A/N: All I will say about this chapter is that you have to start from the beginning – no sneak peeks. I know I can be guilty of doing that sometimes – skipping ahead to see who is featured in the chapter. But for this one, just start at the beginning and go from there.
Waking up in a hotel room slowly, Caspian became aware of Aspen laying beside him, his breathing quiet. A hint of light was peeking through the blinds, and it illuminated his face when Caspian turned to look at him, meeting his gaze.
"Have you been awake for long?" he murmured, still feeling like he was half asleep.
Reaching out a hand, Aspen pushed a few strands of his blonde hair back into place, which had no doubt been ruffled in his sleep. "Not long. Although I didn't want to wake you," he said, before giving a slow smile that held a hint of suggestiveness. "But now that you are awake…"
Shifting, he moved to sit on top of Caspian, settling into a comfortable position, before leaning down to kiss him.
While Caspian's instinct was to protest at his actions, he swallowed it down, instead kissing him back. His hands moved to his waist, settling there with ease. Sighing slightly in satisfaction when Aspen deepened the kiss, he tilted his head slightly to a better angle. "We've already been out all night. The Hunt will start to wonder-…" he started to mutter against his lips, before Aspen silenced him with another kiss, drawing a hand down his arm.
"The Hunt can wait," Aspen said, amusement in his tone. "We can still have the morning to ourselves."
"Maybe," he conceded, not particularly wanting to argue against the idea. Surrendering to the kiss for a long moment, they continued as Aspen started to slide Caspian's shirt up, slowly. However, he froze when his back suddenly spasmed, the pain nearly unbearable.
Sensing his change in demeanour, Aspen pulled his hand back, watching him. "… Are you okay?"
"It's my back," he hissed, trying to keep from crying out. Pushing Aspen back with his hand, he finally got him to move off him, and Caspian sat up, gritting his teeth. Usually, the spasming would usually have stopped by now, and he gasped as he tried to keep it together, his fingers curling in the sheets.
Suddenly, he was back in the Unseelie, and there were hands keeping him down, pinning him to the grass. A knife sawed at his wings and he took a shuddering gasp, struggling. The malicious laughter of the faeries rung in his ears. He tried to glance back and what he saw made his blood run cold. It was Aspen, holding the blade, making the next cut as it tore into thin bones and cartilage.
His vision switched back to the hotel room, and his mind struggled to keep up as his back flared, and Aspen dug his nails into his back as it spasmed, his other hand grasping one of Caspian's wrists to stop him from breaking free. "Stop it, Aspen," he growled, finding it hard to make sense of anything, the pain overtaking any thoughts he might have had. "You're hurting me."
Aspen watched him intently, before chuckling. "Haven't you realised yet?" he said, leaning closer to him. "I like doing that."
Caspian recoiled at the unexpected malice in his tone as well as his words. Becoming immobilised by the pain, he couldn't pull away. Instead, he pressed his mouth into the pillow to keep himself from screaming.
After a moment, he suddenly realised it was his arm that was aching, not his back. Hearing himself cry out - although it sounded like it was in the distance – he finally managed to pry his eyes open. Disorientated for a second, he then remembered he was still in the medics' tent. It seemed he had fallen off the bed in his sleep, and he'd landed on his injured side.
A couple of medics ran over to see if he was okay, and he took a few slow breaths, trying to calm himself from the lingering effects of the nightmare. Slowly, he managed to get to his feet, the medics hovering nearby to help although he snapped at them when they tried. Laying back down on the bed, he stared at the roof of the tent. He tried to ignore the aching that remained from his wound, knowing that he wouldn't want to go back to sleep anytime soon.
Kellan felt glad that Ethos had come to his quarters to see him, when Kellan had summoned him there. It felt almost surreal having him there, along with his usual surroundings.
"You are staring," Ethos remarked after a moment, and Kellan blushed.
"Am I? I'm sorry," Kellan replied, with a slightly nervous laugh, at the fact that he'd been caught looking.
"There's no need to apologise," Ethos said, drawing closer slowly. "You are allowed to look, if you'd like."
Kellan inhaled when Ethos reached out to take one of his hands, carefully slipping off his glove. He then reached for his other hand, doing the same. Placing the gloves down nearby, he then moved to kiss Kellan, which he eagerly returned. Kissing him had always felt right, and he enjoyed it perhaps a little too much.
They kissed for longer than usual, and Kellan breathed in quickly when Ethos reached for the hem of Kellan's shirt. Helping him to take it off, he let it fall to the floor. While usually he felt a little self-conscious at the thought of anyone seeing the scars of old Runes on his chest, he knew that Ethos had seen them before, and that he didn't judge him.
Smiling against his mouth as he reached for Ethos's shirt in turn, he watched as Ethos took it off, placing it near Kellan's. Pulling back slightly, Kellan couldn't stop his gaze from lingering. Ethos was beautiful as always, and he was hardly marred by any scars. Much more perfect that Kellan, himself. But he had always thought that he was more put together and perfect, and he had even said so before.
Kellan reached out a hand to his chest tentatively. His hand was scarred, knowing Ethos would feel it against his skin, but he didn't seem to mind.
When Ethos kissed him again, he sighed against his lips, feeling excited as they had never traversed so far. However, after a moment, he pulled back so that he could watch him. "This is further than we've been," he said, feeling a prickle of hesitance at something at the back of his mind, although he couldn't quite work out what it was. "… Are you sure about this?"
Ethos merely smiled, pleasantly, although nothing more. "I will provide whatever you desire, my Prince."
"What I desire?" he repeated, suddenly feeling a little horrified. "I am not asking you to do anything that you wouldn't want to."
"… What do you mean?" Ethos asked, slowly, as if he didn't quite understand.
"I mean I do not want anything unless it is mutual." Taking a hesitant step back, Kellan stared at him. "But you have told me before, haven't you?" he said, as if finally remembering. "You do not desire, and you certainly don't desire me. I-… I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry."
"Whatever you want you can have. Just take it," Ethos replied, but he didn't sound right, and Kellan shook his head.
"No. No I wouldn't do that and-…" Staring at his shoulder for a long moment, he frowned. "Where is the scar from your wound?" he said, thinking of when Aspen had injured him. Somehow, there was no mark there.
"What scar?" Ethos asked, mildly, his voice sounding distant.
"It's not right. It's just not right," Kellan said, repeating it, before he finally pulled himself from the nightmare, his eyes flying open. Taking a few deep breaths, he stared at his quarters, glad that they were empty. His nightmare had been disturbing to say the least and he still felt a combination of horrified and embarrassed.
Getting up to his feet slowly, he moved to fetch himself a glass of water, hoping to get rid of his headache. A walk would be good, he decided, to try and clear his head.
Savannah had not been at Blake's house for long, before they started to kiss, heading to his bedroom when it grew more heated. He had tried to deny her and hold out for longer, but her kisses were wanting, and he couldn't look away from the skin that her dress showed off, even if he disapproved of it.
Savannah laid down on the bed, pulling him closer, and he obliged. Letting himself be drawn into her kisses, his body grew warm, and it was hard to think straight. One of his hands hooked one of her legs over him, while the other ran across her bare skin. The taste of her and the feel of her was intoxicating, finding he didn't need alcohol to make him feel that way.
She seemed pleased at his advances, allowing him to slip her dress up her thighs. One of her hands was in his hair, gripping some strands, while the other rested on his chest. Inhaling sharply, his lips hovered over hers. "Tell me you're mine."
Tilting her head, she watched him. "What did you say?"
"You heard me," he said, watching her, although he grew nervous when she didn't respond.
Suddenly, she laughed, as if he'd said something amusing. "What is it you want me to say, Blake? That I love you? That we're meant to be together? We're just casual, Blake. Or did you forget?"
The words stung, but she didn't seem to care. Exhaling quickly, he drew back from her, sitting up. He didn't like to be made a fool of. "I… didn't mean to say that," he replied, trying to hide his embarrassment.
Getting up, she pulled her dress back down into place and fixed her hair, before turning away.
"Where are you going?" he asked, stupidly.
"Home," she replied simply, starting to the doorway, as if to see herself out. She glanced back at him only briefly, her expression closed off. "It's your own fault for getting too attached."
With that, she left, and he ran a hand against his face. "What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered, angry with himself for his careless words. He couldn't help but be angry at her too.
Waking up from his dream when something from his desk fell to the floor, Blake shook his head, making a sound of annoyance at his realisation and waiting for the feeling to subside. That was a dream he could do without, and he tried to pay it no more attention, deciding to get up for the day and get started on some work.