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Against better judgment [Onni/Hannu]
Title: Against better judgment
Fandom: Stand Still Stay Silent & A Redtail's Dream
Characters/Pairing: Onni/Hannu
Rating: 18+
Length: 4k words
Summary: Onni never would have expected this. And he really should know better. And yet....
Other: Uh.... So. I wrote this ages ago, put it aside, opened it recently and realized it was almost finished, and decided to finish it. But.
1. This was written on the premise of "this would be glorious crack". Except I'm not very good at writing crack.
2. When I started it (several years ago) Onni only had a few pages of characterization. As for Hannu, I figured 90 years as a ghost might mellow him out a little? (now that I think of it, no. It would not. But.)
3. I wouldn't classify this as necrophilia, but it kind of has necro vibes, FYI.
Against better judgment
The kiss was light at first. Tentative. Just in case it wouldn't take. As Onni had expected, the response came slowly, after a second of hesitation. What he didn't expect was that Hannu's lips would be so cold.
Before Onni could decide whether to pull away or not, Hannu grasped the front of his clothing and tugged him closer, deepening it. It had taken a moment for him to decide to do that. A much-too-long moment that left Onni feeling incredibly nervous. It didn't matter that he had anticipated the pause, and prepared himself for it, and told himself again and again that he wasn't mistaken. Kept telling himself that he had read the situation accurately. The worry still rose up, anyway. But as Hannu pulled him close, drawing him into that kiss, the worry washed away.
It was all right, then.
The kiss was cold. Not unpleasantly so; it didn't have the sharpness of ice. It was more like the press of cool fingertips against the back of his neck – a shock at first, but fine after a moment. It wasn't that it was bad –
It just wasn't what Onni had expected.
The kiss broke soon enough, but they stayed close, lingering and quiet. Quiet enough to hear the sounds of the dreamscape surrounding the place where they sat together, nestled against one another in the rocky recess near the stream. The gentle movement of water over stone. The soft hush of wind stirring leaves. Onni grazed his mouth over Hannu's cheek, drifting along the sharp lines of his face. That contact was just as cold as the kiss, and he realized that if they touched hands, if they took their gloves off and linked fingers, it would be just the same. Hannu was cold all over. Cold, but yielding, like chilled hands.
"Why're you surprised?" Hannu muttered, his words an annoyed puff by his ear. "You already know that I'm dead. It's not like it's news."
He was very matter-of-fact about it, and Onni had to admit, he did have a point. He had known for a good while exactly how dead Hannu was. Memories of what he had found came back to him. The notes, the records, the old photograph – relics from the early years. The story of the survivors from Hokanniemi. The hint that one of them had been one of the first mages. Onni knew that he should have expected something like that; there was something otherworldly about Hannu, something that didn't add up, and it was clear that he wasn't any ordinary mage. That didn't change the fact that the cool press of Hannu's cheek against his own felt very, very strange. Strange, but not unpleasant. Onni closed his eyes and leaned into the contact as he tried to decide how to respond, choosing his words carefully. "I didn't think you would be so cold."
"... Oh." Hannu went quiet after that, mulling over it. Though he stayed close, there was tension in his narrow frame, as if he wasn't sure what to think of it.
Onni hesitated. Careful or not, that hadn't been the right thing to say. Not quite. He thought about apologizing, taking back the words, but somehow, that didn't seem quite right either. Slowly, he slid his fingertips along Hannu's spine, trying to keep the touch light. Trying to reassure him. "It doesn't bother me," he said softly.
He relaxed after that. "Okay." Simple acceptance, nothing else, taking him at his word. There was another moment of quiet, a thoughtful pause as Hannu considered the matter. "I never noticed it before."
"No?"
"I don't exactly make a habit of talking with the mages I meet. You know that." Hannu pulled away slowly, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he glanced up toward Onni. "And Ville's like me. When we touch, it just feels – normal. That's all. So, I didn't notice."
"I see." Onni parted his lips, then shut them without saying anything else. Any questions that he could ask would just sound awkward. The thoughts flitted through his mind – did it feel strange to him, too? The contrast between Hannu's cool flesh and his own warm, living touch. Was that unexpected? Was it unpleasant? He didn't know how to say it.
Hannu didn't give him time to linger on any of that. He looked Onni over, then let his gaze drop, turning his attention instead to his gloves: undoing the lacing, slipping them off. When his hands were bare, he looked down at them for a moment, his lips thinning into a frown. Then he looked at Onni, and edged closer to cup his face, the touch light and far more gentle than either of them would usually be.
Onni sucked in a breath. Hannu's hands were cool, just like he had thought they would be, fingertips and palms and all.
"Well?" Hannu said.
"Well?" Onni echoed. "Well, what?" He tilted his head into the touch. Allowed himself to take it in, and decided after a moment that he didn't mind the coolness, not really. After all, it wasn't unpleasant.
"Well..."
It seemed Hannu didn't know what to say beyond that, trailing off. But he didn't move his hands; they stayed where they were, fingertips brushing against Onni's face as if marvelling at the warmth.
Onni didn't wait for him to try to say anything. He had learned, over the course of their knowing one another, that Hannu wasn't good with words. Even in the moments like this, when they were quietly alone together, talking didn't seem to come easily to him. No matter what he said, it came out awkward or abrasive or both. What was more, Onni knew that he wasn't much good with words either, himself. Not when talking to anyone, but especially not when talking to Hannu. Not like this. Not when they were close like this. So he considered it for a moment, while the leaves gently rustled in the landscape of his mind and neither of them spoke. Finally, he met Hannu's gaze, and just as Hannu had done, he slowly began unlacing his gloves.
When his hands were bare, he brought them up to cover Hannu's hands with his own. Then he turned his head and pressed a kiss to his palm. He heard a quick intake of breath; it was more reaction than he had expected. It was good.
He let him go, then looked at him again. Hannu had his head tilted, a curious expression crossing his eyes, as if to ask, Where do you want to take this? A strand of hair fell across his face and Onni moved to gently nudge it away, tucking it behind Hannu's ear.
That touch seemed to be the assurance Hannu needed. He edged closer, grazing a kiss against Onni's cheek before resting his head on his shoulder. It was a small amount of contact, just a little gesture, but there was a quietness about it that was different, somehow. Onni hesitated. Tried to decide what to do next. Say something? Pull him closer? Finally, he simply let his hands rest at Hannu's waist. Allowed his eyes to drift shut as he took in the way it felt to have Hannu so close; the press of his body, the fluttering of cool breath against his skin.
It was a while before either of them spoke. Finally, Hannu lifted his head. "You should make sure that nobody can get in here," he said quietly, his lips brushing against Onni's ear.
Onni's eyes snapped open. "I –" He wetted his lips, then tried again. "It's already closed."
"You're sure about that?"
As the words ghosted over Onni's ear, he shivered, and tightened his hold on him. He could tell that Hannu was doing it on purpose. He wasn't, however, going to tell him to stop, even if it sounded like he was suggesting something. "I did it perfectly," he said.
"But I could still get in."
"... Yes."
A quiet noise slipped from Hannu's mouth. Not quite a laugh, but almost. As if Hannu was pleased to have some confirmation that he could get the better of him, even if it wasn't so difficult for someone like him. Onni was strong, and confident in his abilities, and experienced with magic, but it didn't change that they both knew that Hannu was the stronger of the two of them, stronger than he ever could imagine. "We should seal this place up for a while. I'll do it. If you want me to. Nobody will get in that way."
Between the close proximity, and the sensation of cold hands wandering, it was hard to concentrate, and for a moment the implication of Hannu's offer didn't register. 'If you want me to'. Onni blinked, his lips parting in surprise. "You're asking for permission?"
"I know, right?" A pause, and a huff of breath. Onni didn't need to see Hannu's face to know he was rolling his eyes. The rules did not exactly apply to Hannu; both of them knew it. And he wasn't usually the type to ask. "I told Ville I'd ask about stuff like that. At least when it involves you."
Onni breathed. Tried to steady himself. Closed his eyes and concentrated and took in the sensation of Hannu pressed close to him, the graze of breath against his ear. The coolness that he could feel seeping in through the clothing, through his flesh, didn't bother him any more. He could endure it, he thought. "Do it, then," he said softly. As soon as he spoke, he opened his mind, and in a moment felt the slight pressure of someone else imposing on his dreamscape. Hannu whispered, uttering his spell in a voice too low and soft and half-muffled to hear, and Onni could feel his walls being built up, reinforced from within, strengthened so that nothing could step through, no mortal mage, nor spirit either.
For a while after, neither of them said anything.
Long-fingered hands trailing lightly over his chest lingered for a moment before slowly working to undo the lacings and straps on the outer layers of his clothing. The touch was more than welcome, and while that might have been surprising at any other time, at that moment, it wasn't. Not with the things Hannu had been saying earlier. Not with what he had been doing. How he was acting. How close he was. How close he had been ever since the moment he had stepped into Onni's dream that evening.
Even if he wouldn't have expected it from him at any earlier time, somehow, Onni decided, it seemed right. It wasn't exactly unexpected. Not completely. There had been words. Moments when they clashed together. Moments when Onni got fed up of Hannu barging in and threw him against the rocky rises of his mind, or brought him to the ground, pinning him there. Hannu would give some sharp words in response, and eyerolling, and nothing resembling an apology, and it would be only be later, on the very edges of waking, that Onni would remember that he could have thrown him off. That even though he hardly looked it, Hannu was the far stronger of the two of them.
It hadn't made sense. Now, he understood. He'd liked it. They both had.
Onni's grip on Hannu tightened, and it was all he could do to stop himself from pulling him closer, tugging him flush against him, cold hands and all. Better to give him room to work – with his hands, and otherwise.
He thought back to the moment when Hannu had asked to close his dream. Permission, he thought. Hannu hadn't phrased it exactly like that, but that's what it was. "Are you saying that I'm an exception?"
"I guess," Hannu muttered after a moment of mulling over the words. "I told you. I don't talk to the others."
His words were firm, and from the sound of it, he didn't want any questions about it. Onni decided to grant him that, and leave it. Instead of asking, he let fur and fabric fall away, moving to carefully fold it and set it aside. He watched Hannu out of the corner of his eye as he did the same: undid lacings, slid straps from buckles. The hood slipped away. The cords about his waist and hips to bind the tail to him unwound, set aside. Then he dipped his hands, grasped the hem of his outer clothing, and drew it up and off.
He looked smaller, dressed as he was in the light, thin clothes worn close to the skin, the garment cut closer, not as bulky as what he had been wearing before. No leather to obscure it, no fur to provide bulk. Small and angular. But even then, there was a strength to that. He was not delicate. Not vulnerable.
If Hannu noticed that Onni was looking, he said nothing about it. He just moved toward Onni, let his hands settle on his shoulders as he settled over him. Onni closed his eyes again, because it was easier, somehow, with them shut. He drew in a quick breath, and it wasn't because of the chill of Hannu's touch through the thin fabric of his light clothing, but because of the way Hannu straddled him. And as he tilted his head upward, he met the kiss that he knew was coming. His hands came to rest on Hannu's waist, and after hesitating for a moment, he opened his mouth to take him in. As he felt long fingers thread through his hair, he gripped him and pulled him close and lost himself against Hannu's lips.
After a while, he wasn't bothered by the coolness of the contact, by the ghostly chill of Hannu's touch against his face, against his body, pressed flush to him. He let his hands slip lower, following the shape of his frame, and there was no objection to that. No complaint about that. Maybe he had halfway expected it, but that wasn't the reaction he received.
Instead, he felt more than heard a soft sound against his mouth, little more than a sigh, and Hannu pressed tightly against him until there was no space left between them.
He had never expected to be in a position like this. Not with him. Not with someone like this. The sensation left him feeling heady and warm, even with the otherworldly coldness of Hannu wrapped in his arms. Onni let his hands slide – slowly – taking his time, taking care. He didn't want to do anything that would make him change his mind. Better to savour the close contact and the weight of Hannu over his hips.
They parted for a moment. Onni felt cool breath over his mouth, chilled fingers brushing down over his chest, over thin fabric, slow. Hannu spoke, and his words were slow and measured, even if his words had a sharpness that was typical of him. "If you're going to do something, make up your damn mind," he said. "I don't have all day."
Onni parted his lips to speak, but thought better of replying. Maybe he shouldn't say anything, he thought. As he tried to decide what to do, he let one hand trail, down Hannu's waist, his hip, along his thigh, then up again. Maybe it would be better to –
Yes. Might as well just make up his mind, then.
He kissed him. Lifted one hand to cup his head, sinking his fingers into his hair, gripping it as he kissed him. Hannu made a cold gasp against his mouth, and Onni took that opportunity to slide his tongue past his lips.
He immediately regretted it. Hannu's cold hands were one thing; they were not unpleasant, and there was even something oddly appealing about the sensation of chilled fingertips against hot skin. And kissing him on the lips, in itself, wasn't unpleasant either. But the inside of his mouth was cold and damp, without a trace of the expected heat, and as he stroked against Hannu's tongue, Onni's eyes flew open.
He was kissing a dead person.
He knew it before. But it had never been clearer than this. There was a ghost wrapped in his arms. There was a ghost in his lap. He was kissing a dead person.
But he didn't pull away.
Hannu's fingers dug into Onni's shoulders, nails pressing. If it weren't for the layer of thin fabric, they'd be cutting to the skin. He made another soft sound against Onni's mouth, a low groan as he wrapped his lips around Onni's tongue and sucked at it. And he pressed closer, rocking his hips against him, grinding against him through the fabric.
Oh –
Onni carefully pulled away from Hannu's mouth, and pressed his face to the crook of his shoulder to stop himself from pulling away completely. Better to avoid those lips, that cold wet sensation that made him shudder. He thought about this as he let his hands slide, as he moved them with spread palms along Hannu's thighs, down, then back again up to his hips, gripping at him. As he pressed his hot cheeks against Hannu's neck, he knew he didn't want to stop touching him. But that mouth was – Hannu's mouth was too much.
It was better, instead, to concentrate on the sound of his heavy breathing, the sharpness of his hands and his hold, the way he dug in his fingers and gripped at Onni's hair and rolled his hips against him, the way it felt to have those strong thighs on either side of his hips. Even though the body in Onni's arms wasn't warm, he was certainly... alive. Or at least, alive enough.
Onni closed his eyes and listened to Hannu's shaky breathing and wondered what it would be like to do more than this. To strip him down completely, push him down onto his back, open him up and have him that way. He thought again of the slippery icy wet sensation of Hannu's mouth, and shivered, digging his fingers into Hannu's thighs. There was something viscerally unpleasant about the thought of sliding his erection into that cold body, and yet – and yet....
He bit his lip and held back a groan. Another time. Yes. Maybe. He distracted himself from the thought by concentrating on what was already there.
There was more than enough to keep him busy.
Grip firm on Hannu's hips, Onni pulled him closer. Braced his back against the rock behind them and shifted until he could feel him. And when Hannu moved, grinding down against him, he couldn't hold back the noise any more.
Strong fingers gripped his hair, forced him to lift his head from Hannu's shoulder. Suddenly that mouth was on his again, open, slick cold tongue forcing itself past its lips. Icy hands cupping his head.
Somehow the sensation wasn't as viscerally unpleasant as it had been the first time. Hannu's mouth was cold and clammy but Onni couldn't bring himself to care. He sucked at his tongue, moaning softly as Hannu rocked down against his hips. The friction between them sent heat spreading over Onni's face. Perhaps, he thought, the contact was enough to warm him – or maybe the press and roll of Hannu's body against his hardness was enough to ensure that he didn't care that kissing him was like kissing a corpse.
Every sensation, every shuddering breath, was too much. It had been a long time since he had been with anyone, or wanted to, but this – once again Onni thought, considered the idea of shoving Hannu down onto his back, stripping his clothes off, and having him right then and there. Somehow the idea didn't seem as unappealing as it had only moments before.
They rutted against each other, gasping against one another's mouth, their movements becoming more erratic, Hannu's hold on Onni's hair tight enough to hurt. Sharp teeth dug into Onni's lip and that was the action that finally brought him over, moaning against Hannu's mouth as he released, unable to hold back any longer.
Not long after that, Hannu was finished too.
They panted against each other, unwilling to separate, until finally Hannu peeled himself out of Onni's arms. Saying nothing, he stripped his soiled clothing off, then slid into the water, glancing back once as if to ask why Onni was taking so damn long.
After a moment, Onni followed.
The water was cold, and Onni shuddered as it hit him. But it was welcome, washing away the evidence of their activities. Hannu went further, swimming away from him – then stopping, head popping up after a moment, lakeweeds clinging to his hair.
"Will you be back tomorrow night?" Onni asked, and found himself regretting it. You shouldn't be so attached, he told himself. You shouldn't have done that. Not with him. Not with anyone, really. But not with him in particular. Not with someone he could only see during sleep.
Hannu frowned. For a moment, he didn't answer. Reached up, plucking the weed from his hair, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. It looked as if he, too, was regretting it. "Maybe," he said. "It depends."
"On what?"
"On if I'm busy or not."
It was not unreasonable. It wasn't. But – "Please," Onni said.
Hannu looked at him. Onni waited, treading water, wishing he could take that word back.
"Fine," Hannu said, rolling his eyes skyward. "I'll see what I can do."
The next night, Onni stared up at the ceiling of his narrow bedroom, waiting for sleep. Nerves tugged at his thoughts, keeping it just far enough away that it felt unreachable.
He remembered the previous night. In his dream. The embrace, the intimacy. The sensation of those cold lips against his. In spite of the strange, unnatural feeling of it all, he ached for it again.
Eventually, he dozed off, only to wake in the same, familiar place that he always did.
He waited.
The feeling came not long after. The prickle at the back of his neck that signalled an intruder. Onni knew, without looking, exactly who it was, and why they had come – and how they had entered his space without encountering any resistance from his spells.
He turned around.
There, standing at the edge of the stone platform that they had shared the previous night, was Hannu. Head bent, looking down into the water, as if he needed to take a moment to contemplate whether he really wanted to meet with Onni at all. The furry hood was pulled forward, partly obscuring his face.
Onni parted his lips, then shut them. His tongue felt tied, as it often did in Hannu's presence.
Finally, Hannu looked up.
"I wasn't busy," he said. As if there was nothing more to say about the fact that he was there.
"I see," Onni said. He felt like he should say something more. But what was there to say? He ran his tongue over his lower lip and tried to think of something, but nothing presented itself.
Instead of talking, he went over to him. Words didn't come, so he did what seemed to make the most sense in their absence: he pulled Hannu into his arms, and kissed him.
He stiffened at first, then clung, moving to wrap his hands around Onni's shoulders. And when the kiss broke, Hannu pressed his face into the crook of Onni's neck, but lazily, as if he didn't want to make anything of it.
"Fine," Hannu said. His words were sharp, but his hold on Onni tightened a little. "If that's how you want this to be, then fine."
You should know better than this, Onni told himself. You do know better than this. Everything about this - including last night - is against your better judgment.
And yet.
"I do," was all Onni could say.
He did.
Fandom: Stand Still Stay Silent & A Redtail's Dream
Characters/Pairing: Onni/Hannu
Rating: 18+
Length: 4k words
Summary: Onni never would have expected this. And he really should know better. And yet....
Other: Uh.... So. I wrote this ages ago, put it aside, opened it recently and realized it was almost finished, and decided to finish it. But.
1. This was written on the premise of "this would be glorious crack". Except I'm not very good at writing crack.
2. When I started it (several years ago) Onni only had a few pages of characterization. As for Hannu, I figured 90 years as a ghost might mellow him out a little? (now that I think of it, no. It would not. But.)
3. I wouldn't classify this as necrophilia, but it kind of has necro vibes, FYI.
Against better judgment
The kiss was light at first. Tentative. Just in case it wouldn't take. As Onni had expected, the response came slowly, after a second of hesitation. What he didn't expect was that Hannu's lips would be so cold.
Before Onni could decide whether to pull away or not, Hannu grasped the front of his clothing and tugged him closer, deepening it. It had taken a moment for him to decide to do that. A much-too-long moment that left Onni feeling incredibly nervous. It didn't matter that he had anticipated the pause, and prepared himself for it, and told himself again and again that he wasn't mistaken. Kept telling himself that he had read the situation accurately. The worry still rose up, anyway. But as Hannu pulled him close, drawing him into that kiss, the worry washed away.
It was all right, then.
The kiss was cold. Not unpleasantly so; it didn't have the sharpness of ice. It was more like the press of cool fingertips against the back of his neck – a shock at first, but fine after a moment. It wasn't that it was bad –
It just wasn't what Onni had expected.
The kiss broke soon enough, but they stayed close, lingering and quiet. Quiet enough to hear the sounds of the dreamscape surrounding the place where they sat together, nestled against one another in the rocky recess near the stream. The gentle movement of water over stone. The soft hush of wind stirring leaves. Onni grazed his mouth over Hannu's cheek, drifting along the sharp lines of his face. That contact was just as cold as the kiss, and he realized that if they touched hands, if they took their gloves off and linked fingers, it would be just the same. Hannu was cold all over. Cold, but yielding, like chilled hands.
"Why're you surprised?" Hannu muttered, his words an annoyed puff by his ear. "You already know that I'm dead. It's not like it's news."
He was very matter-of-fact about it, and Onni had to admit, he did have a point. He had known for a good while exactly how dead Hannu was. Memories of what he had found came back to him. The notes, the records, the old photograph – relics from the early years. The story of the survivors from Hokanniemi. The hint that one of them had been one of the first mages. Onni knew that he should have expected something like that; there was something otherworldly about Hannu, something that didn't add up, and it was clear that he wasn't any ordinary mage. That didn't change the fact that the cool press of Hannu's cheek against his own felt very, very strange. Strange, but not unpleasant. Onni closed his eyes and leaned into the contact as he tried to decide how to respond, choosing his words carefully. "I didn't think you would be so cold."
"... Oh." Hannu went quiet after that, mulling over it. Though he stayed close, there was tension in his narrow frame, as if he wasn't sure what to think of it.
Onni hesitated. Careful or not, that hadn't been the right thing to say. Not quite. He thought about apologizing, taking back the words, but somehow, that didn't seem quite right either. Slowly, he slid his fingertips along Hannu's spine, trying to keep the touch light. Trying to reassure him. "It doesn't bother me," he said softly.
He relaxed after that. "Okay." Simple acceptance, nothing else, taking him at his word. There was another moment of quiet, a thoughtful pause as Hannu considered the matter. "I never noticed it before."
"No?"
"I don't exactly make a habit of talking with the mages I meet. You know that." Hannu pulled away slowly, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he glanced up toward Onni. "And Ville's like me. When we touch, it just feels – normal. That's all. So, I didn't notice."
"I see." Onni parted his lips, then shut them without saying anything else. Any questions that he could ask would just sound awkward. The thoughts flitted through his mind – did it feel strange to him, too? The contrast between Hannu's cool flesh and his own warm, living touch. Was that unexpected? Was it unpleasant? He didn't know how to say it.
Hannu didn't give him time to linger on any of that. He looked Onni over, then let his gaze drop, turning his attention instead to his gloves: undoing the lacing, slipping them off. When his hands were bare, he looked down at them for a moment, his lips thinning into a frown. Then he looked at Onni, and edged closer to cup his face, the touch light and far more gentle than either of them would usually be.
Onni sucked in a breath. Hannu's hands were cool, just like he had thought they would be, fingertips and palms and all.
"Well?" Hannu said.
"Well?" Onni echoed. "Well, what?" He tilted his head into the touch. Allowed himself to take it in, and decided after a moment that he didn't mind the coolness, not really. After all, it wasn't unpleasant.
"Well..."
It seemed Hannu didn't know what to say beyond that, trailing off. But he didn't move his hands; they stayed where they were, fingertips brushing against Onni's face as if marvelling at the warmth.
Onni didn't wait for him to try to say anything. He had learned, over the course of their knowing one another, that Hannu wasn't good with words. Even in the moments like this, when they were quietly alone together, talking didn't seem to come easily to him. No matter what he said, it came out awkward or abrasive or both. What was more, Onni knew that he wasn't much good with words either, himself. Not when talking to anyone, but especially not when talking to Hannu. Not like this. Not when they were close like this. So he considered it for a moment, while the leaves gently rustled in the landscape of his mind and neither of them spoke. Finally, he met Hannu's gaze, and just as Hannu had done, he slowly began unlacing his gloves.
When his hands were bare, he brought them up to cover Hannu's hands with his own. Then he turned his head and pressed a kiss to his palm. He heard a quick intake of breath; it was more reaction than he had expected. It was good.
He let him go, then looked at him again. Hannu had his head tilted, a curious expression crossing his eyes, as if to ask, Where do you want to take this? A strand of hair fell across his face and Onni moved to gently nudge it away, tucking it behind Hannu's ear.
That touch seemed to be the assurance Hannu needed. He edged closer, grazing a kiss against Onni's cheek before resting his head on his shoulder. It was a small amount of contact, just a little gesture, but there was a quietness about it that was different, somehow. Onni hesitated. Tried to decide what to do next. Say something? Pull him closer? Finally, he simply let his hands rest at Hannu's waist. Allowed his eyes to drift shut as he took in the way it felt to have Hannu so close; the press of his body, the fluttering of cool breath against his skin.
It was a while before either of them spoke. Finally, Hannu lifted his head. "You should make sure that nobody can get in here," he said quietly, his lips brushing against Onni's ear.
Onni's eyes snapped open. "I –" He wetted his lips, then tried again. "It's already closed."
"You're sure about that?"
As the words ghosted over Onni's ear, he shivered, and tightened his hold on him. He could tell that Hannu was doing it on purpose. He wasn't, however, going to tell him to stop, even if it sounded like he was suggesting something. "I did it perfectly," he said.
"But I could still get in."
"... Yes."
A quiet noise slipped from Hannu's mouth. Not quite a laugh, but almost. As if Hannu was pleased to have some confirmation that he could get the better of him, even if it wasn't so difficult for someone like him. Onni was strong, and confident in his abilities, and experienced with magic, but it didn't change that they both knew that Hannu was the stronger of the two of them, stronger than he ever could imagine. "We should seal this place up for a while. I'll do it. If you want me to. Nobody will get in that way."
Between the close proximity, and the sensation of cold hands wandering, it was hard to concentrate, and for a moment the implication of Hannu's offer didn't register. 'If you want me to'. Onni blinked, his lips parting in surprise. "You're asking for permission?"
"I know, right?" A pause, and a huff of breath. Onni didn't need to see Hannu's face to know he was rolling his eyes. The rules did not exactly apply to Hannu; both of them knew it. And he wasn't usually the type to ask. "I told Ville I'd ask about stuff like that. At least when it involves you."
Onni breathed. Tried to steady himself. Closed his eyes and concentrated and took in the sensation of Hannu pressed close to him, the graze of breath against his ear. The coolness that he could feel seeping in through the clothing, through his flesh, didn't bother him any more. He could endure it, he thought. "Do it, then," he said softly. As soon as he spoke, he opened his mind, and in a moment felt the slight pressure of someone else imposing on his dreamscape. Hannu whispered, uttering his spell in a voice too low and soft and half-muffled to hear, and Onni could feel his walls being built up, reinforced from within, strengthened so that nothing could step through, no mortal mage, nor spirit either.
For a while after, neither of them said anything.
Long-fingered hands trailing lightly over his chest lingered for a moment before slowly working to undo the lacings and straps on the outer layers of his clothing. The touch was more than welcome, and while that might have been surprising at any other time, at that moment, it wasn't. Not with the things Hannu had been saying earlier. Not with what he had been doing. How he was acting. How close he was. How close he had been ever since the moment he had stepped into Onni's dream that evening.
Even if he wouldn't have expected it from him at any earlier time, somehow, Onni decided, it seemed right. It wasn't exactly unexpected. Not completely. There had been words. Moments when they clashed together. Moments when Onni got fed up of Hannu barging in and threw him against the rocky rises of his mind, or brought him to the ground, pinning him there. Hannu would give some sharp words in response, and eyerolling, and nothing resembling an apology, and it would be only be later, on the very edges of waking, that Onni would remember that he could have thrown him off. That even though he hardly looked it, Hannu was the far stronger of the two of them.
It hadn't made sense. Now, he understood. He'd liked it. They both had.
Onni's grip on Hannu tightened, and it was all he could do to stop himself from pulling him closer, tugging him flush against him, cold hands and all. Better to give him room to work – with his hands, and otherwise.
He thought back to the moment when Hannu had asked to close his dream. Permission, he thought. Hannu hadn't phrased it exactly like that, but that's what it was. "Are you saying that I'm an exception?"
"I guess," Hannu muttered after a moment of mulling over the words. "I told you. I don't talk to the others."
His words were firm, and from the sound of it, he didn't want any questions about it. Onni decided to grant him that, and leave it. Instead of asking, he let fur and fabric fall away, moving to carefully fold it and set it aside. He watched Hannu out of the corner of his eye as he did the same: undid lacings, slid straps from buckles. The hood slipped away. The cords about his waist and hips to bind the tail to him unwound, set aside. Then he dipped his hands, grasped the hem of his outer clothing, and drew it up and off.
He looked smaller, dressed as he was in the light, thin clothes worn close to the skin, the garment cut closer, not as bulky as what he had been wearing before. No leather to obscure it, no fur to provide bulk. Small and angular. But even then, there was a strength to that. He was not delicate. Not vulnerable.
If Hannu noticed that Onni was looking, he said nothing about it. He just moved toward Onni, let his hands settle on his shoulders as he settled over him. Onni closed his eyes again, because it was easier, somehow, with them shut. He drew in a quick breath, and it wasn't because of the chill of Hannu's touch through the thin fabric of his light clothing, but because of the way Hannu straddled him. And as he tilted his head upward, he met the kiss that he knew was coming. His hands came to rest on Hannu's waist, and after hesitating for a moment, he opened his mouth to take him in. As he felt long fingers thread through his hair, he gripped him and pulled him close and lost himself against Hannu's lips.
After a while, he wasn't bothered by the coolness of the contact, by the ghostly chill of Hannu's touch against his face, against his body, pressed flush to him. He let his hands slip lower, following the shape of his frame, and there was no objection to that. No complaint about that. Maybe he had halfway expected it, but that wasn't the reaction he received.
Instead, he felt more than heard a soft sound against his mouth, little more than a sigh, and Hannu pressed tightly against him until there was no space left between them.
He had never expected to be in a position like this. Not with him. Not with someone like this. The sensation left him feeling heady and warm, even with the otherworldly coldness of Hannu wrapped in his arms. Onni let his hands slide – slowly – taking his time, taking care. He didn't want to do anything that would make him change his mind. Better to savour the close contact and the weight of Hannu over his hips.
They parted for a moment. Onni felt cool breath over his mouth, chilled fingers brushing down over his chest, over thin fabric, slow. Hannu spoke, and his words were slow and measured, even if his words had a sharpness that was typical of him. "If you're going to do something, make up your damn mind," he said. "I don't have all day."
Onni parted his lips to speak, but thought better of replying. Maybe he shouldn't say anything, he thought. As he tried to decide what to do, he let one hand trail, down Hannu's waist, his hip, along his thigh, then up again. Maybe it would be better to –
Yes. Might as well just make up his mind, then.
He kissed him. Lifted one hand to cup his head, sinking his fingers into his hair, gripping it as he kissed him. Hannu made a cold gasp against his mouth, and Onni took that opportunity to slide his tongue past his lips.
He immediately regretted it. Hannu's cold hands were one thing; they were not unpleasant, and there was even something oddly appealing about the sensation of chilled fingertips against hot skin. And kissing him on the lips, in itself, wasn't unpleasant either. But the inside of his mouth was cold and damp, without a trace of the expected heat, and as he stroked against Hannu's tongue, Onni's eyes flew open.
He was kissing a dead person.
He knew it before. But it had never been clearer than this. There was a ghost wrapped in his arms. There was a ghost in his lap. He was kissing a dead person.
But he didn't pull away.
Hannu's fingers dug into Onni's shoulders, nails pressing. If it weren't for the layer of thin fabric, they'd be cutting to the skin. He made another soft sound against Onni's mouth, a low groan as he wrapped his lips around Onni's tongue and sucked at it. And he pressed closer, rocking his hips against him, grinding against him through the fabric.
Oh –
Onni carefully pulled away from Hannu's mouth, and pressed his face to the crook of his shoulder to stop himself from pulling away completely. Better to avoid those lips, that cold wet sensation that made him shudder. He thought about this as he let his hands slide, as he moved them with spread palms along Hannu's thighs, down, then back again up to his hips, gripping at him. As he pressed his hot cheeks against Hannu's neck, he knew he didn't want to stop touching him. But that mouth was – Hannu's mouth was too much.
It was better, instead, to concentrate on the sound of his heavy breathing, the sharpness of his hands and his hold, the way he dug in his fingers and gripped at Onni's hair and rolled his hips against him, the way it felt to have those strong thighs on either side of his hips. Even though the body in Onni's arms wasn't warm, he was certainly... alive. Or at least, alive enough.
Onni closed his eyes and listened to Hannu's shaky breathing and wondered what it would be like to do more than this. To strip him down completely, push him down onto his back, open him up and have him that way. He thought again of the slippery icy wet sensation of Hannu's mouth, and shivered, digging his fingers into Hannu's thighs. There was something viscerally unpleasant about the thought of sliding his erection into that cold body, and yet – and yet....
He bit his lip and held back a groan. Another time. Yes. Maybe. He distracted himself from the thought by concentrating on what was already there.
There was more than enough to keep him busy.
Grip firm on Hannu's hips, Onni pulled him closer. Braced his back against the rock behind them and shifted until he could feel him. And when Hannu moved, grinding down against him, he couldn't hold back the noise any more.
Strong fingers gripped his hair, forced him to lift his head from Hannu's shoulder. Suddenly that mouth was on his again, open, slick cold tongue forcing itself past its lips. Icy hands cupping his head.
Somehow the sensation wasn't as viscerally unpleasant as it had been the first time. Hannu's mouth was cold and clammy but Onni couldn't bring himself to care. He sucked at his tongue, moaning softly as Hannu rocked down against his hips. The friction between them sent heat spreading over Onni's face. Perhaps, he thought, the contact was enough to warm him – or maybe the press and roll of Hannu's body against his hardness was enough to ensure that he didn't care that kissing him was like kissing a corpse.
Every sensation, every shuddering breath, was too much. It had been a long time since he had been with anyone, or wanted to, but this – once again Onni thought, considered the idea of shoving Hannu down onto his back, stripping his clothes off, and having him right then and there. Somehow the idea didn't seem as unappealing as it had only moments before.
They rutted against each other, gasping against one another's mouth, their movements becoming more erratic, Hannu's hold on Onni's hair tight enough to hurt. Sharp teeth dug into Onni's lip and that was the action that finally brought him over, moaning against Hannu's mouth as he released, unable to hold back any longer.
Not long after that, Hannu was finished too.
They panted against each other, unwilling to separate, until finally Hannu peeled himself out of Onni's arms. Saying nothing, he stripped his soiled clothing off, then slid into the water, glancing back once as if to ask why Onni was taking so damn long.
After a moment, Onni followed.
The water was cold, and Onni shuddered as it hit him. But it was welcome, washing away the evidence of their activities. Hannu went further, swimming away from him – then stopping, head popping up after a moment, lakeweeds clinging to his hair.
"Will you be back tomorrow night?" Onni asked, and found himself regretting it. You shouldn't be so attached, he told himself. You shouldn't have done that. Not with him. Not with anyone, really. But not with him in particular. Not with someone he could only see during sleep.
Hannu frowned. For a moment, he didn't answer. Reached up, plucking the weed from his hair, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. It looked as if he, too, was regretting it. "Maybe," he said. "It depends."
"On what?"
"On if I'm busy or not."
It was not unreasonable. It wasn't. But – "Please," Onni said.
Hannu looked at him. Onni waited, treading water, wishing he could take that word back.
"Fine," Hannu said, rolling his eyes skyward. "I'll see what I can do."
The next night, Onni stared up at the ceiling of his narrow bedroom, waiting for sleep. Nerves tugged at his thoughts, keeping it just far enough away that it felt unreachable.
He remembered the previous night. In his dream. The embrace, the intimacy. The sensation of those cold lips against his. In spite of the strange, unnatural feeling of it all, he ached for it again.
Eventually, he dozed off, only to wake in the same, familiar place that he always did.
He waited.
The feeling came not long after. The prickle at the back of his neck that signalled an intruder. Onni knew, without looking, exactly who it was, and why they had come – and how they had entered his space without encountering any resistance from his spells.
He turned around.
There, standing at the edge of the stone platform that they had shared the previous night, was Hannu. Head bent, looking down into the water, as if he needed to take a moment to contemplate whether he really wanted to meet with Onni at all. The furry hood was pulled forward, partly obscuring his face.
Onni parted his lips, then shut them. His tongue felt tied, as it often did in Hannu's presence.
Finally, Hannu looked up.
"I wasn't busy," he said. As if there was nothing more to say about the fact that he was there.
"I see," Onni said. He felt like he should say something more. But what was there to say? He ran his tongue over his lower lip and tried to think of something, but nothing presented itself.
Instead of talking, he went over to him. Words didn't come, so he did what seemed to make the most sense in their absence: he pulled Hannu into his arms, and kissed him.
He stiffened at first, then clung, moving to wrap his hands around Onni's shoulders. And when the kiss broke, Hannu pressed his face into the crook of Onni's neck, but lazily, as if he didn't want to make anything of it.
"Fine," Hannu said. His words were sharp, but his hold on Onni tightened a little. "If that's how you want this to be, then fine."
You should know better than this, Onni told himself. You do know better than this. Everything about this - including last night - is against your better judgment.
And yet.
"I do," was all Onni could say.
He did.