Two Bloodline chapters in two weeks? What year is it?! It helped that this was almost entirely finished since it was originally intended to be the final scene of the previous chapter. But I ended up having to choose between editing the length, or splitting this part off entirely to allow Mika and Kurda their moment. Which was a pretty obvious choice. I love how many characters have been pulled into this plotline, but it's still Mika and Kurda's story. And I didn't invest 3 years into a slowburn just to make them share the spotlight when it counts. This is their turn and we're going to let them have it.
TLDR if you don't like happiness then this one is not for you.
Also - I think it's obvious because I do this for every chapter but it's extra important to this one - every lyric insert implies a POV switch.
Chapter 34: I Woke Up Just In Time (Now I Wake Up By Your Side)
Song: Dress by Taylor Swift
Our secret moments in a crowded room
They got no idea about me and you
There is an indentation in the shape of you
Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo
Kurda would've died before admitting it out loud after how hard he worked for it, but he'd hated that his initial reunion with Mika had been set to the soundtrack of a shouting crowd in the Hall of Princes. He'd hated having to share that moment with the same spectators who'd once shouted for his death — in the same damn room to boot. It was all well and good they were shouting his praises these days, but truth be told he wished they'd just shut up.
And then he'd tell himself to quit thinking like that. He knew damn well he had no business taking any of the good publicity for granted.
But here in the silence and shelter afforded by this private corridor, Kurda couldn't help but cling to Mika a little tighter and far longer than the first time. Had it only been two hugs ago that he'd said goodbye to a haunted shell of him, knowing the worst of his battle scars weren't the ones etched into his skin? The heavy toll of the war had lingered in dark shadows under glazed eyes, framed by sunken cheekbones and perpetually clenched jaws.
Now, as Kurda pulled back from the embrace just far enough to get a good look at Mika's face, the only shadow he could see was a crisp stubble that seemed more intentional than neglected. His hair appeared recently trimmed, but as always a few rebellious strands of jet-black fell around his forehead. Even his body had filled out in their time apart. Kurda could see it in his face and feel it in his frame as they stood tangled up in each other. Mika was as muscular as ever, but Kurda noted a subtle roundness to his shoulders that implied the establishment of a healthier balance between time spent in the sporting and dining halls.
But above all else, time had restored the steely glint to his eyes. Five years at ease had reunited Mika with the million tiny, beautiful things that conspired to make him the force of nature he was.
"Peace looks good on you." Kurda said simply.
Mika rolled his eyes half-heartedly, but his smile didn't falter.
"Leave it to you to find the kindest possible way to tell me you told me so."
"I mean it. It's great to see you, Mika."
"Is it? Imagine how it is seeing you."
Kurda shook his head in fond exasperation. For someone so overtly cocksure in every other department, Mika sure was quick to disparage himself. That much would never change.
"I'm surprised they let you out of the Hall of Princes this close to the Festival." Kurda remarked. What he meant was, I'm surprised you voluntarily left the Hall of Princes this close to the Festival. But he didn't have to say that. Mika had always been one to read between the lines.
"I think we got all the important matters handled. I would've left regardless, though. Vancha owes me about a decade of Hall time. Between him and Arrow, they can manage whatever's left. I have a date." Said Mika with a shrug — a seemingly careless gesture that spoke volumes to Kurda.
"Wow. Must be a big date. Where's he taking you?"
"He asked me out. Shouldn't he know?"
Kurda walked through the doorway into Mika's room, pointedly bumping his shoulder into Mika's as he passed by and shooting him a sly grin.
"How about the most exclusive spot in the whole mountain?"
Mika smiled in acceptance and followed Kurda back into his own bedroom. It looked almost exactly the same as ever. Same rich mahogany furnishings. Same desk, appearing bigger than usual because Kurda didn't think he'd ever seen it empty of paperwork til now. Same antique weaponry mounted along the walls. Same liquor shelf. Same gigantic coffin stuffed with neatly-folded blankets and thick pillows. Even the same black leather jacket draped over the same desk chair.
"Look. I put my flower in a vase." Mika pointed out. Sure enough, the twig he'd plucked from Kurda's hair was propped up in a shot glass that sat in the corner of Mika's liquor shelf. Kurda's heart lurched.
It wasn't lost on Kurda that the room was literally spotless. There wasn't a trace of dust in sight. Which is worth noting because even though Mika is tidier than the majority, this is still Vampire Mountain and things only get so clean unless you really commit and put in the work. Even the crackling fireplace appeared to have been recently stoked. Make of that what you will. That's what Kurda's doing.
He smiled as he looked around the familiar space. Then he hoisted himself up onto Mika's desk in one fluid movement, just as he'd done hundreds if not thousands of times before. Their first truce had been established — quietly and reluctantly — on this desk while their baby napped in the next room. Their story started on this desk.
"Yeah, make yourself at home. My desk is your seat. It's still your world and I still just live in it." Said Mika sardonically. But either the affectionate glimmer in his eye was too bright to hide, or he wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.
"All these years and you still haven't bothered to get a second chair?" Kurda shot back. "At this point it's on you."
"What would I do with a second chair?" Mika protested as he slid onto the desk beside Kurda. He still smelled like cedarwood.
"You don't go on many dates, do you?" Said Kurda.
"I don't go on any dates."
"Fair enough. I suppose your career is fairly demanding."
"Yeah. That's why." Said Mika, with a soft snort of derision. "So, what's for dinner?"
Kurda didn't skip a beat. He reached down to the middle drawer on the left side of Mika's desk and slid it open to reveal exactly what he expected: the same selection of desk snacks Mika had been keeping handy for as long as he'd had the desk.
"We'll start with a gourmet appetizer, obviously —" said Kurda.
"Obviously." Mika echoed, the ghost of a smirk in his eyes.
"Tonight's appetizer is the Kitchen Master's finest biscuits." Kurda continued, affecting a tone of sarcastic pompousness. "Then we'll move on to the main course of the night… strips of hand-seasoned beef jerky with a side of organic cashews which I have to assume are mostly stale, because you like the idea of them but every time you eat them you remember you don't actually like them —"
"I don't dislike them!" Mika cut in with disproportionate indignation. "I just… don't like them that much. What are we drinking?"
It took everything in Kurda not to laugh. He decided to let the cashew debate slide and squinted long and hard at Mika's liquor shelf, but it didn't take long to pick a winner.
"Most definitely the 1898 ice wine."
"About time. That's been taking up space on my shelf for almost thirteen years." Mika replied. A strange look passed through his face. It was fleeting but Kurda's stomach clenched as it hit him. While he hadn't known the bottle existed til this moment, there was no doubt in his mind Mika had gotten it specifically for the investiture that never was.
Kurda forced a smile but he knew Mika knew he'd pieced that together. Kurda could see it in his eyes.
"So… tell me a bit about yourself. What do you like to do in your spare time?" Kurda asked pointedly, trying to draw Mika back into the invisible bubble they were mutually fabricating here, where this was a first date. A fresh start. The fresh start.
Mika dutifully played along. "I stay busy, but I like to find meaningful ways to occupy the few hours I don't spend at work. I enjoy practicing swordsmanship and keeping my mind sharp by playing strategy games with my best friend Arrow."
"Don't you ever get tired of Checkers and Go Fish?" Kurda blurted out, momentarily forgetting himself.
Even the gentlest jab at Arrow's mental faculties was all it took for Mika to break character too, and he did so with unapologetic indignation.
"Hey. Weren't you there earlier when I said I taught him to play Chess? He's gotten really good!"
Kurda grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, trying not to laugh. "Yes. I do remember that. Sorry. I'll have to invite him to play sometime."
"Please do. Go easy on him, though." Said Mika. "We're working on his confidence. Anyway, where were we?"
"You were just about to ask me what I like to do in my spare time."
"Right. Sorry. What do you like to do in your spare time?"
"Well, I haven't had much spare time lately. Had a lot going on with work. But I've always had a passion for cartography. All kinds of drawing, really. I'm hoping to get back into it once things settle down." Kurda explained. He paused, waiting for the inevitable commentary on how excruciatingly dull that all sounded.
To his surprise, Mika appeared riveted.
"Fuck, that reminds me. Tunnel 2C needs a renovation. Badly. But the head foreman died in the war, and the new guy isn't experienced enough to oversee a project like that. And obviously no one can draw a blueprint like you. So the whole thing's been at a standstill for almost three years." Mika recalled with a grimace-grin, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "…I really hate to ask right now, but do you think you can put that on your to-do list once the Festival is over?"
"You're the boss." Kurda declared with a snort of amusement. He gently patted Mika's thigh as they sat there side-by-side.
They both snickered for several moments longer. Then there was silence. Kurda regathered himself, preparing to step back into the character he was weaving on the fly. Why did that suddenly feel so difficult? He'd just spent twelve years consumed with guilt and yearning for a fresh start. Now he had one served to him on a silver platter.
But these characters they were playing were just that. Characters. Sure, they went by the same names and affected the same mannerisms. But these flimsy renderings of themselves had no idea what it took to get to this place.
You're looking at it far too literally, Kurda told himself. Of course they already knew each other. This perfunctory preamble was just…
Honestly? It was a colossal waste of time. There was no way around it. And they'd already lost too much time.
"Oh. Before we get into the appetizers I should probably warn you I have a kid. Hope that's not a dealbreaker for you." Mika contributed. Gods bless him, he was playing his part like there was an Oscar on the line. The little overachiever.
"What a coincidence! So do I." Kurda couldn't help but laugh as he said it. Because it's funny when you say it like that. The punchline is that they're talking about the same kid. Comedy gold.
Yet Kurda couldn't sustain the laughter. He let it die in his throat. There was nothing funny about this. It was all wrong. And he'd had enough acting for an eternity.
"Mika?"
"Yeah?"
"I can't do this."
Mika took a steadying breath and nodded. But even the world's toughest poker face couldn't take that hit without damage. He looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach.
"It's okay." Mika whispered, the words as jagged as they were genuine. "I understand. We don't have to —"
"No! I mean I can't sit here and play pretend!" Kurda cut him off. "Why would we want to wipe the slate? It made us who we are! It gave us our daughter! I don't want to start over! I want to keep going!"
Kurda let those words hang there in the ringing silence while Mika white-knuckled the edge of the desk. He looked like he was steeling himself for battle. But when he turned to face Kurda, something had shifted. His eyes said it all. Gods, his eyes. He hid everything behind those twin walls of steel.
"What are you saying, Kurda?"
"I'm saying I'm ready." Kurda could barely hear himself speak over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.
"Are you sure?" Mika whispered. "You know exactly how I feel. That's never been a secret. I just… I need you to be sure. I'm good now. But I… I won't survive losing you a second time."
The walls were cracking now. And Kurda could see how desperately Mika wanted to let them fall. Kurda held his gaze firmly. Let me in. Please let me in.
"Everything we've been through has only made me more sure. It's still you. It's always been you." Even as the words passed his lips Kurda hoped to the gods he hadn't pushed too far, too soon.
Mika's voice was so low and strained Kurda could barely catch the singular word he uttered. The tenacious, almost childlike hope in his eyes spoke far louder:
"Really?"
That simple word marked the end of the storm. The crumbling of the wall. Had there been anyone else in the room with them, they wouldn't have to scratch their heads and wonder why, of all potential terms of endearment, Mika was Kurda's Sunshine.
Kurda let his ragged heart take the lead, and let fly the words he'd been holding back for an eternity:
"I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it! I'm not giving up on you. You can let yourself fall now. I'll catch you. I promise I'll catch you! I love you, Mika!"
All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation
My hands are shaking from holding back from you
Ha, ah, ah
All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting
My hands are shaking from all this
Ah, ha, ha, ha-ah
"I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it! I'm not giving up on you. You can let yourself fall now. I'll catch you. I promise I'll catch you! I love you, Mika!"
Mika's world went still. Completely silent outside the blood rushing in his ears.
He'd invested so much time and effort into protecting his fragile heart. He'd prepared for every possible outcome upon Kurda's return. The one where they stayed friends. The one where they hooked up in secret. The one where they flirted awkwardly and traded loaded glances for the rest of their lives. The one where they both left each other in the past and moved on with other people because no sane person would try again after all that. And everything combination of the above. Everything in between. And so on, and so forth. There were a million different ways this reunion could go and Mika had proactively considered all of them.
Except for the one where it was still this easy.
No more. No fear. No doubt. Never again. You're safe now.
Kurda was staring back at him, eyes wild and face flushed. Mika hadn't meant to leave him in excruciating suspense. The words rolled off Mika's tongue as effortlessly as the instinct that told him to reach out and brush a strand of platinum off Kurda's forehead as he gave his answer —
"I love you, Kurda. I loved you then. I love you now. It's always going to be you. It's only ever been you."
He didn't bother waiting for Kurda to process that. He drove his point home with a slow, heady kiss. The moment of contact set alight fireworks beneath his skin.
Kurda reciprocated with every bit the euphoric intensity that radiated from Mika's body. And at long, long last, they let all of it fade to black knowing they weren't beholden to a damn soul on earth. Knowing they'd earned this. They were free. Nothing else mattered. Not the other Princes. Not the Elders. Not the Generals. And not the godsforsaken court of public opinion. Even Gracie was happily, obliviously occupied in the farthest corner of the mountain.
It was just them.
Mika never wanted it to end, but the need for oxygen drove a wedge between them when he could deny his lungs no longer. Their lips parted ways just enough to allow for several shallow breaths.
"You… you're good with this? I know it's soon." Kurda panted, red-faced and starry-eyed as his fingertips found their way into Mika's. "We can take it slow if you —"
Mika shook his head. "I'm all in. I knew I was ready the moment I saw you. Fuck, Kurda… I…" For a moment his voice trailed off and he squeezed Kurda's hand, letting that simple intimacy fill the void til he managed to add with a shaky laugh — "I just can't believe you're still into me. You're more out of my league than ever, you know that?"
"Pfft. Whatever you say, Sire." Kurda snorted, lacing the word with every bit of sarcasm as he used to do so long ago. On this very desk.
"I vividly remember you telling me they'll let anyone sit in those chairs." Mika shot back without missing a beat. "Phoenix Lord, on the other hand —"
"Mika Ver Leth, I swear to the gods if you ever call me Phoenix Lord in public, I'll kill you." Kurda interrupted, all else momentarily forgotten. "We are not letting that catch on. Do you hear me?"
Suddenly Mika was laughing so hard he almost fell off the desk. And as good as that felt, it felt even better to hear Kurda laughing just as hard or harder.
"You'll do what now? Do you hear yourself?" Mika managed to choke out. "You're still the world's shittiest pacifist. How did you even get this far?!"
Kurda was still so paralyzed by laughter that Mika wouldn't have understood the words he spluttered out, had they not been the very same three words that walked so I love you could run —
"You're the worst!"
Mika didn't think he could love Kurda more than he did right now. And he couldn't wait to prove himself wrong.
He slid off the desk and onto his feet, straddling Kurda's legs. Ha leaned into the desk with one arm to stabilize himself while his other arm kept Kurda as upright as could be expected with the force of the kiss. Kurda gasped as Mika's hand made contact with his lower back. The soft, sensitive skin there was one of Kurda's weak points — Mika hadn't forgotten.
Kurda reached around Mika's waist to grab the hem of his shirt, seemingly with the goal of pulling it up, over, and off in one swift motion. The angle complicated the execution, but Mika obligated Kurda's earnest efforts and finished the job for him —
Kurda froze, eyes fixed on the left side of Mika's exposed chest.
Fuck. The scar.
The damn thing had become so commonplace to Mika, he'd forgotten how awful it actually was. He sighed and let the shirt fall to the floor. Kurda wasn't vain enough to flinch at some cosmetic damage. It was the memories twisted up in that cord of tissue that had disarmed him.
"It looks worse than it is." Mika said quietly.
"Gods, Mika. I… I knew it was bad." Kurda croaked. "I saw the original wound at the time. I just…"
"It doesn't hurt anymore." Mika touched Kurda's chin to steer his focus up and away from the scar.
Kurda nodded. Took a long gulp and finally managed to gulp out, "Good."
"I like it. It reminds me I was supposed to die, twice. And the reason I'm still here is because you don't answer to Destiny." Mika added as he cradled Kurda's cheek in his palm. Kurda blinked once, twice, and finally smiled again as he leaned into Mika's touch and laid his hand over the scar. And the heart beneath.
"I told you I was coming back for this. Fuck Destiny."
Say my name and everything just stops
I don't want you like a best friend
Only bought this dress so you could take it off
Take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah
Carve your name into my bedpost
'Cause I don't want you like a best friend
Only bought this dress so you could take it off
Take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah
"I told you I was coming back for this. Fuck Destiny."
Kurda kept one palm flat against Mika's beating heart and slid the other up and around his neck til his fingers were buried in silky obsidian and their foreheads were pressed together.
Nothing else mattered. Nothing but this.
And with that hard-won peace of mind came freedom to let himself be soft and small in Mika's arms. To finally shed the toughness he'd never wanted to wear like armour, but had no choice because he made that promise five years ago —
Suddenly both destiny and the scar was the furthest thing from Kurda's mind. He cocked his head up at Mika and hit him with his most innocent grin.
"What's that, hmm? Does the sound of me cussing like a degenerate still afflict you with a raging hard-on?"
Mika raised both jet-black eyebrows — visibly struggling not to smile. "Do you still pretend you don't do it on purpose?"
Kurda answered the question with a knowing smirk, and proceeded to peel his shirt off and toss it to the side. With the navy cloth barrier out of the way, Mika leaned in again. He gripped Kurda's hips and pulled him closer to the edge of the desk with one movement so effortless it took Kurda's breath away. But Kurda was never one to take his eyes off the prize. He wondered if he could still take Mika's belt off with one hand — of course I can.
"Do you still get your emotional support belt repaired every time it breaks, even though it was due to retire at least twenty years ago?" Kurda teased as he pulled the whole thing off.
With their bodies pressed this close together he could feel the soft rumble of Mika's barely-restrained laugh.
"Obviously. Do you still carry a rolled-up map in your pocket everywhere you go, or are you just happy to see me?"
"Both. Can you still do that thing with your tongue I like?"
"Depends. If I do that thing with my tongue you like, do you still make that sound I like?"
"I wouldn't know. It's been a while."
Mika took that for the invitation it was. He kissed Kurda hard on the mouth again. But that wasn't his final destination; rather a starting point. He took detours aplenty on the trail of kisses he blazed down Kurda's neck, shoulders, chest, and stomach. The laziness with which he went about was as intoxicating as it was excruciating, and Kurda groaned in relief when Mika finally ran out of bare skin to kiss.
Kurda didn't wait for Mika's help removing his pants. But he wasn't much further ahead for it. With the pants no longer presenting an obstacle, Mika sank to his knees and tortured Kurda worse than ever. This time with tickling kisses around his hips and along the insides of his thighs as Kurda sat there on the desk, mouth so close yet so far from where he wanted —
Yes! There!
Mika paused and glanced up with the fakest mask of surprise Kurda had ever seen. As if he didn't know exactly what he was doing.
"Oh. Is that all you wanted?" Said Mika innocently. How the tables turn. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
One of Mika's most endearing yet equally offensive traits is that when he's good at something, he knows. And he wants you to know he knows. The blazing need in Kurda's body reached an unbearable fever pitch and he had to make a conscious effort not to dig his fingernails into the back of Mika's head any harder than he already was.
And that was before Mika did that thing with his tongue.
"Ah, gods — Mikaaa - aaa - ahhh."
The second syllable stretched out into something that no longer resembled a name. In conclusion, to say Kurda still made that sound was an understatement. He might've been embarrassed if he'd been able to form a single thought.
Mika stopped mid-task and leaned back, looking up at Kurda, grinning like the devil. So proud of himself it was filthy. Before Kurda could draw breath to chide him for pausing, Mika was back up on his feet and this time he scooped Kurda off the desk and into his arms.
It never surprised Kurda that Mika was able to hold him up like he was weightless. It was how Mika held him that sent electricity pulsing to his extremities. It was the gentleness in that powerful frame. It was how Mika didn't break Kurda's gaze from the moment he picked him up til the moment he laid him down on the bearskin rug in front of the blazing fireplace. Might this be the stuff of which dreams are made? Had Kurda banked that much good karma?
Golden haze was clouding the edges of Kurda's vision and his body was arching and aching with need and Mika was whispering the most intoxicating filth Kurda had ever heard in his life. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into, against, and around Mika's body. It was so warm here. So soft. So safe. Kurda wanted to live forever on the floor with Mika's hand cradling the back of his head like a delicate treasure and the other taking him apart from the inside. Mika's muscle memory was impeccable. He honed in on that spot like his eagle eyes could see it clear through Kurda's body.
By the gods, Kurda loves how much Mika loves foreplay. And no wonder, the gods-damned perfectionist he is. Kurda is acutely aware the sounds that pour from his very own lips when he's this impatient are precisely why Mika goes out of his way to make him wait. If you had the dexterity to break someone with just one fingertip (literally) wouldn't you make sure they never forgot? And if the tables were turned (it's happened) Kurda wouldn't (doesn't) blame him in the slightest.
But two fingertips? Now you're just showing off.
The addition of the second dissolved what was left of Kurda's composure. But the removal of both left the base of his spine burning with anticipation. He scolded Mika with a low whine that came out far more pathetic than he'd intended.
"Use your words, baby. Tell me what you need." Mika growled into Kurda's neck. Deep. Low. Hot. "Whatever you want. I got you."
Kurda perceived nothing beyond the boiling haze that was sizzling up from his core and frying his brain. He could barely believe the words rasping from his lips belonged to him —
"I want you to take back what's yours. Right here. Right now. And tomorrow night when the Festival opens, I want you to kiss me in front of everyone. I want the world to know I've taken back what's mine."
Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try
And if I get burned, at least we were electrified
I'm spilling wine in the bathtub
You kiss my face and we're both drunk
Everyone thinks that they know us
But they know nothing about—
"I want you to take back what's yours. Right here. Right now. And tomorrow night when the Festival opens, I want you to kiss me in front of everyone. I want the world to know I've taken back what's mine."
Of all the preamble that got them from doorway to desk to floor, that was what finally knocked the air out of Mika's lungs. Not just the words themselves — although they sure did a number on him. It was the fiery conviction in Kurda's voice that had Mika frozen in place. He struggled to keep breathing normally, not trusting his nervous system to know the difference between panic and euphoria. Wouldn't be the first time it fucked him over. The adrenaline rushes the same either way, floods his whole body and takes his mind out with it —
"Hey. You okay, Sunshine?"
Kurda took the abrupt pace change in stride.
His hand on Mika's cheek was a lifeline. His wide blue eyes were twin lighthouses. But it was his voice that parted the sea itself. Mika was okay. So far beyond okay. He just couldn't verbalize that. How ironic he'd encouraged Kurda to use his words not thirty seconds ago, and now he himself had none. The universe is easier on him these days — but every now and then it reminds him he's but a joke in the cosmic scheme of things.
"Yeah, I just… you… really you want that?" Mika forced out eventually. "You want to go public at the opening ceremony?"
Kurda's brow creased with guilt and he let out a soft sigh. "Oh, love… I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. It's too soon, I know, I just —"
"Stop. Kurda, I'd fucking marry you at that ceremony if you wanted me to." Mika cut him off. He didn't know if he was on the verge of laughter or tears. The words he'd struggled with mere seconds ago were flowing like a river now. "I'm serious. Just say the word and I'll hijack the entire —"
It was Kurda's turn to stop Mika in his tracks. He pressed his palm against Mika's mouth, effectively halting the sweet nonsense that had been bubbling forth.
"That's enough!" Kurda laughed. The corners of his eyes crinkled from how hard he was smiling as he tripped over the words and shook his head. "One night at a time. I think this Council will be unprecedented enough without us making it all about… well, us."
"Whatever you say, my little Phoenix." Mika told him innocently. "It's your world. I just live in it."
Kurda's eyes went wide with indignation at the word Phoenix and he took a breath, undoubtedly ready to tell Mika off. Didn't he know Mika said that on purpose, just so he'd have an excuse to kiss Kurda extra hard?
Mika got back to work, moving with renewed purpose now. He slipped his left hand beneath Kurda's lower back, and Kurda lifted his hips to accommodate the roaming hand. Mika took his cue seamlessly. He gripped Kurda's hips in both hands and pulled him closer. Kept his eyes locked on Kurda's as he lined up. He didn't need to look down to know he — every part of him — was exactly where he needed to be. Kurda rocked his hips up into Mika's, trying to meet him halfway. But Mika didn't hasten his pace. Maybe tomorrow night they could do quick and dirty. Considering it was the Festival, that'd be all they'd have time for.
But tonight…
He hadn't waited this long not to savour every last second. Nothing for granted.
"I love you, Kurda."
Mika moved slower and more deliberately than ever. Kurda was no longer taking issue with the pace Mika was setting.
Kurda closed his eyes and panted as his body readjusted to what had once been familiar.
Mika draped his upper body over Kurda's chest, worshipping him with feather-light kisses and a steady stream of whispered praises.
"Missed this… missed you so much… you're so good, Kurda… so good for me… love you so fucking much… taking me so well…"
Mika knew when he'd bottomed out not from the physical sensation, but from Kurda's shuddering gasp.
He engulfed Kurda in a sensual, tongue-heavy kiss then sat back upright, leaving one hand on each of Kurda's hips.
From here, he had a perfect view of the havoc he'd wreaked on Kurda's body. The red flush in his face. The mane of dishevelled gold surrounding his head like a halo. The way his lips were slightly parted as he panted for breath; a sound so innocuous yet somehow so filthy.
"What?" Kurda laugh-sobbed in exasperation. "What're you looking at?"
Mika's throat tightened and he thought he was done for. It was all he could do to force out —
"My whole fucking world."
The words were a catalyst all their own.
Kurda's chest heaved and his spine arched. The sudden change in angle sent a shockwave through Mika's body and drew a low moan from him.
Mika didn't say another word. Just went to work. Started slow. Stayed shallow. Let Kurda's moans and gasps set his pace. Pretended it was an accident when he brushed up against the bundle of nerves that triggered a stark change of pitch in the sounds Kurda was making.
He spent a while playing with that angle til even the two syllables of his name were becoming too much for Kurda.
"Mm — Mi —"
Kurda's lips kept moving but there seemed to be a lag between his mind and body and he couldn't manage any more than that.
He needn't have tried.
"I got you now, baby. Got you forever."
Truth be told, Mika wasn't putting a lot of forethought into the words pouring from his lips.
"You're mine."
The word mine ignited something in Kurda. Something so strong Mika felt the shockwave through his own body. So he said it again.
And again.
And again.
"Mine. Mine. Mine."
He growled the word deep and slow into Kurda's ear over and over. Watched as that golden body rocked and writhed with sensations communicable only through stuttering gasps and moans that grew more desperate with every thrust as he gripped Mika like a vice.
"All. Fucking. Mine."
Kurda was so close it'd only take one wrong (right) move to trip that wire. But it took every modicum of mental discipline for Mika not to get there first.
Mika didn't slow his pace — would've been cruel at this point. He's a tease, not a sadist. He just leaned into Kurda again, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, fingers interlocking because they both needed to cling to something.
"Mikaaa… I- I'm gonna —"
"I know."
All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation
My hands are shaking from holding back from you
Ha, ah, ah
All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting
My hands are shaking from all this
Ah, ha, ha, ha-ah
"I know."
Mika always had been good with words. Meetings, speeches, debates. Any great wordsmith knows it isn't always the words themselves. It's how you say them.
And the gravelly strain in his voice as he murmured them into Kurda's ear was enough to wreck them both.
Kurda came undone, unhinged, and untouched.
His world came to a crashing standstill that ripped the air from his lungs. His back arched, muscles contracted, and all he could do was listen in disbelief to the unholy sounds tearing from his very own lips as the thundering orgasm rolled through his body — and straight into Mika's.
Mika weathered the storm more quietly than Kurda did. But there was something about the way he moaned as he gave everything he had one more time that left Kurda boneless and lightheaded. No, really. There was a fleeting moment where he thought he might actually faint from the intensity of it all.
He dimly registered Mika flop weakly onto the blanket beside him, panting just as hard as Kurda was. Kurda wanted to hold him, to be held by him. Wanted to let the afterglow cover them both like a blanket and stay in it forever. At the very least he wanted to reach over, touch Mika's face and ask him Do you really know, though? Do you have any idea how much I need you, and how beautiful you are to me?
But he couldn't move.
Mika's face hovered above him, concern darkening his eyes.
"Hey. You okay?"
Kurda tried to answer but the words didn't come. Wouldn't come. Suddenly he couldn't even breathe, and every attempt to do so left him further deprived of oxygen. He lay there gasping for air as Mika's concern audibly heightened.
"Kurda? What's wrong? Did I do something wrong? Talk to me. Come on."
As sobs began to wrack Kurda's body, the only reassurance he was fit to offer was to close his eyes and bury his face against Mika's chest, snuggling as close as possible so Mika would understand that he wasn't the problem here. Because there were no words to explain how badly Kurda had been aching for this release — and how he didn't realize it til just now.
"I'm going to get you something to drink." Mika murmured after a minute or two of stroking Kurda's hair. "You want water or blood? Never mind. I'll get both."
Kurda knew Mika kept both those beverage options at his desk which was no more than six feet away from where they were laying. He wouldn't even have left the room. But as atrociously pathetic as it was, the idea of losing physical contact even for a second was unfathomable. Mika began to pull away. Kurda held on tighter. Mika stopped. He stayed. And Kurda would never again wonder if Mika truly knew. Of course he knew. Kurda could feel it in the way Mika's body curled around him; a living, breathing sanctuary to cry out all those years of exhaustion.
Eternities dragged on til the sobs finally abated. Kurda was quite certain it was only out of sheer dehydration that his body finally set him free. He unfurled himself and sat up, blinking the room back into focus. His entire face felt fevered and sticky, and his bloodshot eyes were nearly swollen shut.
Mika appeared understandably horrified as he processed the state Kurda was in. But more than anything he seemed relieved to see him sitting upright. Mika reached out and caressed Kurda's cheek, moving cautiously as if he might shatter again under his touch.
"Fuck, Kurda... Can I do anything for you?"
"Don't look at me." Kurda groaned. He kind of meant it, but Mika just shook his head and smiled.
"Anything but that. You're the most perfect thing I've ever seen. Hold still."
Kurda closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, but he let himself relax enough that Mika could fetch a cool, damp cloth. It felt so good Kurda let out an involuntary whimper as Mika gently wiped his face. Mika paused to kiss his forehead.
"You're not going to cry?" Kurda gulped once he'd stabilized himself a little more.
Mika's brow furrowed with an endearing mixture of renewed concern and amusement. "Do you want me to cry?"
"You always cry when I cry."
Kurda watched Mika's lip twitch as he visibly restrained himself from laughing.
"I'm aware there's been an ongoing issue with regards to that." Said Mika. Ever the diplomat.
"So… what are you waiting for?"
"I'll try. Give me a second…" Mika closed his eyes. But after a moment's pause, the best he could do was an apologetic chuckle and another kiss on Kurda's forehead. "I've got nothing, babe. I'm sorry."
Kurda scowled at him, huffed, then sniffled, "It's because you don't drink enough water."
"Now you're worried about my health? That's ironic considering you specifically asked me if I was free for dinner." Said Mika. "So here I am, twelve hours post-breakfast. I cleared my schedule. I cleaned my room. I shaved. I even put out. Not that there's anything wrong with putting out on the first date, I just want it on the record —"
Maybe it was the way Mika said it, frank and businesslike, as if he was talking over political strategies in some meeting — yet he was stroking Kurda's hair all the while. All at once Kurda's world was right-side-up and it was laughter, not tears, that had him tripping over words as he playfully swatted Mika's knee.
"Gods, Mika… You are incorrigible!"
"What'd you say? I'm adorable? Yeah. I get that a lot. Now go blow your nose. I'll go make dinner."
Say my name and everything just stops
I don't want you like a best friend
Only bought this dress so you could take it off
Take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah
Carve your name into my bedpost
'Cause I don't want you like a best friend
Only bought this dress so you could take it off
Take it oh, ha, ha
What they both needed was a real meal and a proper shower — but Mika's entire being rejected the idea of leaving the cozy sanctuary they'd created here. So he fetched the various jars of desk snacks and set them on the floor beside the rug for easy access. They spent the better part of an hour sitting in front of the fireplace, sharing a blanket and munching their way through the food.
Kurda spoke very little. Every now and then he let out a shuddering sigh and rested his head against Mika's shoulder. Mika wiped Kurda's eyes and rubbed his back as needed, but didn't push him to open up. Mika's war ended five years ago. Kurda's war ended today. Of course he needed a minute to decompress. Gods knew Mika had taken plenty of minutes during their time apart. Or, more accurately, he'd learned to take those minutes (voluntarily) before they took him (involuntarily and inconveniently).
And truth be told, Mika didn't have a lot to say either. It wasn't as if there was a shortage of catching up to do. But the silence was not only comfortable, but comforting. It meant they had time now.
As the glow of the embers began to fade, Kurda murmured out of nowhere —
"Mika… what I said about going public at the Festival… I really am sorry. It slipped out in the heat of the moment. We can take our time. As long as I get to fall asleep and wake up with you, I don't care who knows it. If anyone."
Mika ran his fingertips lazily up and down Kurda's back. "Is that what you want?"
"Nice try." Kurda replied swiftly. "I asked you first."
Fair enough. Mika considered it for a moment.
"I always told myself I'd know I was ready when I was able to look at you without thinking about the night of your trial. I was wrong. I still think about it all the time." Said Mika eventually. He felt as though he was trying to explain something inexplicable. He paused, weighing the words on his tongue to make sure he'd calibrated them correctly. "…because I don't want to forget what you sacrificed. When I figured that out, that was when I knew I was ready for this. All of it."
Nailed it. Stardust glimmered in Kurda's bloodshot eyes and a weary smile spread slowly across his face as he nodded in acceptance.
"So whenever you're ready, it'll be my honour and privilege to let the whole world know I'm in love with you — and by some cosmic fuck-up, you're still willing to put up with me." Mika finished decisively.
Kurda exhaled a weary laugh that could've almost turned into a sob — fuck, not again. But his supply of tears had run dry for the night. He nestled closer to Mika's body. Mika readjusted the blanket and kissed the top of his head.
Kurda didn't speak for a long time. But when he did, his voice was laced with quiet yet ironclad conviction.
"I meant what I said. Every word. I want the clan to know." Said Kurda. "Not because they're entitled to pass any sort of judgement… but because we've earned the right to be whatever we want to be. Nothing scares me anymore."
"Alright. Opening ceremony it is." Mika answered. His voice caught in his throat but he kept it together. "Then if anyone has something to say, I get to throw them through a wall."
Kurda grimaced with disdain, but leaned in to plant a kiss on Mika's cheek. "There's my Prince Charming."
Mika tried to roll his eyes, but he knew Kurda wouldn't be fooled. He liked how that nickname sounded rolling off Kurda's lips. Sarcasm and all.
"Speaking of Princes," Kurda added more seriously. "You should tell Vancha and Arrow first thing tomorrow. I feel it's important they know. And they should hear it from you."
"Agreed." Said Mika.
"And we'll tell Gracie together, obviously." Said Kurda.
"We won't even have to tell her. She'll just know."
"True. You know she's been quietly rooting for us this whole time, right?"
"I'm aware." Mika grinned ruefully as he recalled Gracie's earlier dose of wisdom — just be yourself.
They lapsed into another extended silence that felt as warm and safe as the blanket covering them. Mika thought about fetching the bottle of wine — but the shelf seemed so far away now. There was always tomorrow. And Kurda's fluttering eyelids were betraying how hard was fighting the sleep his body craved.
"Time to get some rest." Mika urged, thumb stroking Kurda's cheekbone.
"I just got you back." Kurda croaked. He said it with a chuckle and tried to roll his eyes, but they were glinting with emotion. "I'm not ready to miss you again."
"You're stuck with me now. I'll be here when you wake up." Mika leaned in and kissed Kurda's temple. Then his right cheek. Left cheek. Tip of his nose. Forehead again. And finally back to his mouth where he lingered for a moment, running his tongue along the insides of those petal-soft lips. And finally he scooped Kurda up into a bridal carry and transported him to the coffin — six whole steps away.
"One of these days I want to be carried to bed." he remarked as he laid Kurda down in the sea of thick blankets and crawled in beside him. "Just to see how it feels."
"I picked you up that one time! Don't you remember?" Kurda protested.
"Not really. It was over so quickly." Said Mika. "I do remember having to look after you for two weeks after that, because you threw your back out so bad."
Kurda scoffed, but rolled onto his side and pulled Mika with him. Mika pulled the blanket higher up over both of them. Kurda's worn-out vessel deserved every scrap of comfort the world could possibly offer him. And what was Mika's (renewed) purpose upon this earth if not to serve as Kurda's big spoon at least sixty percent of the time?
Kurda set about leaving a trail of feather-light kisses all over Mika's inner arms, and Mika belatedly realized his old scars were directly in Kurda's line of vision lying here like this. Even now, Mika's first instinct was to reject such unconditional tenderness in the face of his deepest vulnerabilities. He almost pulled away.
Instead he pressed his forehead into the back of Kurda's shoulder. Knowing Kurda would feel the silent tears on his skin. Knowing he'd roll over to wipe them.
"Finally." Kurda muttered under his breath as he delicately thumbed the intrusive droplets from beneath Mika's eyes.
Mika tried to think of something to say. Something clever. Something deflective. Something Mika. But he had nothing. And he definitely had no desire to hear his own voice when he could simply lie there and let Kurda touch his face and murmur soft reassurances.
"All mine, Sunshine. You're all mine. I love you so much."
"I love you more than anything in the world, Kurda." Mika rasped out, once he'd pulled himself halfway together. "You are my world. You and Gracie. I can't… fuck, I can't believe I get to love you."
They lay face-to-face for some time, sharing one pillow between them. Eventually Kurda's breathing slowed and his body went limp in Mika's arms as he finally lost the hard-fought battle against sleep. Mika knew he needed to do the same. But he found himself walking backwards through the past. Back to that night.
He could see it all so clearly. All the splintered wood and broken glass where he'd run his fist through his own reflection in the mirror. Crippled by self-loathing so intense it drew blood and left the scars that Kurda kissed goodnight mere minutes ago. All so real he could hear the crunch of glass beneath his feet as he walked to where his past self was hunched in anguish.
Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
He'd never apologized to himself before. How strange it felt. But he couldn't dwell on it for long. And he definitely couldn't help that guy from twelve years ago. That guy wouldn't have accepted it anyway. All Mika could do was sit with him for a moment and wished he could tell him — me — what he knew now.
You're going to get it all back. You're going to make it.
Back in the real world, Kurda stirred beside him. The motion pulled Mika sharply out of the lucid half-dream he'd wandered into. Not a moment too soon. All he needed to know was that he could look those memories in the eye. All that remained was to walk away and let them lie in the past. He'd given his blood, sweat, and tears to be here. So here he'd stay. Here where a few wayward strands of gold tickled his nose. Here where the elegant curve of Kurda's shoulder was illuminated in the final glow of the dying fire, inviting Mika's lips back in for one last kiss.
We made it.
Kurda mumbled softly in his sleep. For a moment Mika worried he'd awoken him. But Kurda just shifted closer and nestled his forehead against Mika's chest. Against the scar to end all scars. Living proof carved into his skin where it'd remain til his dying breath, of the love that squared up with Destiny and walked away whole.
It's still us.
Flashback when you met me
Your buzzcut and my hair bleached
Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me
Flashback to my mistakes
My rebounds, my earthquakes
Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me
And I woke up just in time
Now I wake up by your side
My one and only, my lifeline
I woke up just in time
Now I wake up by your side
This chapter is… incredibly special to me in a way that's difficult to describe. But if you as a reader feel even a quarter of the love I've invested here, then I've done my job as a writer. At one point it sent me into a bit of a downward spiral of self-doubt. I didn't know if I could handle the level of emotional depth required to make this part of the arc everything I dreamed of. ...Until I sat them side-by-side on that desk and got them bantering back and forth like old times. Then the rest was easy.
And it's not even the last chapter LMFAO like there is literally still more to come. Help.
One more thing - reminder that all this is also on Archive Of Our Own under roxy_svl and you should go there regardless to see the pieces of art I've featured in this chapter and last :)
One more one more thing - You're never obligated to leave a comment, but it's always a very lovely thing to do :)
- roxy