8
They say all good boys go to heaven (but bad boys bring heaven to you)
"Sir?"
Ogier looks up at the appellation, brow arching when he catches sight of a chasseur half sheltering behind the doorway. The poor thing looks moments away from shitting himself, or worse, and Ogier's lips curl into a sneer. This is the problem with training new chasseurs, so quick to lose their stomachs over a bit of gore and blood. It's as if they've never seen a disemboweled body before. When the newcomer fails to say anything else, he sighs and finishes off the vampire with a heavy kick. Steps over the convulsing body and approaches the chasseur, although if this is how he reacts to a little bit of fun, he's not likely to survive being one for much longer. "What."
"The Paladin, that is Captain Gano is calling for you. He's in the courtyard over there," the fellow replies, gesticulating over his shoulder but his eyes are still focused downwards. Ogier follows the gaze, but all he sees are blood-splattered greaves and boots, nothing particularly alarming. He shrugs and walks past, ignoring how the chasseur flinches back. Really, this guy isn't going to last much longer. Perhaps the Commander was right to assign him to their unit. Better he get killed in battle than survive as a coward and serve as a poor role model. Their unit is spread out through the main room, recovering from the latest mission and exchanging easy banter now that the danger has been dealt with.
Their focus snaps to him the moment they take note of his presence. It's a weighty thing to have half a dozen men eyeing him, all prepared to move at a moment's notice, hands already on their weapons. Ogier smiles, lifting a hand in a lazy wave. "At ease, gentlemen. We're not leaving yet." He continues through the main room, aware of their attention lingering still, but he's used to eyes following him wherever he goes. One does not become the vice-captain of a Paladin without garnering a fair of attention.
Gano is in the courtyard, standing in the shade of a large tree, with an irate expression on his face. Although that's not an unusual expression for him, it would be far more worrisome if he looked pleased or even happy. "Ride delayed?" Ogier calls by way of greeting, and that fierce expression immediately rounds his way. Anyone else might have balked or hesitated, but Ogier's smile only broadens, and he keeps walking forward until he leaves the warm sunlight behind for the far more welcome coolness of the shade.
"The transport won't be here for another four hours," Gano says, more of a growl in truth, practically spitting out the words. "I told them we'd be done by noon, and yet." He gestures at the sky, where the sun has passed its apex.
"You'd think by now they'd be used to our efficiency," Ogier replies agreeably. He slumps against the trunk, kicking at the grass to clean some of the blood from his boots. Frankly, it matters little to him whether they get picked up on time. Merely being out in the daylight away from the press and hassle of Notre Dame is pleasant in its own way. Besides, he side-eyes Gano, observing the flick of his tongue as he wets his lips. The way he's shifting against the tree to scratch an itch on his shoulder rather than use his bloody hand. He must have gotten physical in a fight, for his hair is more tangled than usual, and though its coloration has always been dark, Ogier is positive it's never been the same color as a leaf before. Quick as a flash, his hand snaps out to snag the offending item.
Equally quickly, Gano's hand strikes, batting his own aside. Ogier's heart kicks up a notch, an excited drumming resonating through his ears. "Did it hurt?" Ogier asks cheerfully, reaching out to swipe at the leaf with his other hand. And he shouldn't; he knows better, but Gano's eyes are flashing beautifully, and Ogier is bored.
"Did what hurt?" Gano replies, evading once more with admirable ease, as graceful in this as he is when welding his knives. He side-steps Ogier's halfhearted swipes, annoyance on his face, but he hasn't moved away, hasn't cursed yet either and his eyes are still focused entirely on Ogier. It's dangerously thrilling, and Ogier enjoys that sort of danger far more than what is perhaps healthy.
"When you fell from heaven~" Steps back swiftly, fully prepared for Gano to lash out; he's never taken religious jokes well, but the latter follows him, and suddenly Ogier is on the back foot as Gano presses into his space. For all that the latter is a ranged fighter, preferring guns and knives, that doesn't mean he isn't just as deadly in close combat. Certainly not when the tonic is coursing through his veins. He employs that speed now to hook his leg around Ogier's ankle and yank. For a heartbeat, he totters, long ingrained instincts rising to the surface, but Gano's arms are around his neck and Ogier lets himself fall. Grunts when he hits the ground, more so from the discomfort of an ill-placed rock digging into his back than out of any pain. Gano peers down at him, smugness seeping out of him. "Ow," Ogier declares dramatically. "Is that any way to treat your subordinates?" Makes a show of sitting on an elbow and wiping at the dirt now ingrained in his uniform. "I've got dirt in my hair now. What are you going to do about that?"
A hand settles heavily on his head, armored fingers winding through his hair. Ogier's heart does not skip a beat, nor does his breath catch in his throat, as he glances in Gano's direction. "It suits you," the paladin replies, "being beneath me. One would think you'd be used to it by now."
"Rude!" Ogier exclaims only to yelp as Gano ruffles his hair hard enough that his ponytail comes partially undone. "Hey! Don't get vampire ash in my hair!"
"I'm going patrolling," is all Gano says, already turning away. Ogier groans loudly, pointedly, but when all that earns him is an equally pointed eye roll, he scrambles to his feet and catches up to him.
"Want me to get the men?"
"No need. You, alone, are more than sufficient," is the unsurprising reply. Ogier shrugs and follows along compliantly; it's not as if having the others there would be of great benefit. They've already killed every heretic in the village; if there are any more left, then they're of the human variant, and he can't be bothered to flush them out at the moment. It's not a particularly large village, with less than a hundred houses in total, several of which are devoid of inhabitants. Ogier eyes them as he passes, pondering who used to live there before the vampires came along and ate the residents. They don't encounter many people either, and the ones they do are swift to duck their heads and scurry away. It's not surprising, given that neither of them has bothered to gather their cloaks before going out on patrol, but still, Ogier sneers at their cowardice. It's no wonder the current chasseurs are so pathetic if this is the stock they're being pulled from.
When they have walked the streets twice, Gano veers away from the main road and leaves the village behind entirely. Ogier complains, pointing out that they shouldn't leave the men unsupervised for this long, but his words go ignored, and he soon gives up. He is content for a time to simply walk next to Gano, but then he hears the sound of water, which is far more interesting. Darts away from his companion and trots off toward the sound.
Knows that Gano will follow without needing to look back, because Gano always follows when they're on a mission, just as Ogier would follow him if he were to suddenly walk off. That is simply how it is. The noise's source turns out to be a creek running through the base of a gully. Hardly deep enough to wet one's knees, but the prospect of at least washing some of the gore away is enough for Ogier to jump down the embankment. Sets his sword on a nearby rock and trips off his gauntlets with familiar movements. Flexes his fingers when free, grimacing at how sweaty they feel, and dips them into the creek. It is refreshingly cool. Removes his cassock next and sets it aside. He rolls up his sleeves, not keen on getting them wet. "Come bathe, Captain."
"Don't be a moron." There's the sound of crackling leaves before Gano appears in his periphery, sitting on the same rock where Ogier has left Cortain.
"Fine, have it your way and keep being a stinky, smelly pigman," Ogier huffs and plunges his boots in, scrubbing until the water begins to take on a faintly pinkish color.
"You know, we have servants for that."
"Don't like people touching my stuff," Ogier replies, distracted by his task, and so he thinks nothing of Gano's hum. A mistake as always when Gano is involved, for it means that the brush of fingers along the base of his neck catches him entirely off guard. His heart lodges somewhere in his throat, stealing his air when he tries to inhale.
"Is that so?" Gano's voice has descended into a growl once more, but Ogier highly doubts anyone else has ever heard this particular variation. Deep and rough, the vibrations of it wriggling into his ears and digging their claws into his brain, and still, those damnable fingers stroking ever so lightly at the joints of his neck. "I suppose I am similar in that regard. I also do not like people touching what belongs to me." They shift, dipping beneath the collar of his shirt. Just the lightest of touches against the skin of his back before they're gone.
Ogier exhales raggedly, dazedly thinking that Gano's skin had been smooth and warm, only possible if he'd removed his gloves first. He doesn't look, gathers water into his hands instead, and sends it splashing towards the lurking nuisance. The snarl of annoyance is music to his ears; the sudden weight of a body bowling him over and into the creek is a music of an entirely different genre. Ogier laughs because how can he not when Gano kneels above him, water dripping down his face and eyes sparking with rage. His bangs hang in his face, looking like limp noodles, and it shouldn't be remotely appealing, and yet Ogier's hand moves unconsciously. Brushes them aside gently. "Changed your mind about bathing?"
"Insufferable," Gano snarls, a hand flexing in Ogier's shirt, gripping it hard enough that he can feel nails digging into his skin. "Lord knows why I put up with you."
"You love me~"
"As if." Gano draws back, sinking back onto his heels instead, his eyes dark when they sweep over Ogier from head to toe. "What could possibly be loveable about you?"
That stings somewhat, as Gano had certainly intended, but they've been playing this game for so long that Ogier could make the next move with his eyes closed. He flashes his teeth, saccharine sweet when he speaks, "my mouth, perhaps? You certainly seem to love me using it on you."
"I love it best when you're silent," a pause as Gano's head tilts and his lips curve into a smile of his own, "no, that was a lie. I love it best when the only sound you can make is my name." He's teasing, mocking really, but Ogier's breath still hitches anyway and he knows Gano notices it because his smile turns predatory. "A preference we have in common, yes?"
Sitting in the water, only a short way outside of a village where the rest of their men are located, is perhaps not the best place to indulge, but the top of the gully is overgrown with vegetation, and no one will come looking for them. His throat bobs when he swallows, wetting his lips to buy himself some time. "You have such an easy name to pronounce; I'm certain more people would willingly say it if only your personality was also as easy."
He's expecting to get splashed or shoved, but again Gano takes him by surprise, ducking down to seal their lips in a kiss that leaves him reeling from the ferocity. Recovers quickly, but not quickly enough for Gano already has a hand in his hair, using that grip to angle his head into a better position. He descends once more. The burning passion of him is nearly overpowering, but Ogier has followed Gano into places far hotter than hell, and this is no great trial for him.
Gano kisses like he has something to prove, or perhaps as if he wishes to claim something. His teeth and tongue are weapons, nipping and licking until Ogier gives way for him as he has done every time in the past and will likely continue to do for the foreseeable future. Theirs is not a path that is easy to walk, not when their feet tread on the corpses of enemies and allies alike. By comparison, this is frightfully easy, an indulgence that could see them killed if they stray too far, but that is merely the life a chasseur lives. Gano's breath burns his lips as he pants, eyes meeting Ogier's with an intensity that thrills as much as it frightens. He's still gripping his hair, forcing him to hold his head at an angle that will soon become uncomfortable. "I think the clothes are clean enough," Ogier breathes, eyelashes fluttering lower as he fixates on the faintly visible curve of Gano's teeth. "Need to dry them now since someone went and got impatient. Honestly, did you have to knock me in? You could have just —"
"Shut up," Gano growls into his mouth, "before I find something better for you to use your mouth on."
"Like what?" Again, his words are interrupted, but this time it is by teeth leaving a glancing bite on his neck. Ogier twitches, instinctively grasping for Gano's shirt. A noise works its way free of his throat, but even he is unsure if it is a one of encouragement or a curse. Gano's lips curve, the smirk evident when pressed against his skin, "noisy," he scolds and nips harder. "You'll attract attention." Ogier jolts again, fighting down the instinctive reactions of his body, but it's difficult when Gano is worrying with a sniper's precision at such a sensitive spot. He can no more keep still then he can speak in a steady tone of voice, but as one is remotely more important than the other, he focuses on that.
"Which is why I said we should get out of the water, so that - ah hey! Hey! Not there!"
There's a burst of hot air against his collarbone, followed by the wet warmth of a tongue licking at an old scar. It's gentler than the teeth had been but Ogier glowers all the same, painfully aware of the heat pooling in his belly. Gano is winning their game, but if he's left to his own devices then they really will wind up facing difficult questions later. Ogier flops backward, sinking beneath the water's surface before he shrimps sideways and scoots himself free of Gano's weight. Pops up again, swiping his hair out of his face. "Not in the water, sir. Walking around in wet clothes is not worth it."
"First he whines for attention, and then he complains about receiving it," Gano replies, sounding for all the world as if he's the wounded party. Ogier ignores him and clambers out of the creek, stumbling back to the rocks. Gano hounds his steps, using their minute height difference to dig his pointy chin into Ogier's shoulder, lips once again at his neck. His hands pluck at Ogier's shirt, undoing the buttons with ease. Ogier shrugs free, catching the cloth to hang it on Cortain's hilt. Twists about within the prison of Gano's arms and meets his gaze. Despite the difference in their height being slight enough to count in centimeters, Gano still manages to tower into his space. There is an intensity to him at present, a hunger that lurks within his gaze, waiting for the opportune moment to emerge and devour everything in its path. One of his hands settles on Ogier's waist, tensing and loosening as his fingers rum out an incomprehensible pattern. Water trickles down Gano's cheek, gathering on the end of his sharp jaw into droplets before casting themselves off into perdition. It catches on Ogier's index, rolling down it to join more of its brethren in the crook of his elbow. Ogier swallows, heart thundering within his chest, loud enough that he's certain Gano can hear it.
Gano's head turns, his mouth parting, and with the utmost delicateness, he takes the offending digit in between his teeth. And it should not be arousing, definitely not when he exerts just a hint of pressure, and yet Ogier can hardly pretend not to be affected when he is nothing more than an insect pinned beneath Gano's microscopic focus. Inhales shakily, his eyelids closing of their own volition. The pressure releases, his hand falling only for Gano to capture it with his own, gripping his wrist tightly enough that it's near painful, just how he likes it.
"Down."
"I'm not a dog," Ogier complains, sinking to his knees gracefully and peeking up at Gano through his eyelashes. "But if I was, I'd be the best dog."
"That depends. Do you bark?"
"I bite," Ogier shoots back, flashing his teeth. "Want to see what — mmrf."
"What was that," Gano says slightly, the smugness returning, "I didn't quite understand you." His fingers shift, forcing their way in further and Ogier does not bite them because he's not a heathen, but it's certainly tempting. Gano laughs under his breath, "stuffing your mouth full really is the best way to shut you up." Undoes his belt with a hand, easily divesting himself of his pants and stepping closer. Ogier's eyes flicker to the unmissable curve of his cock, already standing proud. He goes to lick his lips, but Gano's fingers are still in the way, and he winds up licking them instead, which coaxes another one of those soft laughs from Gano. "Go on then," the bastard murmurs, pulling his fingers back. "Get to work."
"Most people would say please," Ogier grumbles. He shuffles closer, nuzzling into the crease of Gano's thigh. Flicks his tongue out to taste before he wraps a hand around it, gathering and smearing pre-cum. Registers the hand settling on his head, but it's far more entertaining to let the cock bump against his cheek and offer tiny teasing licks. Takes the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it slowly before withdrawing and resuming using his hand. Gano's exasperated sigh is gratifying.
"Ogier." As is his name, spat out like a curse, and truly, it sounds better like that. Those who speak it softly, with fondness, are either fools or dead, and Ogier has no respect for either group. Licks the length of the shaft in slow stripes, peeking once more up at Gano. His cheeks have colored faintly, and his eyes have gone entirely black, but that is all. Still, there is a tension in his jaw that suggests he's close to snapping. Ogier sinks back onto his haunches, and offers him a lazy smirk. "Yes?" He twists his hand just so, and Gano's hips jerk forward before he catches himself. Does it again, and this time, Gano steps closer, his other hand capturing Ogier's jaw and forcing him to still. "If you keep that up, you won't be able to talk."
Ah, Ogier thinks as heat continues to gather, and his cock gives a hopeful twitch. "He says this as if it were a deterrent. There's no need to fret; I can take you," speaks the words blithely, throwing in a wink for good measure. Gano's face contorts, the fraying edges of his patience snapping like flags in the wind. "It's not as if," the rest of his words disintegrate into nothingness, but it hardly matters when Gano's thumb has hooked the corner of his mouth, forcing it open as he guides his cock inside. Breathe, Ogier reminds himself, but that is all he can manage to do when Gano is crowding into him, merciless and unrelenting and terrifyingly hot. It lies heavy on his tongue, filling his mouth until he nearly chokes on it and all he can taste, all he can smell is Gano's musk, overwhelming in its pungency. There are fingers in his hair once more, tugging and demanding, and he gives in willingly, letting Gano press his face into the rough curls of pubic hair even as his jaws burn. The grip loosens slightly, and that is permission enough for Ogier to withdraw. He doesn't go far, only enough to properly suck on it. Swirls his tongue around the head, suckling it gently before he descends again. Leaves his hands on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his pants to ground himself. Settles into a rhythm quick enough to satisfy Gano but one that will still leave him capable of conversation. If Gano wants him to be voiceless, he can do the work himself.
Gano is silent above him. The only sign that he's rapidly heading towards the edge is the unevenness of his breathing and the occasional tremors that run through his body. Ogier hums encouragingly, finally lifting a hand to wrap around the base of Gano's shaft, twisting it in time with his rapid bobs. Gano grunts, a singular sound, but that is all the warning Ogier needs. Starts to withdraw, but the grip in his hair turns to iron, and instead he finds himself with his nose brushing Gano's heaving stomach as the other orgasms. Left with little choice, Ogier swallows, struggling not to choke until his head is abruptly released. He pulls back, wheezing faintly and spitting the last mouthful onto the ground. "Gah."
Grimaces at the sound of his voice before slumping forward to nuzzle and nip at Gano's inner thigh as he catches his breath. The hand remains in his hair, its twin thumbing along the shell of his hair, feather-light and he shudders despite himself. Fights the urge to lean into it but ignoring Gano is akin to turning a blind eye to a poisonous snake. The touch turns firmer, tugging on his ear lobe and Ogier reluctantly looks up again, seeing first the rarely shown affection softening that haughty demeanor into something that could be mistaken for kind.
A thumb brushes beneath his eye, down his cheek until Gano cups his jaw and this time Ogier leans into it. Watches through lidded eyes as Gano takes a knee before him and deposits the chastest of kisses against his lips. "Good boy," he murmurs, and Ogier preens at the praise, only to hiss when a hand settles on his pants, palming him firmly. "A reward for your labor." The hand that touches him then is skilled, confident in its movements, and capable of drawing sounds from Ogier's lips that no one else has ever managed. He shakes, curling forward into the shelter of Gano's arms as the latter takes him apart with the same effectiveness that he dismantles a vampire. Presses his face into the curve of Gano's neck, and Gano murmurs his name in response with such fondness that he wonders if he's begun to hallucinate. But no, no hallucination could ever replicate the way Gano growls or the feeling of his calloused hand gripping him tightly. "Go on," Gano orders, and Ogier obeys as he does in most things, spending himself in Gano's hand.
Slumps afterward, blinking the stars out of his sight and only half aware of the hands cleaning him off. Sunlight shines from above, reflecting off leaves and grasses until they glimmer in the beautiful way only flora can achieve. Laying here for the rest of the day doesn't seem like such a bad idea, but already Gano is dressing, and Ogier has little choice but to follow suit. Dresses himself in pants, and shirt, and cassock, and with each layer he puts on, so does he also slip into his role of vice-captain of the vampire extermination unit. Shakes himself off afterward, dragging fingers through his hair before gathering it into its customary half-ponytail. "Think the transport has finally arrived? It's been long enough by now, surely."
"It had better," Gano growls back, "although I'm not looking forward to seeing that welp at Gevaudan."
"Perhaps we'll arrive only to find out he's been eviscerated by the Beast?" Of course, it is a foolish hope, but they still pause to consider it.
"As much as I would like him dead, fighting that monster isn't high on my priority list," Gano replies, leading the way back to the main road.
"I don't know, it would make for a fun fight if nothing else," Ogier says, falling into his customary place next to him. "It's not every day that you get to fight a legend. I'm jealous."
Gano gives him a look at that, so full of judgment that all Ogier can do is laugh. Of course, if the Roland Fortis cannot kill the Beast, it's not likely either of them stands a chance, but imagining it brings its own pleasure. Still, what will be will be, and Ogier has long been content to follow Gano down whatever bloodstained path he insists on walking. If nothing else, the coming days will be entertaining.