Sooo disappointing that there isn't more fanfiction for Animamundi; such a deep, intriguing game that people overlook and dismiss, loaded with heaps of gorgeous artwork and great voice acting. Not to mention the hotties that Georik can hook up with...and remember: it's a yaoi game ;D This fic was in a contest over on Aarin Fantasy, but unfortunately there were no other entries...where is the love?! If you're interested in some well-written Animamundi fanfiction, seems that you have to get busy and write some, or head over to PimpMyInsanity's page and check out her fic Payoff; also a DashxGeorik pairing.
Do You Remember..?
Fandom: Animamundi – Dark Alchemist
Pairing: Georik Zaberisk and Francis Dashwood
Rating: MA+ for adult content
Genre: Romance, minor Drama/Angst/Humour
Warnings: Game spoilers for Mikhail and Dashwood's endings, also actual plot before the sex
Dedicated to an awesome friend over on Aarin Fantasy, for without her motivation and reminding of how much I loved Animamundi, Dashwood and this sexy pairing, this would *never* have been finished!
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
Georik sat by himself in the Rocking Boat Tavern. Even now he had to smile at the ridiculous name, but the food was good, the alcohol always plentiful and the atmosphere inviting. It had been a couple of months since events had reverted back to normal…before Lillith's beheading, Mephistopheles' swift trip back to Hell and his own incarnation of Lucifer. It was so strange to think that all was so peaceful now, like it was only a bad dream he'd had the night before. Sometimes Georik spoke to Mikhail about those events, the Captain of the Royal Guard being the only other person who seemed to have not forgotten. Though Mikhail didn't much like to dwell on what nearly was, advising Georik to do the same. Still, images best left in memory would haunt the doctor sometimes… Sandwich and Bruno, his journey through Purgatory to atone for his sins, meeting so many friends and family along the way - both in Hell and Heaven. That was what Georik couldn't shake the most; seeing those he thought not meant for Hell burning and suffering there. Even now he knew that was where Timothy was. The doctor visited church nearly every morning these days, lighting a candle for his mother in Heaven and praying for Timothy and Wolfgang in Hell. Mikhail was of course overjoyed at Georik's religious devotion. But how could the doctor turn his back on God when He had given him a second chance…given the Princess, Lillith and St Germant a second chance? Even those who Georik thought should be devoured by Hell were shown mercy: Bruno Glening was spending the rest of his life in prison, likely only a few cells away from the bastard Count Sandwich. Mikhail had been the main player in ensuring the pair were behind bars, of course with Georik's assistance.
Yes, everything was well, the doctor supposed. He had his post as the Royal Physician at the Palace, both Zaberisk mansions still in his possession and Lillith was excited about her marriage to St Germant, despite it not being for another three years. Hardland was at peace with its surrounding countries and the King was doing a more efficient job of keeping his country stabilised with Princess Sylvie as his advisor.
"Everything is just fine," Georik muttered to himself, downing half of his pint.
And if that was so why was he here, drinking by himself with an aura of dissatisfaction manifesting enough to keep the tables around him empty? Georik sighed. He knew the answer, and had been avoiding it well enough for the past few months. But now it had come to the point where Mikhail and St Germant were prodding him with questions, concerned by his growing discontent. And what could he say? The truth perhaps, but even the doctor hadn't sorted the truth out altogether in his own mind. He knew the general cause, definitely, but not a lot beyond that. Georik had already considered being more active in resolving his troubles, and the only place he knew to start was with Jan Van Ruthberg. But the doctor had justifiable reservations about visiting The Golden Goose. Not only was he steering clear of alchemy, having seen the punishment reserved for those who dabble in the art firsthand, but Mikhail would pummel him in to the ground if he knew he had set foot in such a shop. And, thought Georik, even if he did speak with Ruth…what would he say? It was likely the alchemist shopkeep was like everyone else and had no memory of past events. He'd recognise Georik as Wolfgang's son, as he had when they met for the first time many months ago, but he would know nothing more. Plus, the doctor frowned, he didn't exactly like Ruth. The man had been willing to kill him and, beneath his seemingly polite delicate appearance, had proved to be one of Sandwich's devoted until the end. Unlike…unlike…
Georik sighed again. He had tried forgetting but his heart wouldn't allow it. He'd had a taste and that was perhaps the worst thing of all…that he knew what it was he had and then lost…and what had been forgotten. A man. A man loyal and protective. A man tender yet audacious. A man with questionable morals but a surprisingly sentimental heart. A man who had said that he loved Georik; stepped in front of him to shield him at the cost of his own life. A man the doctor was desperate to find again but where to start looking?
Georik dropped his glass to the table with a thud. He had drunk too much several pints ago and had stayed at the tavern longer than usual. Too long as he brooded. That wasn't a particularly smart move, the doctor berated himself as he stood, collecting his hat and coat. He was spending the day with St Germant and Lillith tomorrow and it wouldn't do to spoil it with a hangover. He waved once to Despanie over the crowd, making his way home quickly albeit unsteadily to fall in to bed without even undressing.
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
Georik awoke unpleasantly.
"Wakey, wakey, Brother!" Lillith laughed as she shook him incessantly, St Germant hiding a smile behind her. "Time to get up!"
Georik groaned, pushing his sister away gently even in his surly morning after mood. "It better be no earlier than seven."
St Germant managed a hurried "Good morning, Georik!" before Lillith ushered him out of the room, still giggling. The doctor sat up, not feeling as bad as he expected after the amount he drank the night before but still rather seedy. Wasting no further time, he showered and changed before joining his friend and sister for breakfast, thankful they had let him sleep in somewhat.
Lillith babbled over their meal enthusiastically. "St Germant was telling me about his inventor rival Gennai and his strange shop, Brother! I want to visit it…what was it called? The Jewelled Den? It sounds wonderfully charming!"
"Aye, of course," Georik agreed. "It's been some time since I visited myself."
St Germant clapped his hands together happily, a cheeky grin that rarely appeared twitching his mouth. "Oh, it's been a while since I reminded Gennai of my victory at the Founding Festival as well!"
The doctor shook his head with a chuckle. It had been enjoyable to attend the Festival a second time…especially as he was able to attend the Ball without disguising himself as a woman. Georik was rather glad that no one beside Mikhail would remember that, not that the Captain had known it was him. The doctor shook his head again, still embarrassed by the event and the attention his friend had showered him with that night.
Breakfast was finished quickly as the three companions were all rather eager to head in to town. St Germant had brought his carriage so they rode the short distance to the heart of Kamazene, stopping at the Royal Library briefly so St Germant could return one of his favourite adventure novels. Soon they were walking down the street leisurely toward Gennai's shop, Lillith between the two men as they conversed.
"…and you wouldn't believe what happened when I engineered the vacuum to clean up liquids as well!" St Germant was saying, looking to Georik expectantly.
Georik could only dart the man an apologetic look with a grin; he was, after all, a doctor…not an engineer. "Perhaps Gennai would be interested, ah, more interested than I."
The bespectacled man smiled, a little embarrassed. "Ah, sorry, Georik. It's just so exciting!"
"Hm yes, I'll take your word for it," he teased, delighting in his friend's splutter and Lillith's laughter.
Their banter made the walk short and they were soon entering The Jewelled Den, a bell tinkling their arrival.
"Welcome, welcome!" Gennai smiled widely at them, waving them in further. "St Germant! Georik! Oh, who the pretty girl?"
Lillith smiled shyly at the foreign man as St Germant introduced her, a light flush to his cheeks. "This is Lillith, my betrothed and Georik's sister."
Gennai greeted her with a bow, planting a light kiss on the back of her hand. "St Germant is lucky, lucky man! Georik have more pretty sisters by chance..?"
The doctor slapped the shopkeep's hand away lightly, trying his best to suppress his smile. "I'm afraid I was only blessed with the one."
"No matter, no matter," Gennai laughed, turning to pull a box from a shelf. "Many pretty ladies in city, um, how you say…lots of fish in sea?"
"Though, pretty girl in shop I must make happy," he offered something wrapped in tissue paper to the blushing girl. "Gift. No money, no money! It's gift for Lillith. Be polite and take, yes."
"T-Thank you, sir," Lillith took the offering carefully, unwrapping it to find a beautiful hairpin covered in intricate butterflies. "Oh! It's beautiful! Thank you!"
"Haha! Pretty girl is nice but happy pretty girl is best!"
St Germant took the pin and set it in Lillith's hair, smiling down at her. "There. It suits you."
Georik agreed, warmed by the scene and Gennai's usual generosity. St Germant and the eccentric man were soon engaged in a discussion over something, Georik wasn't listening, while Lillith explored the store. The doctor himself sat in a comfortable chair by the door, content to wait. However as usual, left with his own company, his thoughts strayed. Today his mind had him relive once more when he tried to save the man who had protected him. He died on Georik's operating table. No matter what the doctor did, the man's eyes didn't open and his heart wouldn't beat again. Georik's mind seemed to enjoy tormenting him with this memory, but he knew that man must be alive now…and likely in the city somewhere. Georik just had to find him. He chuckled to himself, a bitter edge to his laugh. It was ironic; he'd never had to actively seek out the man – he always found Georik. He was jerked out of his musings when Gennai kicked his shin in jest.
"Jewelled Den no inn, Georik!" he laughed, shooing the three of them out of his shop. "You sleep elsewhere! Be no stranger to my shop, friends! Welcome back any time but go now…close shop for lunch. Farewell!"
Georik was surprised to discover they had been at Gennai's for close to an hour and a half, and was rather hungry after their hasty breakfast. St Germant seemed to have similar thoughts.
"We should have lunch while we're in town," he suggested. "How about we eat at the Tavern?"
Georik frowned, darting a glance at his young sister. "The Rocking Boat Tavern? I don't think that is a place we should take Lillith."
Lillith pouted. "Brother, don't be boring."
St Germant laughed but patted the doctor on the shoulder. "Nonsense! It's a family establishment during the day. Despanie doesn't tolerate riffraff and his lunch menu is delicious. My treat!"
"Oh please Georik!" Lillith pleaded, grabbing at his arm.
He sighed. "Ah, fine fine…since St Germant is treating."
How could he say no to her after what had happened…and if St Germant wasn't worried then there was no reason he should be concerned. Despanie hailed them as soon as they pushed open the door, pointing out a free table for the three of them.
"Arr, my friends!" he grinned, dreadlocks held out of the way by his bandana. "It be long time no see, St Germant! Wish I could say the same for ye, Georik…I should charge ye and the Captain Mikhail rent! Ah, and the young lass must be Lillith Zaberisk!"
Georik glared at the pirate but he only laughed. "Now, now, ye don't glare like that 'til ye've had a few whiskeys usually. Ar, but me manners…different menu today, friends. Got me an apprentice chef to pass me secrets to."
"Oh?" Georik raised a brow. "He's good enough for you then?"
"Arr! Better'n I'd be expecting too!" Despanie exclaimed, clearly pleased. "So what ye all be wanting to test 'im with?"
"Ha!" St Germant leaned forward with relish. "If they're as good as you say, I'll have anything…the chef's choice!"
Lillith fidgeted with enthusiasm beside her fiancé. "Yes! The chef's choice!"
Georik waved his hand around, smiling faintly at his two companion's excitement over their meal. "Aye, aye. Surprise me. That sounds fine."
"Ah, me favourite type o' customer!" Despanie grinned widely as he headed toward the kitchen. "Me apprentice will serve ye 'imself! Got to grasp all parts of the profession af'erall!"
St Germant laughed as Despanie disappeared. "I won't believe it until I see it that that pirate has someone helping him cook his precious food!"
Georik chuckled as well. "Aye, the man's almost fanatical."
"Hm, how about we play I-Spy while we wait?" Lillith asked, restless already. "I'll start!"
The two men joined the game, both knowing how quickly the girl could become bored and impatient…and thus a nightmare. Twenty minutes later they were smoothly interrupted by a plate placed in front of Georik. It looked delicious and smelt wonderful enough that Lillith was leaning over, inhaling with her eyes closed.
"This is for the handsome young Master."
Georik looked up to thank Despanie's apprentice for the meal, perhaps glare at him for the flirt, but instead he only looked up and stared. It was…it was…him. The golden-brown eyes were twinkling at him mischievously, red hair tied back low and short but most of it falling out, familiar mouth grinning crookedly.
"Er, Georik?" somebody said, the doctor didn't know…he wasn't really listening.
Sweet lightly brown skin, a scar here and there from the black market line of work, two silver bangles jangling on his left wrist still.
"Georik? Brother?"
Silver chain resting against a tempting collarbone, ridiculously looked-after goatee beneath those lips that he'd only teasingly tasted briefly, lips that he wanted to taste again and again.
"Ahaha, Master, you're starting to make me blush."
Georik was suddenly jolted by a kick under the table, making his own knees hit the underside. His mouth snapped shut and god, it had likely been hanging open stupidly.
"Ooooh," singsonged Lillith, smiling deviously. "Brother's in love!"
Georik's eyes widened. "L-Lillith! Enough from you!"
He knew he was blushing at his sister's teasing. God, everything was going terribly for something that was so significant, and he couldn't even think straight enough to fix it let alone make something of finally finding this important man.
"Oh!" the man grinned, his own face tinted pink from the attention. "I'm flattered…love at first sight and it's only my first week!"
"Dashwood…" Georik grumbled at the teasing without thinking, freezing the moment the name left his mouth.
Dashwood's smile widened in surprise and obvious pleasure. "And, I'm famous already too. But please, young Master…"
The man snatched up one of Georik's hands in both of his, bending forward to drop a soft kiss to the back of it. "Let me formally introduce myself to you…Francis Dashwood, here to serve you."
Georik didn't need the introduction of course, and it hurt a little to know with certainty that Dashwood didn't remember anything. What was appreciated, however, was the man's interest in Georik…well, the doctor was hoping Dashwood didn't introduce himself to others in this way.
"Aaah," he said suddenly, realising the man was waiting. "Georik Zaberisk."
Dashwood's eyes smiled at him as the man kissed his hand again. "The pleasure is mine, Master Georik."
The doctor almost sighed at hearing the man call him that after months without him. But then Dashwood's eyes were unusually serious as he straightened, though not letting go of Georik's hand.
"Zaberisk? Your father…was your father Wolfgang Zaberisk, the alchemist?"
Georik stood up in his surprise. He'd forgotten that they had known each other briefly while Wolfgang was imprisoned in Sandwich's dungeon. He didn't know much about their interaction of course…Dashwood had died before telling him much and Georik had been speaking to his father's spirit through Ruth's Ouija board.
"You knew our father?" Lillith stared up at the man curiously.
"Aye, not well though," Dashwood answered, still looking at Georik. "He…uh…well it doesn't matter."
His grin was quickly back as he leaned in closer to the doctor. "Despanie lets me off at five…why don't you give me directions to somewhere I can find you again, Master Georik…"
"So you can tell us about Father?" Lillith smiled up at him as Georik scribbled their address on a scrap of paper.
Dashwood accepted the hastily written note, his fingers brushing along Georik's. Their eyes locked at the touch before Dashwood pocketed the scrap of paper, turning away almost regretfully to return to his work.
"Ah, if you want," he told the young girl over his shoulder, but his eyes never strayed from the doctor…promising something much different. "Enjoy your meal."
Georik hadn't noticed that Dashwood had served St Germant and Lillith as well…to be fair, once the man had appeared the doctor hadn't been aware of much else. If he had been, he would have noticed how quiet St Germant was and how the bespectacled man glanced at him often during the meal - questioning, thoughtful, confused.
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
"Ay, Franky!" Despanie appeared in the kitchen, grinning like usual. "Some o' me favourite customers are here so ye be doing yer best, y'hear! Table of three next to the main window. They want whatever ye can dream up so be pleasin' them!"
Dashwood groaned. How many times had he told the tavern owner to call him Francis, Dashwood, Dash…hell anything but Franky! Despanie disappeared as quickly as he'd come, leaving the ex-merchant alone again. He liked the man but the pirate act was a bit much. Well really, he thought, who was he to complain? Despanie paid just as well as Count Sandwich had, without the extra "employer benefits". Once again, not complaining. It was a surprise to know he had a talent for cooking though. It was hardly a worthwhile story, how Dashwood came to be working at the Tavern. Ruth would think he was joking if he told the alchemist shopkeep that he had a legit job. But then, Ruth had been the one to tell him about the Count's arrest and thus his freedom.
Sandwich had lined him up for a huge job several months ago…Wolfgang's outstanding debt. The Count had finally found where the man's children were and was sending Dashwood to collect. It was a debt of more money than Dashwood would ever see so he was fairly certain he had a nice long term job. But then he remembered how kind Wolfgang had been to him on that night before he died so many years ago, and felt torn over the thought of heckling the man's family for money owing…money owing that was likely borne of Sandwich's sadism. Dashwood hadn't quite decided what he would do with his self-preservation and conscience warring against each other, but the decision was made automatically when Ruth appeared on his doorstep.
"The Police and Royal Guard raided the Club. The Count is gone," Ruth told him calmly.
"Gone?!" Dashwood practically screamed, hoping like hell Ruth hadn't suddenly grown a terribly unfunny sense of humour.
"Arrested," he clarified.
And they both knew they were free. The alchemist shopkeep was indifferent about the situation but seemed distracted, anxious even, about something else.
"I'm not staying in Kamazene," he said when Dashwood prodded him for an explanation. "There's someone I…"
"There's someone I would much rather I didn't run in to," Ruth explained vaguely. "Though you, on the other hand…"
But he didn't finish the thought aloud. Instead he offered Dashwood a fortune-telling session before he left the city.
"You know I don't believe in that sort of thing," the merchant had scoffed.
Ruth smiled faintly as he pulled out his Tarot cards, shuffling them thoroughly. "Well, even if you don't believe, I still want to know your fortune, Dashwood."
"Aye, aye, fine, fine, if you're so bent on doing it anyway."
Dashwood picked a card, handing it back to Ruth to interpret. The alchemist shopkeep read it and smiled.
"That pleases me," he said, putting his cards away.
"So it's good?"
"I thought you weren't interested."
Dashwood scowled, exasperated. "You may as well tell me, Ruth. Don't be so awful…it doesn't suit your pretty face."
"The cards say you will meet him again."
"Who? Count Sandwich? No! Do it again, Ruth! I want a different damn fortune!"
Ruth chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "No, not Sandwich. Someone else. You'll meet him again."
"Who?" Dashwood frowned.
Ruth only smiled. "I'm glad. You were happy, but I am certain it will work out better for you this time. I must go. Farewell, Dashwood."
"Ah, Farewell, Ruth," the merchant echoed, still confused as he watched his friend leave.
Ruth's words had puzzled him but the Tarot reading was soon forgotten as more pressing matters concerned Dashwood, such as his quite desperate need for a new job. With the Count's arrest Dashwood's black market reputation had lost all credit and he was fast out of money and work. The merchant had never been particularly careful with his money, half expecting to die any day in his line of work and with Sandwich as his employer. He had no useful skills besides debt collecting, a skill no one seemed to need anymore. Usually Dashwood was a night creature, but he'd been stepping out in the day while he searched for work, and finally struck gold. The tavern owner, Despanie, needed a helping hand. The pirate had only ever run the Rocking Boat by himself, but the place was becoming so popular that he had no choice but to take another person on board. And Dashwood had been in the right place at the right time. He was a hard worker but not so good with the money-handling side of the business, so Despanie took a chance on him in the kitchen…and both men were pleased at how well Dashwood could cook. The ex-merchant had been working there for four days and he was already left to cater for the lunch crowds. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed preparing food as well, learning the recipes Despanie knew and trying a few different things himself.
Now Dashwood smiled. Favourite customers, the tavern owner had said. Well, he thought, let's blow them away. He busied himself in the kitchen, finishing the three dishes within twenty minutes. Quite pleased with himself, Dashwood pushed open the door to the main area with his hip, balancing the three plates easily in his hands. Table of three next to the main window, Dashwood remembered Despanie saying. Oh, over there. He could see two of the people clearly from this angle – a young blond girl and a young man wearing glasses, both smiling. The man wasn't Dashwood's type…he had a boring wealthy inventor look about him and besides, with the way he looked at the girl beside him, he was quite clearly taken and on the other side of the fence. Dashwood skirted around a few tables as he drew closer to the trio, suddenly stopping in his tracks when the third person came in to view.
"Oh…" he heard himself murmur.
The man was fine indeed. He was a healthy pale with straight long black hair loose around his face and shoulders, and clearly quite tall with the way he was sitting at the table. He was saying something to his two companions, arms crossed as he leaned back in his seat, obviously at ease. Dashwood decided that this was the man for him. Yes he looked more than slightly out of his reach, but the ex-merchant wasn't one to give up…especially once he knew what he wanted. He continued on his way to the three, rather determined.
"I don't think that counts, Lillith," the man was saying as Dashwood was almost at their table. "Actually, I'd say that St Germant and I could possibly accuse you of cheating."
Oooh, Dashwood thought, even his voice is delicious. The young girl pouted at the teasing comment, smiling a little as the bespectacled man patted her head. At the lull in their conversation Dashwood moved in, setting a dish in front of the man who had grown more attractive as he'd come closer to the table.
"This is for the handsome young Master."
Dashwood served the other two with less ceremony, delighted when the man finally looked up at him. Oooh, thought Dashwood, breathtaking piercing blue eyes. It seemed like the man was ready to glare at him – Dashwood was used to it – but instead he stared at the ex-merchant, lips parted a little as if on the verge of saying something. And he kept staring. Dashwood wasn't quite sure what to do. He had mostly expected to be told off for the blatant flirt, or maybe earn a smile or comment. Not this. It was no ordinary gaze either. It was like, Dashwood perhaps wanted to believe, it was like the ex-merchant had stepped out of the man's dreams and now stood before him…and wasn't quite sure what to do about it. The thought made him grin at the man.
"Er, Georik?" the inventor looking young man leaned forward, apparently concerned.
Aha, Dashwood thought smugly, so this was not normal behaviour. Though the intensity of the stare was starting to make him feel a little too warm.
"Georik? Brother?" the blond girl darted her gaze between the two men.
"Ahaha," Dashwood broke suddenly, feeling his face flush at the other's man's unwavering intensity. "Master, you're starting to make me blush."
There was a sharp thwack under the table and Dashwood grinned as the man jerked, his mouth snapping shut and an expression of pure mortification clear on his face.
"Ooooh!" the girl sang with a laugh. "Brother's in love!"
"L-Lillith!" the man managed, his face almost matching his crimson jacket. "Enough from you!"
"Oh…" Dashwood interceded, unable to not tease the man…he was quite appealing when flustered. "I'm flattered…love at first sight and it's only my first week!"
It might have worked better if his own face wasn't pink, but the man wasn't looking at him to see.
"Dashwood…"
Dashwood's brows shot up. The handsome man knew his name, though he was certain he had never met him before…the ex-merchant would definitely remember such a face.
"And I'm famous already too!" he grinned, letting it slide. "But please, young Master…"
He picked up the man's hand in his, kissing the back of it lightly…savouring the barely audible sigh the man likely had no idea he'd loosed.
"Let me formally introduce myself to you…Francis Dashwood, here to serve you."
Dashwood was watching the man's face closely enough to see a slight shadow darken his expression before it disappeared. Hm?
"Aaah," he said finally. "Georik Zaberisk."
"The pleasure is all mine, Master Georik," Dashwood answered with another kiss, before Georik's last name really hit home.
"Zaberisk? Your father…was your father Wolfgang Zaberisk, the alchemist?"
The man was quick to his feet, almost a head taller than Dashwood at his full height. He looked surprised for a moment before his face smoothed out again. Georik's behaviour was rather perplexing to the ex-merchant, and he half wondered if it was just his luck that he picked out a crazy fool in the crowd, blinded by his beauty. Eh, what? The girl, Lillith, had said something. Dashwood was rather busy, looking in to blue eyes that still watched him. What had she said? Something about their father…had he known him?
"Aye, though not well. He…uh…well," what was Dashwood saying – he couldn't quite keep a grasp of anything but those eyes. "It doesn't matter."
He had to get back to the kitchen. How long had he been over here? Making a snap decision, he resolutely followed through with wanting this Georik for himself. Dashwood leaned a little closer to the other man.
"Despanie lets me off at five…why don't you give me directions to somewhere I can find you again, Master Georik…"
And if he didn't, the ex-merchant was just going to ask Despanie or knock on every door in the damn city. But Georik pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something before handing it to Dashwood. He took it, brushing his fingers against the other man's entirely on purpose. Lillith said something about Wolfgang again to which Dashwood must have replied satisfactorily to as he headed back to the kitchen. And then three of Despanie's favourite customers were out of Dashwood's sight. Well, he said to himself, back in the kitchen and able to think a bit more clearly. Well…the last five hours at the tavern were going to pass by too slowly since he had somewhere he really wanted to be.
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
Georik alternated between smiling like an idiot and calling himself an idiot. He could scarcely believe that he had found Dashwood…well, once again, Dashwood had found him. And did he say he was coming to see him directly after he finished at the tavern..? Georik couldn't remember. He sat down at the dining table to settle himself, pouring a glass of wine. Lillith was in the garden, he could hear her singing happily from here with the window open, and St Germant had excused himself hours ago after their lunch. Apparently the inventor had forgotten that he needed to speak to Mikhail about something.
A knock at the door had Georik leaping to his feet instantly, almost spilling wine in his haste. Calm down, he scolded himself as he walked in to the hall. Still, the doctor could feel his heart beating unnaturally fast against his chest and could do little to ease the heady anticipation. He swung open the door, a smile curving his lips at-
"Mikhail?" Georik couldn't quite disguise the disappointment he felt.
The Captain cocked his head to the side, smiling slightly. "You don't seem all that pleased to see me, my friend…expecting another visitor this evening, are you?"
Georik waved a hand around vaguely as he motioned his friend in to his home, subtly scanning for any sign of Dashwood before closing the door. He sighed inwardly as he followed Mikhail to sit at the large dining table. Georik was usually polite but he really didn't want the Captain to stay long.
"It's good to see you, Mikhail," Georik began, retrieving his wine while his friend poured himself a drink. "But you are quite right; I am expecting company."
The Captain chuckled before taking a sip of his own wine. "Intriguing! The reclusive doctor is finally seeing beyond the walls of his home. But I won't pry for details, Georik."
Good, the doctor thought, though unusual.
"I don't mean to be rude," he said aloud, "but could we keep this appointment brief? Perhaps we can catch up tomorrow eve at the Tavern instead."
Georik thought it curious that Mikhail's eyes flickered strangely for a fraction of a second before he agreed cordially. "Of course, of course! I merely wanted to discuss the idea of St Germant, you and I spending some time together, like back in the day. It seems we rarely have time for each other around our work and obligations."
"Indeed," Georik smiled genuinely, pleased at the suggestion. "Perhaps we could go dragon hunting again."
The Captain pursed his lips sternly but his eyes twinkled. "Perhaps not. I don't recall our last endeavour playing out particularly smoothly."
"Aye," the doctor said, smiling at the memory. "Invite St Germant along tomorrow eve and we can discuss it further then. I will need to think upon arrangements for Lillith in our absence as well."
Mikhail drained the dregs of his wine before standing. "Six then, at the Tavern. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Georik."
The doctor bid farewell, closing the door heavily after seeing his friend off. He leant against the door, hearing snatches of Lillith's singing in the quiet, wondering if Mikhail's timing had been entirely coincidence. Had St Germant mentioned something of their lunch at the Tavern to the Captain of the Royal Guard? He doubted Mikhail would approve of Dashwood, and St Germant could be swayed either way…but it wasn't their choice, was it, Georik thought defiantly. He didn't think upon it long before someone was knocking on the door he had his back against. He flung it open, heart racing once more.
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
Dashwood checked the address against the scrap of paper the handsome Georik had given him, shoving it back in to his pocket with a grin as he walked up the path to the mansion, a spring in his step. The house was huge, but he had expected that. He just hoped that didn't mean Master Georik was compensating for anything… The ex-merchant chuckled at his thoughts, spinning on his heel when a voice suddenly hailed him from behind. Dashwood stiffened when he recognised the man as the Captain of the Royal Guard, bearing down on him with obvious distaste and a clear sense of purpose. He tried to relax, a hand on his hip as he fingered the chain at his neck a little nervously.
"Evening, Captain," he greeted pleasantly. "Nice day for-"
Mikhail grabbed him by the shirt collar and jerked him closer roughly. "Why are you here?"
Despite the fact that the Captain had the upper hand in any confrontation they might have, Dashwood's eyes narrowed and his smile faded. "I don't see how my personal affairs are any business of yours, sir."
"You don't, do you?" the other man growled. "Then consider I am one of Georik Zaberisk's closest friends and, as such, it is my duty to ensure his security."
"I understand your feelings, of course, sir," the rogue replied, voice level though with a slight edge. "But I still don't see how this relates to your rude manhandling of my person."
"Don't play coy with me!" Mikhail hissed angrily, his fist tightening in Dashwood's shirt. "I know who you are and who you worked for, Francis Dashwood! And it's obvious you're after the Zaberisk fortune for yourself with Sandwich's absence!"
Golden brown eyes narrowed to slits before the Captain was shoved away forcefully.
"Don't presume to know me," Dashwood ground out, fists clenched at his sides, "when you clearly know nothing."
Mikhail glared, but managed to calm himself with no small amount of effort. "If it's money you're after, I can arrange that…if you stay away from Georik. What would you say to five hundred thousand…"
"Five hundred?!" Dashwood echoed incredulously. "Thousand?!"
That was more money than he'd see in his life, and the Captain obviously knew that. He pulled out a thick envelope from inside his jacket, offering it to the rogue.
"Two hundred thousand," Mikhail explained, hooking the ex-merchant. "A down payment of our agreement."
Dashwood took the envelope before he knew what he was doing, glancing inside with wide eyes to confirm the amount. Five hundred thousand, he thought to himself. What would he even do with that much money? He chuckled. He could buy all sorts of things to impress Master Georik; garments, hats, jewellery, the best vintage whiskey in all of Kamazene, the list was endless. Dashwood frowned to himself; this money was specifically to stay away from the handsome man.
…
Was Master Georik really what he wanted, the rogue thought. He was most definitely striking, but that was basically the extent of his knowledge. He eyed the envelope in his hands again. Never had Dashwood imagined he would ever hold that amount of money; and now the noble Captain of the Royal Guard was willing to give him a neat half a million, just to stay away from a man he'd met no more than six hours ago.
"Do you accept?" Mikhail demanded, eyes alight with the knowledge of victory.
"…I accept, Captain," Dashwood replied after a moment, pocketing the valuable envelope.
"Good. Now leave," the other man scowled over his shoulder as he continued along the path to the Zaberisk mansion. "Georik doesn't need someone like you."
Dashwood was half way down the road heading home before Mikhail's last comment really hit him. He stopped on the sidewalk and pulled out the envelope, turning it over in his hands. Someone like me… The rogue thought about the moment he saw Georik Zaberisk. The moment he met him. The moment the man looked at him. Dashwood turned around quickly, retracing his steps. Maybe Master Georik didn't need someone like him…but Dashwood didn't need half a million either.
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
"Good evening, Master Georik," Dashwood grinned, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.
Before Georik could react in any way, the ex-merchant was holding out a thick envelope, waving it in front of him for the doctor to take.
"Might you give that to your friend for me?" Dashwood asked, leaning forward. "The Captain was gone before I could return it."
Georik pocketed the envelope, uninterested in what Mikhail seemed to have misplaced when Dashwood was here. In front of him. Smiling.
"Won't you come in," he said.
Or was going to say before Dashwood moved in to his personal space, reached up and adjusted his jacket collar.
"Your collar's askew, Master Georik," the rogue had a cheeky expression, deliberately flirty. "Let me fix it for you."
However he was unknowingly flirting with the doctor's self-control and memories locked away. The heady scent of the rogue's musky vanilla cologne made Georik's stomach tighten. It was delicious – purely Dashwood – and how long had it been since he caught that waft of fragrance? Georik couldn't help it; it had been too long since he'd really touched Dashwood…held him…kissed him. Too long, and that aching absence made him act. He stepped forward, closing the small gap between their bodies, and wrapped his arms around the man he had missed desperately. Dashwood managed a short noise, whether it was born of protest, surprise or encouragement would remain unknown as Georik swallowed the sound, crushing his mouth against Dashwood's. The rogue was embraced so tightly in his arms that his body arched against Georik, sending heat tingling across the doctor's skin. It was a moment before his lover reacted, though when Dashwood's tongue snuck in to the kiss, Georik's breath stuttered and his heart thumped wildly at this feeling he had missed for months. He was suddenly falling backwards and didn't realise until his back slammed hard against the rug in his hallway, a redhead sprawled most delightfully on his chest. Georik wondered at his position, eyes a little off-focus from the fall as he stared up in to mischievous golden brown.
"It didn't seem like you were going to invite me in, Master," Dashwood whispered in his ear, settling over Georik on knees and elbows. "So I had to be a little rude, but won't you please forgive me…"
The doctor's eyes fluttered shut when hot tingling breaths heated his neck, holding back a moan when a warm tongue teased his waiting skin. How was it that Dashwood could reduce him to this, barely touching him as it were? A memory of the rogue pushing him to the ground in much the same fashion at the Hell-Fire Club surfaced. Hands and lips had skimmed over his body and, despite the two men standing over them watching suspiciously, Georik hadn't been able to stop his body reacting to Dashwood's gentle but passionate caresses. Now he glanced up, noting his front door still wide open displaying their activities to any who might walk up his path. The doctor wasn't particularly surprised that Dashwood might be an exhibitionist.
"The door, Dashwood," he murmured, acutely aware of the husky edge to his voice.
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
Dashwood shivered at Master Georik's seductive tone, vaguely wondering if the man had any idea how he made his pulse quicken. The rogue himself was almost embarrassed at the effect the other man had on him, listening for the soft hitch in Georik's breathing as he nibbled at the seemingly sensitive skin of the handsome man's throat. Never had Dashwood felt this passionate; this unselfish want to please and pleasure…to be a lover. It was an intense enough feeling to trouble him, considering he barely knew this man stretched out and warm beneath his own body. It troubled him yes, but Dashwood was only human; there was a promise of burning intimacy in the air that he could not drag himself away from, especially if and likely because it involved Master Georik. His hands delved in to long silky, dark hair, nails lightly scratching along skin to elicit a breathy sigh. The rogue followed the natural curve of Georik's jaw upwards, a warm tongue peeking out to moisten lips that had crashed against his only moments before, his confidence faltering when he was pushed away firmly.
Piercing dark blue glared up at him before Georik was on his feet, closing the front door that swung back and forth in the slight evening breeze.
"The door, Dashwood."
Dashwood offered a nervous chuckle, feeling uncomfortably exposed now that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing, still kneeling on the floor. But then those striking blue eyes were inches in front of him, half-lidded, and gloved hands were pulling him to his feet by his stiff collar. Sweet warm breath flavoured with wine swept across his lips when Georik spoke.
"Are you comfortable here on the floor," he whispered, "or shall I invite you further in to my home?"
Dashwood wasn't sure, but there seemed to be more meaning behind those words than what was taken at face value. The rogue grinned; he could play that game too.
"Aye, Master Georik," he replied, voice equally hushed as his hands snuck under the other's jacket. "I thought you'd never ask."
Dashwood watched, delighted, as the other man shuddered slightly…oh yes, the rogue had noticed how Georik liked being called 'Master'; who was he to deprive him of such a simple pleasure? But then he was being towed rather swiftly down the Zaberisk entry hall, Georik pulling him along until the man darted in to a room that was darkening with the setting sun. Dashwood felt like a teenager about to have his first roll in the sheets as he was almost lifted off the ground in Georik's embrace, kisses burning his mouth and steadily setting his body aflame. Well, he thought briefly, not that Sandwich had made the stealing of his virtue memorable in an enjoyable way and nor had Dashwood ever had the luxury of sheets. But now he was led backward slowly, Master Georik apparently unwilling to let him go long enough to push the rogue on to the bed he knew was behind him somewhere. Even that was new…that this wouldn't be over in minutes; and, for the first time, Dashwood was thrilled by this knowledge. His heart was beating wildly in his chest when the back of his legs hit the bed, making him stumble to sit awkwardly as Georik still stood, looking disorientated at Dashwood's unexpected change in position. The rogue might've laughed at the other's expression, but he was suddenly occupied.
"Silk," he murmured, hands running along the covers of Georik's bed as he revelled in the feel of the rich material.
Dashwood was beginning to feel more and more like the other man's lover, being treated to such pleasures and with the way the man now gazed down at him, blue eyes burning.
"I want to touch you, Dashwood," and the rogue didn't think taking off gloves using only teeth should be that erotic. "Let me…please…"
Dashwood's heart skipped a beat and for the first time, he second-guessed his actions. His heart shouldn't flutter like that at mere words, and he was hit with the realisation that he was in a man's bed after meeting him not six hours ago, and knowing him for much, much less. Perhaps that wasn't too unbelievable a situation for the rogue, but Master Georik didn't seem like the type. And then Dashwood wondered…why was such a man interested in him..? Georik Zaberisk was a stunning, clearly wealthy, aristocrat and likely as intelligent as his alchemist father. How could the ex-merchant have possibly attracted his interest? His eyes widened as he remembered the other's strange reaction when they first met, and then it was obvious and a more than a little painful. Dashwood reminded him of someone else. He didn't have time to think over this startling realisation because warm hands cupped his face, tilting his chin upward to drop open-mouth kisses to his lips. Dashwood's toes curled and heat coiled below his navel as Master Georik leaned over him, dark hair spilling around them. Maybe it didn't matter, the rogue thought, hands lifting of their own accord to touch anywhere he could reach of the other man. Georik was everything Dashwood had never been allowed to have, and deep down he knew this evening would change him, probably break him…but he thought it might be worth it. Just for this evening, he could have it…he could have a lover.
With his mind made up, Dashwood decided to be selfish. Master Georik wanted to touch him and the rogue would let him, for he could think of no better way of savouring everything this evening would offer him.
"Master," Dashwood murmured against moist lips, smirking inwardly at the pleasing reaction the name always elicited. "How could I possibly deny you when you ask so politely..?"
Georik crushed his mouth against his in answer, pressing the rogue in to the silk sheets as he moved to kneel above him, knees hugging Dashwood's hips. Dashwood's senses were reeling as his lover began the delicate operation of removing his intricate belt, teeth grazing down his neck. The ex-merchant sat up slightly when Georik moved to his tunic, lifting it with gentle fingers that teased over his ribs and arms.
"You're beautiful."
Dashwood stared at the man above him, abnormally speechless as hands worshipped his skin; no one had ever admired him with such honest passion. It made his pulse race even faster when Master Georik leaned forward and flicked his tongue against a nipple, teeth nibbling unexpectedly. Dashwood threw his head back as his body arched at the feeling, freeing a moan he would be embarrassed about if he were thinking clearly. Never had his body felt so sensitive, receptive to a touch that was seeking to pleasure him without pain. There were hands and tongue and teeth, and heated breaths that had Dashwood gripping black hair and luxurious silk sheets. God, he moaned, he had no idea that it could be like this. He lifted his hips instinctively when Georik tugged at the waist of his pants, jerking up awkwardly with a cry when that tongue laved against his throbbing skin. His lover pressed him to lie down again but the rogue couldn't uncurl, legs now wrapped around Georik and arms shaking around still clothed shoulders. It felt too good, Dashwood realised with a flush of humiliation. The pleasure was much too intense for him to last long enough to satisfy Master Georik.
"Dashwood," his lover whispered, angling his head to catch his eyes. "I don't think you understand. I want to touch you…let me make you cry out with ecstasy."
The rogue closed his eyes against that piecing gaze that felt much too tender and almost familiar, his breathing short and harsh. He was going to break, he knew. He wouldn't escape this intimate tryst unscathed. Dashwood almost choked when Master Georik licked his heated skin again, gasping on too little air as a warm moist mouth began sucking. There was no possible way to stave off the almost unbearable heat that was building up within his body, and any movement the rogue made spurred Georik to slide his mouth deliciously faster. Within moments Dashwood was twisting on the bed, hips rocking reflexively as moans fell loud and unbidden from his lips. He arched off the sheets, unable to make any sound as waves of pleasure crashed over his body, the intense release causing his legs to squeeze the man between his thighs. The rogue's muscles quivered as Georik continued to suck and lick and touch, his body responding to the pleasurable torture despite how heavy his limbs felt. But he wanted to touch. Dashwood wanted his lover's skin sliding against his. He tugged at silky long hair, grinning slightly at the dark glare Master Georik shot him at the treatment.
"You're much too dressed up for this occasion, Master," Dashwood teased, his voice rough from the intimacy. "Let me assist you in deciding on something more appropriate…"
The rogue reached out, unclasping that crimson jacket that hid too much, pushing it off porcelain-white shoulders as he trailed his mouth across Georik's uncovered skin. He delighted in Master's soft moans as he explored a tempting chest with tongue and fingertips, pleased that he could pull such erotic noises from those lips. His eyes travelled further down, hands following.
"You don't need these trousers, sir," he breathed against a dusty pink nipple, fingers flying over buttons.
Then there was a naked man before him, and Dashwood wanted him close. Wanted skin on skin. He tugged his Master forward almost impatiently, tongue tasting that luscious mouth again as he revelled in Georik sliding up his body. The rogue wrapped his legs around hips that rocked against him, hands winding dark hair around his fingers so Georik couldn't pull away and leave him like this, panting and tingling and wanting more. Master did pull away, but only to bite at his neck and whisper hot words in his ear.
"Dashwood…Can I..?"
Dashwood didn't know what the man meant until Georik shifted on to his knees again, fingers tracing a part of him that had never felt pleasure without the stinging throb of being forced. The rogue's eyes widened. He was asking…permission..?
"God, yes," he moaned, grip tightening in Georik's hair. "Yes."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a finger was sliding inside him, carefully but with obvious desire. Dashwood loosened the silky locks wound between his fingers as Master trailed down his chest with open-mouth kisses, licking at the sweat droplets glistening on his skin as he spread tan thighs a little wider. Georik's hot breath teased his sensitive arousal once more as he added another finger, suddenly sucking and swirling his tongue as a distraction. Dashwood's breath shook at the intense stimulation, body sliding against silky sheets as he moved, trying to feel even more.
"Master," he moaned, tensing when a ripple of pleasure from deep within made his legs tremble.
Dashwood half-smirked at the way Georik's eyes darkened with lust at the name, lips parting slightly. The rogue loved having such an obvious effect on this delicious man.
"Dashwood…"
The rogue's hips jerked at the way his name was twisted so erotically. God yes, he shivered as fingers glided out to leave him empty and wanting, he needed more. Dashwood watched, heart pounding in anticipation as his Master leaned back slightly, lifting the rogue's legs to rest on his shoulders before leaning in close once more, his forehead bumping against Dashwood's. The rogue had never felt like this; had never looked a lover in the eyes as they joined with his body; had never seen eyes gaze at him with something more than greedy lust. But now he felt fragile, strong arms holding him close as his back bowed, expecting pain but finding only the satisfying feeling of being complete. His Master didn't move but to run warm, gentle hands up and down Dashwood's thighs pressed between them. It was a moment before the rogue realised Georik was waiting for him…waiting to be told to move. He remained quiet and still, not needing the pause but selfishly enjoying the moment to feel cared for, as well as delighting in his Master's shaky breath by his ear and stomach muscles quivering against his thighs. Georik was doing everything he could to hold back, but Dashwood didn't want that at all. This was going to shatter him, he already knew, so he wanted his Master to let go. Dashwood brushed his fingers through beautiful dark hair that fell around his face, curling it in his hands once more to ground him. His tongue darted out to tease his Master's ear as he whispered, and then Georik was pulling him even closer and rocking his hips. Instantly Dashwood's body was burning and he struggled to breathe, the intimacy prodding at his mind and heart. His hands tightened in dark silky locks as images blurred behind his eyes, flying past and changing too quickly for the rogue to recognise or interpret. Dashwood moaned when that almost unbearable pleasure spasmed through his soul, sweat soaking his temples as his body slid against silky sheets and a pale chest with each movement. He listened between each breath to his Master's soft moans, senses focusing on the warm hands that didn't still on his body but grabbed at his hair, his hips, his thighs. Focusing on the hot breath that dampened his neck to send goosebumps rising along his skin. Focusing on the hips that thrust erotically against him, sending his Master deeper and deeper inside of him to touch a spot that had Dashwood almost crying with the build up of uncoiling pleasure.
He was shattering.
But then blurred images slowed and became clear, showing Dashwood pictures of his life that he didn't remember but were somehow achingly familiar.
He was in Geutrink on the late Wolfgang Zaberisk's doorstep, coyly begging the pardon of the tall, handsome Master but he was here to collect money owing.
He was in the Tavern of Kamazene, pulling Master from a conversation with a friend to discuss the debt that bound them to each other, delighting in holding the attention of those piercing blue eyes.
He was knocking on the door of the remaining Zaberisk mansion, grinning at the handsome Master who glared before waving him in.
He was visiting Master again, because it made his heart jump when the man's glare softened at his unwanted limp and bruises, wishing the man would sweep him off to his operating room to examine and take care of him.
He was nervous and excited as he pushed Master to the ground, lips sliding up the man's neck as he boldly caressed, relishing this moment despite their audience because somehow he knew it would never happen again.
He was concerned that his Master had managed to find himself much too involved with the Club, anxiously leading him to meet his first Master, expression serious and thoughts foreboding.
He was guilty and angry as he was ordered to help hold his Master down, tears sliding down his cheeks, hidden by his hood as Master was violated.
He was flushed and passionate as he declared to Master that he would protect him as best he could because he loved him, the man limping as they returned to the Zaberisk mansion; eyes dark with grim understanding and something else the rogue had never seen before.
He was making true on his promise; protecting his Master at the cost of his own life, thinking it was okay to die if it was for that man.
He was dying, chained in a pool of blood; but then there's a commotion at the door and Master is there sweeping down to save him…had come back for him.
He was on Master's operating table, everything he wants to say is spilling from his lips because he knows he's dying; but Master isn't listening as closely as he wants, he's busy fussing around the room…trying to save him.
He was dead; in Hell because he had done bad things but everything was worth it if Master was alive and didn't set foot in a place like this.
He was staring at Master, still dead and in Hell so what was he doing here; but the man isn't staying and is gone already, of which the rogue is relieved…he didn't think he could endure the concern and affection in those eyes for much longer.
He was alive; how this has come about doesn't cross his mind because he doesn't remember he was even dead in the first place; but Ruth is on his doorstep…Sandwich is dead.
Dashwood reeled at the memories flooding his mind, knowing they were all real but how was that possible..? But the pleasure of Master Georik deep in his heart and body, embracing him close, was much too heightened to come down from. And the man was whispering and moaning against his ear and sweat-soaked hair.
"Dashwood…" his voice was desperate and cracking, and his movements echoed the emotion; thrusts growing jerky and hands gripping tightly. "I…can't be without you…I can't…"
The rogue couldn't keep everything inside anymore. He shattered with a scream, fingers painfully tight in long dark hair as his body shook from the intensity of their shared intimacy, sobbing for breath and trembling.
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
Georik didn't want to fall over the edge, but Dashwood felt so amazing and quivered around him that it was impossible to stop or delay his climax any longer. A long drawn-out cry was ripped from his lips as he rocked against his lover, disgust at his lack of self-control dulling the passion of his release. He calmed his breathing, sighing against sweaty red hair. Dashwood's last cry had sounded more pained than anything, but Georik couldn't stop. Couldn't stop… He had gotten swept away with having the rogue so close; he had even forgotten that Dashwood didn't remember him. The doctor closed his eyes tightly, face contorting with guilt. He was certain he had started murmuring things that wouldn't make sense to Dashwood. Now the rogue was still pressed beneath him, shaking. Shame ate at Georik's insides.
"Dashwood," he whispered, voice hushed with emotion. "I'm sorry. I didn't-"
Didn't what, he wondered, angry at himself. Didn't mean to take you to my bed?! That was an understated, outright lie. But the rogue said nothing anyway. Georik chanced to sit up a little, allowing Dashwood more space and to look at his lover. The rogue stared up at him, eyes wide and wet, hands still caught in the doctor's hair. God, Georik thought desperately, he hurt him. This man he loved…he'd hurt-
"Master," Dashwood interrupted his thoughts, voice quiet but level enough to challenge the dampness of his eyes. "Am I supposed to be dead?"
Georik didn't quite know where to start in answering odd questions like that, but then Dashwood was talking again.
"Will you answer me honestly?" the rogue asked, loosening his grip on the doctor's hair.
"…Of course."
"Somehow," Dashwood began, eyes dropping from Georik's gaze, "I know you. But that hardly makes sense."
Georik's heart skipped a beat. Did Dashwood…
"How can it be that I have memories of you?" the rogue asked, voice barely audible. "Memories of…us?"
Georik pulled out of Dashwood gently, moving to sit upright on his knees and tugging Dashwood with him to do the same. His face gave nothing away as to how his heart thumped against his chest, threatening to deafen him and escape. He wrapped his arms around Dashwood's shoulders, as if shielding the man from everything, eyes closed but the other man's breath tickled his sensitive bruised lips to tell him how close they were.
"Do you remember..?" Georik whispered.
"Yes," Dashwood replied, voice equally low. "I remember…you came back for me."
"Of course I came back for you!" the doctor's embrace tightened protectively. "God, Dashwood, how could I not? I couldn't just leave…"
"But I died."
Dashwood was clearly troubled by this last memory, not that Georik could blame him; Hell wasn't the most pleasant of places, not even in mere memory. And, the doctor thought as he remembered that awful day once more, Dashwood's death had nearly taken him as well.
"I will tell you the whole story one day if you wish," Georik said instead, tone affectionate. "But all you really must know is that we have been given a second chance. God gave us – you – a second chance."
Dashwood was silent, leaving the doctor feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable.
"Do…you wish to spend your second chance," Georik ventured, hesitating, "…with me, Dashwood..?"
The rogue sighed, air hitting Georik's lips in a warm burst.
"Must you ask, Master," Dashwood grinned, hands moving to rest on the doctor's bare waist, stroking teasingly. "I already told you, though you never listen, but that doesn't seem likely to change."
Georik's eyes snapped open to glare warningly at his lover but the rogue's grin only widened, eyes squinting.
"Even when I was dying on your table you weren't listening, it seems."
Georik started, making to move away out of guilt, however Dashwood flinched as he recognised that perhaps he had said something wrong – touched a bruise that hadn't quite healed – and held the doctor firm.
"I said, Master," Georik listened to the soft, tender voice, remembering how the same words were said many months ago, coloured with pain and urgency, "that I only want to serve you. That I always dreamt of a man like you, and that with you, I could be…happy."
"And I told you…" he whispered against Georik's lips. "I said I would protect you, Master, because I love you. You didn't believe me then, did you…but what about now?"
Georik pressed his lips chastely against Dashwood's, never tiring of the other man.
"Yes," he murmured eventually. "Yes, I believe you."
DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG – DxG
Dashwood smiled as he kissed along Georik's jaw, more content than he thought possible. He remembered Ruth's words before he left the city with sudden clarity and understanding.
"The cards say you will meet him again."
"Who? Count Sandwich? No! Do it again, Ruth! I want a different damn fortune!"
Ruth chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "No, not Sandwich. Someone else. You'll meet him again."
"Who?" Dashwood frowned.
Ruth only smiled. "I'm glad. You were happy, but I am certain it will work out better for you this time. I must go. Farewell, Dashwood."
Ruth's cryptic words hadn't made sense at the time of course, and it was with a shock that Dashwood realised the alchemist shopkeep remembered the events he had only just unlocked. He shook the thought away, concentrating on his Master…a man who cared for him deeply. The rogue sighed against sweet pale skin happily, much too worn out to show his Master how much he loved him just yet. Instead an incredibly devious thought planted itself within his mind; an idea that rather accentuated his mischievousness and knack for trouble…and perhaps to deal out some retribution because Dashwood had very nearly listened to Mikhail.
"Master," he whispered, hiding his grin. "About that envelope belonging to the Captain…"
~~~~~ FINIS ~~~~~