues of gold", Ronan felt like he had to explain that, but in reality, it was painfully obvious what kind of people his family consisted of. His grandfather, even though a rather secluded, shy man, was apparently every bit as convincing as some snake, luring poor souls into the depths of hell - his mother had said so herself and for that, Ronan did envy the man. "And now you're going to tell me my lips, as red as they are, would look even better in a lovely shade of red so I can leave sinful marks all over you", he chuckled, swallowing down all the compliments he received like he was hungry for more. Something was different today, but whatever that might have been, Ronan couldn't know. Instead, he brushed some of the black strands of hair out of his way, tucked them behind his ear and kept on looking down to where Caelan was lying - he actually wanted to kiss him some more. "Orange like a wolves? Caelan, since when do actual wolves have orange eyes?", he laughed, again.

"Running away will never not be an option though, as stupid as it sounds. And, if we really wanted to run off to the south, we could at least gather information first. We barely know anything about the wolves and ... I have no idea what lies beyond the ocean in the east." Wherever they went, their journey would be cut short by something, as if fate would only will them to be together if they suffered together in Adrestia and nowhere else. It was stupid, albeit understandable - they couldn't betray their houses, their status or their family. "No, but I do think you like looking at me, that's all." Caelan himself had said that it was harder than anything to keep those annoying hands of his off of the black haired noble - and Ronan was ready to indulge him and let him do what he wanted, as a reward for ... what now? "You. Everything about you. Your blonde hair, your blue eyes, those scars of your ands your enthralling words, sounding like you'd steal the stars for me - I don't like you, Caelan, I love you." Truth be told, how much longer could he do all of this? When would there be someone to find out about them? "So you're doing situps now? And using me as your training weight? Boooo, give me a kiss."

"I won't probe if you won't tell, but feel free to tell me whatever when you feel like it, alright?" They both were sharing their pain with one another and as profound as it sounded, it wasn't - Ronan knew that. In the end, they both were tied to their mortal ideals and they were nothing more than puppets on thin strings, sometimes seemingly moving by their lonesome. However, in the end, they still were controlled by ghosts of days past and by people that thought they had power over them, one way or the other. "You sure like talking, I give you that. But, mh. My father is, well, I don't know why he is that way, but as for my mother, she is quite the sweet person, but I do have to admit that she stays true to her bloodline. As for how they got engaged to one another, I don't really know. I never pry into that sort of stuff and it isn't my place to, you know? My grandfather did like Darragh, but mainly because they both had a common enemy", and that, in the end, were the wolves they both despised so much. Saoirse had told him that her own father was but a bitter man, easily swayed by the devils words, but as for Darragh ... wasn't he the devil himself? "My lips won't stain like that, though", and that was a fact. Maybe he could at least wear some sort of it during the masquerade. "There aren't many in Fhaergus? Well, I suppose if they leave their frigid country, they'd want to go anywhere but to the next fridig one."

"Then it's settled! Once I find us a suitable place, we ought to get going! And no lame excuses like you, needing to rule Fhaergus! This damn country can govern itself!" And their parents weren't even that old. If they really ever felt the need to, they probably could come back on a whim or at least try to, somehow. "See? That's why I said it! To you, I probably look irresistible and you'll praise me to the high heavens if you ever get a chance to!" The compliments would be mainly about his beauty and by now, Ronan felt gross - gross, because he simply didn't put effort into maintaining anything, not even this so called beauty that Caelan seemed to see in him - and all of the compliments, oh so suddenly, felt like hell. "That's what you get for always flattering me!", he said, pouting ever so slightly, like a little child trying to get what it wanted. Two could play this game and if Caelan insisted, his beloved boyfriend would grant him one hell of a time. "Action? You should rest, not yearn for action." But that wasn't bad, no? Especially not when he got a kiss out of it, which he returned - as softly as he could, unwilling to hurt Caelan any more or cause him pain. "I don't think he would, so what do you want to do? Cuddling or eating? Or, well, my ... offer still stands?", he chuckled, embracing the warmth Caelan was offering him fully. Like this, he felt secure - and he wouldn't want it any other way.

"No need to talk about it then", Ronan answered. In the end, did it really matter if Caelan told him something about himself and his family or not? All that did matter to the noble was his boyfriend, not his social standing or even the fact he was part of a noble house, just like he was. "No, you're just asking a lot of them at once, but I wouldn't say it's too many, you know?" He'd still answer all of them, as ridiculous as they were and now that they had some time they could spend together like this, he wondered if he shouldn't get back to work and take care of their breakfast, lest anyone got suspicious. "Darragh hates them and as far as I'm concerned, my grandafther had something like a distaste for them as well. He died before my mother and Darragh got married, though, so I can't say for sure." Everything he knew was secondhand information that he had pried out of his mother on accident, once or twice. Therefore, he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to trust it or if he'd rather stayed skeptical about everything he was told. "If I were, I'd probably be as straight as a cardboard and would have already ran to Darragh and told him you were gay, so ... I doubt it", he whispered. Naturally, there were some traits he shared with the rest of Alsters ruling class, but most of it had been muddled in between different traits. "Fair enough ... and it's not that, it's just ... well, maybe giving you some hickeys would be more effective."

They both were hopeless and Ronan knew as much. In the end, it boiled down to them being nothing more than horny, idealistic teenagers that thought they could rule the world or cast aside everything they were bound to with a single gesture - and unfortunately, it wasn't like that. Maybe he should stop dreaming, come to terms with becoming duke one day and having to watch how the rest of his life played out, all the while he was married to someone he barely knew or cared for and had to have children with, to continue this stupid, accursed bloodline. "Don't. I like it, go on", he demanded all of a sudden, smiling ever so slightly at his boyfriend. There were things he had to grow accustomed to, so why not compliments coming from Caelan, or even questions that needed actual answers instead of halfbaked ones? "Forever? More like four days, but ... I get what you mean. Still, you shouldn't move too much but. I can help you on your feet, if you'd like?" Ronan wasn't sure if that would work, especially since it might as well do more harm than good and he shouldn't be offering his help to the blonde in the first place. Instead, he brushed aside some of Caelans hair, peskily falling back into his face once he lay down. "You aren't, so tell me what you want." But he was right, still, Ronan felt like he owed Caelan something to begin with, now that he was stuck here with ... well, that. "Two? I won on accident, I really don't deserve another one."

"About me? Why me, of all people?" Did that even make sense? In the end, Ronan of Alster was a nobody, crowned by words rather than a circlet, telling everyone of his heritage. Naturally, he was a duke - or, a duke to be - and there was nothing exciting about that. He was who he ought to be, as simple as that. Silence befell even the strongest of them, the most skilled with words and all of that ended - seemingly - in nothing but a big disaster, ripe with errors and misunderstanding. Unbeknownst to many of them, there barely was anything they could do and there literally wasn't much to make of that. "Fair enough, after all, I'd rat out myself alongside you, so either way, this would have ended up as our little secret, whether I had liked it or not." Naturally, wouldn't that have made them each others enemies? Enemies, tied together by the tides of fate and forced to be with one another, simply because of the fact that they found out things about one another that - as dumb as it sounded - would only cause both of them to get into indefinite trouble. "And what if I want to? It's not like you can struggle against me like this, I have the upper hand!", he laughed, content with what he had right now. Soon enough, however, he flinched. Right, he still had hickeys and despite them not hurting, the sensation of having them touched was ... odd.

"I want you to praise me to the high heavens! Tell me whatever comes to mind, be nice to me! Tell me how much you love me, anything!" Ronan wanted nothing more right now - maybe it would help him with forgetting about his mistakes, or even help him with forgetting about the world he found himself in, in the place he hated so much - but truth be told, he didn't even know himself. Literally speaking, much of this was beyond his control and he could only sit idle and watch. "Now that I'm the stronger one? Don't be silly! You probably could crush my bones if you wanted. But good to know you like me being the one in control", he chimed, happy to hear something but still uneasy about what Caelan had said - he wasn't exactly fragile, but the blonde could still rip him to shreds if he really wanted to. "Can you? Even when I sit on you like this?" Of course he could, it was still Caelan of Fhaergus that he was talking to and no some poor boy who had no idea of anything in this world. "Then I'll go get you some, as soon as I put my shirt back one - if I'm allowed to, that is." They both really needed a bath, but ... could he even get Caelan there? Maybe tomorrow would have been better. "I can't use the first one, you already know that one!", he chuckled. Well, he could try but it wouldn't be enjoyable for his lover like this, he doubted it at least. "Hmm, how about we postbone my second wish until you've recovered? I have something in mind, but ... not like that."