It feels wrong, being without Leo.
Elliot's never particularly enjoyed going into the dark places of the world without Leo at his back, even if now he's the servant instead of the master, and it only makes sense. It still feels wrong, like there's a part of him missing, a dull thudding ache that reminds him with every step that his master isn't here, his master is out there where he should be, his master might need him.
Even if he does have Jabberwock.
Elliot shoves the memory of that winged monstrosity out of his mind, hand on his sword as he descends into the abandoned building, leaving Gilbert and Vincent behind with the carriage. Supposedly, there had been a guard, but Gilbert had explained the situation to him before Elliot had arrived, which at least makes one thing easier.
He follows the map Gil had drawn, descending the stairs, searching out the proper hallway. Of the corridor of doors, just one of them is shut, let alone locked. He tries it, knocking when the doorknob doesn't turn. "Ada Vessalius? Hey, are you in there or not?"
There's a tiny little squeak from inside-well, that answers that question, at any rate. After a second, there's the patter of soft shoes, and a familiar tinny voice asks, "W-who's there?"
"Don't tell her you're a chain," Leo's words echo in his head. "She won't understand. You remember, she never was the brightest."
That's certainly true, even though Elliot can't remember Leo ever agreeing with him about that. Eh, maybe he's finally seen the light. "It's Elliot Nightray. Come out of there, I'm here to take you somewhere safe."
"You're lying! Elliot is dead!"
It should probably touch him, that she sounds so upset about his death. In light of the current circumstances, it just annoys him. God, he hates it when girls cry. "Look, everyone thought your brother was dead, right? Come on, you know I'm not a liar. Here, I have something to show you."
He slides a little scrap of cloth under the door, hoping it means something like Leo had said it does. Apparently so-after just a second, he hears the sound of several locks clicking open, and before he can move, a girl who's far too curvy to go around jumping on people jumps on him, arms tight around his neck, certain other parts of her anatomy doing a damn good job trying to squash him. "Elliot! I'm so happy, I can't believe it's you, and you have-"
"Aahhh! Get off of me, you're strangling me!"
"You're the same! Oh, but you're so tall now, and so handsome, you grew up so-"
"I said get off of me!" Elliot finally manages to extricate himself, wincing at the sheer strength of the girl's hold. Irritably, he grabs her hand with the one not on the hilt of his sword, yanking her up the stairs. "Come on, already."
"Where are we going? Uncle Oscar said-"
"Somewhere safer. We found out some people are trying to find you, so we have to move you before they do."
She's fast, wrapping her arms around his before he can do more than scowl about it, making it obnoxious to move. That's the problem with her, after all. He tries to be nice, and she always winds up taking everything way too far.
"I-I have missed you, Elliot. I cried when you...went missing."
Elliot's cheeks flush, and he turns his face away. "There's no need for that."
"But-"
"Drop it, all right? I'm here now." Sort of.
God, how had Ada stood being in that place? Elliot's nose is already twitching by the time they reach the street and its blessed fresh air, with the two silent shadowy attendants of the carriage. Rude, he thinks to himself, but maybe it's prudent to wait until they're back at the mansion before they get reacquainted. "Here, I'll help you into the carriage."
"Allow me, Miss Ada."
It's a gloved hand that extends to her in the night, the flickering lantern held in the other barely enough to cast light over the pathway, let alone Vincent's form. He spares Elliot a glance-of course, it would go exactly as Leo had planned and plotted, no matter how it makes his gut twist at the reality of it, and how little Elliot himself knows.
How does he stomach this, indeed.
"It's been some time, has it not?" More annoying still is that she's pretty-prettier if Vincent must qualify it, which seems nearly impossible considering where she's been kept for so long. Only Ada. Annoying woman.
Elliot frowns at the way Ada balks, clutching at his arm so hard he can barely feel his fingers. "Hey-what's your problem, he just-"
"Mr. Vincent..." Ada trails off into a whisper, green eyes huge, transfixed on the man. "I...Uncle Oscar told me..."
From the shadows, Gilbert curses silently. What does that idiot think he's doing, anyway? Things had been going according to plan, sickening as that might be.
"Ada, just get into the carriage and we can talk back at-"
"It's not true, is it?" the girl bursts out, as if it's something that's been on her mind for months. "I know what they say, but I want you to tell me it isn't true, that the Vincent I know wouldn't do all those things!"
Vincent is damnably glad for the dim light, because he isn't quite sure what his expressions does right then-if it's wry or if it softens or if he just looks put out. He withdraws his hand slightly, fingers curling back into his palm. "There are many lies that the Baskervilles have been feeding your uncle, Miss Ada," he murmurs. "After all, you were told that Elliot was dead, weren't you?"
Not for the first time since he's been brought back, Elliot has the sinking feeling there's a whole lot Leo hasn't seen fit to tell him. Not in the least is why Vincent's talking about the Baskervilles are a completely different set of people, rather than the ones Elliot's pretty damned sure include Leo, and had thought included Vincent.
His master's orders pound in his ears, and he uses a bit of strength to hoist the confused girl up to the first step of the carriage. "Come on, we've got to get you off the street."
"But-then Vincent didn't kill Duke Nightray? I didn't want to believe it, but Uncle Oscar said..."
Her voice trails into a squeak as she falls, suddenly unsupported by Elliot's arms as his thoughts swirl. "What...what did you just say?"
In the shadows, Gil puts out his cigarette, muttering, "Shit."
He always has had to be the one to make the difficult decisions, hasn't he?
Vincent's fast, at least, gingerly grabbing Ada by the arm to-well, mostly catch her, before she can stumble too badly. She's heavy, damn it, though he bites his tongue and refrains from commenting on that. He sort of wants to knead his fingers into the soft, fleshy part of her arm that he's gripping, maybe snake his arm a bit more firmly about her waist and-now is not the time, you're not sixteen anymore.
"Your uncle," Vincent murmurs into her ear, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to gently thrust it into her grasp, "wanted me to give you this. I'll keep you safe, I just need you to trust me. Step away from the carriage for a moment, won't you? A little more fresh air won't hurt."
Elliot's pulse pounds in his ears as he tries to remember what Leo's told him, that Ada's been fed lies, that of course Vincent hasn't killed his father, that's ridiculous, unthinkable.
It's a little easier, just a little, when he sees how quickly she relaxes, under just a few sweet words from Vincent, and god, Elliot has no idea why Leo didn't just send Vincent, he's always been good with girls.
He sees her calm, her chest heaving, and sees her dart a quick, nervous look to Elliot before stepping away with the older man. "I...is my uncle all right? He told me-I'm not supposed to go with any of the Nightrays, but...if you say I can still trust you..."
Vincent is going to regret this.
"Your uncle will be fine." It's not a complete lie. Oscar is well enough, in spite of being tortured by Vincent's own hand, even. God, one look at the girl makes him twitch, recalling the months he put into courting her to no avail, and how desperately he wanted whatever information he could get from her. Without a doubt, he still wants it, because it's what Leo wants now, too. It's what makes this so difficult-the drive to serve his master warring pointedly with that disappointed stare that Gilbert keeps fixating upon him-
His grip upon her loosens, just slightly. "You can trust me, but I think," he adds lowly, catching her gaze for the briefest of moments, "the last thing you want to do is pay a visit to Leo, and considering he and Elliot are joined at the hip…"
The fear rises in Ada's eyes, shock and terror mingling with the conviction that she'd known she was right, that it was too good to be true, that of course Vincent couldn't really be in league with those people-
She sees her chance and takes it, slipping out of Vincent's hold, knowing with a warning like that and a handkerchief like that he must be secretly working for her uncle after all, and she hits the pavement running.
Elliot, dumbfounded, barely has time to move before the shadow does, his eldest stepbrother's long legs catching the girl easily, sweeping her kicking, twisting form up into his arms and dumping her in the carriage without a word. Gil locks the door, jaw clenched tightly shut, and whips the horses into action almost before Elliot can grab hold of the side of the carriage, wondering what the hell is going on.
There's something to be said about trying to disobey a direct order from one's true lord and master, Duke Baskerville.
Well, it was worth a try.
At least, those are Vincent's thoughts at the next point that he comes to in a heap on a dusty, deserted road, the sounds of horses shrieking over the blood pounding in his ears, and every bone aching and hurting from what he can only assume was a rather rough landing. He doesn't quite remember being snatched up by Jabberwock, but his back certainly feels the scrape of talons still, and it's with a grimace that he forces himself to his feet, not quite daring to look for Leo just yet, no matter how he knows his master is there.
"… My lord, we aren't even home yet," he mutters, watching the horses rear at the sight of the enormous chain, and he tries not to feel sick. Perhaps that's the point. Being in the absolute middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, surrounded by people she's now rightfully terrified of-Vincent tries not to consider Ada's state of mind and instead attempts to gingerly dust himself off. "If you want to interrogate her, there are far better arrangements-"
It's easy to forget how strong Leo is, but not when the kid backhands him hard enough to send him stumbling back, head fully turned and lip split from the blow. "I think you've offered enough advice tonight, Vincent," Leo spits out, the only things really visible of him in the cover of night his face, that pale skin, his shaking hands, his sharp, nearly glowing gaze. "Keep your mouth shut for once."
Gil doesn't think before he moves-a dangerous habit, but not one he's ever been entirely able to break, not when someone he cares about is in harm's way. He doesn't even remember moving before his gun is out and cocked, pointed at the back of his master's head, hand steady on the trigger. "Leave him alone," he says quietly, moving forward just enough that Leo will feel the cold steel of the gun. "We have the girl, so leave him alone. Master."
He can feel Raven clamoring to get out, but shoves him back down. It's not the time to make Duke Baskerville kill him. Not today, anyway.
He hears a noise from the carriage, but he doesn't turn doesn't waver. He knows what he'll see, after all. It can hardly be anything other than Elliot, ashen-faced, betrayed, staring at all of them as if he's never seen them before.
Well, maybe he really hasn't.
"Gil-" Vincent hisses, stumbling to straighten himself once more, wiping at the corner of his mouth. He's not sure if he's happy Gil is so very defensive of him or not, but right now, from the hardening of Leo's gaze, he's mostly scared. "Gil, don't-" Just let him hit me, if that's what he wants to do, I'm the one that messed up-
"If you don't put your gun away, Gilbert," Leo quietly interrupts, his head turning just slightly, pressing the back of his skull further against Gilbert's gun, "I will see to it that your master dies before the sun has a chance to rise."
God, Gil has no idea what it would feel like to go through a single day without feeling like his heart is being torn in two. He wants to remember loyalty-true loyalty clean and pure and right, of having just one master and believing in him, but maybe those are a child's dreams. There's the screaming in his mind-the two of them he's sworn to protect, the third that owns him, and he can hardly breathe as he slowly lowers the gun.
It's just as well, because the next second he's knocked to the ground, looking up into Elliot's confused, furious face as the cool tip of a crystal sword rests at the base of his throat. "I don't know what the hell is going on," Elliot snarls, one knee on his chest to keep him down, "but if you ever point a gun at Leo again, it won't matter what your last name is, do you understand me?"
Vincent does his best not to wince at how smugly satisfied Leo looks, though it's difficult, especially when Leo's attention swings abruptly back to him. "Someone needs to go and watch the girl," Leo impassively says, and god, but Vincent knows he's the one that is expected to do it. It's with an exhale that he takes a step forward, his jaw still aching.
"My lord, I-"
"I told you to be quiet!" The next slap stings more than the first, landing across already bruised, aching flesh, but Vincent at least already has his heels planted in this time, expecting it and taking it with gritted teeth "What were you thinking?! Do you want me to grant your damned wish or not? I'll kill you, leave your body to rot right here in the road, and Gilbert can stand out here until you're nothing but dust so the image of you is burned into his mind for the rest of his life for all I care-"
Vincent finds himself grinding his teeth. "Duke Baskerville-"
"Elliot, point your sword at him and make him do as I say," Leo suddenly snaps, his attention rapidly switching once more. "Let Gilbert up. He's an idiot; as if a bullet could kill me, anyway."
Elliot feels like his chest is too tight, everything taking on a terrifying, cruel reality he hasn't felt since the day of his death, and god, he'd thought he'd gotten past the willful ignorance of a child, the desire to simply not know something that hurts so badly. He hasn't, though. Should have asked, should have observed, should have realized what it's meant for Leo to be a Baskerville, for all of them to be Baskervilles, and now it's far too late.
His master's will is absolute.
There are tears running down his cheeks, even as he sets his jaw, moving in a fluid arc to rest the edge of his sword across Vincent's throat. "Do as he says," he grinds out, eyes blazing electric blue as he shines with otherworldly light. "Duke Baskerville's word is law."
Even Demios is pissed now, lurching about in his mind and intent on giving him a headache, and so Vincent merely draws a slow breath, lifting a hand towards Elliot's sword as if to push it away, even though he's not truly of the mind to touch the thing.
"I'm going," he murmurs, taking a step back, and allowing a small, deferential bow of his head. "My apologies, my lord. I'll deal with the girl now."
Vincent can see the gears churning, the way that Leo watches him like a damned hawk and how he's only seconds away from asking Elliot to actually hurt him if he doesn't move and move now. He quickly turns away, and Leo does so similarly, shooting Gilbert an exasperated stare.
"Are you all intent on being stupid tonight? Get up, get back to the horses. Once we're back at the manor, see to it that your brother is properly watching that girl or we'll be having words again." Finally, he looks to Elliot, weary. "Why are you crying?"
Gilbert doesn't say a word, just lurches up from the ground, stalking around to the back of the carriage, shoving Ada's face and wiggling torso back in through the too-small window she'd tried to climb out of. He doesn't look at her, doesn't look at Vincent, doesn't look at any of them. He lights up a cigarette, leaning heavily back against the carriage as Vincent approaches. "Sorry," he mutters, eyes fixed on the ground. "I made it worse."
He sure as hell doesn't look over at his Master, or at Elliot sheathing his sword, shaking his head as he says quietly, "I'm not crying. I'm just thinking about someone I used to know."
"Mm, I'm fairly certain it was about as bad as it could have been already," Vincent sighs, grimacing as he attempts to roll out one aching shoulder. "Miss Ada, please refrain from trying to escape… the last place you want to do it, anyway, is in the middle of nowhere, and wearing those sorts of shoes… how do you expect to run?" he adds in a low mutter, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder at Leo before his gaze slides to Gilbert once more. "Thank you," he offers quietly, "for trying to protect me."
"What are you two waiting for?" And now Leo sounds even more intensely annoyed, and so Vincent sighs. So much for any sort of peace tonight—he truly has lost it, if he honestly ever expected it.
Sometimes, Gil doubts that he and Vincent have ever really escaped the streets of their childhood. They're still shunted from wealthy family to wealthy family, still tools for anyone to abuse, still, in the end, without anyone except each other. Everyone, one after the other, has left, turned on them, or died. The Nightrays, the Vessaliuses, the Baskervilles, Pandora-the only ones that had been honest were Pandora, because at least there he'd known from the start he was only supposed to be a tool.
It was easier, before he'd remembered his duty to Vincent.
Gil climbs into the driver's seat, yanking Vincent up with him as the carriage rattles into motion, carrying them back to what might as well be Sablier, for all the hope it offers. "Quit giving him reasons. It's not like when we were little, we can't just run away when I find our master with his hand down your pants."
Inside, Elliot can't look at anyone, not Leo, not Ada. He'd thought he was helping, that he was saving her. No matter what's going on, he's pretty sure he's thoroughly disabused of that notion now, and before Leo can tell him not to, he melts into the ether, whisking himself back into Leo's shadow where he won't have to think about what he's truly become without realizing it.
"… You could hit me instead," is Vincent's mild retort as he leans to the side, dropping his head atop Gilbert's shoulder. In hindsight, such a comment is probably less than appropriate.
Gil snorts, trying to ignore the fact that it is at least comforting to have someone in hell with him, even if that's not something he wants on any conscious level. "You're not even making sense. Did he hit you harder than I thought?"
Regardless, at least it isn't as bad as it could have gone. He doesn't want to think about what might have happened if he'd been slower, if he hadn't been able to clean up Vincent's mess, if Ada-no, the girl-had gotten away and Duke Baskerville had found out about it.
He doesn't want to, but he does, and it preys on his mind the entire way back to the mansion.
"Get the girl settled in," Leo orders the moment the carriage rolls to a stop and he throws the door open, a little snort escaping him as he stalks his way out. "Perhaps she'll be a little more amicable to speaking in the morning."
Vincent doubts it, and tries not to think about how his face hurts and how he must look. "Yes, my lord."
Leo eyes him a last time before striding to the mansion in a swirl of his cloak, wearily, irritably sullen, obviously trying not to lash out and give Vincent another bruise to add to the mountain he's already acquired.
Given what he's already had to clean up today, Gil simply grabs Ada from the backseat, ignoring her kicking and protesting as he throws her over one shoulder. He doesn't need to ask where to put her. There aren't too many places secure enough for what Duke Baskerville wants, after all. "Could use the Dormouse," he grunts, hefting the girl into the mansion.
Elliot waits as long as he can, stewing, furious. He's found that if he tries, he can pick up something of his master's mental state, all the better to serve him, of course. The second there's something like relief, probably from being alone at last, he starts throwing himself at the walls of the ephemeral prison he's trapped in with the black-winged chains, battering at the barrier that keeps him from the real world. I know you can hear me, he snarls as loudly as he can without a voice. Let. Me. Out!
"Ah, that probably would have been useful from the beginning-" Vincent rather pseudo-cheerfully notes, and it's with an errant touch to Ada's head that the girl simply falls asleep moments later.
Leo tolerates it long enough to watch that what he orders is done with before scowling, stalking down the dark hallways with only a candle snatched up and held to light his way as he makes it to his own chambers. "You obviously have an opinion on all of this, White Knight," he mutters, setting the candle into its holder before yanking his cloak off.
The sound of his name-the chain name, the name Leo gave him, not his real name-speaks to something, opens a hole in that barrier big enough to let Elliot through, exploding into being. He grabs Leo-no, Duke Baskerville-by the lapels, lifting him easily and shoving him back into the wall. His fists clench, and he wants to do more, wants to deck the bastard across the face, wants to grab whatever's handy and throw it at his head, but he knows without a doubt that he can't. That will, that responsibility, weighs on him like a physical chain, and all he can do is talk.
"You-you lied to me! You lied to Ada! You said you were going to protect her, and you lied! You-how dare you?"
"… To be fair," Leo dully replies, gaze lidded as he sinks back into the wall, making no attempt to remove himself from Elliot's hold, "there is no one left with the power to challenge the Baskervilles, so if she is going to be anywhere, this is the safest place to avoid any sort of attack. And if she answers my questions, I see no reason to harm her."
"You..." The anger makes Elliot's heart pound with blood that isn't even real, his hands clenching so tightly he feels his knuckles pop. "You used me. You told me she was going to be safe. You hid things-"
He can't bear even to look at that familiar, unsettlingly strange face. "What the hell else are you hiding from me, bastard?"
"I didn't hide anything. I didn't lie. She is safe, as long as she cooperates. Hopefully she'll have the sense to do it-though as you've always said, she isn't the… brightest individual." Leo's mouth twists briefly. "So I'm a 'bastard' now-do you hate me, Elliot? Everyone else does, I suppose it would make sense."
All the strength goes out of Elliot's arms, and all he can do is let Leo sag to the floor, turning away. His chest heaves, and he can't stop his muscles from bunching as he slams his fist through the wall, leaving a hole in the walls of his family's mansion. "You haven't hid anything from me? Where's my father, Leo? Where's Oz? Where's Ada's uncle? What are you trying to do? How can you be a Baskerville? Doesn't-doesn't it bother you that you're working for those murderers?"
It would have. It would have bothered the man I knew.
"What else was I suppose to do?!"
Lurching to his feet, Leo's hands clench at his sides, his chest heaving. "You were gone, Elliot! I had nothing left-absolutely nothing-and Vincent saved me from Pandora, after all they wanted to do was-was hurt me and torment every answer out of me and keep me locked up in a cell! I don't work for the Baskervilles, you idiot-I've told you, I am Glen Baskerville! How do you think you're here?!"
"I don't know! I don't know what that means, why the fuck would you think I do? Glen Baskerville died a hundred years ago, you moron!"
There's a small table in the hall, and Elliot grabs it, hurling it at the floor until it smashes into so many twigs and powder. "You," he pants, pointing a finger at his master, "have no right. You have no right to give up on life just because I died! Did you lose your damned mind? What...what happened to you?" He staggers back until his back hits the wall, head tilting back with a dull thunk.
"… You've never known what it was like to be alone."
Leo's lip trembles and he sinks back into the wall opposite Elliot again. He doesn't have to explain that. He never has, and it's obvious Elliot doesn't want to hear it, anyway. "Glen Baskerville… isn't just one person. 'Glen' is the head of the Baskerville family, whoever is chosen by the Abyss to inherit that name. I was the next person. I've known that… for a long time. So did your father. And brothers. Or at least, they suspected, at first."
"My..." He can't ask again. The mansion is far, far too empty for there to be any other Nightrays still alive, and there's no way his father would have permitted Leo to take over.
He slides down to the floor, elbows resting on his knees, unable even to decide whether to put his fist through the wall again or just give up. "You never told me about your family. All those years, and you never told me you were a Baskerville. You...did you think I would hate you?"
At that, Leo laughs, the sound high, unhinged. "I figured if I didn't talk about it, it would go away. That all worked amazingly, obviously."
Slowly, he sinks down again, until his knees are drawn to his chest and his chin rests atop them. "No one wanted me, not even my own parents. No one stopped them from taking me away and putting me in the House of Fianna. You were the only person I ever had, Elliot-don't tell me that I didn't have the right to give up."
"If you weren't my master," Elliot says bitterly, tiredly, "I'd punch you in the face. What are you, a maiden wasting away for her lover? I thought you had more sense than that."
He laughs, but there's no joy in it. "Thought you'd take more after Josephine and less after Phelia."
Leo's gaze jerks up, fixing a sharp glare on the other man. "I'll hit you if you don't shut up. What would you have rather me done, kill myself to join you? I thought about it. I tried to get Oz to kill me, once."
"You think I care if you hit me?" Elliot crawls over to the other man, turning his head defiantly to the side. "Hit me. Go ahead. You think it's worse than seeing you destroying yourself, turning into a murderer? What the hell did you think dying was going to fix, huh? What happened to all the things we were going to do when we got older?"
"… The only person I've murdered is you, Elliot," Leo tiredly replies, looking away with a shake of his head. "All I am trying to do is fix things. Jack Vessalius was the one that ruined everything, not Glen Baskerville."
Elliot's hand slams into the wall next to Leo's head, face twisting in fury. "No! You're not taking credit for my death! What do you think I was, some kind of helpless victim? I murdered people, Leo! I did! And I fixed it, as good as I could, and it killed me, and that's fine, and you're not damned taking that away from me, bastard!"
Leo doesn't as much as flinch, and he stares up tiredly through his bangs. "Why do you think you were contracted to that chain in the first place?"
"Because I wanted to save some dying kids, and the Baskervilles tricked you." Elliot's shoulders sag, but he reaches forward, brushing Leo's hair out of his face, forcing him to look up. "How can you be one of them when they're the ones that did this?"
Slowly, Leo shakes his head. "You're wrong. They didn't trick me. I wanted to save you, and instead I killed you by making you contract that… thing." He sucks in a ragged breath, swallowing hard. "I already told you… the Baskervilles did nothing wrong. Jack… he's the one that brought about the Tragedy of Sablier."
Elliot draws back a hand to smack Leo across the top of the head, but the damn contract won't let him. He hates how stupid that looks, his hand just hanging there, and whacks it against the wall again instead. "You're an idiot. If you hadn't made that contract I'd have died in that hole. I'm not saying it was right, but I'd have died either way."
He sinks down to the floor, poking at Leo's chest. "Start talking. I'm listening. Just don't blame yourself for my death or I'll disappear again."
You should have never been in that hole in the first place. You shouldn't have been there around me, near me-
"… Jack was obsessed with my predecessor's sister. When she was sent to the Abyss… he lost it, and became set on 'bringing the world to her'… that's what caused the Tragedy of Sablier, and why he tried to make the Abyss swallow up everything." With a sigh, Leo tips his head back, leaning it back into the wall behind him. "The previous Glen tried to stop him. Jack wants to finish his work now… and so I have him held at the bottom of Pandora, sealed within Oz."
Elliot blinks, his eyebrows climbing higher with every word. "That's...pretty different from the story we've always heard." Still, it's better than anything he's heard tonight, and he relaxes down onto his knees. A little smile curls his mouth, and he murmurs, "So you're trying to save the world, huh? Pretty big stuff for someone who says he has nothing to live for."
Leo's mouth twists into a frown. "I was-look, I had no choice, it was for the Baskerville family. They're… it's just something I had to do, all right? It's… my duty, as Duke Baskerville."
Elliot exhales a big breath, twisting around to let his head flop down onto Leo's shoulder. "Okay, but why are you being such a bastard about all of it? Kidnapping girls, beating up my brothers? You weren't acting like you at all."
"Do you have any idea what is at stake here?" Leo heaves a sigh, his frown deepening as he casts Elliot a sidelong glance. "Just because the Baskervilles are trying to make it right doesn't mean anyone believes it. There's no way to really prove it, either, when they won't listen… other than to get things done and let them figure it out that way. Ada has no desire to help us for that reason, though I'm sure that she's the Vessalius key. Vincent is an idiot, and jeopardizing everything just because he has some thing for that woman. Gilbert is just crazy. Sometimes, there's nothing I can do but scream at them until they remember what they're supposed to do."
"I'm not saying they don't deserve a beating," Elliot mutters, thinking of a few he's dealt out himself. "I'm just saying..."
He huffs out a breath, head thunking back against the wall as his arm comes around Leo's shoulder. "Stop being so crazy, huh? And don't lie to me again, I can't protect you if I don't know what I'm trying to protect you from, and who I'm trying to protect you from. Vincent, Gilbert-do I have to worry about them trying to kill you? I mean, obviously I can handle them, but..."
Leo chews at his lower lip, worrying it until he nearly bleeds before slowly leaning into Elliot's side. "… They won't kill me. They both want too much from me. It's not like they really can, anyway…" He sighs, shutting his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just-you weren't going to help us lure Ada out if you knew how she was going to react."
Elliot tightens his arm, somehow feeling as if he can keep Leo safe, even from himself, if he just holds him tight enough. "I'm sorry too. Well, okay, I would be sorry if I'd done what I wanted to and punched you in the face, and I'm kind of sorry I didn't, because I still think you can use it."
"Oz punched me in the face for you, a couple of years ago," Leo tiredly offers, turning his head to the side to finally bury his face into the side of Elliot's neck. "Does that count?"
That sobers Elliot, and he sighs, tightening his arms. He brushes a kiss to the top of Leo's head, smiling into his hair. "As long as you didn't let him do anything else to you for me."
"… Like what?" Leo snorts, curling himself closer as he starts to slowly relax. "I don't even like it when someone helps me get dressed, you know. No one else needs to touch me."
"Except Vincent," Elliot grumbles, suddenly feeling a lot less bad about pointing his sword at his adopted brother earlier. "You're not still letting him dress you, are you? I said you can call me out for that in the mornings, I was always better at the buttons than you."
Leo lifts his head, a sort of flustered irritation washing over his features. "I'm-I never let him dress me, really. The most I let him do was tie things, I-and I'm not calling you out so you can put my clothes on for me, that's just… weird."
"You call me so I can take them off of you," Elliot murmurs, nuzzling into Leo's hair. "Hey...I don't like the idea of Ada being left all alone all night. What do you need from her, exactly? Maybe now that I know what's going on, I can actually help you. Like I could have in the first place, you know."
"Let Vincent wheedle at her, I don't want to look at her right now," Leo mumbles. "We need the chain the Vessalius family stole from us, and she's the only person-thing-whatever-left that could be the key to their gate. She's not going to give in easily. In fact, I wonder if she even knows what she is."
Elliot doesn't want to ask-in fact, it's just about the last thing he wants to do-but he has to, has to get it all out in the open once and for all. "All right, tell me. Whatever it is you don't want her to tell me, get it over with. The bad things I missed, the ones that make Gilbert and Vincent give each other those stupid looks when I say something, I don't want to find out stuff I should already know from Ada Vessalius of all people."
"… You're not allowed to go storming down the hallway and kill people if I tell you," is the warning in response.
"I knew there was something," Elliot mutters, reflecting on how lovely it would have been to be wrong. "Whatever you say, Master. Not like I can when you've got my leash, right?"
You're going to hate me for this. And him, too.
"… Humpty Dumpty mimicked the Headhunter, remember?" Leo wearily begins, straightening a bit and lifting a hand to undo the collar of his jacket, and exhaling slowly at the extra bit of freedom. "But you could never figure out who it was."
"Right, the Queen of Hearts, but...that doesn't matter, right? I'm the one-Humpty Dumpty was the one that killed my family." Everything feels more distant, now that he's a chain. Or maybe he's simply aware of the passage of time, even when he'd been in the Abyss. "Are you saying you know who the real Headhunter was?"
"The Queen of Hearts wasn't the real name of the chain. Its real name is Demios." Leo sighs. "Vincent is its contractor. He killed Fred. After you died, he killed your father… who knew about everything that happened to you, and let it keep happening."
Rather abruptly, Elliot rethinks the fact that he feels some safe distance from the events of the past. The words echo in his head, stripping away what he'd thought he knew, replacing it with things more horrible than he'd ever wanted to consider, and god, he's a Nightray, he's not going to break down about this. He hopes his arms just tighten around Leo, trusting to the power of his binding to keep him from hurting his master when his mind is racing, churning with the idea of Vincent killing his brother, his father, being the Headhunter-
-that his father had known, and not done a thing.
It's a half-hysterical little laugh that comes from his throat, and he's only proud that his eyes are dry. "Maybe it's good, everything that happened. Do you know...I was so proud of my family, once."
He cuts himself off, burying his face into Leo's hair.
For not the first time, Leo is intensely glad that he's never told Elliot anything else about his family, and how they had treated him.
"… I'm sorry." He's not, really-not that they're dead, or that Elliot knows at least a fraction about what his family has done, but he is sorry, at least, that Elliot has to hurt because of it. Frankly, he'd kill them all again just for that crime alone. "All of this happening… it's not your fault, and-you know, the Nightrays, it's still fact that they used to be the closest to the Baskerville family." He's babbling now, and it's stupid. "I'd… like to think, that you, at least, are a good example… of what they're supposed to be like."
Actually, Leo is pretty sure he's awful at this comforting business.
"It doesn't matter anymore."
The statement is true, bleak, and Elliot gives a little shrug of his shoulders, trying to look more unburdened by that than he is. "There are no Nightrays anymore. And everything I thought they were, they were only pretending to be. I..."
He swallows hard, hands clenching, unclenching. "There's something I haven't told you. The reason-the reason Humpty Dumpty-the reason I killed my siblings, and my mother."
God, the shame of it is going to kill him. "I remembered right before I died. They...they were going to kill you, Leo. I'm-I'm so sorry, I don't know why, I don't know what was wrong with them, I never knew I was bringing you into something like this when I took you out of Sablier-"
"I knew-that they wanted me dead, at any rate," Leo quickly amends. And also, what you were bringing me into, but what I did was far worse. He gives a shrug of dismissal. "It doesn't matter. I didn't care what they did, I just… I wanted to stay with you, no matter how selfish that was of me by the end of it."
"At least you made it out." It's not so small a thing to be grateful for, really. "At least I was able to keep you safe while I was alive." He hesitates, and his cheeks are pink when he mutters, "If I...could just leave one thing behind to remember me by, I would have chosen you anyway."
"I think your music would have paid you more homage," Leo mumbles, exhaling a short, faintly self-conscious breath. "Elliot-you don't know the half of what you did for me. Just… don't ever think that any of this is your fault. If I'm not allowed to feel fault for your death, then…"
"But my music is for you. The only songs I ever wrote, I wrote for you."
That flush is back in his cheeks, and he looks away, embarrassed, even though it's far better to feel embarrassed about being a lovesick fool than to think about how his family had been traitors, even to each other, in the end. "I don't know what I'd have done if I didn't have the chain, all right? But...I wouldn't have let them hurt you. I know they were my family, but-"
It hurts, to remember Ernest's smiling face, the way Claude had showed him how to drive a carriage, Fred's hands on his teaching him how to load a pistol, Vanessa's secret laugh when he caught her sneaking her boyfriend into her room, his mother's cool hand on his forehead when he was sick.
Now, his hand tightens on Leo's, fumbling for it and squeezing. "You're the family I chose."
"… I'm really sorry."
Leo's never been that much of a crier before all of this mess started two years ago. Now, his eyes hurt as he squints, blinks hard to keep back tears, and his throat is already tight and sore as his fingers squeeze hard back around Elliot's. "I'm a pretty awful replacement, you know; and-you having to come back to all of this, me lying to you and hiding things from you, j-just like they did-I'm really… not much better…"
Elliot tilts Leo's face up, meeting his eyes, brushing away his tears. "Shut up, would you? I came back from the dead to protect you. I don't do that for just anyone, so if you respect my judgment, you must really be something special."
"You're stupid," Leo whispers, even as he sniffles and leans his face into Elliot's touch, nuzzling into the palm of his hand. "Really stupid. It's why you didn't get into Lutwidge the first time. Having a street kid tutor you, what wires are crossed in your head?"
A spark of that old rebellion flares in Elliot, even if it's a lot more fond, less angry. "Yeah, well, what kind of Duke only comes up to his servant's shoulder, huh? How do you even get around on those little legs?"
Leo scowls, though it comes out as more of a pout, with the way his lower lip juts. "Our leg length isn't that much different! It's not my fault you have shoulders like that."
Elliot demonstrates some of the size difference by simply picking Leo up and plopping him down in his lap. "It's good," he murmurs, nuzzling at Leo's hair from the perfect vantage point. "This way you fit right here, and I can protect you all the better if you're in my arms."
"… Real Nightrays are supposed to be tall, anyway," Leo agrees, sinking back into Elliot hold with a quiet, pleased sound. "This way-" I can stand behind you, and not have to deal with people as much. Why can't I go back to hiding in libraries? "… is a lot better."
"Perfect. I can protect you better this way than I could in life, anyway." Elliot pauses, then adds, "Thank you, by the way. For bringing me back like this. I'm glad you didn't make me into some kind of ferocious monster like Jabberwock. Then it would have been really awkward to do this."
He leans down, brushing a soft kiss over Leo's lips.
Leo makes a face, deliberately biting Elliot's lower lip before he pulls away. "The other option was a cat. You know, like a house cat? Or maybe just a kitten, then I could roll you over and play with your paws and you couldn't do anything about it."
Elliot's face is a study in aghast disbelief, flinching back at the idea. "You're a very cruel master. If anyone's a cat, it's you, all claws and teeth and slyness and always pretending not to like anyone."
The expression Leo casts up at him is nothing but innocence. "The last part is a lie, at least. I only like you."
"Good. I don't like sharing." Elliot gives Leo's ear a sharp nip with his teeth, then tugs on it. "But if you want to go take a little rest, you're welcome to claw me as much as you want."
"Masochist," Leo sighs out, the word nearly a purr as he wriggles forward, arching an eyebrow. "It doesn't seem seemly, though, to scratch you up when you're wearing all this white. What if it bled through?"
"Don't worry, master, that's easily enough solved." Elliot traces a hand through Leo's hair, down to his neck to tug on the end of his tie. "I can always take my clothes off. You know, if it'll be more seemly for you."
"But that also takes effort." Leo's tongue sticks out a bit in concentration as his fingers absently toy with Elliot's lapels, methodically unfastening his coat. "Perhaps I'll just have to be careful with how much I claw into you."
Elliot's hands come up to close over Leo's, holding them still for a moment. "Before...just before, is there anything else? Anything you want to tell me that you never could? I don't want any more secrets, so when we're done, let's be done, all right?"
Ugh.
If there's any good way to turn him off in an instant, it's thinking about that, no matter how Leo struggles to keep the reaction at bay and how he tries to keep his mind from going there. "There's nothing else." Hopefully, Elliot can't tell how he's lying through his teeth.
Elliot grimaces to himself at how obvious Leo is, voice gone flat, body tensing, all desire in him suddenly quelled. He frowns, twisting around so he can meet those dark, intriguing eyes, asking softly, "Is it something I did? Is it too late to fix?"
The urge to roll his eyes is too great to resist. "Elliot, you've never done anything. I… look, there's nothing," Leo dismisses, wriggling himself away to climb to his feet. "Forget it, okay? It's late, and I'm just tired."
Ugh, he's done it again, hit on The Thing that they don't talk about, have never talked about. He sighs, following Leo to his feet, adjusting his clothes back into place just in case they run into his adoptive brothers on their way back to Leo's chambers. "Someday," he says slowly, trying to sound as un-demanding as possible, "you're going to tell me. I've believed that since the first time I wondered who he was, and if you really loved him."
Leo tries not to gag. "It's not a he nor does it involve love at all," he mutters, damned near kicking the door open to walk inside. "It isn't anything."
Elliot catches the door before it can back against the walls and back at them, striding easily after his master with the grace of long limbs. "Yeah, if you say so. I've been waiting for years, I can keep waiting." We both know about all the stuff you couldn't have learned from your precious books, but that you never, ever told me about, or anyone as far as I could tell. "Someday's good enough for me."
God, but he's tired of this. "Everything always has to be so romantic to you," Leo exasperatedly tosses over his shoulder, yanking at the buttons and fastenings of his own jacket before throwing it over the nearest chair. "Here's a starting point. Do you know how street kids make money?"
Elliot's chest tightens, and he reaches out, grabbing Leo's shoulder and spinning him back around. "Hey," he growls, so close to him that he can feel Leo's breath on his face, "you told me years ago that you'd tell me if anyone hurt you."
"Glad to know you aren't so naive, though I'm guessing it's because I have a half-way decent looking face, which sort of seals the deal," Leo mildly retorts, lifting a hand to gently push Elliot's hand away. "That was before I met you. There's no point in talking about it. At least I kept food on the proverbial table, and no one really hurt me." Not then, at least.
Elliot falls silent. It's the kind of thing he's heard about a hundred times, either from casual remarks from his brothers or in books, but that doesn't make it any less startling. Different times, memories, play themselves out in his head, reminding him far too much of what he'd believed he was saving Leo from, his violent rages, his reluctance to be picked up by a noble...
Ah.
He swallows hard, wishing his new clothing had pockets that he could jam his hands into. "Is that what you thought I was? When we met?"
"… At first," Leo allows, his tone wry. "You proved me wrong after awhile. It was sort of refreshing."
"What do you mean, after a while? I'm not the one who-I mean-you came on to me, you know." It casts their first meeting into a whole other light, the way Leo had snapped at him, avoided him, and snarled at anyone who got close, tried to cut his hair, or touched him, and that makes his heart sink. If there was one thing he'd thought inviolate, it was the memories he'd had of Leo, the ones they'd made together. "I didn't-when we first-were you afraid of me?"
"I've never been afraid of you, Elliot." He sighs, reaching out a hand to gently catch Elliot by the front of his coat, tugging him in close. "Annoyed, but not afraid. Mostly, I wanted you to leave me alone… but in the end, I'm glad you didn't."
Elliot's arms come around Leo as if on reflex, hand fisting in that soft dark hair, holding him tightly enough as if he could erase all the things that had happened even before they'd met. "Good. And now you don't really have a choice. I can't leave you alone, and it's your own fault for summoning me."
"… I'm okay with this, actually," Leo murmurs, sagging forward to nuzzle into Elliot's arms. "You make an awfully good pillow, at least. I'll keep you around for that, if nothing else." Thank god you're not asking about anything else.
Elliot chuckles, tightening his grip, placing soft kisses on Leo's hair. "Only you would summon a chain for the purpose of sleeping on him, Master. Then again, I can't really see you doing that for the black-winged ones, so I suppose that's just as well."
He hesitates, so tempted to just pretend that this is all, that Leo really is the sort of person to tell anyone, even Elliot, everything he's hiding. In the end, he sighs. It probably won't help, anyway. And if anyone else ever hurts him... "At least I can show you that not all nobles are...well, you know. Not that I suppose I'm a noble anymore."
"You're a noble, trust me," Leo laughs, giving him a light shove back towards the bed. "Even as a chain, you're a noble. It's in the way you hold yourself, you know; you're… prissy."
Elliot sprawls backwards, raising up on his elbows to glower, though with the way Leo's looking at him, he rather doubts it comes across as anything other than hungry. "I thought you'd be more interested in how I hold you rather than myself. And wouldn't a prissy noble object to the kinds of things a pervert like you enjoys?"
"Nobles are all the same," is Leo's airy response, and only a moment later he's on the bed, legs swung to either side of Elliot's hips. "You're all repressed perverts yourself. It's even better if you're prissy; you just like it when I mess you up a bit more."
"You seem to know an awful lot about what nobles are like in bed," Elliot challenges, grinding his hips up against Leo's, feeling himself start to harden under the contact. "For someone who talks so big, you sure always seem to like it when I'm the one messing you up." One of his hands trails down Leo's chest, belly, and rubs down between his legs, cupping and squeezing. "Are you going to mess me up this time, master?"
"You do seem to be fond of the idea," Leo sighs out as he leans down, his hips canting forward into Elliot's touch as he nuzzles into the side of the other man's neck, nipping, gently sucking. "Just what would you think… of being leashed up to this bed, collared like a proper pet?"
What little shreds are left of Elliot's old pride make him flush indignantly, stammering even as his hips twitch, cock grinding hard against Leo's ass, as he leans into the touches of his mouth, and he groans, hands sliding down to pluck at the hem of Leo's shirt. "If...if my master wants to chain me..."
Leo sighs as he arches his back, deliberately grinding down against the hard line of Elliot's cock, rubbing his ass along every inch of it. "Look at you, you're already wound up like this." And then, with a little hum, Leo pointedly wriggles his way away, rolling to the side to rummage beneath a pillow. "I kept that leash of yours here somewhere… ah, here we go. Scoot up towards the headboard," he idly orders, twirling the leather about his fingers. "I'll take good care of you."
"You always do." Elliot scrambles to do as he's told, tossing his jacket to the side as he scoots upward, trying not to look quite as eager as he feels. It's too good to see that light in Leo's eyes after the night they've had, and the sweet curve of his ass doesn't hurt the way he feels either. He submits his neck, holding Leo's eyes, willing him to realize what this means for him. "You'll let me take care of you too?"
"… You won't have it any other way, will you?" Leo murmurs, slender fingers ghosting along the elegant stretch of Elliot's neck before the collar buckles into place, and the leash quickly follows, looped up and through a notch in the headboard. A long, lean leg is promptly thrown over Elliot's chest, and Leo reaches down, a hand dragging its way through Elliot's hair. "I'm sure I can think of a few ways for you to properly take care of me."
Elliot lets his mouth spread in a slow smile, rubbing his head against Leo's slender fingers. "It's my duty to care for my master," he murmurs, and god, he's so hard now it hurts. It's rare that Leo gets so demanding like this, but not unheard-of, and he's never walked away from the experience feeling less that totally, completely sated. His chest heaves, hands coming up to rub up and down Leo's back, pulling him closer, if anything. "Command me, master."
As if Leo could do anything but when Elliot is being so damnably obedient, and so very eager about it, to boot. Leo swallows thickly, his hands dragging away to pry open the fly of his own trousers, his own cock so hard that it hurts pulling himself free. "Open your mouth," he rasps, scooting forward a bit more, his other hand cupping Elliot's jaw and his thumb dragging over his lower lip. Leo's teeth sink into his own lip as his hips jerk involuntarily within his hand, his thumb rubbing over a bead of precome-all because of how soft Elliot's lips are, because of how he can imagine how it'll feel to have them wrapped around his cock. "When you look like this… you're asking for it, you know."
There's no stopping the flush of shame-that he, a noble, a Nightray, is letting a lowly-born servant talk to him like this, order him around, straddle his chest and rub his sticky cock against his lips-
Elliot can't help flicking his tongue out to taste, groaning low in his throat as he does, and god, it's been years. He nods shortly, whispering, "I know," before straining up against the collar and Leo's hand, sliding his lips over the head of Leo's cock, dragging his tongue over the tip. He can still remember the first time he'd done this, how humiliated he was, how that had only made him harder, and god, it's no different now.
God, but Leo can't help but groan, his knees setting themselves further up for leverage as he leans forward, one hand loosely fisting against the headboard. Elliot's mouth is slick, hot around him, and his breath escapes as a hot, ragged little exhale as his hips jerk forward on their own accord, sliding further down over Elliot's tongue. "You really… like this, don't you? I bet you just want to grab me right now, shove me in as deep as I can go."
Elliot does. He wants that, wants his mouth to be full of nothing but Leo, tasting him, feeling his lips stretch wide around him, feeling him slide across his tongue to the back of his throat, and he can't help but moan around the cock in his mouth, straining to lean up, to take more, even though he knows he's still awful at this and still gags, unlike Leo. Regardless, his hands slide down to grab Leo's ass, pulling him forward, dragging him closer as Elliot licks and sucks, looking up into his master's eyes with needy, pleading noises.
"Good," Leo hears himself gasp, far before he realizes he's fisting one hand into Elliot's hair, the other against the headboard for leverage as he follows Elliot's pull with a jerk of his hips, pressing his cock as deeply down Elliot's throat as he can. It's obscene, actually, how good it feels when Elliot chokes and gags, just enough that his throat tightens around his cock, that his tongue pushes up against him, and Leo shudders, shoving forward again, fucking Elliot's mouth with short, demanding snaps of his hips. "Some noble you are," he pants out. "Reduced to this-nothing but a whore for your servant's cock."
Elliot's whole body shudders at the words, cruel, demeaning, and he nearly spills himself at the sound of them alone. Tears run down his cheeks, a reflex from the way Leo's fucking his mouth, driving hard and fast into his throat as Elliot tries to make it good, tries to take care of his master as he'd said he would, tries to keep his tongue moving when all he can focus on is the sinful, degrading way he's playing the harlot.
His hand tightens, pulling Leo even closer, other hand stealing down between his legs, and the touch is so necessary, so needed when he's so hard that it's all it takes, a strangled cry forcing its way out of his mouth around Leo's cock as he comes with the barest touch, still in his trousers.
"Now that," is the panting, breathless purr that slides from Leo's lips as he pulls back, his cock so desperately, achingly hard that it's torture to do so, "was rather uncalled for." His fingers drag over the length of his cock, swift and almost too-rough, enough to make him suck in a harsh breath, his eyes briefly fluttering. "You should have known better-Elliot-god-"
That's all it takes for him to come, spilling over Elliot's cheeks, dripping down to his lips as Leo strokes himself throughout, chest heaving as he sags forward, his nails scratching into the headboard for purchase. "I'd say… this was punishment," he pants out, "but you probably get off on this, too."
Elliot lets out a soft moan, straining against the collar to lean up, trying to drag his tongue against the dripping head of Leo's cock, flicking it against his lips, hungry for a taste. He knows his face must be stained red under the mess Leo's left on him, and his hips twitch up against his hand just at the thought of it. "I..." He groans, helpless, letting his eyes close as his head falls back, still shuddering. "I'm sorry, master."
"You're really a mess," Leo sighs at him as he slowly catches his own breath, pushing back in order to lean down, licking a hot stripe up one stained, messy cheek. "If you hadn't come all over yourself like that, maybe you could have come inside me. I know how much you like that-having me wiggle my way down your cock, your hands grabbing me, pulling me down-"
"I thought you wanted to mess me up." The words come out as hardly more than a whisper, even as Elliot leans up, trying to catch Leo for a kiss, another taste. "But the day I can't get hard to satisfy you, I won't belong in your bed."
He grinds his hand down over himself, hips rolling slowly even at the idea of what they've done, at how good it is still. He's a mess, he's sure, and the thought makes him as ashamed as it does aroused, though... "It's easier, now," he confesses quietly. "I can't bring honor to my family anyway. I really am...just here for you to use," he ends on a low moan, hips jutting up against his hand. "Master."
Just there for him to use-god, when has Leo ever had someone like that? The thought makes his own cock twitch, his own body move quickly, squirming free of clinging clothing, all before twisting around, smacking Elliot's hand away and fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers. "Grab the oil, then; it's just under the pillow to your right," he nearly pants out, no matter how he tries to keep his voice low, calm, far more in control than he feels when all his mind can think about is Elliot, and how good he always feels inside of him.
Elliot does as he's told, fumbling under the pillow with a wet hand, handing the bottle up as an offering. "Gonna need more soon," he observes, noting the little splash of liquid in the bottom. "You should-send Vincent out to get it."
God, it's not going to take him long to be of use to Leo again, not like this, with Leo wriggling around on top of him, pulling out his half-hard, sticky cock. His legs spread, and his other hand goes to Leo's ass, squeezing, stroking, wondering how the hell he got lucky enough to come back to this.
"You think he'd actually feel shame in that?" Leo breathlessly laughs, grabbing for the bottle, his hand slick and dripping by the time it reaches back and bats Elliot's away. He groans at the feel of Elliot's cock in his grasp, hard and jerking up into his touch as he drags his oil-slick palm up the length of it, squeezing and stroking. "Look how hard you already are," he taunts, arching his back, rubbing his ass up and down Elliot's cock. "You want to be inside of me that badly?"
"Yes, god, yes," Elliot groans, hips jutting up to rub his cock along all the skin he can reach. There's no such thing as control, as manners, when he's this ready, this hungry for Leo, and if it weren't for the collar lashing him to the headboard, he'd already have dumped Leo on the bed and flipped him over. "Let me, please, I need-" He swallows hard, the words sticking in his throat, hands shaking as they reach up to Leo's hips.
"Say it," Leo pants out, his fingers wrapping tightly around Elliot's cock as he wriggles back, letting the head press against him, rubbing against his hole. "T-tell me-god-" A moan wrings its way from Leo's throat as the head of Elliot's cock pops inside, stretching him that wide already, making his thighs tremble and his entire body ache from the urge to just sink down every slick inch of him. "Tell me what you n-need-"
Every last bit of control Elliot's ever had over himself goes to behaving now, to not just thrusting up into the tight heat engulfing the head of his cock, to not use his hands and simply yank Leo down until he's flush against the smaller man's body. Honestly, it feels so beyond anything he's capable of it might well be Leo's will stopping him, rather than any willpower of his own. His breath hitches, hands gripping Leo's hips so tightly they'll leave ten perfect bruises, and he can barely choke out the words, "P-please, master, I need to-I need to be inside you, I can't-please!" I'm going to die.
It's to the point that even Leo isn't sure he could have stopped himself, even if Elliot had refused to beg and plead, because god does it feel good when he finally gives in, sinking down with a broken, desperate groan, lips parted as he pants towards the ceiling as every hard, thick inch of Elliot fills him, stretches him wide and leaves him simply trembling atop him for a moment, too full to even think.
"God-god, Elliot, I-" Leo's voice breaks on a little whine as he moves, his body sagging forward as his hands plant atop Elliot's chest. He bites his lip as he arches up, thighs trembling from the strain, his own cock so distractingly hard as he leaks over Elliot's stomach. "Wish you could… see how it looks," he pants out, grabbing hold of one of Elliot's hands as he squirms his way down the man's cock. "Instead, just-" Insistently, Leo guides Elliot's hand to where they're connected, the obscene stretch of his hole around him, the way it spreads Leo so wide that it hurts. "Feel it."
Elliot's mouth falls open, groaning deep in his throat as his cock jumps under his own touch, full and thick and stretching Leo wide. His fingertips ghost over the hot slick ring spread around him, and he has to bite his lip hard so he doesn't embarrass himself by finishing already, god, his stamina is nothing tonight, always the case whenever Leo takes control like this. "You're so full," he whispers, fingers pressing, wiggling against that stretch, one of them worming its way inside along with his cock, just to hear his master squeal.
It's already tight, already on the verge of pain it's so good, and Elliot's hips roll up with every breath he takes meeting Leo's slide downward, wriggling another finger inside him where he's already so, so full. His eyes flick up to Leo's, catching sight of that same lust, that same loss, that same need that's in his own, and all he can do is strain against the collar, trying always, always for more. "L-Leo..."
It's too much.
Far too much, and for a moment, all Leo can manage is a high, desperate little noise, somewhere around a keen and a whine as he arches his back, rocking down against Elliot's cock, Elliot's fingers, all stretching him so wide that he can't breathe, can barely even keep himself together as tears prick into his eyes with each slick, heated slide, muscles drawn so tight that he can feel every throb and twitch of Elliot's cock inside of him. "Want to feel you come inside me this time," he groans, his hips shoving down harder, eyes rolling into the back of his head as it strikes just right, and leaves him tense, quivering, clawing against Elliot's chest as he writhes. "Please, please, please-"
The realization hits that it has been Leo's will holding Elliot on, keeping him sane, because the second he has that precious permission he's lost, hips snapping up so hard he has to move his hand, bringing it to Leo's other hip, using it as yet more leverage to get deeper, farther, to take him harder, burying himself until he can't even think.
He lunges up, straining so hard against the leash that it cuts off his air, but that's a problem for later when he's so deep, coming so hard he sees white spots in front of his eyes, slamming in so hard he knows he has to be hurting Leo, so far gone he knows he can't even stop, and it's with a mindless, pathetic groan that he collapses back to the bed, twitching, boneless, gasping huge breaths of long-overdue air.
It does hurt, and Leo loves it.
Everything aches and stings and feels overused, overworked, every single muscle in his own body a useless, trembling mess as he feels Elliot inside him, slick and hot and so deep. It takes little more than that-the sensation of Elliot spilling inside of him, leaving him used and full of him, and Leo comes with a shuddering, desperate groan, spilling himself over Elliot's stomach and chest without a single touch to his own cock, his own body sagging down and barely kept upright by uselessly shaking arms.
Elliot's breath huffs out into the silence as his arms come up, steadying Leo, gathering him close to his chest and burying his face in that soft dark hair. "I hope," he says raggedly, voice hoarse, "I was...some use to you, master."
"God, when aren't you?" Leo groans out, somehow having the presence of mind to reach up and unbuckle Elliot's collar before fully collapsing into his chest with a tremulous sigh. "Stop being so perfect, it hurts."
Elliot uses his new gasp of breath to laugh, arms tightening around Leo, and god, he can't stop laughing. It's probably the first time he has since coming back from the Abyss, and damned if it doesn't feel good. "If anything hurts, I doubt it's something stupid like that."
"More like every inch of me," is the agreement on a sigh, and Leo grimaces as he slowly wriggles his way off of Elliot's cock, settling more comfortably no matter how sticky and sweat-drenched he feels. "I'm keeping you," he sleepily declares.
Elliot turns his head, pressing a kiss to Leo's eyebrow, then his cheek. "Good. Because you don't have a choice."