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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Jul 12, 2020 20:54:41 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 12, 2020 20:54:41 GMT
Admittedly there were a lot less boxes now, mostly full of just personal effects, documents, and other smaller items that hadn't gotten damaged in the collapse of his apartment. After turning in his keys to the storage unit that morning, his heart felt strangely lighter, and lighter still getting into the driver's side of his car and glancing at Rhys, who still wasn't letting him out of his sight.
After they'd made the quick trip back to the flat, he put the car in park, and thus began the process of unloading all of the boxes of his things. In total, with Rhys' help, and Jonah's attempts at help, it only took about three trips up the stairs.
Compared to the process of moving from Seattle to Astaria on the first go around, this time felt a whole lot less daunting. Not because there was less to do, although it did make it easier. More so because he felt at peace for the first time in a year. The wound was still tender, of course, it might always be. But he didn't feel on death's door anymore, and that was a vast improvement in his opinion.
Sitting beside the low storage next to the door, he picked through a box labelled 'personal'- he wasn't sure how valid that label was, he hadn't opened the box since the first move -humming to himself under his breath. Jonah laid a foot away on his side leisurely. Hearing footsteps, Ezra looked up, smiling and accepting the beer offered to him. "Told you there wasn't much." He said with a laugh, eyes shining.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Jul 12, 2020 21:36:47 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 12, 2020 21:36:47 GMT
He wondered if he was maybe being a little unhealthy. Since that awful night, Rhysand hadn't allowed Ezra a moment's privacy. The longest he let the other man wander away from him was when he went to the restroom, and Rhys had only barely convinced himself not to take that door of its hinges. Being this protective and arguably possessive of another person were almost definitely things most psychologists would call warning signs.
Rhysand didn't care. Maybe, going forward, he told himself, he'd get better bit-by-bit as time healed his paranoia and fear. For the moment, though? Ezra was going to have to get used to not having a second to himself, because Rhysand couldn't bear the thought of possibly losing him again.
Any fear that Rhys may have harbored that his new levels of severity were off-putting or uncomfortable for Ezra were quieted by the other man's behavior. Their relationship had been passionate and heated before his abduction, but after it Mournspire was different. That closed off part of him, the haunted looks that Rhysand would catch in him, the moments where he was a hundred miles away. All of those were gone.
In their place, nothing but blistering, scalding, all-consuming need, want, desire and adoration. The Ezra that had come back home from that foundry with Rhysand was more like the one he'd initially met, rather than the conflicted, tortured one that he'd turned into after they started sleeping together. Rhys had felt the same way about every flavor of Ezra, but the one he got now was... More free. More openly and unreservedly happy. And Rhysand was openly, freely happy in return.
Rhys paused, coming back in the common room of the apartment, and looked down through an adoring haze at Ezra, picking through a box. Rhysand shook himself out of the dizzy spell and crossed the distance, handing his lover one of the beers he'd gone to grab for them. "Hmm," he smiled softly at what Ezra said, flopping down in a sprawl on the end of the sofa. "Might not be a bad thing. Not a hell of a lot of space to fill here."
Rhysand had cleared one half of the dresser in the bedroom, the hanging space in the closet, the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and all of the low piece of furniture next to the apartment door for Ezra's belongings. But Rhys knew it was a small apartment. Tight living quarters. Part of Rhysand fidgeted and picked at a frayed strand of worry that Ezra might second guess his decision to move in with him. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Jul 12, 2020 22:46:26 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 12, 2020 22:46:26 GMT
"That's...also not a bad thing." He answered, setting the small photo album in his hand aside, on top of another box within reach. He watched Rhys move to the couch and sit down, feeling his heart flip flop at the smile freely given to him much the same way it had before everything that had happened at the foundry, but distinctly lacking the twisting, choking contrition that usually followed that feeling before.
Ezra picked himself up off the floor, patting non-existent dust off of himself before grabbing the box labelled clothes and carrying it to the bedroom to place on the floor of the closet for later unpacking. When he returned, he made his way around the gauntlet of boxes to the couch.
Collapsing beside Rhys, he kicked his shoes off and stretched out as much as he could, bowing his long legs a bit to fit on the sofa. Taking a swig of his drink and setting it on the coffee table atop a coaster as he laid his head back against his lover's lap. "At least unpacking won't take long, assuming there's no distractions." He teased, flashing a toothy grin at the older man.
With the loss of his inhibitions and previous turmoil came the understanding that Ezra could hardly get one or two things done without ambushing Rhys for an hour, assuming he wasn't the one getting ambushed in the first place. Ever since he'd come home, it was a mutual understanding that he wasn't allowed out of Rhys' sight. Luckily, Ezra found he didn't want to come unglued from his side regardless, so in his mind, it worked out in their favor.
The grin slipped from his face, and he gave a soft "oof" as Jonah climbed on the couch and laid atop his chest and between his thighs, nuzzling into his cheek with his damp nose. Ezra let out a tickled laugh, smoothing the shepherds fur down and burying his face against Rhys' shirt for protection. "I've been betrayed." He whined dramatically.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2020 0:49:05 GMT
The comment about the small size of the apartment not being a bad thing made warmth pool in Rhysand's stomach. He smiled into his beer bottle while he took a swig. Ezra hefted a box and walked it to the bedroom. Rhys watched the lovely shape of him fondly in his radar sense. When Mournspire got back and collapsed on the couch beside him, Rhys turned that small grin down on him.
Then Ezra's head was in his lap and Rhysand lowered his free hand to it, running the back fo his fingers along the sandy grain of five o'clock shadow that he always seemed to have. "Quit bending over to move boxes so much then," Rhys said gravely at talk of distractions.
In all honesty he didn't know which of them caused more of them - if it wasn't a tie, Ezra initiated more, since the other night. You wouldn't find Rhysand complaining, though. He'd never been one that was overly fixated or obsessed with sex, but if Ezra was on the other end, Rhys was toeing borderline nymphomania.
Jonah joined the party on the couch, breaking a laugh out of Ezra and a tickled smile from Rhysand as the other man nuzzled his face into his abdomen to escape the canine's attentions. "Damn right. Now let him kiss you. How can you say "no" to that face?" Rhys chuckled. The moment was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Oh, sh*t, that'll be them," Rhysand said, rising to his feet. He quickly set his beer on the coffee table and was halfway to the door - a humanoid shadow visible through the clouded, warbled glass - when he stopped. Turning on his heel, Rhys reached over, grabbed a coaster with a dry look at Mournspire, and put it under his bottle.
Back to the door he went, opening it on two men with mattresses beside them. Rhysand exchanged a few words and soon was leading them into the apartment. "Yeah, s'right through here," he said as he walked. Rhys paused to level a sly glance at Mournspire, the only cunning in his eyes, his expression utterly serious.
Five minutes later, those same men were closing the door to the apartment behind them, having hauled out the previous mattress. Only then did Rhysand look at Ezra, a little sheepishly. "I, erm, got us a king. Takes up most of the space in the bedroom but now Jonah can fit with us better at night." Rhys's demeanor sparked, turning a bit less innocent. "Besides. A bigger platform for all of the important work we have to do." | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2020 2:21:09 GMT
Feigning shock, he looked up at Rhys from where he laid, about to throw out another protest when Jonah nosed his cheek. With a soft yelp, Ezra laughed, only to freeze in place at the knock on the door. Jonah hopped down from the couch, getting another "oof" from Ezra in the process, and he sat up halfway to allow Rhys to get up.
Braced on his elbow, he watched Rhys get up, eyeing the door curiously- only to give a smug smirk when the older man stopped to put a coaster under his drink. "Thank you." Ezra mouthed, resting his chin atop his closed hand. As the door opened, he watched silently from his spot on the couch, noting the mattress beside them.
Helpful as ever, Ezra stayed where he was on the couch, sipping his beer, giving a courteous nod to the two men, and pointedly staring at Rhys' ass when he happened to walk by. He caught the sly look leveled at him, and met it with one of his own, offering a flirty wink in return.
The visit was short, but by the time they were leaving, he was sat up, elbows braced on his knees, head still propped up on on of his hands. Eyes shining, he lifted his gaze to Rhys, smiling fondly. The brief, rare moments of timidity had a way of burrowing into his heart and drawing out every soft feeling he had for the other man. They also tended to draw out the barely pent up longing right along with them.
Pushing himself to his feet, he stalked over to meet Rhys where he stood, hooking his thumbs into the older man's belt loops to butt their hips together and giving a soft "Hmm" of his own in return. "You're so hot when you're being thoughtful." He murmured against Rhys' ear, and with a wicked grin, pressed a delicate, chaste kiss to his cheek.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2020 2:55:38 GMT
The slow, torturous moments when Ezra stood and leisurely crossed the room had his skin feeling hot and cold all in the same moment. His face and hands tingled and blood pooled in him before those long fingers hooked in his belt loops. Mournspire ground their hips together, completing the transformation and Rhysand's breathing was uncharacteristically thin, eyes rolling back and fluttering closed at the words hot against his ear.
Rhysand's hands shot up, clasping gently, but firmly onto each side of Mournspire's face to turn his chin up, exposing his throat. Rhys ran his nose feather-light along the skin there, breathing ragged onto it. He let Ezra turn his face back level and slowly took the other man's lower lip between his teeth, pulling it and then letting it go to snap into place.
"Jonah needs a walk. And we need lunch," he purred, smiling like the devil. "I want you to think about that new bed the entire time we're out. I want you to not be able to see straight by the time we get back, for needing me so bad." Rhysand's teeth flashed, a cruel crescent splitting his beard, bordered by his full lips.
He stepped away from Mournspire, striding away. He paused when he was grabbing their coats and blatantly, pointedly rearranged himself while staring Ezra in the face. "What are you hungry for?" he asked, just to push his douchebaggery into totally new categories. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2020 4:26:28 GMT
Reflexively, his grip tightened the moment calloused hands met his face. Ezra let out a shuddered breath, eyes falling closed as Rhys nosed against his neck. He looked, half-lidded at the other man once allowed to turn his face. The teasing nip to his lips only further fueled the heat pooling beneath his skin.
He all but growled at the challenge presented, brows drawing together as Rhys stepped away from him. Chewing his lip, he stood still for a moment, glaring at the question before ultimately exhaling through his nose with irritation. With forced nonchalance, he answered, "Not sure. We could swing by HomeGrown."
It took a lot to convince himself to move from where he stood, but once he did he collected Jonah's lead and with a low whistle called the shepherd to him. Affixing the clasp to his collar, Ezra stepped over a box on his way to the kitchen to grab a couple bags and returned moments later to take his jacket from Rhys, pausing to lean close and ominously murmur, "Two can play at this game."
Shrugging on his jacket, he looped the lead around his wrist, leading the way out the door with a deceptively innocent smile, holding it open for Rhys. Using his duplicate key, he locked up, turning to the other man and tangling their fingers together. "Shall we?"
Automatically, they headed towards the stairs. Once they'd stepped out onto the pavement, Ezra paused to fish his cigarettes out of his pockets, pointedly making eye contact with Rhys as he lit two at a time as he'd done before, though his motives were much more dastardly this time around. Before handing off the other cigarette to Rhys, he crushed their lips together, transferring the smoke from his first drag with the kiss. Pulling away, he smirked, offering the second cigarette to Rhys and slowly starting forward.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2020 5:29:33 GMT
Mournspire's threat, and the look of complete, steely confidence in his eyes when he made it, almost made Rhysand cave right then and there. It was his turn to growl, somehow both despairing over what tricks Ezra was going to use, and ravenous for them. The most unfair part was that Mournspire drove Rhys up the wall without even meaning to. Like when he used his own key to lock up the apartment after them? It made a very real and physical part of Rhysand ache.
They made it out onto the street without either of them making another move. Then Rhysand watched the cigarettes perch in Ezra's mouth. He knew what was coming, because it was no secret how much when Mournspire did it made him crazed. "You little f**k," Rhys breathed, when Ezra moved in, using a kiss to trade the smoke from his first drag.
Rhysand held it in until it burned, then let it drift faintly between his lips, glaring at Mournspire with a promise of revenge. He took cigarette offered him and pulled on it aggressively as a means to distract him - he was more and more glad he'd had the forethought to arrange himself in the apartment.
The three of them came to a crossroad and Rhys pulled them in a very abnormal direction, toward a distinctly more well-to-do sprawl of streets. "First stop's this way," he said as the only explanation. Another two blocks and Rhysand lead them into a quaint home goods store, pausing to toss his stub of a smoke in the gutter. He didn't stop until they'd made it to the bedding area.
"We need sheets and pillowcases and sh*t for the new bed," Rhysand explained with a shrug. "Figured we could pick 'em out together." | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2020 8:09:28 GMT
A mischievous, lilting giggle was all he gave in response to the glare. Dragging on his cigarette through a smirk, he waited a beat for Rhys, pulling him by their joined hands. Ezra was well aware that from then on, things would only escalate, but he was counting on it. When it did, he'd be there to throw gasoline on the mutual fire between them.
Things did escalate. Not in the way he'd expected however. As they came to the crossroads and Rhys began leading them down a direction ordinarily disused by the three of them, he quirked a dark brow, but followed nonetheless, Jonah trailing beside him. As they paused outside the home goods store, his curiosity mounted further, before the metaphorical light bulb finally lit.
As they came to the bedding, he hummed in acknowledgement, smiling. Internally however, he felt like molten lava was slipping through his veins, as he did every time something distinctly domestic happened between them. He was sure Rhys didn't know what he was doing, or perhaps he did, and simply liked to torture his lanky counterpart.
Pouring gasoline on the fire. Ezra casually perused the selections, pausing in front of a patterned, graphite-grey set. "I vote this one." He said simply, before adding almost as an afterthought, "I think it'll look the best beneath you." With that, he turned to look at Rhys, wicked smile plastered on his face once more. In his defense, he had warned the older man. Ezra felt he was simply playing the cards he'd been dealt.
Raking the coals further, he tilted his head to the side, edging closer to Rhys. "What do you think, darling?" He asked, batting his lashes in a way that toed the line of too much, though arguably, Ezra as a whole was too much at any given point.
| . . . I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling . . . Séance @rhysand |
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last online May 19, 2024 1:04:41 GMT
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Jul 13, 2020 17:08:17 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2020 17:08:17 GMT
Ezra thoughtfully looked through the available options, and Rhysand had eyes only for the other man, watching his lips purse and his brow crease with thought, stuck behind a haze of adoration. Rhys finally forced himself to look away when Mournspire jabbed a decisive finger at one bedding set. He was nodding in agreement when Ezra gave his reasoning, and then Rhysand froze, pink lips pressed in a firm line.
The younger man had the nerve to saunter right up to Rhys, tilting his head, eyes half-closed and taunting. A growl rumbled up through Rhysand's chest, and the glare he cast Mournspire's way showed he was just compounding the inevitable revenge against him.
Rhysand wanted to do something to turn the tides and have the last laugh. But he was almost incapable of coherent thought in that moment, and was forced to grumpily give Ezra a point. Instead of answering, Rhys bared his teeth a little, then reached past Mournspire without a word and scooped all of the matching linens that'd been chosen into his arms.
Rhysand checked out and paid extra to have one of the store's couriers deliver them to his apartment so they wouldn't have to lug the packages around with them to dinner. He pulled his key off of its ring to add to the order and, at the last moment, his eyes fell on a range of different-sized dog beds heaped up near the door to the store. "And that. The big one lined in blue," he said, pointing a finger.
On the way out, Rhysand held the door dutifully for Jonah and Mournspire. Rather than catch the other man's hand, he threw an arm around him, pulling him against himself as they walked. "You think he'll like it?" Rhys asked, brow furrowed, lips frowning, talking about the bed he'd spontaneously picked for Jonah. | . . . My head was war. My skin was soaked. I called your name 'til the fever broke . . . Omen @ezra |
[googlefont=Dancing Script]
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