It's been a long time since Leo has forgotten how to not be lonely.
Certainly, he's surrounded by enough persons to not be on a day to day basis, but they aren't Elliot, never were, and so it isn't until now, until just a day ago upon acquiring this chain that might as well be Elliot in the flesh all over again (his essence, what remains of him, coupled with the Abyss into something permanent) that Leo actually feels well again.
Even still, having the man-no, chain's-presence lingering at his beck and call is hardly enough when he has spent so much time without. In the flesh is much better.
"Elliot." No, that's not quite right. Leo swings his legs over the side of the bed, raking a hand back over his scalp, hair springing back into place a moment later, albeit mussed. Really, he shouldn't have named Elliot as a chain… it makes things more complicated. "What was it… White Knight, get out here already."
The instant his name is called, every fiber of Elliot's being leaps at the chance, exploding into existence, sword in hand, every muscle tensed and ready for action. What had seemed so natural in life-to protect Leo, to be by his side, to keep anyone from hurting him-is beyond a compulsion now, it's his reason for existing.
He hits the world with legs spread and tensed, looking around the room for any threat to his beloved master. Upon not seeing an immediate danger, he turns, no less wary, and catches sight of Leo.
His expression softens instantly at the sight of the tousled hair, the relaxed ease of his pose, the relative calm and quiet of the place that used to be his, and Elliot wavers for a moment, hand flexing on his sword. "You called me?"
Leo just smiles at him, sleepy and innocent.
Or so he lets on.
"Mmhm. I was cold." Leo's lashes turn down, just slightly. "Your master could be in danger of dying from hypothermia, you know."
There's still the tug, the compulsion to make sure Leo's all right, even if he seems perfectly fine. Elliot kneels at his feet, running his hands down Leo's arms, clasping his hands, looking up into those intense, captivating eyes. His heart still thunders, partly from the perceived danger to his master, partly from the sight of the same man, sleepy and rumpled and looking like he'd like nothing better than to be more rumpled. "You...want me to warm you up?"
God, maybe it will be like old times, when Leo would reach mindlessly for him in sleep, clinging and nuzzling and wanting, and Elliot had never minded waking up because of it (no matter how he'd complain through his yawns at the breakfast table).
Ah, Leo likes this.
As much as he's of the mind that he's capable, now more so than ever, he likes the way Elliot looks at him, protective and worried and there. He likes the way Elliot grabs at his hands as he kneels, stares up at him like he really would kill any and everything that wants to hurt Leo, and he also rather likes the sense of naivety the other man still carries about him, like he doesn't know that Leo is a plotter, a thinker, and always of the mind to play with him, just a bit.
"Don't you think it's cold? Here, I'll warm you up, too."
Leo's on his feet, giving Elliot's chest a little nudge with his knee to make him rise. "Do you remember that time in the hallway? When you just kept thinking someone would come around the corner and see?" Leo's smirk deepens. "There's no one to interrupt us now."
Elliot flushes at the memory, cheeks and the tips of his ears turning pink. "That time...you-"
Obviously Leo remembers, but Elliot's breath catches all the same, remembering the wet soft heat of Leo's mouth, the forbidden thrill of knowing they could get caught at any time, the frustration with himself for not being able to man up and stop his servant before he got disowned. "I...I remember." He swallows hard, then tugs Leo up with him by the tie, leaning down to brush his lips across Leo's forehead. "Almost a shame. You always got so hard when you thought we might get caught."
The memory of how Elliot is right goes straight to Leo's groin, dragging a little shiver down his spine as he presses forward, slender but strong hands grasping Elliot by the arms to steer him away from the bed. "I don't need that… to get hard, though."
Elliot's back hits the nearest wall with a thump, and Leo is already pressed close against him, a hand dragging down, sliding between the taller man's legs. "Apparently," he murmurs, looking up at Elliot beneath his lashes as his fingers pluck at the fastenings of Elliot's trousers, "neither do you."
God, Leo's right.
Elliot would like to think that they're making up for lost time, what with how hungry he is for Leo, how needfully Leo grabs at him, but he knows they've never needed reasons to shove each other into walls.
And because he knows Leo, and Leo knows him-knows that his legs will give out under his talented mouth unless he has something to lean against-Elliot spreads his legs a bit wider, leaning back against the wall. He rubs the pad of one thumb over Leo's lips, still soft, and god, Leo has such a tiny mouth it's hard to believe he's so good at this. "Didn't you say yesterday that you're supposed to be the master now?" he teases, tugging on a lock of silky black hair. "Maybe I should get on my knees for you."
Leo groans, breath hot as it washes over Elliot's hand, as his tongue flicks out to lick at the tip of Elliot's thumb before his lips properly wrap around it for a slow, deliberate suck. "Later," he breathes, all as he forces himself to pull back, sinking down to his knees, his hands trailing their way down Elliot's thighs. "Right now, need to taste you." His skin heats up as he says it, lips parted as his cheek rubs between Elliot's legs, against the growing bulge there. "Please."
Elliot's breath comes fast, shallow as his smile falters. "Like I'd ever say no to that," he mutters, trying to remind himself that it doesn't count as a two-year celibacy stint if he didn't have a body for the whole time.
He shoves his trousers down to his ankles, overly eager and not caring, hands twisting into Leo's hair. Just like with everything else, it's so familiar, and so different, and so odd to see himself so large, the tip resting against Leo's lips. "Please," he whispers, echoing his master's words.
The plea barely escapes Elliot's mouth before Leo's tongue drags over the tip of him, slick and wet and hot as Leo breathes out a moan. His fingers twitch as they wrap around the base of Elliot's cock, squeezing, just slightly, all as his tongue licks a stripe along the underside of him, as his lips close sloppily around the head of him for a wet suck, panting as he draws back, just slightly, tongue out to taste the precome smearing his lips.
His jaw aches already, just with that first, initial stretch of his mouth around Elliot's cock-the first few inches sliding over his tongue, heavy and hard and thick, enough to muffle the groan that wants to spill from his throat. Leo huffs through his nose, glancing up through his lashes as his mouth slides down as far as he can manage. God, it's only half-way, and he gags a bit, skin flushing dark, and it's the fact that it's difficult to swallow all of Elliot, the fact that he can't help but choke that makes him reach a hand between his own legs, grinding the heel of his palm against his own cock with a ragged exhale.
Leo's mouth should be illegal.
He'd thought so the first time they'd done this, urgent and fumbling in the music room, Leo always, always knowing more than Elliot about just about any subject, and this had been no different. The wet heat engulfs him, and Elliot groans, hand tightening in soft dark hair, leaning hard against the wall for support.
He thinks to apologize, but one look shows Leo rubbing up hard into his hand, and that image is enough to make Elliot's cock throb. "You," he gasps, voice dark and breathy, "you like this-you like it more now, even-even though it's harder-I mean, bigger-I mean-"
It's too hard to think.
Leo's next nod is a careful one, no matter how sloppy he feels as he wriggles himself closer, swallowing hard around Elliot's cock to take more of him. His hand slides to Elliot's hip, fingers digging in as he pushes, holds Elliot against the wall as he sucks and licks at him, wishing he could really, honestly groan, whine, tell Elliot how good it feels to have his mouth full of nothing but him when he finally manages to swallow all of him and looks up, mouth stuffed full of cock, lips stretched around him and eyes dark and needy as he damned near nuzzles into Elliot's stomach.
Fuck my mouth, please, do it is what he wants to beg, but god, a hand loosely scrabbling at Elliot's thigh, and a hand shoved between his own legs, wrapping roughly around his own cock will have to do.
Elliot has no idea how the hell Leo does what he does-how he's so good at this-how he can open that tiny mouth so wide-how he can take so much without gagging when Elliot's always been so terrible at it-how he can reduce Elliot to this needing, desperate thing with just a few swipes of his mouth.
He doesn't care.
He should be better than this, should be taking care of his master instead of the other way around, his mind nags, but all of that is out the window at the strangled little noises Leo is making, the little jerking motions of his own hand that make Elliot's breath come short, and his hands tighten as he groans, hips snapping forward to bury himself down the other man's throat. "I-sorry, I-"
The apology is a hasty, half-hearted thing, because Elliot knows Leo isn't the delicate thing he appears to be, and there's no way in hell he can stop now, not when it's so sinfully, painfully good to just hold Leo's head still and drive himself into that perfect, dark heat.
Leo can't help but gag, no matter how good at this he supposedly is, and maybe it's because he likes that strain, the way it feels when Elliot's cock bumps the back of his throat before sliding down, the way Elliot holds him down, makes Leo take it even when he can't catch his breath, swallows with each thrust and shudders hard as his own cock jumps in his grasp, leaking over his fist with each snap of Elliot's hips as he just uses Leo's face.
Wet, messy little noises pull from his throat, hot, overwhelmed tears streaking his face as Leo chokes around Elliot's cock and just wants more still, lending him to struggle against Elliot's hold, just for that bit of resistance, to savor the way Elliot loses control and yanks him back down.
God, he should stop, he should stop, he should really stop because Leo's choking and gagging and trying to pull back, but like hell if Elliot even can. His hands just fist tighter into Leo's hair, hips snapping up hard, forcing himself into that pretty little mouth and down the other man's throat as hard as he can.
He probably shouldn't love the little slutty noises Leo's making, or the tears streaking down his face, but he does. Every sloppy suck to his cock drives him further towards the edge, and Elliot groans, cock throbbing, pulsing against Leo's tongue. He wrenches his hips back, giving him a breath of air before sliding the tip back between those bruised, sticky lips. "Want-I want you to taste-"
Leo manages a shaky little nod, lips parted as he pants raggedly, bruised and sticky and slick. "Please," he rasps, tongue dragging a hot, wet trail over the tip of Elliot's cock, groaning as he feels it twitch, throb against his lips. Heat twists in his own groin, and god, he can't remember a time he's felt so hungry, so desperate for a taste of the other man. A strangled whimper escapes Leo's throat as his fingers cinch tightly around his own cock. "Please-"
It's impossible to tell what's his own desire anymore and what's Leo's will, pressing in on him, bending him to the other man's will-but really, hasn't it always been like that? And god, he's never cared less.
The flick of Leo's devilish tongue, the whimpering pleas falling from the other man's lip, the desperate look in his eyes-it's too much, and Elliot sags back against the wall with an almighty groan, hands fisted tight in Leo's hair, too tight, too much as he spills across that sinful tongue, flooding his mouth, holding him tightly in place and god it's been far, far too long since he's had Leo lapping at the tip of his cock like he's hungry.
A weak, eager sound pulls from Leo's throat as he sucks and laps at Elliot, swallowing all he can, coughing as it spills down his tongue and lips, just too much at once. There's nothing he can do to help himself, not when his own hand trembles as it strokes his cock, so hard that it hurts, that his knees spread wider against the floor as he ruts into his own palm, coming after only another moment of his own touch-over his hand, onto the floor.
He strains against Elliot's hold once more, twitching, quivering from overstimulated nerves, his tongue flicking out over his lips to catch what he's missed. "Tell me," Leo begins, breathless, hoarse, "tell me to lick it all up." That I've been good, that I'm yours.
Elliot's breath leaves him in a strangled groan, and he leans down to rub his fingers across Leo's chin, letting him suck on what he's missed for a second before his other hand tightens, still in Leo's hair, and he forces his head down to the floor, a bare inch from the mess he's made. He can barely breathe, certain that no matter how hard he's just come he could fuck Leo's mouth all day when he looks as gracefully debauched as this, and his voice is rough as he grunts out, "Clean up your mess."
He knows this game. It's far from the first time. "Come on, I know you love the taste. God, you're so perfect, you make me want to fuck you again right now."
It doesn't take much to get Elliot to this point, and for that, Leo is eternally grateful.
He shudders as he follows the push, slinks closer to the floor, tongue flicking out to gingerly lap at his own come, breath short and ragged as his body still seems intent on trembling, reliving the lingering orgasm from only moments before.
"Do it." Who is Leo kidding, neither of them are good at standing right now, but it doesn't stop him from liking the thought of Elliot's cock in him all the same. "You know… that I like it."
Elliot follows Leo to the floor, mindless, only conscious of how much he needs this man, how much he'd want to follow those orders even if they were nothing of the sort, and he nearly rips Leo's clothes to pieces in his desire to get them off. He covers Leo's body with his own, still holding Leo's head down until he's done, long legs easily splayed out to the sides as he grinds his half-hard cock against Leo's ass.
"Is this what you want?" he breathes, nipping at Leo's ear. "You want me to hold you down like this, take what I want?"
Leo hisses out a hot, ragged breath, his head bowing low to the floor as he arches his back, grinding himself back against the hardening line of Elliot's cock. "Want you," he pants out, his hands curling against the floor, hair falling forward in a sweaty, mussed mess around his face. "J-just…" And he swallows hard, coloring at his next request, of all things. "Finger me first-I-want to remember… how good you always were at that."
It's a request that Elliot is only too happy to fill, though he nearly trips and falls on the way to the dresser drawer. "You kept the oil in the same place," he observes, slicking his fingers with the sweet, floral stuff before kneeling again, forgetting there's a bed nearby when Leo looks so content to be ravished on the floor. Oh, but he's missed this, missed it even before he'd died, given how hectic things had been leading up to it-but this, this wild abandon, rutting frantically against any surface they could manage, strong hands and clawing nails and the smell of their coupling in his nose, this is something he's missed desperately.
He wrenches Leo's head around for a kiss, no matter the taste-or maybe because of it-and circles his fingers around the pretty hole he knows so well, going slow because he knows it drives Leo insane, as if determined to prove to him that no matter what's happened over the last years, no one in the world will ever know Leo's body like Elliot does.
The sounds that pulls from Leo's throat is little more than a mewl, high and desperate as he pushes back against Elliot's fingers, trying his best to let them sink into his body, as if he wants to ride them like Elliot's cock. That thought alone is enough to make his eyes flutter, voice trailing into a groan against Elliot's lips as Leo sets his knees further apart, hips hiked up, knowing full well how much of a harlot he looks-how much more of one he'd look like if he had control of his head, if he could press his face to the floor while he's being fucked by those long, elegant fingers.
Elliot's really starting to like how tall he is now.
It makes it laughably easy to bend all the way over, nuzzling into Leo's neck as he pushes two fingers inside, curling, stroking, twisting them even as his cock hardens so much further at the noises falling from Leo's lips. He pulls Leo's head back by the hair, loving the way it makes his back arch even further. "Like a cat in heat," he breathes, and nips sharply at Leo's neck, sliding a third finger inside to stretch him out. "That's it...open up for me, I need to be in you."
He's never quite understood how being with Leo brings out this side in him, lets him say things he'd never be able to say, well, sober. He'd certainly never be able to say them to anyone else.
Each stroke of those fingers, each press of them deep inside of him, stretching him wider, leaving him panting like some mindless, useless thing as he scrabbles at the floor-all of it just serves to make his own body that much more eager, his cock already hard and throbbing with each jump of his pulse. Every tug on his hair seems to go straight to his groin, too, leaving him gasping, jerking when he feels that burn of a pull on his scalp, breath hitching on a whimper as Leo grinds back into Elliot's hand, those fingers good but still not enough.
"Please, please, please-" He might be babbling something else, about how good it feels, about how much he wants, but Leo's not really sure he can think past the need to have Elliot in him, stuffing him full.
Elliot's cock jumps, and he bites his lip, trying to catch his breath. That's not an easy task when Leo is writhing on his fingers like a harlot, every image of the most sinful whore Elliot's ever seen, wriggling and begging and-
Elliot spreads his fingers apart, gently, carefully easing in a fourth, something he'd rarely done before-but oh, everything's different now. "I'm just a chain," he murmurs, nibbling on Leo's earlobe even as he twists his fingers, searching for every good spot that makes his lover arch and moan. "Please what, Master? How am I supposed to know what you need if you don't tell me?"
Of course, if Leo doesn't tell him soon, he'll probably explode.
It's not fair.
It's not fair when Elliot already pulls that card-god, he's more manipulative than people think-especially when the man knows what Leo wants. It's so obvious that Elliot knows when that fourth finger slides inside, stretches him just too much, leaves Leo shuddering and gasping for a full breath, his thighs quivering as he tries to spread his legs open further, tries to alleviate some of that strain, tries to writhe his way back onto those fingers harder so that edge of too much is even heavier in his mind.
"Please, please fuck me," Leo hears himself beg, voice hoarse, ragged, desperate. "Want you, want you in me, just-"
That's all he needs.
Elliot pulls his fingers free, easing Leo's thighs apart as far as they'll go, setting them wide apart on the floor as he grinds the length of his cock up and down the cleft of his ass. Leo is perfect like this, never more beautiful than when he's a frantic sobbing mess, and it's with a hard, sucking kiss to the side of Leo's neck that Elliot guides the head of his cock to Leo's slick hole, coating himself with enough oil that he's dripping. "Should have been like this last time," he grunts, hands sliding back to Leo's hips, holding him in place. He wouldn't have felt so guilty about using Leo so hard if they'd had this, the oil and the time to prepare and the patience, though the last is a rapidly dwindling thing.
Elliot's never been good at the sappy, overused words, not even like this, so he lets the hard press of his hands talk for him, holding Leo in place as he presses deep inside with one smooth thrust, sheathing himself with a strangled, breathless groan of "Oh, god."
Leo sobs, sinks down into the floor, melting as Elliot's cock sinks inside of him, fills him, leaves him gasping for a full breath that he knows won't come. Every muscle twinges, tenses, wringing out another groan from his throat as he twists back against Elliot, his cheek pressed to the floor as his hands uselessly clench and claw, kneading as if he really is some cat in heat, rutting back against Elliot like little more than an animal.
It's so much. But it's hot, it's slick, and it's good, leaving Leo whimpering, humping back because it's not enough just for Elliot to be in him. "Good," he pants out. "G-good, it's good, so please-I-"
There are some requests, even from his master, that are just unnecessary.
Elliot buries his face in Leo's shoulder, hips snapping forward, little pants and grunts falling from his lips with every long, deep thrust into the smaller man. He grips Leo's hips tightly, dragging him back, using the hold to fuck him that much harder, that much deeper, and his world narrows to that, where he can see his cock disappearing into Leo, see every slow drag of his flesh, hard and aching even as he buries himself over and over again.
If he'd thought Leo was tight around his fingers, it's nothing to this, almost agonizing with every wiggling motion, but it's the sharpest, most exquisite agony he's ever felt, and he mindlessly ruts down into Leo, feeling like nothing more than a snarling, groaning animal. "Show me," he growls, with an especially hard slap of his hips against Leo. "Show me how much you love this, Master."
A yelp pulls from Leo's throat, trailing into a mewl, then a breathy, heated groan as he buries his face into his arms. If his legs could splay open any further, god, he'd make it happen-all to leave him helplessly encouraging the way Elliot's fucking him, the way he acts like he owns him.
There's nothing, nothing about this that he could ever protest.
Each thrusts hits him so deep that Leo's eyes prick with tears, his body a shuddering, trembling thing around Elliot as his own cock throbs. He'd probably come at a touch, even of his own fingers, but Leo summons strength not for that, but instead to twist partially around, to nuzzle his face into Elliot's neck, panting hot against his throat, bruised lips closing against his pulse. "Just like that, fuck me-" Leo heaves out a ragged exhale, voice catching in his throat. "You like that? The way it feels-the way it looks, s-spreading your master open like this? I can… can barely take you now, you're so-"
Every word from Leo's lips is an electric, sinful pulse that shoots down to pool in Elliot's abdomen, driving him on to new levels of arousal, making his skin tingle, his pulse sing as he groans, doing as Leo commands and just fucking him.
His control falters, past the point of no return, and his thrusts become ragged, uneven, frantic as he curls his arms around Leo, yanking him flush against Elliot's chest, kissing him desperately as he murmurs, "I can't, Leo, I can't, I can't-please-"
Leo's too tight, too hot, too slick and quivering and perfect, and there's no way he can last.
Like this, it's even more intense, the angle pushing Elliot even deeper and leaving Leo's mouth to fall open, doing little but trying to breathe as he's kissed, as he shudders and squirms in Elliot's hold. "It's fine," he rasps out, eyes squeezing shut as his body twitches, pulse jumping hard in his veins. "It's fine, j-just-inside me, fill me up, I want to feel it-"
There's the flicker of an urge to tell Leo that of course, he'll do whatever his master wishes, but damned if Elliot can even form words right now when there's no such thing as thought, only base animal instinct no matter what he really is, sheathing himself to the root, shoving as deeply as he can possibly go as he holds Leo there, gasping, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he spills, pulsing hot and wet inside his lover, hands clinging to Leo's torso, every muscle twitching and spasming as he goes suddenly, bonelessly slack. "God..."
Leo bites his lip, shivering, trembling around Elliot as he snakes a hand down, wrapping it around his own cock and sagging into that touch with a broken, breathless sound. It doesn't take much-a few strokes of his palm over his already too-sensitive cock and he's spilling over his hand, hissing out a breath at how it almost hurts, being this stimulated, this spent, and still this full. "You were such a good boy," he breathlessly teases, voice rough around the edges still. "Asking me if you could come."
Elliot shudders at the way Leo clenches around his cock, then deals a soft bite to Leo's shoulder, blowing on the skin to cool it as he slowly, gradually untangles himself. "You seem to like being my Master now," he points out, ragged and spent. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you wanted payback for all those years of cleaning my room."
Leo's hardpressed not to collapse right back to the floor, wincing and shivering still. "Or maybe," he archly replies, half-heartedly fumbling for at least a fragment of his nightclothes, "I just like how well you respond to orders instead."
There's a knock on the door, and Leo freezes, briefly wondering if he's locked it-if that matters because the only person obnoxious enough to knock on his door in the middle of the night also has keys and-
Judging by how fast the knob turns, it wasn't locked, and the keys are irrelevant.
"My lord? Forgive me, but these walls are rather thin, and I couldn't help but hear-" Vincent pauses within the doorway, brows arched high, eyes trained upon the scene in a rather shocked stare that Leo knows has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with Elliot. Any other time, and Leo might relish that sort of expression on Vincent's face.
Elliot goes still. It's far from the first time Vincent's caught the two of them-he'd had something of an uncanny knack for doing that-but it's the first time he's caught Elliot alive when he shouldn't be.
Even if he isn't properly alive, it's got to be something of a shock, even for his oddball older brother.
Elliot's face flames, and he yanks his trousers back into place, stepping between Vincent and Leo-whether to protect his lover from embarrassment as he gets dressed, or out of that dull, nagging compulsion to protect Leo from everything. "Vincent," he says, trying not to look like he's just been caught with his pants completely off. There's the little niggling feeling in his mind that reminds him he hasn't asked why Vincent and Leo are here alone together-or at least, Leo hasn't seen fit to tell him. "I, uh...hi."
Vincent opens his mouth to respond, but Leo's faster, flushing hot as he yanks on his night shirt and scrambles to his feet, no matter how his knees wobble and threaten to buckle out from underneath him. There's some compensation to be found, at least, when he attaches himself to Elliot's arm. "He's a chain," Leo blurts out. "I-to replace Raven. The Abyss found what was left of him, and so I… this… it's Elliot," he lamely finishes. Mostly.
The stare that Vincent still returns is a bit less shocked, a bit more bemused. "… The reaction seems accurate to Elliot, at least," is the older man's slow drawl. "But are you sure-"
"It's him!"
Vincent offers a placating shrug, even though his gaze still remains trained on Elliot, not quite as sharply analytical as Leo would expect. No, it's a bit softer, and if Leo thinks about it, there might be a sort of odd relief there. "It's been awhile," he says conversationally, as if covering up for his previous shellshock. "I see you two did not take long to become… reacquainted."
Any excitement Elliot felt upon seeing his older brother for the first time in years is quickly subsumed underneath a wave of torrential embarrassment. "I-look, you can't just go barging in to people's rooms like that!" he snaps, not meeting Vincent's penetrating, mismatched gaze. It feels all too familiar, caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar once again, even if it's by the person least likely to scold him.
He runs a hand back through his hair, securing it in the tie that seems to have come with the White Knight outfit, wherever Leo conjured that from. "And don't talk about me like I'm not here, would you? I'm standing right here."
Vincent, to his credit, only ends up looking amused. "Well. I suppose this means you won't be needing my services any longer, my lord-"
"Get out!" Ah, god, his face is so hot that it hurts. Really, Leo assumed himself to be over this a good year ago-not blushing and flustering like some child again at the slightest tease from Vincent's tongue. "Next time, knock and wait for me to say you can come in, don't just barge in like you own the place!"
If he squints enough in the dim light, he's rather sure he can see Vincent rolling his eyes skyward, even as he turns partially away. "Of course." His fingers drift along the edge of the doorframe, and he spares Elliot one last, lingering glance. "It is good to see you again, little brother."
"Out."
Vincent smiles, obnoxiously amicable, and the door shuts with a click, leaving Leo to groan and shove his sweaty hair away from his face, pulling away from Elliot with a scowl.
A nagging weight sinks into Elliot's stomach, confused and nervous at the same time, even such a short conversation enough to tell him that god, he's missed a lot.
He swallows hard, eyes resting on the doorway where Vincent had vanished, and searches for words. "My lord," he echoes quietly. "I guess...I guess there's probably a reason that my old servant is ordering my big brother around in Nightray Manor, isn't there?"
My father is dead, isn't he?
Leo tenses, squaring his jaw as he swallows down the initial urge to snap and tell Elliot to shut up and drop it for now. Elliot would have to listen, because he's a chain-Leo's chain-and that isn't fair or right by any stretch of the imagination.
"I told you, I'm Glen." Leo slips closer to the bed, fingers fumbling with the hem of the bedspread for a moment. "Vincent… he's as much a Baskerville as I am. You can see his red eye as clearly as anyone, after all. So he's my servant, of course." Exhaling a slow breath, Leo glances back over his shoulder at the other man. "We're the only ones here right now. The rest of the Baskerville family is watching Pandora, and I… like being here alone, anyway."
Yes, he's been dead for awhile.
Elliot doesn't turn, hands clenching into fists at his sides-useless fists, because he's useless, two years too late, and who knows what else he's missed?
He's not even sure he wants to know.
It doesn't matter, he tells himself, because he couldn't have gotten out of the Abyss any sooner, and he's here now. He's here, and he'll protect Leo however he can, make everything right as much as he can, no matter what it costs him.
The little part of him that comes from the Will pulses, whispering in his ear, a constant little stream of knowledge that he does his best to ignore except when he can't. He's different, he knows. He'd been in the wrong level, somewhere special because he's strange, a contractor who had rejected his chain, who had voluntarily chosen the darkness, and maybe that's why he still feels like himself instead of entirely like the White Knight.
He really, really intends to turn around and tell Leo it's fine, that he understands, but some scrap of what Vincent had said-Leo's reaction-catches in his mind, and when he speaks, it's to ask, "Are you fucking my brother?"
Leo chokes on his breath, the question taking him so sharply by surprise that he can't help but jerk his gaze away, face hot. "Why are you asking that?"
Elliot's face flames, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to bring it up, honestly not wanting to know-but he's never been the kind of man who wanted to hide from the truth, even if it was easier. "Are you?" he demands, the urge to grab something and throw it rising even as Leo's will presses on him, and he knows he couldn't throw so much as a washcloth at his master. "I-he's caught us before, and you've been nervous, but it's me that gets embarrassed, you usually laugh once he's gone, and-" He cuts himself off, fists clenched so hard his fingernails are digging little crescents into his palms. "Just tell me. Or I'll ask him."
"Don't ask him," Leo quickly says-too quickly, without a doubt, and he bites his lip after the fact, sucking in a sharp, anxious breath through his nose as he slowly turns around. "Look, it's… not what you're thinking, Elliot. I thought you were dead and gone, you know-"
"He's my brother!" The idea of anyone, anyone touching Leo for any reason, makes a hot rope of anger coil in his belly, only the fact that Vincent is his brother stopping him from taking his sword out and chasing the other man right this instant. "I..."
He cuts himself off, chest heaving, teeth gritted tightly together. He tries to remember that just because it feels like no time at all for him, it's been years for Leo, long lonely years with no one around, and Elliot knows what a loner he's always been.
None of it makes him feel any less sick. "Do you love him? Does-does he love you?" God, he feels like a jealous woman.
"He wants me to destroy him!"
Leo's voice cracks a bit as he says it, his lower lip trembling as he bites back the urge to grab something and throw it at Elliot's head. "You're an idiot-the world's biggest idiot, if you really think I could actually even consider someone else-any one else-"
It's a pillow that he manages to toss first, and to hell with it for not being harder even as Leo slams it into Elliot's face as hard as he can manage. "And you're a moron if you don't realize about Vincent, either! T-the only reason I even wanted to-and I didn't, not really, I just… it made sense at the time-" He's not crying. All right, maybe he is, and he hates it, down to the way his eyes sting and his throat locks up. "Neither of us have-h-had anything left!"
Leo's words don't make sense, but the pain behind them does, real and raw in a way that's all the more startling given that Leo's always been so good at hiding it.
Elliot remembers, though he never wanted to, the sound of Leo's final, broken scream when he'd rejected Humpty Dumpty, before Vincent had come. He hears some of that same agony in his words now, and ignores the pillow, letting it hit him in the face before he simply grabs Leo by his upper arms, picking him up and holding him tight in front of his face. "I'm sorry." He doesn't say the words often. Probably he should say them more, really. "I...I have no idea what's going on with Vincent, I just-"
He's an idiot, and he knows it, face stinging with the shame of words he shouldn't have said to the person he loves. "I just don't know what's different. I never-the idea of-of you with someone-anyone else, and for it to be with my brother, I just-"
"Stupid," Leo reiterates, chest heaving in a hard sob as his fists come to fall against Elliot's chest, tears streaking down his face as he tries to glare up at him and knows he ends up looking more pathetic than anything. "You're stupid. He's not you, and it wasn't about you. I-" A shudder makes him twist within Elliot's grasp, his eyes flickering to the side once more. "I don't want him to touch me again, now that you're here. He was just… someone I could hide behind. And I… wasn't much more to him."
Elliot crushes him close, sitting on the bed and hauling the younger man into his lap, against his chest. "You're the stupid one," he mutters, even though he knows that as usual, that's probably not true. It's always been easy to get mad at Leo, but hard to stay that way. And Leo had rarely broken down like this, back before everything went to hell. "And it's very irresponsible of you to be sleeping with your servant, you know. Abuse of power."
At that, Leo chokes on a wet, tired laugh, his face pressing into Elliot's neck as he simply sags into his hold. "Pot calling the kettle black," he mumbles, arms slowly coming to drape their way over Elliot's shoulders. "It wasn't about sex, Elliot."
"No?" That's probably the best news he's had in a while, and Elliot holds him close with one arm, the other hand coming up to card gently through his hair. "Oh. Good. I don't like to think about you sleeping with my brother. Bad enough that you let him see your eyes."
Thinking about it makes Leo flinch a bit, even as he nearly melts beneath the other man's touch. "He's the one that cut my hair."
Elliot thinks about reminding Leo that he'd never let Elliot cut his hair, but there's really no reason to get upset, not when he's been dead and Leo's on his lap now, leaning into every gentle touch.
Everything tells him he should let it go-but he has to know for sure, before he can drop it. "But...just so I know. He's your servant for some reason, and you're a-a Baskerville of all things, fine. Just..." He doesn't want to know.
Perversely, he needs to know.
"How long? Were the two of you..."
"Having sex?" Leo sighs tiredly, the conversation starting to give him a headache. "I don't remember. At some point after you… died." He shivers, sinking down further into Elliot's lap. "I'm not going to any more, if that's what you're worrying about. Vincent won't try anything, he understands."
"I'm not worried!" He is, a little. It's nothing he'd ever admit aloud, but the core of that jealousy is a sick, pulsing thing, even as he tightens his arms. He's not worried, though he can't help but wonder. He's heard enough girls at parties gabbling to their friends about the "walks" Vincent had taken them on in the gardens, even while picking rose petals out of their hair. It widens the gulf of experience between them a little farther, something Elliot's never brought up in the first place.
Well, it's not like there's anything to be afraid of any longer. "Forget it. You've always known more than me anyway."
"… You think he's better than you." The realization brings about a dull pang of amusement, even if Leo is equal parts annoyed at Elliot's insecurity. "Here's a hint: he's not. There's no competition. Besides, in his mind, he wasn't having sex with me."
"Well I don't know, do I?" Elliot demands crossly, looking away even though his arms don't relax in the slightest. "I never-I mean, I just heard all the girls talking, and-I mean, you know I hadn't-I didn't-that you were my-this is stupid, I don't want to think about this any more."
"You don't want to know who he's lusting after so much that he'd turn to his master for solace?" Elliot isn't allowed to let this go, not after the veritable fit he threw.
Elliot makes a face. "I've heard plenty about the girls he lusts over, thanks. I-it's weird that he-I mean, I'm not saying you're girly, it's probably just Vincent being weird, just-" He shakes his head. "Growing up here...I tried to ignore who my brothers were setting their sights on, you know?"
Leo's brows arch, no matter how he keeps his head on Elliot's shoulder, far from inclined to move. "Girls lust after Vincent, not the other way around." Well, there's that one, but-we don't talk about that. "Anyway, it's not a girl."
"Not the way he behaves himself," Elliot counters, though he doesn't know why he bothers. Leo's always been better at seeing to the heart of people than he has, even if he doesn't want to admit it. "I-a boy? You're just teasing me to get back at me."
"Maybe you're the one that should have been wearing glasses all that time," Leo sighs. "Think about who Vincent cares about the most, and it should be obvious."
The first person who comes to mind is Gil, but that's obviously wrong, so Elliot sets that aside. "Echo...no, you said it wasn't a girl. It-he doesn't even like Break, but that's the only person I can-look, you know I don't like riddles!"
"… You know, Elliot," Leo drawls, giving Elliot a little shove to coax him further onto the bed, "some people are book smart, and other people are street or people smart. I'm just not sure what happened with you…"
Elliot scowls up at him, though he lets himself be pushed flat with little difficulty. "I just got saddled with a useless servant who stole all my books, that's all. Look, when I-died, Vincent didn't like anyone! You know, except Gil. So how should I know what happened since then?"
Leo tries not to roll his eyes-he really, honestly does, even as he props his head into his hands, elbows lightly resting upon Elliot's chest. "You're assuming something has changed."
Elliot's eyes narrow into a glare, and he mutters, "I miss being able to throw bookshelves at you when you're like this." He grabs one of Leo's hands, bringing it to his lips and kissing it lightly before dealing a soft bite to one of his fingers. "You're like a cat with a secret."
"You're just thinking too hard," is the sigh to follow, the words rumbling in Leo's throat rather like the purr of a cat he's accused of being. His fingers flex, hand twisting about as he drags a thumb over Elliot's lower lip. "You've already said the answer; you just don't want to believe it."
"You're doing a good job distracting me," Elliot points out, grinning as he flicks his tongue out, slightly grazing over Leo's thumb. "Okay, well, Break is weird, but so's Vincent, so I guess...I don't know why he'd go to you instead." His other hand creeps up Leo's back, drawing little patterns and circles with his fingertips through the soft cotton of the nightshirt.
"You really…" Leo snorts out a soft laugh, dragging his hand away with a wry expression. "It's not the Hatter, Elliot." A sigh of surrender follows. "It's Gilbert."
It takes a second for the words to permeate the easy, lazy way he feels. When they do, Elliot sits up so fast he nearly knocks Leo to the floor, only fast reflexes and the influence of his chain letting him catch the other man at the last second. "W-what are you saying? Don't joke like that. They're brothers."
Leo simply glowers at him, decidedly put out and ruffled at being jarred so abruptly. "And Vincent is in love with him. At least it isn't a brother and sister, that would be even worse, if you think about it."
"He's not! He's-they're my brothers, don't you think I'd know if there was something like that going on?" He can't deny that there's something extremely off about Vincent, always has been, but...but this is the man who taught him how to fish, who tried to teach him dirty tricks to use the next time he dueled Break.
"I mean, he falls asleep on Gil a lot, but-" Elliot bites his lip, suddenly remembering a couple times he'd seen Vincent almost purposely fall asleep on top of the older man, wriggling down onto his chest, but-
"That's disgusting, though. I mean, I know you don't have brothers, so you probably don't understand, but...I mean, bad enough that it's two men," he ends lamely, hypocritically, even as he gathers Leo back onto his lap, mind too jumbled to make much sense.
"We've already established the color of the kettle, you know." And that joke probably goes over Elliot's head as well. Leo supposes he could be angrier, but really, he's heard it all before, and at this point, the most he can do is roll his eyes and let Elliot hold him as if he's one of those cats that he liked-likes so much. "If you don't believe me, ask him about it. I'm sure he'll be happy to talk about Gilbert."
Elliot makes another face, but relaxes back onto the bed, scooping Leo onto his chest again. "Maybe...later. I uh, don't think I really want to talk to Vincent right now. I might punch him." He really wants to see the look on Vincent's face when he meets it with his fist, far less for having creepy weird feelings and far more for daring to lay hands on Leo when he'd known Leo was Elliot's, had always been Elliot's.
"You can punch him," Leo cheerfully announces, curling into a ball as he nestles his way against Elliot's chest. "I won't stop you. He's something of an idiot, really. I've often wondered if you two are actually related."
"You're an awfully mean master," Elliot complains. It doesn't stop him from running his hands over Leo, but it does make him deal out a little pinch to Leo's side. "I'm pretty sure I was nicer than you, and you don't even throw stuff."
"I'm no different than I was before," Leo complains, giving Elliot's hand a half-hearted swat. "You're just mad that I'm right about a bunch of things and you can't pull the master card anymore…"
"It was cute before. Now you're just abusing your power. You could always have quit as my servant, but I'm your Chain. Now, can we stop talking about my brother? I'm going to think you really do want him instead of me." It's something of an empty threat, but there's a grain of hurt there nonetheless. "If that's all right with you, Master."
"I'm not abusing anything." Leo's breath escapes as a huff against Elliot's neck. "… but we can stop talking about him if you stop suggesting I ever would have quit."
"You didn't want to be my servant in the first place," Elliot reminds him, fingers creeping around the hem of the nightshirt, hiking it up a little. "I had to bully you into it. I spent a couple months being afraid to throw things at you because I was afraid you'd quit. Well. Big things."
"When have you ever been able to bully me into something?" Leo's cheek rubs against Elliot's shoulder, his hands sliding up to toy with a strand of blond hair. "I went because I wanted to, I stayed because I wanted to."
"And now?" Elliot can't help but ask, looking down to meet those odd, beautiful eyes. "Will you let me stay? I have no idea what it means for you to be Glen, but I don't think I'm bound to you in the same way as a regular chain. Will you let me protect you?"
"If I didn't want that, I wouldn't have asked the Abyss for you," Leo murmurs, gaze lidded as he glances up to look at Elliot. "As far as I'm concerned, having you like this means you'll never go away again, and that's what I want."
That makes sense somehow, resonating with the part of Elliot that hasn't been with him since birth. The words sound like another contract, and he shivers. "Yes. I'll never leave you again."
He shivers a little, and then his mouth curves into a smile. "And if I do, don't bring me back another foot taller, okay? This is about as big as I think I want to be."
"No, you're perfect like this, I'm not changing you." Leo wriggles closer, as if to prove his point that Elliot is entirely satisfactory, especially as his pillow for the moment. "Now do your job, and keep me warm for the rest of the night."