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Feb. 24th, 2019 01:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dantealighierinyarlathotwink on tumblr asked:
31. a kiss after a small rejection
“No.”
“But—”
Carter folds his arms across his chest. “No.”
Nyarlathotep looks down at him, considering. Carter is a little disheveled, shirt untucked and tie loosened, but still relatively put-together for someone who’s just been plucked from a mundane university office and swept off to a palace halfway across the universe. Remarkably composed, too— the first time this had happened he’d been nearly insensible with fear, and it had taken what felt like hours for Nyarlathotep to convince Carter that he wasn’t planning to hurt him. (Tenuously true as that may have been at the time.) Now, adorably diminutive as he looks from this vantage point, surrounded by the trappings of a throne room made for creatures far larger than he is, he has the nerve to look up at Nyarlathotep with an air of defiance.
“Will you just hear me out?”
Carter frowns, but doesn’t object. Nyarlathotep steps down from the throne, lightly, and kneels in front of him— this form is very roughly humanoid, but nearly three feet taller than Carter. He takes Carter’s chin between thumb and forefinger, very gently, and tilts his face up. “Pretty human.”
Carter wrinkles his nose. “If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.”
“Mm.” Nyarlathotep examines Carter’s face, then the rest of him— both above and below the skin— with a practiced eye, checking for any new scrapes or bruises (or worse) acquired since the last time they’d seen each other. There are…not a few. “What are these from?”
Carter shrugs, looks away to the extent that he can. “This and that. Nothing major.”
“Nothing major?” Nyarlathotep frowns. “You have a cracked rib, doll, and some very nasty-looking internal bruises. I would call that major. What happened?”
Carter bites down on his lower lip, and Nyarlathotep resists the urge to chide him for it. “I— got into a disagreement with someone who wanted a book that I refused to give him. Not a student, someone I’d been introduced to by a friend. Really, it’s not as bad as it looks, and he didn’t intend to hurt me, he just…got carried away.”
“I see.”
“It’s not like—” Carter tries to wriggle out of Nyarlathotep’s grip, and only succeeds in getting his arms pinned to his sides— “I haven’t had worse.”
Nyarlathotep sighs, ruffling Carter’s hair. “That’s exactly what worries me.”
“I can take care of myself,” says Carter, a little indignantly, and Nyarlathotep wants to laugh at that— at this tiny, delicate creature asserting such a thing, so painfully naive in his certainty. I can take care of myself, when Nyarlathotep, and a near-infinite number of other powerful beings, could crush him with a thought. By accident, if they’re not careful. Good grief.
But laughing will only make Carter more intransigent; Nyarlathotep knows that from experience. Instead, he loosens his grip, allowing Carter a little breathing room, and lets go of his chin, stroking his hair the way he knows Carter likes. At least he doesn’t have to worry about mussing it and incurring Carter’s ire; it’s quite disheveled enough already.
“I don’t doubt that you can. But this is just from dealing with another human, and you know as well as I—” that’s a lie, but a harmless one— “how many things there are out there that are far more powerful, and far more capable of inflicting harm. How much worse might you get hurt if one of them takes a shine to you?”
Carter furrows his brow. “But—”
“Yes, yes, they won’t want to make me angry, but that’s a fairly intangible protection, don’t you think?”
Carter considers. “I suppose so.”
“So,” Nyarlathotep murmurs, leaning in to the side of Carter’s neck, “don’t you think it would be a good idea for me to have you somewhere where that’s not an issue?” Carter’s breath catches, and Nyarlathotep feels the electric pulse that dictates the beat of his heart pick up speed; this form’s teeth are very sharp indeed, and barely a hair’s width from Carter’s skin. Nyarlathotep smiles to himself, and continues. “You’d be quite comfortable, I promise— you’d have all you want and more without having to lift a finger. And you’d be safe.”
“From everything except you,” Carter says, and freezes when Nyarlathotep’s teeth find his earlobe. For one very long moment they linger there, just barely shy of drawing blood, and then Nyarlathotep pulls back and looks him in the eye.
“That’s true. But— don’t you trust me, Randolph Carter?”
Carter doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns away from Nyarlathotep, takes a few steps towards the door. Nyarlathotep doesn’t move to block him.
“Well?”
Carter stops. “I’m not your property, you know,” he says, and his small voice echoes about the onyx expanse of the hall. The sight of him standing there, so stubbornly out of proportion with his surroundings, is hopelessly endearing; Nyarlathotep has to suppress the immediate urge to scoop him up and carry him off, consequences be damned.
“No?”
“No,” Carter says, renewed conviction in his voice, and turns back to face Nyarlathotep. “I’m not your property, and I’ll not be treated like it. I won’t have you hide me away in some pocket dimension of yours, only accessible when you feel like it, even if it is to keep me safe. That’s a loss of autonomy that I won’t stand for. You can protect me, take me to places like this, that’s all fine, but I won’t be owned like that. And—” he glances around, momentary insecurity showing on his face— “I like it here, and I like being with you, but I also like my life in Boston. It’s…important to me. I don’t expect you to understand why, but it is. I’ll take my chances for it any day.”
“And what if,” says Nyarlathotep, rising to his full height, “I decide I’d rather keep you where I choose anyway?”
Carter looks up at him frankly. “You won’t,” he says, and there’s no hint of a waver in his voice.
Nyarlathotep frowns down at him. Carter is right, of course, but the certainty is more than a little annoying. Just once, he thinks, I’d like to give him a reason to question such confidence.
“All right,” he says. “I just wish—”
“What?”
“Nothing,” says Nyarlathotep, and then after a moment— “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
“Which is?”
Nyarlathotep kneels down again, and takes Carter’s waist in his hands. Carter sucks in a breath, out of habit, but Nyarlathotep doesn’t squeeze, just— holds him, with the utmost carefulness, paying meticulous attention to the delicate architecture of his bones, the intricate branching of his nerves and blood vessels, the infinitesimal sparks of electricity that compose his thoughts.
“A very small, very fragile thing,” he murmurs, almost absently, “that I can’t help worrying about.”
Carter smiles at him, oblivious as ever, confident in his own invincibility. Adorably insolent— the same foolhardy recklessness that had drawn Nyarlathotep to him in the first place. “Well, don’t. Like I told you, I can take care of myself.”
Poor, breakable creature. How much there is that he doesn’t know. For a moment Nyarlathotep is nearly overcome with the urge to ignore his protests, to preserve that sweet, naive confidence at whatever cost— but that’s quashed when Carter stands up on tiptoe, weaves one hand in Nyarlathotep’s hair, and kisses him on the mouth.
“Thank you,” Carter murmurs, when he pulls away. “For respecting my wishes. It— means a lot.”
“Of course,” says Nyarlathotep, and doesn’t bring it up again.
kiss meme - rantep, 31?
31. a kiss after a small rejection
“No.”
“But—”
Carter folds his arms across his chest. “No.”
Nyarlathotep looks down at him, considering. Carter is a little disheveled, shirt untucked and tie loosened, but still relatively put-together for someone who’s just been plucked from a mundane university office and swept off to a palace halfway across the universe. Remarkably composed, too— the first time this had happened he’d been nearly insensible with fear, and it had taken what felt like hours for Nyarlathotep to convince Carter that he wasn’t planning to hurt him. (Tenuously true as that may have been at the time.) Now, adorably diminutive as he looks from this vantage point, surrounded by the trappings of a throne room made for creatures far larger than he is, he has the nerve to look up at Nyarlathotep with an air of defiance.
“Will you just hear me out?”
Carter frowns, but doesn’t object. Nyarlathotep steps down from the throne, lightly, and kneels in front of him— this form is very roughly humanoid, but nearly three feet taller than Carter. He takes Carter’s chin between thumb and forefinger, very gently, and tilts his face up. “Pretty human.”
Carter wrinkles his nose. “If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.”
“Mm.” Nyarlathotep examines Carter’s face, then the rest of him— both above and below the skin— with a practiced eye, checking for any new scrapes or bruises (or worse) acquired since the last time they’d seen each other. There are…not a few. “What are these from?”
Carter shrugs, looks away to the extent that he can. “This and that. Nothing major.”
“Nothing major?” Nyarlathotep frowns. “You have a cracked rib, doll, and some very nasty-looking internal bruises. I would call that major. What happened?”
Carter bites down on his lower lip, and Nyarlathotep resists the urge to chide him for it. “I— got into a disagreement with someone who wanted a book that I refused to give him. Not a student, someone I’d been introduced to by a friend. Really, it’s not as bad as it looks, and he didn’t intend to hurt me, he just…got carried away.”
“I see.”
“It’s not like—” Carter tries to wriggle out of Nyarlathotep’s grip, and only succeeds in getting his arms pinned to his sides— “I haven’t had worse.”
Nyarlathotep sighs, ruffling Carter’s hair. “That’s exactly what worries me.”
“I can take care of myself,” says Carter, a little indignantly, and Nyarlathotep wants to laugh at that— at this tiny, delicate creature asserting such a thing, so painfully naive in his certainty. I can take care of myself, when Nyarlathotep, and a near-infinite number of other powerful beings, could crush him with a thought. By accident, if they’re not careful. Good grief.
But laughing will only make Carter more intransigent; Nyarlathotep knows that from experience. Instead, he loosens his grip, allowing Carter a little breathing room, and lets go of his chin, stroking his hair the way he knows Carter likes. At least he doesn’t have to worry about mussing it and incurring Carter’s ire; it’s quite disheveled enough already.
“I don’t doubt that you can. But this is just from dealing with another human, and you know as well as I—” that’s a lie, but a harmless one— “how many things there are out there that are far more powerful, and far more capable of inflicting harm. How much worse might you get hurt if one of them takes a shine to you?”
Carter furrows his brow. “But—”
“Yes, yes, they won’t want to make me angry, but that’s a fairly intangible protection, don’t you think?”
Carter considers. “I suppose so.”
“So,” Nyarlathotep murmurs, leaning in to the side of Carter’s neck, “don’t you think it would be a good idea for me to have you somewhere where that’s not an issue?” Carter’s breath catches, and Nyarlathotep feels the electric pulse that dictates the beat of his heart pick up speed; this form’s teeth are very sharp indeed, and barely a hair’s width from Carter’s skin. Nyarlathotep smiles to himself, and continues. “You’d be quite comfortable, I promise— you’d have all you want and more without having to lift a finger. And you’d be safe.”
“From everything except you,” Carter says, and freezes when Nyarlathotep’s teeth find his earlobe. For one very long moment they linger there, just barely shy of drawing blood, and then Nyarlathotep pulls back and looks him in the eye.
“That’s true. But— don’t you trust me, Randolph Carter?”
Carter doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns away from Nyarlathotep, takes a few steps towards the door. Nyarlathotep doesn’t move to block him.
“Well?”
Carter stops. “I’m not your property, you know,” he says, and his small voice echoes about the onyx expanse of the hall. The sight of him standing there, so stubbornly out of proportion with his surroundings, is hopelessly endearing; Nyarlathotep has to suppress the immediate urge to scoop him up and carry him off, consequences be damned.
“No?”
“No,” Carter says, renewed conviction in his voice, and turns back to face Nyarlathotep. “I’m not your property, and I’ll not be treated like it. I won’t have you hide me away in some pocket dimension of yours, only accessible when you feel like it, even if it is to keep me safe. That’s a loss of autonomy that I won’t stand for. You can protect me, take me to places like this, that’s all fine, but I won’t be owned like that. And—” he glances around, momentary insecurity showing on his face— “I like it here, and I like being with you, but I also like my life in Boston. It’s…important to me. I don’t expect you to understand why, but it is. I’ll take my chances for it any day.”
“And what if,” says Nyarlathotep, rising to his full height, “I decide I’d rather keep you where I choose anyway?”
Carter looks up at him frankly. “You won’t,” he says, and there’s no hint of a waver in his voice.
Nyarlathotep frowns down at him. Carter is right, of course, but the certainty is more than a little annoying. Just once, he thinks, I’d like to give him a reason to question such confidence.
“All right,” he says. “I just wish—”
“What?”
“Nothing,” says Nyarlathotep, and then after a moment— “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
“Which is?”
Nyarlathotep kneels down again, and takes Carter’s waist in his hands. Carter sucks in a breath, out of habit, but Nyarlathotep doesn’t squeeze, just— holds him, with the utmost carefulness, paying meticulous attention to the delicate architecture of his bones, the intricate branching of his nerves and blood vessels, the infinitesimal sparks of electricity that compose his thoughts.
“A very small, very fragile thing,” he murmurs, almost absently, “that I can’t help worrying about.”
Carter smiles at him, oblivious as ever, confident in his own invincibility. Adorably insolent— the same foolhardy recklessness that had drawn Nyarlathotep to him in the first place. “Well, don’t. Like I told you, I can take care of myself.”
Poor, breakable creature. How much there is that he doesn’t know. For a moment Nyarlathotep is nearly overcome with the urge to ignore his protests, to preserve that sweet, naive confidence at whatever cost— but that’s quashed when Carter stands up on tiptoe, weaves one hand in Nyarlathotep’s hair, and kisses him on the mouth.
“Thank you,” Carter murmurs, when he pulls away. “For respecting my wishes. It— means a lot.”
“Of course,” says Nyarlathotep, and doesn’t bring it up again.
