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Hold me and hold your tongue [Lalli/Reynir]
Title: Hold me and hold your tongue
Fandom: Stand Still, Stay Silent
Characters/Pairing: Lalli/Reynir
Rating: 18+
Length: 4.3k
Summary: After a dangerous, exhausting day, they spend some time together. By now, Reynir has come to know what Lalli likes. Kind of. Mostly. He thinks.
Other: Written for Moria as an exchange treat for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
smutswap. Better late than never. <3 (Original post)
Hold me and hold your tongue
There were cats at his family's farm. They kept down the rodents, and made for good enough company, falling somewhere between a barn cat and a housecat in temperament. Sometimes, when Reynir came in from outside, one of them would follow behind him, slipping in past the door before he could close it.
Even when they followed him inside, they weren't always friendly. There were cats who curled up next to him, and sat patiently beside him, and let him stroke their heads and backs. But there were others who would crawl into his lap as if demanding to be petted, and the second he lifted a hand to do it, he'd get claws for his trouble.
"You have to be patient with Erik," his mother had said, bandaging his hand after a fat black cat had cut it to ribbons. "He takes his time, but he'll come around eventually."
She was right about that, of course. She was right about most things.
That didn't make being patient any easier.
Interacting with Lalli wasn't much different from interacting with those cats. It was just... harder. Much harder. And his claws were a lot more trouble. Dealing with him would take more than some antiseptic and bandages.
But when you got down to it, Lalli wasn't that much different.
After the first few failed attempts, Reynir learned how to go about it. He announced himself when slipping into the dream, just as if he were entering Lalli's house, calling out to him. "Lalli! It's me!"
Unlike the first time he'd stepped in uninvited, he didn't talk to him at first, didn't linger on the boards, or – even worse – think of stepping onto his raft. That had been a stupid idea, Reynir had come to realize; there was no way it would hold the two of them. And it was private, in a way, or personal, or – something. Instead of staying where he was, he kept walking along the planks, stepping past Lalli, who might open his eyes to watch him, or maybe not. He kept going until he reached the rocky ground, and then stepped lightly along it until he came to the place he'd found that was best for what he had in mind: mossy and dry, and close enough that if Lalli spoke to him, he would hear it.
That was how he did it. That was where he went. Reynir sat himself down, stretched his legs out, and waited. Leaning against the rock face, he closed his eyes and took in the sound of the trees, and the water, and the dream surrounding him. And sometimes he heard the sound of boards on water as Lalli stepped off the raft and onto the planks, and sometimes he didn't.
It wasn't exactly the way Reynir would have liked to have it. Talking, as far as he was concerned, was what he would have preferred; it was one of the things he liked about Lalli's cousin, Onni. He was easy enough to talk to, as long as you didn't catch him by surprise. Even over the radio, Onni was easy to talk to, no matter how much he fumbled when speaking Icelandic. But Lalli was different; Lalli liked peace and quiet and silence. So Reynir would slip into Lalli's dream, say hello, and then try to stay quiet until Lalli showed him that he was in the mood for some friendly conversation. Or interaction. Or anything at all.
Footsteps on planks, and then on stone, and then the sound of someone sitting near him. And Lalli would say nothing, at least at first. Reynir would open his eyes, and tilt his head toward him, and smile, even if Lalli usually wasn't looking at him,
On the days when Lalli preferred silence, it was frustratingly hard to stay quiet. Sometimes, Reynir found himself talking anyway. The words would pour out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"That spell you did today was really cool! Do you think you could –"
"We can't do the same magic." The you idiot that would have followed went unsaid, and it was clear that it was not out of politeness, but because the rest spoke for itself.
In all fairness... it did speak for itself.
But sometimes, Lalli wanted to talk. And when he did, Reynir listened, trying to hold himself back. It was easy enough to just enjoy listening to him.
Reynir took in the sound of his voice, quiet and cold, like water. That was how Lalli sounded when he was talking, especially if it was magic that he was talking about. He sounded so sure of himself, even if he wasn't sure about what they were encountering, what they had seen out there in the world.
He asked things, sometimes. About what Reynir could do. About what he knew of the magic from back home. The stumbling answers Reynir gave never satisfied him; that much was obvious by the way he huffed, by the way he sucked at his teeth. Disapproving sideways glances from those cat–like eyes.
It was better when Lalli asked about other things.
"What does your home look like?"
The question caught Reynir by surprise. It wasn't the kind of thing Lalli might usually ask. Normally, his questions were about practical things, about information that might be useful to him. About the strange predicting dreams he'd had, or the spirits he'd seen.
Reynir turned his head a little to get a better look at him, not quite believing that he'd heard it right, that Lalli had actually asked that. Lalli was sitting slightly closer than usual, chin resting on his hands, a neutral look on his pointed face as he stared out across the swamp. He wasn't looking at him.
"Well? Is it as weird as you?"
That was more familiar. Reynir smiled, knowing that he should have expected something like that to follow, even if the question itself was a surprise. "Well...." Before Reynir knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, as if they'd been a flood just barely held back. Maybe he was glad that Lalli wanted to know. Maybe he was happy to do something other than sit there with him. Happy enough that he didn't care if he said something stupid, especially since Lalli didn't look like he would mind it, at least not this time. It didn't matter.
He spoke of open skies, and foggy mornings, and grassy hills, and rocky cliffs, and waterfalls. And Lalli listened.
When Lalli began to sit closer to him, Reynir pretended not to notice. He knew what this was. He'd been there before. It was just like the cats at home. Exactly like that. But he couldn't stop the joy that bubbled up in him, the smile that spread over his lips each time that he noticed Lalli had chosen to sit just a little bit closer to him.
Acceptance. That was what it was. All he needed was to be patient.
Though it was a little bit strange when Lalli began to lean on him, or rest his head on his shoulder, or curl up next to him. Not that Reynir minded at all; it just wasn't expected. But he put it down to comfort, to cosiness, to acceptance. But it didn't escape his notice that the air in the dream was slightly warmer at these times, as if the sun was shining on them.
The kiss was also unexpected. And so was everything that came after that.
Reynir decided it was best not to ask for an explanation. He wouldn't get one. Probably. Or if he did, he wouldn't get one that would make much sense. It didn't matter, anyway. If he'd minded, maybe it would have mattered, but he didn't mind. Not in the least! So, instead of asking, he concentrated on everything else: the sensation of long fingers cupping his face, the eager mouth on his own, and the press of skin against skin. Lalli wasn't the most talkative person he had ever met, but with something like this, he wasn't that hard to figure out.
It was easy to know what he wanted.
Reynir was happy to give it to him.
Even in the dream, he felt tired.
Reynir stepped carefully into Lalli's area, bypassing his shields as if they were air. Without waiting to be detected, he called out just loud enough to be heard. "Lalli! It's me. It's Reynir." There wasn't much likelihood that anyone else would hear him, but after the day they'd had, he didn't want to take the chance.
He glanced at the raft as he passed it. Lalli blinked up at him, saying nothing, his eyes drooping, looking just as tired as Reynir felt himself.
As usual, Reynir passed him, and as usual, he took up his place by the water, sinking down with his back to the rock face. It was all he could do to sit rather than collapse in a heap. He leaned back, rested his head against the stone, and closed his eyes.
It had been a long day.
They weren't prepared for the attack. There wasn't much they could have done to see it coming; it was by chance that they had come across that hidden nest, and it was by chance that sky had filled with clouds more quickly than they could move.
They wore themselves out getting away from it, all of them. But somehow, the magic rose up when he needed it, like it always did. In his weariness Reynir wondered if he would ever really know how it worked, but in the end he was just thankful that he could do something when he had to.
The shield had been just enough to cover them both, protecting Lalli as he wove his words and put together his spell. Just enough to push it all back and allow everyone to escape, including the two of them.
It had been a very long day.
The sound of footsteps on planks reached his ears: the soft pat of Lalli's feet on the wood, then on stone. Then, contact. Reynir cracked his eyes open as Lalli sank down and settled over his lap, draping himself over it.
The kiss, when it came, was firmer than he expected. Reynir wondered about that, blushing under the contact, but he accepted the kiss all the same. "Are you okay?" he asked when it ended, as Lalli pulled away to rest his head on his shoulder. He had seemed fine when Reynir had last seen him in the waking world, but in the confusion, and without being able to talk to each other properly, how could he be sure?
"Yes." Lalli let out a little huff, as if he thought the question was ridiculous, and maybe it was. He shifted in Reynir's arms, turned away from him. Sprawled out in his lap with his back to Reynir's chest and took hold of one of Reynir's hands, working at loosening the ties on his gloves.
"...Okay." It was a briefer answer than he had hoped for, but it was better than nothing, Reynir thought as he watched Lalli take his gloves off. He hesitated, then said, simply, "I'm fine too. Um, just in case you were wondering."
"Okay," Lalli said. He seemed to accept this, seemed to think nothing of it, as if he was going to just take that answer for what it was.
The gloves were set aside, and a moment later, Lalli's followed to join them. Then they were hand in hand, fingers knit together as Lalli curled up comfortably in Reynir's lap again.
"Your fingers are always so cold," Reynir murmured, brushing a kiss against Lalli's temple, giving his hand a squeeze.
"So?"
"So... Um. Well, they just are."
An exhale. Heavy, as if frustrated. Now you've done it, Reynir thought. You said something stupid again. "Not that I mind," he said in a rush. "I like holding hands with you, I just –"
Two fingers pressed against his lips. Obediently, Reynir quieted, hesitating, worrying that he'd said something wrong. Again. But a kiss followed, so it couldn't have been that bad.
You talk too much, Reynir told himself as Lalli straddled him, and kissed him, and slid his hands back to cup Reynir's head. You know he likes things quiet. And we're both tired. So maybe you should just not say anything at all right now.
Then again, it wasn't as if Lalli was giving him much opportunity to talk, anyway. He sank his fingers into Reynir's hair, held him as he kissed him hard and forceful, open–mouthed. Again, again, again.
After a while, Reynir forgot that he had said anything, stupid or not.
Sometimes, when they were alone together, Lalli's attitude was sharp, forceful, and rushed. It was as if he were worried they might get interrupted. And – to be fair – that wasn't impossible; there was always a chance that one of them might be forced awake, jostled out of sleep by the movement of the tank or by one of their crewmembers shaking them out of sleep.
Other times, it seemed as if there was something that he wanted, but that he also wanted it over as soon as possible.
Other times, he was slow and decisive.
This time, as Reynir let Lalli do as he liked, let his hands move, he decided that it was like that. Slow. That Lalli was going to take his time with it. Take it easy.
Lips at his throat. Lips and teeth. Too–sharp, biting, but he didn't mind that, really; it was good, in its own way. They'd already slipped their clothing, all of it. Well, Lalli had done it. He'd moved with careful hands, working at lacings, at buckles, loosening here, easing there, pulling clothes up and over, or down.
By now, he knew exactly how to take Reynir's clothes off.
Reynir had asked, once, why Lalli insisted on doing it by himself, why he enjoyed it so much. The answer that he received was an evasive "What?" and a silencing kiss when he tried to repeat the question. So, he let it go, and after a while, came to realize what it really was. Glances that lingered too long. Fingertips that drifted. The brush of hands against skin. It was simple: Lalli liked what he saw. At least, that's what it seemed like.
It made Reynir blush every time he noticed it. That was what it was about, and he knew it, and this time it was no different.
That didn't mean that he couldn't turn the tables on him, and return Lalli's favours. And as Lalli kissed him, Reynir let his hands go to work: sliding along fabric, slipping things off, lingering over that narrow body.
They had time. Tonight, they had time. They didn't have to rush. There was no chance that they would be jostled awake; they'd made their escape to a safe place, and everyone else had been just as exhausted as they were. After the day they'd had, it was good to know that they could take it slow, could indulge themselves with it.
And when they were both bare, Reynir dipped his head, pressing it to the crook of Lalli's neck. He lingered, waited, and took in the warmth of him, the shape of him. The contact, the press of Lalli's body, was enough to send warmth spreading over his cheeks and down. He could feel Lalli petting his hair, combing his fingers through his fringe, making even more of a mess of it than it already was.
He didn't mind. He didn't mind at all.
One thing that Reynir had learned about Lalli over the course of his visits was that Lalli had specific ways that he wanted things to be, and if he could take charge, he would. It could be as simple as fingers to lips, a silent signal to tell Reynir that Lalli wanted him to be quiet. It could be as straightforward as hands cupping his face and a firm kiss signalling that he wanted to lead. Every time, Reynir gave in and let Lalli guide him.
He drank his kisses, letting Lalli push him, press him, pin him, and slide fingers down, down, down. Reynir breathed, closed his eyes, wrapped Lalli's thin hair in his fingers, and gasped as that hand dipped lower. Touched him. Stroked. When the moan slipped out, there wasn't anything he could do about that. He wanted to be quiet; Lalli liked it quiet. But it was practically impossible when he was doing that.
With his back to the stone, and Lalli over him, it was overwhelming enough. But it wasn't long before Lalli wasn't only over him, but over top of him. Spread out over him. That was even more overwhelming, as it always was.
Reynir coiled his arms around Lalli as he took him in without a word, only a gasp, his face pressed against Reynir's neck, letting out a low moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He wrapped him up, holidng him tight, even as he tried to hold another moan back. He was grateful for the dream, for the fact that their bodies were not corporeal here, that in this dream Lalli could take him easily, all of him. The ache would not follow him. He couldn't imagine how much it might hurt otherwise.
Their mouths met again. It was better that way. If they kissed, Reynir thought, he could quiet himself, and lose himself in the press of Lalli's thin lips.
Every movement was slow, languid – the rock of Lalli's hips, the kisses, his gasps against Reynir's mouth. How much did today take out of you? Reynir thought. It didn't matter that his own limbs felt weighty; it was different for Lalli, who had seemed so worn out at the end of it. Should I have done more? Reynir asked himself, the anxiousness creeping up.
The kiss broke. Lalli pressed him back, and tilted his head up, lips brushing Reynir's ear, a soft touch that made him gasp.
"You aren't paying attention."
"But, I –" Reynir searched for a reasonable reply to that, and came up with nothing. Sometimes, he didn't know how to respond to Lalli at all. He tried to think, but the movement of Lalli's body over him and the soft huff of his breath made it incredibly difficult. "Do you want me to... Um...."
"What?"
"Anything."
"No." The word was a sigh, shaking as Lalli rolled his hips.
Reynir listened, but Lalli said nothing else, and not for the first time he found himself wishing that Lalli were the kind to communicate with words. Even when they could understand one another, he was so hard to make sense of. But Reynir knew well enough that what Lalli liked was to – well... was to do whatever he wanted.
It wasn't difficult to grant him that.
But maybe Reynir could do as he liked, too. He put words away, and concentrated on sensations, movement, and the way Lalli moved in his lap, rocking up and down on him. Reynir trailed his hands down his narrow back, brushing fingertips along his spine. He felt him shiver, and dropped his hands slowly, slowly, to grip at his hips.
As he rocked up into him, he felt him tremble. The gasp was a breath ghosting over his skin. Lalli wrapped his arms, clinging tight. He dug his nails in, which should have hurt, but didn't, not really. Maybe this was what he needed, Reynir thought as he felt Lalli press his face to the crook of his neck.
Maybe.
Better not to ask. Better to concentrate on the rhythm, on the movement, the way it felt to have Lalli over him. The way it felt to be in him, to have no distance between them.
What is this to you? Reynir wanted to ask that, sometimes. When they were together, comfortable, nestled against each other, he thought about asking it. Does this mean the same thing to you as it does to me? In the end, he held his tongue, staying quiet because he was afraid of what the answer might be.
It was easier, at times like this, to think that they felt the same way. When he had Lalli in his arms, when he had Lalli over him, his mouth pressed to his neck, long fingers digging nails into his flesh, narrow hips moving. Nothing to keep them apart.
Reynir dipped a hand, coiling his fingers around Lalli's cock. The grip made him gasp. As Reynir stroked him, he took in every tremble, every sound, even if it was hard to concentrate, even if his hand shook. He was sure his breaths were just as quick as Lalli's. Worse, maybe. It was hard to hold back, hard to stay quiet, and every movement was clumsy.
But he heard a moan, eventually. Softly near his ear, a low, breathy groan. Reynir smiled. He took up that sound like a string, and slowly began to unravel him. Let me hear you, he thought, not daring to ask it of him because he knew that if he did, Lalli would just clamp down again. Let me hear this.
Though he didn't speak, Lalli seemed to know what he was thinking, because the next thing Reynir felt was long fingers grabbing him by the hair, pulling him into a hard kiss.
Then, there was nothing but the warm mouth over his mouth, and hands cupping Reynir's head, taking care to hold him so that he wouldn't press uncomfortably against the face of the rock. The only noises were muffled, smothered whimpers and gasps.
Well, have it your way, Reynir thought, as the warmth rolled inside of him. If this is how you want it, that's fine. But he coiled his fingers around the thread that he had found, and pulled it, and slowly made Lalli come undone, and brought him over.
Sometimes, when they were finished, Lalli would draw away from him, leaving him worn–out and limp and exhausted. Stepping with bare feet, he would go to the shallow water, dip into it and rinse himself off, his expression quiet and closed, as if they had done nothing in particular.
Other times, Lalli would linger close, arms loosely coiled around Reynir's shoulders, head resting against his own, cheek to cheek. He would stay, breathing heavily, while Reynir threaded his fingers through his hair. Then he would tilt his head and steal a ghost of a kiss before taking hold of his hand to rise, pulling Reynir with him. They would dip into Lalli's waters together, after that.
This time was one of those. When they were finished, Lalli's lips softened against his mouth. He relaxed against Reynir, practically sagged, his breath a sigh as he nestled against him, not ready to move just yet.
As far as Reynir was concerned, that was fine. He didn't want to move, either. Grazing a kiss against Lalli's temple, he decided to just enjoy the moment, take it in. Even though it was difficult, he tried to hold back the 'thank you' that threatened to spill from his lips, the 'that was amazing'. He had said it once or twice. Lalli had stared at him as if he was crazy. Better not to say anything.
But it wasn't easy – and in the end, the words fell out anyway, even if he tried to hold them.
"Lalli?"
"Nh... What?"
Reynir licked his lips. Lalli didn't sound annoyed; the only things in his voice were contentment and lingering tiredness. So, maybe he could say it now. The words he'd wanted to say for a while, the ones that had somehow gripped his insides and dug deep down into his bones. "I..." But the right words wouldn't come; others slipped and slid right out of his mouth, but not those ones. "Um. I'm glad we could do this tonight."
No reply came after that. Reynir pulled in a shaky breath and bit down on his tongue. Stupid, he thought. That must have sounded so stupid. He must think I'm an idiot. I never say the right things at times like this, I don't –
Lalli's fingers trailing along his arm distracted him. His fingertips moved down, soft and drifting, until he took his hand. "Okay." There was a pause, then he added, mumbling in low tones, "It's good that you were here today."
"Oh!" Well... That was good, Reynir thought. Maybe. "What do you mean?"
"What?"
"Well – are you talking about before, or..." Reynir hesitated, then decided to take a chance, twining their fingers together carefully. "Or do you mean now?"
There was a long pause, and it was impossible to be sure whether it was because Lalli needed to think about it, or whether he was trying to decide on an answer, or some other reason that Reynir hadn't thought of. He squeezed Lalli's hand gently, and waited, and tried not to worry about the answer.
It came, eventually, after a while. Lalli lifted his head, nose grazing Reynir's cheek. He gave him a kiss that was slow, languid, lingering. Reynir accepted it, took it in, pliant and open–mouthed. And when it was over, and Lalli drew away and rose to pull him up with more strength than he had seemed to have a moment ago, murmuring about how they should wash off, Reynir decided to accept it for what it was.
It was not an answer. But not a not–answer, either. It was something Reynir had to think about; a puzzle that Lalli had given him to figure out.
As they slipped into the water of Lalli's mind together, Reynir couldn't help but smile. Whatever Lalli had meant to put into words, the meaning was good, and that was good enough.
End
Fandom: Stand Still, Stay Silent
Characters/Pairing: Lalli/Reynir
Rating: 18+
Length: 4.3k
Summary: After a dangerous, exhausting day, they spend some time together. By now, Reynir has come to know what Lalli likes. Kind of. Mostly. He thinks.
Other: Written for Moria as an exchange treat for
smutswap. Better late than never. <3 (Original post)Hold me and hold your tongue
There were cats at his family's farm. They kept down the rodents, and made for good enough company, falling somewhere between a barn cat and a housecat in temperament. Sometimes, when Reynir came in from outside, one of them would follow behind him, slipping in past the door before he could close it.
Even when they followed him inside, they weren't always friendly. There were cats who curled up next to him, and sat patiently beside him, and let him stroke their heads and backs. But there were others who would crawl into his lap as if demanding to be petted, and the second he lifted a hand to do it, he'd get claws for his trouble.
"You have to be patient with Erik," his mother had said, bandaging his hand after a fat black cat had cut it to ribbons. "He takes his time, but he'll come around eventually."
She was right about that, of course. She was right about most things.
That didn't make being patient any easier.
Interacting with Lalli wasn't much different from interacting with those cats. It was just... harder. Much harder. And his claws were a lot more trouble. Dealing with him would take more than some antiseptic and bandages.
But when you got down to it, Lalli wasn't that much different.
After the first few failed attempts, Reynir learned how to go about it. He announced himself when slipping into the dream, just as if he were entering Lalli's house, calling out to him. "Lalli! It's me!"
Unlike the first time he'd stepped in uninvited, he didn't talk to him at first, didn't linger on the boards, or – even worse – think of stepping onto his raft. That had been a stupid idea, Reynir had come to realize; there was no way it would hold the two of them. And it was private, in a way, or personal, or – something. Instead of staying where he was, he kept walking along the planks, stepping past Lalli, who might open his eyes to watch him, or maybe not. He kept going until he reached the rocky ground, and then stepped lightly along it until he came to the place he'd found that was best for what he had in mind: mossy and dry, and close enough that if Lalli spoke to him, he would hear it.
That was how he did it. That was where he went. Reynir sat himself down, stretched his legs out, and waited. Leaning against the rock face, he closed his eyes and took in the sound of the trees, and the water, and the dream surrounding him. And sometimes he heard the sound of boards on water as Lalli stepped off the raft and onto the planks, and sometimes he didn't.
It wasn't exactly the way Reynir would have liked to have it. Talking, as far as he was concerned, was what he would have preferred; it was one of the things he liked about Lalli's cousin, Onni. He was easy enough to talk to, as long as you didn't catch him by surprise. Even over the radio, Onni was easy to talk to, no matter how much he fumbled when speaking Icelandic. But Lalli was different; Lalli liked peace and quiet and silence. So Reynir would slip into Lalli's dream, say hello, and then try to stay quiet until Lalli showed him that he was in the mood for some friendly conversation. Or interaction. Or anything at all.
Footsteps on planks, and then on stone, and then the sound of someone sitting near him. And Lalli would say nothing, at least at first. Reynir would open his eyes, and tilt his head toward him, and smile, even if Lalli usually wasn't looking at him,
On the days when Lalli preferred silence, it was frustratingly hard to stay quiet. Sometimes, Reynir found himself talking anyway. The words would pour out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"That spell you did today was really cool! Do you think you could –"
"We can't do the same magic." The you idiot that would have followed went unsaid, and it was clear that it was not out of politeness, but because the rest spoke for itself.
In all fairness... it did speak for itself.
But sometimes, Lalli wanted to talk. And when he did, Reynir listened, trying to hold himself back. It was easy enough to just enjoy listening to him.
Reynir took in the sound of his voice, quiet and cold, like water. That was how Lalli sounded when he was talking, especially if it was magic that he was talking about. He sounded so sure of himself, even if he wasn't sure about what they were encountering, what they had seen out there in the world.
He asked things, sometimes. About what Reynir could do. About what he knew of the magic from back home. The stumbling answers Reynir gave never satisfied him; that much was obvious by the way he huffed, by the way he sucked at his teeth. Disapproving sideways glances from those cat–like eyes.
It was better when Lalli asked about other things.
"What does your home look like?"
The question caught Reynir by surprise. It wasn't the kind of thing Lalli might usually ask. Normally, his questions were about practical things, about information that might be useful to him. About the strange predicting dreams he'd had, or the spirits he'd seen.
Reynir turned his head a little to get a better look at him, not quite believing that he'd heard it right, that Lalli had actually asked that. Lalli was sitting slightly closer than usual, chin resting on his hands, a neutral look on his pointed face as he stared out across the swamp. He wasn't looking at him.
"Well? Is it as weird as you?"
That was more familiar. Reynir smiled, knowing that he should have expected something like that to follow, even if the question itself was a surprise. "Well...." Before Reynir knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, as if they'd been a flood just barely held back. Maybe he was glad that Lalli wanted to know. Maybe he was happy to do something other than sit there with him. Happy enough that he didn't care if he said something stupid, especially since Lalli didn't look like he would mind it, at least not this time. It didn't matter.
He spoke of open skies, and foggy mornings, and grassy hills, and rocky cliffs, and waterfalls. And Lalli listened.
When Lalli began to sit closer to him, Reynir pretended not to notice. He knew what this was. He'd been there before. It was just like the cats at home. Exactly like that. But he couldn't stop the joy that bubbled up in him, the smile that spread over his lips each time that he noticed Lalli had chosen to sit just a little bit closer to him.
Acceptance. That was what it was. All he needed was to be patient.
Though it was a little bit strange when Lalli began to lean on him, or rest his head on his shoulder, or curl up next to him. Not that Reynir minded at all; it just wasn't expected. But he put it down to comfort, to cosiness, to acceptance. But it didn't escape his notice that the air in the dream was slightly warmer at these times, as if the sun was shining on them.
The kiss was also unexpected. And so was everything that came after that.
Reynir decided it was best not to ask for an explanation. He wouldn't get one. Probably. Or if he did, he wouldn't get one that would make much sense. It didn't matter, anyway. If he'd minded, maybe it would have mattered, but he didn't mind. Not in the least! So, instead of asking, he concentrated on everything else: the sensation of long fingers cupping his face, the eager mouth on his own, and the press of skin against skin. Lalli wasn't the most talkative person he had ever met, but with something like this, he wasn't that hard to figure out.
It was easy to know what he wanted.
Reynir was happy to give it to him.
Even in the dream, he felt tired.
Reynir stepped carefully into Lalli's area, bypassing his shields as if they were air. Without waiting to be detected, he called out just loud enough to be heard. "Lalli! It's me. It's Reynir." There wasn't much likelihood that anyone else would hear him, but after the day they'd had, he didn't want to take the chance.
He glanced at the raft as he passed it. Lalli blinked up at him, saying nothing, his eyes drooping, looking just as tired as Reynir felt himself.
As usual, Reynir passed him, and as usual, he took up his place by the water, sinking down with his back to the rock face. It was all he could do to sit rather than collapse in a heap. He leaned back, rested his head against the stone, and closed his eyes.
It had been a long day.
They weren't prepared for the attack. There wasn't much they could have done to see it coming; it was by chance that they had come across that hidden nest, and it was by chance that sky had filled with clouds more quickly than they could move.
They wore themselves out getting away from it, all of them. But somehow, the magic rose up when he needed it, like it always did. In his weariness Reynir wondered if he would ever really know how it worked, but in the end he was just thankful that he could do something when he had to.
The shield had been just enough to cover them both, protecting Lalli as he wove his words and put together his spell. Just enough to push it all back and allow everyone to escape, including the two of them.
It had been a very long day.
The sound of footsteps on planks reached his ears: the soft pat of Lalli's feet on the wood, then on stone. Then, contact. Reynir cracked his eyes open as Lalli sank down and settled over his lap, draping himself over it.
The kiss, when it came, was firmer than he expected. Reynir wondered about that, blushing under the contact, but he accepted the kiss all the same. "Are you okay?" he asked when it ended, as Lalli pulled away to rest his head on his shoulder. He had seemed fine when Reynir had last seen him in the waking world, but in the confusion, and without being able to talk to each other properly, how could he be sure?
"Yes." Lalli let out a little huff, as if he thought the question was ridiculous, and maybe it was. He shifted in Reynir's arms, turned away from him. Sprawled out in his lap with his back to Reynir's chest and took hold of one of Reynir's hands, working at loosening the ties on his gloves.
"...Okay." It was a briefer answer than he had hoped for, but it was better than nothing, Reynir thought as he watched Lalli take his gloves off. He hesitated, then said, simply, "I'm fine too. Um, just in case you were wondering."
"Okay," Lalli said. He seemed to accept this, seemed to think nothing of it, as if he was going to just take that answer for what it was.
The gloves were set aside, and a moment later, Lalli's followed to join them. Then they were hand in hand, fingers knit together as Lalli curled up comfortably in Reynir's lap again.
"Your fingers are always so cold," Reynir murmured, brushing a kiss against Lalli's temple, giving his hand a squeeze.
"So?"
"So... Um. Well, they just are."
An exhale. Heavy, as if frustrated. Now you've done it, Reynir thought. You said something stupid again. "Not that I mind," he said in a rush. "I like holding hands with you, I just –"
Two fingers pressed against his lips. Obediently, Reynir quieted, hesitating, worrying that he'd said something wrong. Again. But a kiss followed, so it couldn't have been that bad.
You talk too much, Reynir told himself as Lalli straddled him, and kissed him, and slid his hands back to cup Reynir's head. You know he likes things quiet. And we're both tired. So maybe you should just not say anything at all right now.
Then again, it wasn't as if Lalli was giving him much opportunity to talk, anyway. He sank his fingers into Reynir's hair, held him as he kissed him hard and forceful, open–mouthed. Again, again, again.
After a while, Reynir forgot that he had said anything, stupid or not.
Sometimes, when they were alone together, Lalli's attitude was sharp, forceful, and rushed. It was as if he were worried they might get interrupted. And – to be fair – that wasn't impossible; there was always a chance that one of them might be forced awake, jostled out of sleep by the movement of the tank or by one of their crewmembers shaking them out of sleep.
Other times, it seemed as if there was something that he wanted, but that he also wanted it over as soon as possible.
Other times, he was slow and decisive.
This time, as Reynir let Lalli do as he liked, let his hands move, he decided that it was like that. Slow. That Lalli was going to take his time with it. Take it easy.
Lips at his throat. Lips and teeth. Too–sharp, biting, but he didn't mind that, really; it was good, in its own way. They'd already slipped their clothing, all of it. Well, Lalli had done it. He'd moved with careful hands, working at lacings, at buckles, loosening here, easing there, pulling clothes up and over, or down.
By now, he knew exactly how to take Reynir's clothes off.
Reynir had asked, once, why Lalli insisted on doing it by himself, why he enjoyed it so much. The answer that he received was an evasive "What?" and a silencing kiss when he tried to repeat the question. So, he let it go, and after a while, came to realize what it really was. Glances that lingered too long. Fingertips that drifted. The brush of hands against skin. It was simple: Lalli liked what he saw. At least, that's what it seemed like.
It made Reynir blush every time he noticed it. That was what it was about, and he knew it, and this time it was no different.
That didn't mean that he couldn't turn the tables on him, and return Lalli's favours. And as Lalli kissed him, Reynir let his hands go to work: sliding along fabric, slipping things off, lingering over that narrow body.
They had time. Tonight, they had time. They didn't have to rush. There was no chance that they would be jostled awake; they'd made their escape to a safe place, and everyone else had been just as exhausted as they were. After the day they'd had, it was good to know that they could take it slow, could indulge themselves with it.
And when they were both bare, Reynir dipped his head, pressing it to the crook of Lalli's neck. He lingered, waited, and took in the warmth of him, the shape of him. The contact, the press of Lalli's body, was enough to send warmth spreading over his cheeks and down. He could feel Lalli petting his hair, combing his fingers through his fringe, making even more of a mess of it than it already was.
He didn't mind. He didn't mind at all.
One thing that Reynir had learned about Lalli over the course of his visits was that Lalli had specific ways that he wanted things to be, and if he could take charge, he would. It could be as simple as fingers to lips, a silent signal to tell Reynir that Lalli wanted him to be quiet. It could be as straightforward as hands cupping his face and a firm kiss signalling that he wanted to lead. Every time, Reynir gave in and let Lalli guide him.
He drank his kisses, letting Lalli push him, press him, pin him, and slide fingers down, down, down. Reynir breathed, closed his eyes, wrapped Lalli's thin hair in his fingers, and gasped as that hand dipped lower. Touched him. Stroked. When the moan slipped out, there wasn't anything he could do about that. He wanted to be quiet; Lalli liked it quiet. But it was practically impossible when he was doing that.
With his back to the stone, and Lalli over him, it was overwhelming enough. But it wasn't long before Lalli wasn't only over him, but over top of him. Spread out over him. That was even more overwhelming, as it always was.
Reynir coiled his arms around Lalli as he took him in without a word, only a gasp, his face pressed against Reynir's neck, letting out a low moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He wrapped him up, holidng him tight, even as he tried to hold another moan back. He was grateful for the dream, for the fact that their bodies were not corporeal here, that in this dream Lalli could take him easily, all of him. The ache would not follow him. He couldn't imagine how much it might hurt otherwise.
Their mouths met again. It was better that way. If they kissed, Reynir thought, he could quiet himself, and lose himself in the press of Lalli's thin lips.
Every movement was slow, languid – the rock of Lalli's hips, the kisses, his gasps against Reynir's mouth. How much did today take out of you? Reynir thought. It didn't matter that his own limbs felt weighty; it was different for Lalli, who had seemed so worn out at the end of it. Should I have done more? Reynir asked himself, the anxiousness creeping up.
The kiss broke. Lalli pressed him back, and tilted his head up, lips brushing Reynir's ear, a soft touch that made him gasp.
"You aren't paying attention."
"But, I –" Reynir searched for a reasonable reply to that, and came up with nothing. Sometimes, he didn't know how to respond to Lalli at all. He tried to think, but the movement of Lalli's body over him and the soft huff of his breath made it incredibly difficult. "Do you want me to... Um...."
"What?"
"Anything."
"No." The word was a sigh, shaking as Lalli rolled his hips.
Reynir listened, but Lalli said nothing else, and not for the first time he found himself wishing that Lalli were the kind to communicate with words. Even when they could understand one another, he was so hard to make sense of. But Reynir knew well enough that what Lalli liked was to – well... was to do whatever he wanted.
It wasn't difficult to grant him that.
But maybe Reynir could do as he liked, too. He put words away, and concentrated on sensations, movement, and the way Lalli moved in his lap, rocking up and down on him. Reynir trailed his hands down his narrow back, brushing fingertips along his spine. He felt him shiver, and dropped his hands slowly, slowly, to grip at his hips.
As he rocked up into him, he felt him tremble. The gasp was a breath ghosting over his skin. Lalli wrapped his arms, clinging tight. He dug his nails in, which should have hurt, but didn't, not really. Maybe this was what he needed, Reynir thought as he felt Lalli press his face to the crook of his neck.
Maybe.
Better not to ask. Better to concentrate on the rhythm, on the movement, the way it felt to have Lalli over him. The way it felt to be in him, to have no distance between them.
What is this to you? Reynir wanted to ask that, sometimes. When they were together, comfortable, nestled against each other, he thought about asking it. Does this mean the same thing to you as it does to me? In the end, he held his tongue, staying quiet because he was afraid of what the answer might be.
It was easier, at times like this, to think that they felt the same way. When he had Lalli in his arms, when he had Lalli over him, his mouth pressed to his neck, long fingers digging nails into his flesh, narrow hips moving. Nothing to keep them apart.
Reynir dipped a hand, coiling his fingers around Lalli's cock. The grip made him gasp. As Reynir stroked him, he took in every tremble, every sound, even if it was hard to concentrate, even if his hand shook. He was sure his breaths were just as quick as Lalli's. Worse, maybe. It was hard to hold back, hard to stay quiet, and every movement was clumsy.
But he heard a moan, eventually. Softly near his ear, a low, breathy groan. Reynir smiled. He took up that sound like a string, and slowly began to unravel him. Let me hear you, he thought, not daring to ask it of him because he knew that if he did, Lalli would just clamp down again. Let me hear this.
Though he didn't speak, Lalli seemed to know what he was thinking, because the next thing Reynir felt was long fingers grabbing him by the hair, pulling him into a hard kiss.
Then, there was nothing but the warm mouth over his mouth, and hands cupping Reynir's head, taking care to hold him so that he wouldn't press uncomfortably against the face of the rock. The only noises were muffled, smothered whimpers and gasps.
Well, have it your way, Reynir thought, as the warmth rolled inside of him. If this is how you want it, that's fine. But he coiled his fingers around the thread that he had found, and pulled it, and slowly made Lalli come undone, and brought him over.
Sometimes, when they were finished, Lalli would draw away from him, leaving him worn–out and limp and exhausted. Stepping with bare feet, he would go to the shallow water, dip into it and rinse himself off, his expression quiet and closed, as if they had done nothing in particular.
Other times, Lalli would linger close, arms loosely coiled around Reynir's shoulders, head resting against his own, cheek to cheek. He would stay, breathing heavily, while Reynir threaded his fingers through his hair. Then he would tilt his head and steal a ghost of a kiss before taking hold of his hand to rise, pulling Reynir with him. They would dip into Lalli's waters together, after that.
This time was one of those. When they were finished, Lalli's lips softened against his mouth. He relaxed against Reynir, practically sagged, his breath a sigh as he nestled against him, not ready to move just yet.
As far as Reynir was concerned, that was fine. He didn't want to move, either. Grazing a kiss against Lalli's temple, he decided to just enjoy the moment, take it in. Even though it was difficult, he tried to hold back the 'thank you' that threatened to spill from his lips, the 'that was amazing'. He had said it once or twice. Lalli had stared at him as if he was crazy. Better not to say anything.
But it wasn't easy – and in the end, the words fell out anyway, even if he tried to hold them.
"Lalli?"
"Nh... What?"
Reynir licked his lips. Lalli didn't sound annoyed; the only things in his voice were contentment and lingering tiredness. So, maybe he could say it now. The words he'd wanted to say for a while, the ones that had somehow gripped his insides and dug deep down into his bones. "I..." But the right words wouldn't come; others slipped and slid right out of his mouth, but not those ones. "Um. I'm glad we could do this tonight."
No reply came after that. Reynir pulled in a shaky breath and bit down on his tongue. Stupid, he thought. That must have sounded so stupid. He must think I'm an idiot. I never say the right things at times like this, I don't –
Lalli's fingers trailing along his arm distracted him. His fingertips moved down, soft and drifting, until he took his hand. "Okay." There was a pause, then he added, mumbling in low tones, "It's good that you were here today."
"Oh!" Well... That was good, Reynir thought. Maybe. "What do you mean?"
"What?"
"Well – are you talking about before, or..." Reynir hesitated, then decided to take a chance, twining their fingers together carefully. "Or do you mean now?"
There was a long pause, and it was impossible to be sure whether it was because Lalli needed to think about it, or whether he was trying to decide on an answer, or some other reason that Reynir hadn't thought of. He squeezed Lalli's hand gently, and waited, and tried not to worry about the answer.
It came, eventually, after a while. Lalli lifted his head, nose grazing Reynir's cheek. He gave him a kiss that was slow, languid, lingering. Reynir accepted it, took it in, pliant and open–mouthed. And when it was over, and Lalli drew away and rose to pull him up with more strength than he had seemed to have a moment ago, murmuring about how they should wash off, Reynir decided to accept it for what it was.
It was not an answer. But not a not–answer, either. It was something Reynir had to think about; a puzzle that Lalli had given him to figure out.
As they slipped into the water of Lalli's mind together, Reynir couldn't help but smile. Whatever Lalli had meant to put into words, the meaning was good, and that was good enough.
End