Title: Duality
Summary: A prodigy of magical arts and a man cursed to succumb to darkness; a chance meeting of paths, one destined for light, the other darkness. After this night they are unlikely to meet again, but who can say when fate is a tender but cruel mistress. Fantasy AU for Laven Week.
Pairing: Lavi/Allen
Rating + warnings: M rated for mature/sexual themes
Author's note: I haven't written in months, but I'm quite proud of how this turned out. If inspiration strikes I might continue this, but for now enjoy this lil ficlet.
Dusk falls.
Darkness comes at twilight's call, enveloping the lands in its tender embrace as shadows lengthen and light fades. As the sun drops behind faraway mountains snowy peaks become ablaze with dying sunlight, white coals amongst a cooling fire. The moon rises slowly, clouds hiding at its heels to mark nightly rainfall. Its illuminating rays roll over the land, making everything it touches glow with ethereal beauty.
A man walks under the moonlight's soft gaze, hair as white as that which shines upon him. Silver eyes glance this way and that, taking in the world around with a calm gaze. It is quiet, but not so quiet that it forewarns danger. Birds call out their nightly song; robins with their high-pitched twitter add to the choir of blackbirds, singing a sorrowful melody. Song thrushes join with staccato cries, nightingales softly chirrup. A gentle wind stirs the leaves of the nearby forest, adding to the symphony performed by the world's nightly creatures.
As the man walks he wonders who the composer would be. Perhaps God, ethereal hands flitting this way and that to direct its orchestra. But too much death and destruction was wrought in the name of God, he decided, where the sounds of dying men and cries of warring soldiers were the only symphony conducted in His name.
He raised his head to look upwards, and decided with a smile that the moon would do for a composer, all the stars its audience. The brighter they shined, the more they enjoyed the music. Tonight the stars gleamed dimly, so perhaps on another night dusk's symphony would prove better.
The man comes to a halt, his reveries interrupted by an unexpected sight. Peering into the darkness he spots a building on the horizon, tucked between two hills, lit from foundations to rooftop with warm welcoming light. An inn; the first one for miles around at that. Filled with relief, for his legs ached and feet hurt, he began to make his way towards the light like a sailor lost at sea having found a lighthouse.
Night had truly fallen by the time he reached the shadow of the inn. Pushing open its heavy wooden door, hinges creaking, he felt the warmth of a roaring fire wash through his tired limbs. The building was nearly empty, save for a few folks falling asleep into half-full mugs of ale. Stepping towards the bar, rubbing his hands together to bring some heat back into his numb fingertips, the man smiled as he was greeted by the inn's owner.
"Good evening, dear sir, you're out late! What can I do you for?" His voice was low and rumbling, but friendly and welcoming.
"Whatever food and drink is on the house, and a room for the night please, if you will."
"What name shall I put the room under, sir?"
"Allen, Allen Walker."
Nodding, the innkeeper turned and wrote into a worn leather-bound book hung on the wall before heading out through a nearby doorway. Eager to sit down, feet crying out for rest and warmth, Allen picked a spot by the fire to rest. Dropping his heavy pack onto the table, rolling his shoulders to ease the burning ache there, he sat with a relieved sigh and closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of being off weary feet.
Soon enough a mug full-to-the-brim with ale was placed before him, which he drank from with only the slightest hesitation. He tried to avoid alcohol when he could, but it had been a long day's march and the warmth the brew brought to his body was too relaxing to ignore. Leaning back against his chair, eyes closed, it took him a few minutes to realise someone's gaze was fixed upon him.
Feigning ignorance, Allen took another sip from his ale as he observed the stranger from the corner of his eye. A man, hooded and cloaked in black, observed him from the table nearest to the door. His eye was forest green, the other hidden by a black eyepatch, his gaze as cloaked and hidden as he appeared himself.
Knowing better than to wait and see a stranger's intentions, he picked up his drink, stood up, and walked over to the other table. It seemed the man was not expecting such a course of action, for he blinked several times before finding words to speak.
"Ah so you caught me looking, huh."
His voice was bright and melodic, accent a mismatch from various lands Allen knew of, and a few he didn't. There was a cheerful lilt to his speech that instilled a desire to smile, laugh, and be merry. The initial worry and wariness was fading to a form of curiosity that was dangerous; this man could not be trusted, yet Allen was already too invested to turn away.
"May I ask why you're so interested?"
Allen sat down, observing the stranger through his lashes as he drank deeply from his mug of ale. Again the man hesitated, either having to consider every word carefully in case he spoke out of turn, or being too surprised to even speak clearly.
"You don't seem like the everyday sort of person." It seemed like an honest enough reply, and Allen found himself smirking as he cupped his hands around his drink.
"Do you mean the hair, by any chance?"
"Well yes, white hair on someone so young is a bit of a rarity."
Choosing not to explain, he couldn't help but feel amused at the other's barely concealed curiosity. It took a minute or two of silence, with much hand wringing from one and a perpetual smirk from the other, until a sharp intake of breath indicated the stranger was going to speak.
"Yes?"
"A-ah, I was going to ask your name."
"You first, since you felt the need to spy on me as I drank."
"I wasn't spying."
"I believe staring at strangers in a rather obvious way indicates spying."
Pouting, which reminded Allen of a small child caught red-handed, the stranger drew back his hood to reveal long crimson hair, tied in a loose ponytail. A peculiar tattoo on the man's neck indicated he was a mage of northern climes; a member of the Bookman Clan
"The name's Lavi, nice to meetcha."
Lavi extended a gloved hand, grinning. Shaking his head a little, Allen took the redhead's hand and shook it firmly.
"Allen Walker."
As their hands drew apart Allen felt fingertips brush against his wrist, a minute touch but it sent his heart racing. Again, curiosity reared its head. As he sat back, eyes narrowing, he began to wonder if this particular curiosity would kill him, and if satisfying it would bring him back after all.
"So what brings a Bookman so far south?" he asked, ignoring the slight tremor of his voice. Lavi sank back into his seat, resting his hands comfortably behind his head.
"My records. Since the war's calmed down I've been able to put casting to one side and focus more on making my own spells."
"Is that so?"
"Mhm. It's hard work, so I've been travelling to see my old master for some advice. What about you?"
The question came as a surprise, and one he didn't feel all that inclined to answer.
"Nothing much. I'm... enjoying the sights now that it's safe to travel once more." Not too far from the truth, after all.
"The sights?"
"The world."
Lavi seemed interested, leaning forward with a glint in his eye.
"And what do you think of it?"
The question had a weight to it that went beyond simple curiosity. There was something about how his voice darkened, gaze shifting to the floor; something unspoken. Allen didn't speak for a long time, eyes closed, debating an answer that would satisfy the other.
"It's beautiful, yet also ugly."
And there it was once more; their eyes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. The atmosphere seemed to change, a tangible heaviness that sat on your chest, making it hard to breathe.
Allen didn't know if it was the conversation, or how his stomach flipped at the eye seeing right through him, if only for a second. Then as soon as it arrived it was gone; he could breathe once more. The sound of footsteps caused their heads to turn, breaking the connection.
"Ah good sir! Our best chicken and mushroom pie, on the house!"
The innkeeper stood with a plate in hand, a steaming hot pie upon it. Stomach grumbling, Allen gave a grateful thank-you as the food was placed before him. In a matter of seconds the pie was gone.
"You feelin' better after that?" Lavi questioned, blinking as he tried to understand how anyone could eat so fast and not choke. Allen nodded, sitting back with a happy sigh.
"I can't remember the last time I had a cooked meal."
Lavi couldn't make up his mind whether to feel sad or curious about those words.
Again the heaviness returned, and neither knew from where it had come or when it would leave. It was a tension that you could almost taste, and it left both their hearts aflutter.
"So... are you staying long?"
Allen tilted his head, drumming his fingertips against the tabletop.
"Probably not. I'm just.. passing through."
"I see."
The easy chatter and idle teasing from earlier had vanished without a trace, an awkward tension left in its wake. Allen thought perhaps now was the time to say his goodbyes, go upstairs, and sink into dreamless sleep before starting the next day's worth of walking.
But he couldn't. Now he was the sailor clinging like a limpet to a nearby rock, not wanting to brace the bitter cold of the sea's anger once more. The lighthouse was gone, but he no longer felt lost.
"What shall we do now?"
The words spilt out of his mouth before he realised. Lavi seemed just as surprised as he felt.
"Care to elaborate?" He could feel that single eye see straight through him once more. Allen's hands dropped under the table, clenched into fists.
"N-nevermind. I'll be off to bed, it was nice meeting yo-"
A gloved hand grabbed his wrist as he turned away, fingers pressing into his skin. Allen did nothing, wondering if Lavi could feel his pulse quicken. This curiosity was certainly going to kill him, if not just his heart. But there was something satisfying about how Lavi's voice shook as he asked him to stay, how his fingers slid down to his own and gripped them tightly.
Allen found himself wanting to let go of his rock and drown.
And so he sat once more, avoiding the gaze fixated on him. His cheeks burned with an embarrassment he didn't at all understand. His words seemed to have a life of their own, asking questions and making demands without him knowing so.
How it came to this he had not a clue, nor how to retreat and pretend it had never happened. But Lavi was still there, still staring at him, and his heart was still fluttering like a caged bird.
"All right, either go or head to bed you lot!"
Drunken groans answered the innkeeper's request, and it took a few seconds for the realisation to sink in. Their eyes met, and Allen knew there was no going back now; that eye had seen everything, seen the cracks in his heart and the weakness biting at his heels.
Lavi knew Allen felt alone.
"You two heading upstairs?"
The innkeeper was stood beside their small table, neither having realised with their silent conversation. The other patrons had left, stumbling out into the darkness were alone.
"Y-yes, thank you."
Allen squashed the elation that spread its wings in his heart, having assumed Lavi would leave for wherever he was staying. He ignored his fluttering heart as he stood, ignored how he could barely breathe as the sound of two sets of footsteps echoed up the staircase, ignored how his hands shook as they stood side-by-side, staring at separate doors.
All he could think of as they stood in silence was that this was never how he pictured it, nothing like the stories regaled by smug soldiers, tales of love and lust in darkened alleyways, drunken discussions by night and parted ways by morning.
Allen never pictured he'd feel this fragile wanting someone.
The tension gripped them both and refused to let go. Curiosity and desire battled with fear and rejection, and as Lavi turned with a soft calling of his name Allen closed his eyes and let go of his rock out at sea.
He was no longer lost.
Fingers brushed against his own, and once more that soft request came from those fingertips pressed into his skin. They asked him to stay, so he did.
And when Lavi pulled him into his embrace, lips meeting his own, Allen felt as if a siren had called his name, working her magic so he fell headfirst into the waves to drown.
And drown he did, fingers tugging at red hair as his back met wood. The kisses pressed against his lips and neck were so soft he felt a low moan escape, eyes fluttering open. Lavi's forest green met his silver and sent a shiver down his spine. Urgency gripped their hearts as kisses grew deeper, more fervent and full of need. Allen relished the soft sigh Lavi gave as he pulled him closer, fingers digging into skin.
As they fumbled to get the door open, moving clumsily to a small single bed, soft moonlight bathed them in light as they sank into the bedsheets. There had to be something wrong with how much he enjoyed a body pressed against his own, fingers and palms and lips brushing against his skin until he felt like his heart was fit to burst.
Allen didn't bother to bite back a moan as Lavi kissed his way down his neck, fingers tugging at shirt buttons. He felt he should be ashamed at how his back arched, how those lips and tongue made his hips fidget, how the noises escaping his mouth would put a common whore to shame.
He felt dirty, but tired of being clean. He wanted to be tarnished, bruised, left undone and in pieces under lustful ministrations. He certainly felt himself coming undone as hands found their way to his hips, teeth digging into his skin.
A moan left parted lips, and it took a moment to register it had been a name. He felt the shudder pass down Lavi's spine, the desperation behind the kisses he suddenly pressed against his lips. The curiosity returned, and all sense of shame disappeared as he purposefully moaned Lavi's name, hips arching to meet hips.
Allen felt his stomach clench as his name was uttered into his neck, voice shaking and thick with desire. Sitting up he found himself flinging clothes to the floor, hands gripping hips, skin meeting skin. The warmth of Lavi's skin on his, the lips tugging at his ear, the moans and sighs that escaped as he undid trouser buttons, the eye fluttering shut as he dug his teeth into his neck; Allen was drowning in the best possible way, and he never wanted to draw a breath of air again.
It was only when he felt his toes clench that he registered hands were stroking his thighs, fingers pressed into his skin. Vunerability hit him like a blow to the head. Burying his face in Lavi's shoulder, crying out softly as fingers dragged almost lazily upwards, Allen was lost in a haze of lust and need, heart fluttering, insides twisting in pleasure.
It felt too good to have someone touch him this way, to let someone have their complete and utter way with him, pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach like a spring, coiling tighter and tighter. He felt it should be wrong to enjoy how Lavi looked as he clenched his hair between his fingers, the way he gasped into his neck, the way he bit his lip as he heard the cries of pleasure in reply to his ministrations.
He felt it should be wrong to feel this needed.
But Allen couldn't hold back anymore, couldn't suppress the shudder that rattled down his spine as soft wet lips and tongue resumed the pleasure hands had given him moments before. He lost all sense of time, toes digging into Lavi's back as his insides became a tangled mess. He barely registered the whine that escaped his parted lips when Lavi pulled away, nor the moan he gave as he was pulled forwards, hips straddling hips.
Allen felt an unbearable urge to reduce the man below him into as much of a mess as he felt, and with each touch and caress and kiss he gave he received the same with just as much desire and intensity. Soon enough thinking was something of the past, pure instinct taking over.
Now they were both drowning.
Time lost all focus, and Allen came to wonder how he ended up like this, lying on his back with something hard pressed deep inside. His mind reeled as he became almost hyper-aware of the fingers digging into the back of his neck, the head buried into his shoulder, wet pants ghosting over his skin, his legs wrapped around hips that were rocking back-and-forth into his own. The realisation that his body was joining with another, that a voice was calling his name with such desire, that the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within him was building with each movement, was almost unbearable. He felt Lavi tug on his hair, moaning his name breathlessly into his ear, felt the shudder that rolled down his spine and into his hips. It was like a wave crashing down, starting at the base of his neck and tumbling down to his toes, and with a suddenness that made him cry out the pleasure coiled tightly inside of him released.
Minutes passed, the silence broken by heavy pants and the creak of bedsprings as Lavi curled into Allen's side. The afterglow of pleasure, exhaustion left in its wake, spread through them with a warmth that almost felt comforting. It was the sort of comfort only a warm body by your side could bring.
They'd survived the onslaught of the sea, clung to each other in a tangle of limbs, and now all that was left was the wake of a storm.
Neither wished to speak, for falling asleep in each other's arms was the only thing either of them wanted. But in the aftermath of storms you find yourself left with what it has touched, and silence would not be able to answer the questions it had left behind.
Sighing, Allen stared upwards out of the window above their bed, eyes searching for solace in the night's darkness. Despair began to reach its claws into his heart, a cacophony of voices clamoring inside his head. He could feel his mind draw into itself, limbs starting to shake as everything that had happened came crashing down on him.
And then he saw the stars.
The clouds had passed to other skies, leaving a chorus of stars twinkling in tandem above midst the moon's ethereal glow. It was as if the sky was alight with tiny fires, each star burning brightly. The moon had composed its masterpiece, and the serenade of two lost souls had set the sky alight with applauding stars.
What had happened this night mattered, and no matter what doubts he held there was something about the man in his arms that felt right.
Looking down, smiling softly, Allen felt as if his caged heart was finally free.
"Whatever you did, it worked."
Lavi turned towards him, stifling a yawn and blinking sleepily. It took him a moment to process the smile and affectionate gaze, and even longer to realise that it was meant for him. It took him a while to find his words.
"What worked?" he finally asked, tilting his head. Allen leant forwards and kissed him softly before breathing his reply into the moonlit silence surrounding them.
"Whatever magic you used to bring me here to you."