Caius D'Onofrio (poweroftheeye) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2018-11-29 21:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | #november 2017, caius, caius x reagan, reagan |
Who: Caius and Reagan
When: Saturday, Nov 25th, evening / early Sunday morning
Where: mostly Reagan's house
Warning: turns NSFW
Status: Complete
The moment Brianna left, Caius dug into the book. His heart was pounding wildly as he dropped to his knees in front of his coffee table and shoved other things aside to put down the big grimoire and open it. The burning sensation was definitely wasn’t his imagination, and his hands were hurting by the time he put it down. Caius didn’t care. All he cared about was finding what he needed to find. He knew in the back of his mind that he’d promised Reagan they could set it all aside for the night, but most of Caius was willing to sacrifice every other obligation for this, to get it done and put his mind back together. He tried not to be frantic as he started turning pages, dark eyes skimming down all of the old, cramped script, magically preserved. Nothing had dates on it, but he could feel that the early pages dated back to before The Six. There was a lot to read, but he had to search through it all to find what he needed.
Hours passed. Caius stayed on his knees on the rug, turning pages back and forth, a headache growing behind his eyes as he tried to decipher the different handwritings, the different notations in the margins, jumbled voices reaching out from the past. Some of it was even in code. None of it felt right, though, none of it felt connected to him. A terrible, desperate feeling had settled in his chest by the time Caius was passing the middle of the book. Where was it? A spell complex enough to accomplish what Baron’s had done to them for generations had to be included in her grimoire.
He turned another page, feeling more and more frantic, and then Caius saw it. Nestled between the old yellowed pages, compressed enough to be hard to notice, were the stubs of several pages. They were still attached to the binding, but they’d obviously been torn out long ago. The grimoire continued on, but Caius couldn’t even see the words anymore. He ran his fingers along the soft torn edges and he knew. That was it. That was where the spell had been that had cursed two families and stolen his life from him. The spell was gone. Baron or someone after her had been covering their tracks. Why else would they tear pages out? He’d worried about the grimoire being destroyed and he now realized what a fool he’d been to assume it would be fully intact.
Caius sat back on his heels, his breathing quick and shallow as sparkles danced on the edges of his vision. It was gone, the spell was gone, and even though they’d gone through all this trouble -- some of which he didn’t even remember -- it was all for nothing. The pages had probably been destroyed long ago, maybe when the family went into magical hiding. There was nothing there to help him.
Something in him snapped, and Caius abruptly shoved the big book off of his table. He was on his feet before he really knew what he was doing and stalking out of the house. The Obscurities were rustling around inside of him, excited by the dark emotions they so loved to feed off of in him. Caius didn’t even try to keep them down, his eyes turning black as his bare feet carried him out over the light snow that was still hanging around on his back porch. Caius turned his face to the gray sky, his chest still heaving with rioting feelings. He was fucked, it was hopeless, there was nothing that could piece him back together now. Hands in fists at his sides, he opened his mouth and screamed from the bottom of his lungs -- a sound full of desperate frustration and rage and pain. He felt like his mind was coming apart all over again. The sky, as always, didn’t care.
His eyes turned toward the woods, and Caius relinquished complete control of himself to the spirits inside of him. They wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere wild, wanted to run and find something to kill, to make something hurt as much as he was, tear it apart with his bare hands. Unable to deal with his current reality, Caius let them.
By the time he got back to his house, it was dark. He went inside only long enough to get his car keys. He was filthy, he was freezing and dazed, he was scratched up and limping, but all he had in his head was that he needed to get to Reagan. He’d promised something, he had to fulfill it. Still shoeless and in a t-shirt, completely forgetting he had a cell phone, Caius got into the car. The next thing he knew, he was already at Reagan’s, with no memory of actually driving there. He got out without closing the car door, and blanked out again walking up the steps. He blinked his all-black eyes a few times, then knocked, hesitantly, not sure if he’d already done that part or not.
Reagan had spent the first half of the day working, and then the second half waiting to hear from Caius. As far as she knew they were still planning on going out, though Reagan had no idea what they would do, or where they would go. But it would be nice to take a breather from everything. Maybe there would be some stilted awkwardness, but Reagan could handle it. Hopefully Caius could too. Even now, Reagan still felt like they would stronger together than apart. She had a feeling Caius knew it too, otherwise he might have still been trying to avoid her.
As the hours passed and she didn't hear from him, Reagan began to wonder if maybe he had forgotten, or just simply decided against seeing her tonight. She refused to call or text, not wanting to sound or look desperate. At the same time, concern began to churn inside of her, because she knew his mind was somewhat fragile now, and things were difficult for him, no matter how 'put together' he tried to appear to everyone. Reagan had finally decided to call him when she heard the knock at the front door.
Curious, she carried her phone to the front of the house and peered out through the peephole. It was Caius. A disheveled, dazed looking Caius. Reagan quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open. She stared at him for only a second, her heart in her throat as she looked him over from top to bottom. His eyes. “Gods,” she whispered, stepping back to let him inside, given he was shoeless, and it was cold. “What… what happened?”
It was a standard gesture of invitation, but it still took Caius a few extra seconds to realize she wanted him to come inside. He did so, his movements a bit stiff and mechanical. He couldn’t even really feel his feet anymore, besides a vague sense of burning that was easy to ignore at the moment. His glossy black eyes drifted around the house like he’d never seen it before, everything intensely lit to the shadow-sensitive vision. Gradually, his gaze came back and focused on Reagan, though it was difficult to tell without irises and pupils. “The spell is gone,” he told her, the words calm and distant and slow. “From the grimoire. Torn out. Missing. Who knows how long. It’s gone.”
The spell. The grimoire. He had it. Reagan would have focused solely on that if he didn't look so disheveled and so very un-Caius. Had the grimoire been enchanted somehow? Designed to hurt whoever went through it who didn't have Baron blood? She didn't close the door quite yet, as she couldn't just leave his car open like that in her driveway. She was working out in her head as quickly as she could the best way to handle this. Reagan didn't like that his eyes were so dark, and she thought about the Obscurities inside of him, of what happened that day in the fog. He wouldn't remember, of course, but Reagan had a feeling the Obscurities would. "You should sit down," Reagan told him carefully. "We'll figure this out, but you look terrible and you should get off your feet. I'm going to go close up your car, and then we'll talk. Is that okay?"
His car? Had he driven? ... oh. Yes. Caius stared at her for a beat, then gave a slight nod. He turned and walked into the living room since she hadn’t told him to go anywhere else. Unmindful of how dirty his clothes were, Caius sat down on the couch. He felt dazed and not quite connected to anything at all, running on an autopilot that apparently still had enough of its programming to bring him straight to Reagan. Well ... maybe not straight to her, but eventually to her. He knew in a vague way that he’d intended to see her today anyway, but he couldn’t quite remember why or what the plan had been. It didn’t matter. The grimoire with its missing pages was more important. It meant he was lost, defeated, doomed to this weird twilight life where he didn’t really understand anything. It was better to shut down and let the Obscurities drive for a while. It was better than feeling like he was being torn apart with rage and grief and confusion. So he sat and he stared and he waited for Reagan to come back.
Reagan hurried outside to make sure Caius's car was taken care of and locked up before she returned. Despite what was happening, she felt somewhat calm about the potential problem. They had been facing problems for years and always managed to work them out. This would be no different. She stepped inside the house and shut the door before finding Caius in the living room. Rather than sit beside him, Reagan sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. His eyes were still black. "Caius," Reagan murmured. "I want to talk to you, not them." It was still him, she knew, but not entirely him. She couldn't help but wonder if the obscurities were somehow controlling him, or if he was allowing them to. If the pages needed were truly gone, she could see how that might affect him. But she wanted to make sure she understood what they were dealing with.
It took him an extra few seconds to understand what she was saying. Everything non-visual felt like it was coming through a strange filter, like he was underwater, but his vision was sharp and crisp and with the spirits enhancing it he could really see how many different colors there were in Reagan’s eyes, and how the magic radiated off of her like a flaming aura of beauty, and something whispered that he should just let her consume him, let her use up all his air and oxygen and wouldn’t the darkness be more comfortable, all that quiet and stillness ... Caius’s lashes fluttered as he struggled a bit to rally himself and blinked rapidly. The blackness over his eyes receded, slower than it would have if he wasn’t feeling so compromised, and Caius really focused on Reagan for the first time since arriving. Almost immediately, tears welled up in his eyes, and he dropped his gaze in shame, shifting a bit on the couch to sit forward more. He started to reach up to scrub his hands over his face, but he noticed how disgusting they were and let them drop again. “The spell’s gone,” he muttered again, his voice a lot more ragged now.
It was the first time in a very long time that Reagan saw Caius emotional. At least beyond the night they eloped. This was a different kind of emotional. It was scarier, in a way, because he had always been stubborn and determined. She couldn't fathom what Caius looked like defeated. This couldn't possibly be it. Without thinking Reagan reached out to take his dirty hand in hers, her fingers wrapping around his own. She wanted him to know she was there with him, and his fear was nothing to be ashamed of. "How can you be sure?" If pages were missing in the grimoire, that didn't necessarily mean they had the spell he needed to right his mind. Reagan knew Caius was so in tune with magic that maybe it was some deep-seated instinct, but she had to take this one step at a time to figure out what they needed to do.
Caius allowed her to take his hand, but he didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. He had more than just fear to be ashamed of now, the memories of his time in the woods were fuzzy, but present. He had not reacted well, giving control over to the darker parts of him that weren’t all him. Mostly Caius just hated that it had all put him in such a weak spot. He felt so helpless, hopeless. He didn’t know what to do now, didn’t have a plan. It was all so exhausting and now that he’d raged and made innocent beings suffer, he just wanted to sleep for a week. “There’s not much in the book after the torn pages,” he told Reagan. “I looked through all of it. And when I touched the stubs ... I just knew. That was it. And of course it was, why destroy the whole book when you can just cover your tracks by burning a few pages?” He gave a little scoff and shook his head at his own stupidity. He hadn’t even thought of that. “It burns, too,” he mumbled. “It knows my blood.”
Reagan looked down at their hands, her thumb sliding back and forth over his skin slowly. "Just because they're missing doesn't mean they've been destroyed. Someone in Brianna's family might have taken them out. I can't imagine any witch wanting to destroy a piece of their grimoire, even if they didn't want it falling into the wrong hands. I'll talk to my mother, she may know a way to try and locate the missing pages, if we still have the entire grimoire." And she had a back up plan, in case that didn't work out for them either. "Don't lose hope," Reagan murmured. "We'll get your memories back. There's no way we're giving up now." Her gaze ticked lower to his feet and she sighed softly. "What happened to you. After you realized the pages were missing?"
There was already a lump in Caius’s throat, and the soft way Reagan was touching and speaking to him made it feel even bigger and harder to swallow down. He couldn’t remember that tenderness from other points in his life, and he desperately wanted to. He longed to be fully engaged with her, to feel the same things she felt, to reciprocate. Instead he had this hollow place in his chest, only confused longing. Caius couldn’t see any hope at the moment -- even if they regrouped and tried something else, he was sure it would fail as well. It was just roadblock after roadblock, and the rollercoaster was wearing him out. How many times could he take the promise of getting his mind back being dangled in front of him and then jerked away? Reagan’s question brought a sharper pang into his consciousness. Caius’s face twisted and he leaned forward before he fully cracked, resting his forehead against the back of Reagan’s hand as his breath hitched. “I let them take me to the woods,” he answered thickly. “I just ... couldn’t be me anymore.” He didn’t feel able to talk about what he’d done -- or what the Obscurities had done -- out there, not yet.
Reagan wondered if she ought to just say fuck the grimoire and do what had been forming in the back of her mind since visiting Rost in the cemetery, where she had seen Baron's spirit. It would take some preparation on her part as it was too dangerous to just jump in head first. Caius had told her that unique situations were not excuses for carelessness, and Reagan couldn't be careless with this. The consequences could be far more severe than a love spell affecting the town. She frowned and brought her free hand up to brush through the back of his hair. No, she didn't like the sound of that. The obscurities were dangerous and dark, but Reagan didn't know the extent of what they could do and she did not like the thought of them taking over Caius in any capacity. "What did they do?" she asked. Reagan supposed it was possible he just ran, scratched up his feet and muddied up his hands. But he looked far too out of it when she found him on her porch, his eyes too dark. Giving himself over to entities like that... had he hurt something? Someone? Did he even know?
Caius shook his head a little at first, slowly. He didn’t want to tell her or re-live it all. He wasn’t even sure how many dead animals he’d left behind, but it had been quite a few. Birds, squirrels, a whole group of deer. Some killed by hand, some just suffocated, all out of pure frustrated rage ... and the Obscurities’ thirst for suffering. If he’d run into anything unnatural out there, Caius felt sure he would’ve left its corpse behind as well. “They killed a lot of animals,” he murmured. It hadn’t just been them, it had been him too, but Caius had to distance himself at the moment, ashamed of his lack of restraint. He loved nature and everything in it -- it was the source of his power, after all. He kept Reagan’s cool hand against his forehead for another moment, then sat up again, though he still couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Can I use the shower?”
Despite the tight clenching of her chest, Reagan's expression remained calm as she digested what he told her. She couldn't imagine Caius killing anything... anything innocent, anyway. But the Obscurities. He had used them to try and kill her, when they had been affected by the fog. Did he understand just how dangerous they were? He had to. They simply had to find a way to regain his memories. If there was no hope, Reagan could only imagine what Caius might do. "Of course you can," she said, standing from where she sat, though she kept hold of his hand. "Take as long as you need. I still have some of your clothes in our room. You can change into them and I'll take care of what you have on." She would likely throw them out, but they were just clothes. Caius could buy more.
His clothes in their room. Where they belonged. But he couldn’t feel like he belonged there too, not while so much of him was in pieces. Caius had been holding it all together in front of everyone, only really breaking down in private, running on the confidence that they would find a way to fix it. But if the grimoire wasn’t complete and there was nothing in there to help them ... he didn’t know what to do next. Since Reagan didn’t let go of him, he stood up too, following her lead like a lost puppy. Caius felt too defeated to know what to do with himself, so he would just let Reagan guide him. The pain of everything was really setting in -- the scratches, his torn up feet, the cold that had gotten to be too much for even his natural resistance. He just wanted to get his skin under hot water, shower or bath, and just stay there.
Reagan led him out of the living room and up the stairs. She had a small guest bathroom, but had a feeling he would be more comfortable in the main bath. "I have a Jacuzzi tub, which might feel better on your body if you're feeling sore," Reagan explained, not giving it a second thought that she was still holding his hand. "And I have some salts I can put in the bath that will help heal the cuts on your feet. It might feel good to soak in a hot bath for awhile after what happened." She looked at him when they got to the top of the stairs. "Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat, or get you a drink if you need it." Reagan had a feeling if she had been standing in his shoes - or lack thereof as the case may be - she would probably need some time to herself, though at the same time... have Caius nearby. She knew he wasn't likely to feel that way, given the circumstances, but Reagan didn't care. He had still come to her, even after finding the grimoire pages missing, so she would do whatever he needed her to do.
Caius followed her without hesitation, not giving a second thought to holding her hand either. He was right where he wanted to be, even if he didn’t fully understand why he wanted to be there. A hot bath in a jacuzzi tub filled with soothing herbs sounded like heaven, and Caius nodded a bit, then stopped when Reagan did. He had to think for a moment about whether he was hungry or not, and decided he wasn’t. His stomach didn’t want anything in it. He probably needed to hydrate though, as he wasn’t quite sure when the last time was that he’d had a drink of anything, between the grimoire delivery and now. “Just some water,” he answered Reagan. Caius’s hand tightened on hers instinctively, like she might immediately abandon him. “But no rush.” He didn’t currently feel like he could handle all the steps of running a bath, putting a treatment in it, undressing, etc. Everything felt so daunting at the moment.
Reagan nodded and then led him down the hall to their bedroom. She had been sleeping in it alone for awhile now, but she still believed that was only temporary. Their planned date was forgotten now as Reagan pushed open the door to her bathroom and released his hand so she could open the cabinets beneath the sink to pull out the proper salt and herb mixture to pour into the bath. It was easier to deal with this when she had something to focus on, and right now she was focused on getting Caius into the bath and feeling better, at least physically if not mentally. She would make him sleep over, even if she had to sleep in the guest room. There was no way he was driving home like this tonight. She found the jar and straightened, placing it on the countertop before turning to start the bath. As the water began to fill the tub, Reagan looked over at Caius. "Take off your clothes. I'll take care of them and get you some clean pajamas. I've got bottles of water in the fridge so I'll go down and grab one and bring it up to you. You don't have to rush. The mixture needs some time to work, so you should probably soak for awhile anyway." Steam was rising from the water now, and she imagined if it was too hot for him, he could adjust the temperature. "If you want the jets, just hit the button over on the wall," she said, gesturing. "It might help your muscles, if you're feeling sore."
Caius barely glanced around at the bedroom as they passed through it. He’d been there since he’d lost his memory, so he knew what it looked like, and now he had some very pleasant recollections of the place. Spending all day long fucking Reagan over and over had been incredible, and a taste of what he was missing now. Caius wasn’t sure he had much hope anymore that they would ever get back to that. He dully watched her move around the bathroom and get things ready, that pressure from yearning building again in his chest. He couldn’t remember anyone taking care of him like this since he’d been a kid, but Reagan had to have done so, hadn’t she? He’d always been pretty good at getting himself in trouble, right? When she told him to, he slowly started to peel off his clothes. The nudity didn’t bother him at all, he just hated looking so beaten up in front of her, disheveled and dirty. The hot soak was definitely going to feel good, because his whole body hurt in various ways. “Thank you,” he murmured. Once what he’d been wearing was just in a dirty pile on the floor, he started to gingerly climb into the bathtub. The hot water stung unexpectedly and Caius nearly lost his balance for a second, grabbing for the edge with a soft hiss through his teeth.
There had been times over the years where Reagan had taken care of Caius, and vice versa. Whether due to a spell gone wrong, backlash, a hangover, a cold. She trusted him more than anyone else to be there for her, even when they hadn't been together officially, and she was sure he had felt the same about her. Tonight was different in a way, but not in that way. She hated every second of what this was doing to him, and to them. Something needed to be done, and soon, or she feared she would lose him for good. Reagan reached out instinctively to take hold of his arm, though he seemed to have caught himself. "Adjust it if it's too hot. I tend to like my baths on the side of... so hot it turns my skin pink," she admitted with a small smile. Once he was steady she released him and picked up the jar to pop open the top and sprinkle some of the herbs and salts into the water. There wasn't much needed for the magic to work, and hopefully what she had put together would soothe his aches and pains. Maybe not mentally but if she could get him feeling like himself again, that was a start. The mixture bubbled a bit in the water but quickly dissolved, leaving no trace or remnants behind. "Try to relax," she murmured as she set the jar back on the sink. "I'll be back with some water. Do you need any aspirin?" Reagan was confident the salts would do what they were meant to do, but it felt right to offer anyway. "Anything?"
“Fire witch,” Caius murmured with a faint smile back. It was probably a sign of how beaten down his pride was that he didn’t even mind that she’d reached out to steady him. Having the support was nice, in more ways than one. He settled himself in the tub as the herb mixture fizzed and faded. It smelled good, immediately starting to ease his headache a bit. The water was hot, but considering how bone-deep cold he was, Caius wanted it that way. It would cool soon enough; he had to get his blood flowing again. He leaned back in the tub and tried to just let himself relax. “Might as well,” he answered, the corners of his mouth quirking up just slightly. “Anything strong you’ve got, I’ll take it.” He knew she wouldn’t give him any really good painkillers she might have, and that was probably for the best. Caius had been drinking himself into oblivion so often, he didn’t need to start popping pills too. But it was admittedly appealing.
She had some stronger painkillers, but Reagan was sure Tylenol would be adequate enough once Caius was finished with the bath. Given his mental health at the moment, the last thing he needed was to pop a bunch of narcotics. "I'll be right back," she said before turning to leave. She scooped up Caius's clothes on her way out. Once downstairs she opened the trash bin and shoved the clothes inside. She could take out the garbage in the morning. Reagan grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and pulled the Tylenol from the small cabinet where she kept medications. She found she wished Caius had brought the grimoire with him so she could have looked through it while he soaked in the tub. It wasn't that she thought he was wrong about the pages being missing, but it was possible he missed something, given his state of mind. She felt undeniably calm about the whole thing, though she knew that was likely because Caius needed her to be calm. They would surely fail if they both lost their shit over this. Reagan carried the water and Tylenol upstairs, smiling a touch when she walked into the bathroom again. Reagan sat on the edge of the tub and handed Caius the water before opening the cap to the Tylenol. "This will help," she murmured. "How are you feeling? Any better?"
Caius had settled in while Reagan was gone, his head tilted back against the ceramic tub and his eyes closed. He was just on the cusp of dozing when she came back, and Caius made himself sit up straighter. He accepted the water with a murmur of thanks and took a sip before he answered. “A little,” he said, giving her a faint, tired smile. “Warmer, at the very least.” His limbs coming back to life brought lots of pins and needle pain with it, but the herbs in the water seemed to be helping with that. He accepted the pills once Reagan offered them, popped them in his mouth, and washed them down with another swallow of water. Looking at her, he was tempted to ask her to strip down herself and climb in with him. He just wanted her to stay close. “Thank you,” Caius murmured, leaning his head back again. He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip and hesitated, then added, “Will you stay with me for a little while?”
His question surprised her, and yet it didn't. Because Caius, her Caius, was still in there somewhere, and she knew that while his mind not remember her, everything else did. His body, and his heart and his magic. "Of course," Reagan said with a small smile, setting the bottle of Tylenol aside. "I should probably stay anyway, and make sure you don't fall asleep in the water." She was only half-joking with that one. Caius looked exhausted, and she knew how easy it was to just sink into oblivion sometimes, especially after a frustrating day. Frustrating was an understatement of what Caius had been through. Reaching over, Reagan slid her hand through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead. "Don't be ashamed about what happened," she murmured. "I don't think anyone could blame you for losing control. I wish I could do more."
The soft touch and the soft words to go with it made Caius’s chin tremble for a second before he clenched his jaw shut. He closed his eyes, his body leaning more in toward where Reagan was perched on the edge of the tub. Maybe his broken brain didn’t know her very well, but she was currently exuding a comfort that he most definitely needed. It was all familiar on a subconscious level, and that was enough to make him relax into it instead of fighting it like his pride would’ve had him do otherwise. He curled a bit in the water, his cheek against the edge of the tub as he let Reagan pet his hair. “I just want to be whole again,” he murmured hoarsely. He’d been trying so fucking hard, and he was so fucking tired. “It shouldn’t hurt so much, because I don’t know what I’m missing, but ... I do.”
For a moment, Reagan almost felt guilty. Guilty that she had entwined herself so tightly into his life from such a young age. Because he was missing memories of her, and she had been such a part of his formative years and beyond that it probably felt like half his life was gone. Even when they were apart and dating other people, they had still seen one another, sometimes even slept together. Now those moments were blotted out and it was impossible for Reagan to try and imagine her life without Caius in it, even in the simplest terms. Who would she be without his influence or love? "We're going to get you there," Reagan said, hesitating for only a moment before she spoke again, "I have a back up plan, for lack of a better term, if we can't locate those pages. I don't care what it takes, we're going to fix this."
Part of Caius of course wanted to ask what her plan was, get the details, jump on any opportunity to fix what was broken. But he was wiped out, and he didn’t feel like he could get his thoughts straight to be useful even if he tried. His body was slowly starting to feel better, and all Caius wanted to do now was sleep. Preferably in Reagan’s -- and his, it was technically his too -- bed. With her in it. It was purely selfish, he didn’t know if she would even want to after what he’d done, but Caius felt needy for her skin against his, for those soft fingers in his hair, to feel her breathing with him and to know that she hadn’t given up on him yet, that he wasn’t alone in this, even if he was carrying the burden of memory loss. “I hope so,” he mumbled eventually. “I trust you. Tell me later, I just can’t ... think, right now.” He needed to wash, but he didn’t want to pull away from her either.
Reagan nodded, understanding that much. It would be difficult to explain to him anyway, and she wasn't entirely sure he would understand, or want her to attempt what she had been researching. Dark magic was something she felt came naturally to Caius. He was Anthony D'Onofrio's son, after all. But it was always only something Reagan dabbled in from time to time, when necessary or if someone was paying her. She rarely used it to further her own power, although she could have. But then again, Caius didn't know her, didn't know her limits or boundaries. He might fully support her plan despite the potential consequences if it meant getting his memories fully restored. She continued to stroke his hair for a moment before turning to grab one of the rolled washcloths from the small basket that sat on the ledge above the tub. The herbs were doing what they were meant to do, but Caius still needed washing, and she picked up a bottle of body wash, from Belladonna, of course, that carried a light scent of Eucalyptus to help with stress. "Sit up a bit," she instructed as she got the washcloth wet in the water. "Let's get you washed up and out of there before you fall asleep. The herb mixture I used will work long after you get out and dry off. Those scratches should be fully healed by morning."
He couldn’t remember his relationship with Reagan, but Caius was fairly certain he hadn’t been washed by someone since he was a child. There was something so soothing about it, how it felt to have Reagan’s hands gently nudging him to move, spreading good-smelling body wash over his skin and then the hot water after it. He sat with his head bent forward and his eyes closed, feeling almost in a trance as she took care of him. Caius got the harder to reach spots himself, though he was still moving slow by the time the bath was over. Reagan left him to dry himself off while she went to fetch some clothes for him. Just pulling the pajama pants on felt like an ordeal, and since he was warm now, he didn’t bother with the shirt. Part of him was tempted to ask if it was okay before he shuffled into the bedroom toward the big bed, but given how Reagan had reacted before to him asking permission to stay there, he decided against it. He would leave it up to her to kick him out. Caius sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his damp hair as he gave a sigh. “This is not what I envisioned for a date, I’m sorry,” he murmured, offering her a faint smile.
While Caius got dressed Reagan wondered whether or not she ought to change into her own pajamas, or just let him get into bed and sleep alone. She had things she could do, work to finish up downstairs if she wanted to, or if he needed some time to himself. It was natural to want to crawl into bed and just hold him, but it was hard to completely erase the fact that he had continually told her that he didn't know her. There were boundaries now, and Reagan didn't want to make things worse on him by making assumptions. It was kind of funny, she supposed, given this was her house. Still, she hovered by the door and when he mentioned their date, Reagan chuckled humorlessly. "It's all right," she promised. "I know nothing has really been going to plan, but... we won't give up, and we'll get it worked out. You should get some rest. With any luck you'll feel better in the morning and we can go from there."
Caius didn’t share her optimism at the moment, but he nodded to Reagan’s words anyway. There was nothing to be gained from arguing for the negativity that was currently clouding his mind, and he’d had more than enough melodrama for the evening. After the intimacy of the bath, Reagan seemed too far away from him. He really wanted her to come to bed with him, but he knew it was early for any reasonable person to be going to sleep, and he didn’t know just how clingy she would allow him to be. Normally he hated feeling needy at all -- at least he did without his memories of Reagan intact -- but considering the blow he’d just been dealt, Caius couldn’t really care. “Do you ... can you stay with me?” he asked after a hesitation. His voice sounded smaller than he wanted it to, but there was nothing to be done about it. “If I’m not keeping you from something.”
She knew how easy it would be to sink into negativity. Reagan had been through a lot of it when Caius first lost his memory and she still had moments of hopelessness. But deep down Reagan knew she would do whatever needed to be done to restore his memories, and that was that. There was just no other option. When he asked her to stay, Reagan offered him a small smile before she nodded. Knowing Caius the way she did, she knew it was probably difficult for him to ask her that, to show vulnerability. Because he had asked, Reagan knew he truly wanted her to stay with him. Needed her to. It was early for bed, but she was sure it would be easy to fall asleep wrapped around Caius. She went to her dresser to pull out some pajamas, and Reagan changed out of her clothes, thinking that even if she didn't fall asleep, she could wait until he did and then slip out of bed for a while. Maybe go downstairs and research a bit more. When she finished, she walked over to where he sat and cupped his face before pressing a kiss against his forehead. Then she pulled away to reach for the blankets to turn them down. "Do you want anything to help you sleep?"
Caius watched Reagan change her clothes, not even thinking that she would mind. He’d seen every inch of her now, though he hadn’t had the chance to memorize it all yet. It was like looking at a piece of art though: Caius didn’t think it would ever get old. He was more than a little relieved that she was going to indulge him and stay with him in bed for a while. As long as Reagan was there when he dropped off, he didn’t mind if she got up again. Honestly, that made the gesture even sweeter. He moved so she could pull the blankets down, then started to climb in with her. “No, don’t think I’ll need it,” he answered with a faint chuckle. Caius was tired down to his bones, and now that the majority of his pain had gone away, he thought he would be sleeping like a baby in no time. He settled on his back to start with, watching Reagan to see how she wanted to lie with him.
No, she didn't mind that he watched her change, or saw her naked, albeit briefly. Caius had seen her naked a bazillion times, it felt like. He probably knew her body better than she knew her own, even if he couldn't remember that at the moment. Since he didn't seem to need anything to help him sleep, Reagan slipped under the blankets to join him. She wasn't sure if he wanted to curl up against her, or if he wanted her against him, but Reagan did what came naturally and held her arm out for him to come to her. She knew he liked it when she stroked his hair, and it felt like he needed that kind of comfort tonight. Maybe by morning he would be spooning her, who knew? But right now she just wanted to be there in whatever way he may need her to be.
Caius knew it was more masculine or whatever to be the chest-pillow, but he couldn’t resist that invitation from Reagan. He scooted in closer and rested his head against her shoulder. Being in the crook of her arm like that and breathing her in felt almost as healing as the hot water and herbs had. Part of Caius knew he was supposed to be there, no matter what his stupid brain thought. After a brief hesitation, he slipped his arm over Reagan’s stomach, fingers toying a tiny bit with the hem of her shirt on the side of her hip. He wished they were naked. He wished he remembered every time they’d fallen asleep together. He wished it was easier for him to just fall back into the feelings and the roles even with his memory broken. Caius didn’t say anything, just tried to let Reagan’s presence and the quiet peace of the moment soothe him.
Reagan was glad he felt comfortable enough to lay against her and she relaxed as soon as he did, pressing a kiss against the top of his head before her hand slid into his thick hair to stroke. The last time they had fallen asleep together in her bed they had both been naked and exhausted from a day of sex. This felt oddly more intimate, because he had come to her for comfort and reassurance, even if he didn't realize it at the time. It gave Reagan hope that somewhere deep down, Caius did remember her, that he knew she was the one he needed when he was distressed. His body was warm and solid pressed against hers and Reagan closed her eyes, pretending for a moment that everything was normal, that they were just laying in bed as husband and wife, content in each other's presence. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but Reagan feared that would only make him feel worse, so she bit her tongue and continued to stroke his hair slowly.
Considering the exhaustion of the day, it didn’t take Reagan long at all to lull him into sleep. It was deep and dreamless and comfortable for a long time, which was sorely needed after feeling so wild and out of control of himself and his circumstances. Caius barely woke up when the inevitable shifting around had to happen, since he couldn’t drool on Reagan’s chest all night long, but then he was right back out again.
When his consciousness did bubble back up to the surface, the room was completely dark except for the soft glow from the digital clock. Caius couldn’t see it, but he sensed it was the wee hours of the morning. Reagan was breathing gently beside him, and he laid still for a while and contemplated how natural it felt to be there. He felt safe and comfortable, even if he couldn’t remember all the previous nights in that bedroom. Moving carefully, Caius got up and padded to the bathroom to take care of his bladder, then went straight back to bed. Reagan had her back to him, and after hesitating for a moment or two, Caius shifted in close and settled in to spoon her. He slipped his arm around her waist and turned his head in toward the dark hair spread out on the pillow to breathe in her warm scent. Caius placed a soft kiss against the back of Reagan’s neck and tightened his gentle hold on her, soaking in the way her body felt pressed against his. She’d been so good to him, and it was so easy to feel something toward her right then.
Once Caius had fallen asleep, Reagan had been too comfortable with his arm draped across her that she hadn't wanted to move, or get up to leave, and eventually his soft breathing had lulled her to sleep as well. It had to be the middle of the night, or very early hours of the morning when he slipped out of bed to use the bathroom, but Reagan was only vaguely aware of it. Before she knew it, he was crawling back into bed, his body pressing up behind her, his arm draping over her waist. It was a natural thing to sink back against him, her body craving his touch and his warmth. Her neck tingled pleasantly where his lips pressed against her skin. Eyes still closed, Reagan scooted back more firmly against him and slid her arm over his, not wanting Caius to move away from her. She had missed sleeping beside him and Reagan wasn't going to question it now, because she had no idea when it would happen again.
The way she pushed back against him made Caius’s chest feel a little fluttery. She wanted him there, even if he wasn’t fully himself. Maybe that should’ve been evident to him, but it was nice to feel it in ways that words couldn’t really convey. Pretense was impossible when one was barely even awake. Caius gave her a gentle squeeze, tucking his face into the back of her neck again for a moment, wondering in a fuzzy way if his body knew her better than his mind did. It felt like it sometimes, when he could override that ingrained sense of propriety and actually touch her how he wanted to. Like that day she’d come to his office, and they’d left together. That had been incredible. Thinking of it now had his body stirring a bit against Reagan’s ass, but he tried not to pay attention to that. It felt like taking advantage somehow. And she was trying to sleep. So Caius just held her and breathed slow and enjoyed how normal this all felt. Normal and warm and pleasantly arousing.
In Reagan's mind, everything but Caius's mind knew her. She could still feel the bond of their magic, knew that he found her attractive, despite not remembering their history. The afternoon interlude in his office not too long ago proved that their sexual chemistry was still as evident as ever. She reveled in how Caius held her now, his hot breath against her neck, his arm tight around her body. Yes, she could feel those stirrings of arousal in his pajama pants, with his crotch pressed to her backside. It drew the faintest of smirks to her lips, but she felt very little amusement beneath her own arousal. Her fingers slipped between his and she brought his hand up to her mouth, carefully kissing his fingers. It had been so long since he had held her this close, and she feared talking would somehow break the protective bubble that seemed to have settled around them in the dark.
Caius let her move his hand, his heart starting to beat a bit harder. Her lips were so soft and delicate against his skin, it made him remember very clearly how they’d felt around his cock that day. There was no question he was attracted to her -- he wasn’t sure how anyone couldn’t be, honestly -- but there had been something different about that day. Something insatiable. Caius was feeling the ghost of it again now, and while he didn’t want to seem like he was taking advantage of this intimate situation, he wanted to indulge in it again. He wanted to bask in this warm feeling and turn the miserable day he’d just had into something good. Caius just hoped Reagan was awake enough to really know what she wanted. He was tempted to ask, but the silence seemed important to him too. He brushed his thumb against her cheek, and then her lower lip, pressing his lips against the back of her neck.
It didn't occur to Reagan for even a second that Caius was taking advantage of anything. She was well aware of his feelings, or lack thereof, and how conflicted his mind was lately. If anything, she was probably the one taking advantage of him, knowing full well that there was much more going on between them than surface attraction. But she also knew Caius never did anything he didn't really want to do, and if he wanted her, he wanted her. Reagan pressed his hand against her cheek for a moment before lowering it to her breast, where her nipple strained against the fabric of her pajama top. She turned her face slightly toward him, wanting his lips on hers more than anything else.
That was as much of a silent green light as Caius needed, and a sharper sort of arousal coursed through him at the feel of Reagan’s breast against his hand. He teased her nipple through the soft fabric, stroking and pinching at it lightly as he pushed himself up onto his elbow behind her. His lips brushed against her jaw and cheek before his mouth found hers. Caius closed his eyes and kissed her, soft and slow to start with. He hadn’t intended to start anything when he’d asked to stay over tonight, just needing the comfort of her grounding presence, but maybe he’d needed this too on some level. After giving her breast a gentle squeeze, Caius slid his hand down her stomach to slip it underneath her shirt so he could continue the fondling skin to skin.
Caius may have needed this, but Reagan did too. She had been trying to do everything she could to help him, whether that was research, or answering his questions or giving him space... but she had been pushing down her own pain and difficulties, trying to ignore the terrible pang in her chest whenever she saw him and didn't see that recognition of love in his eyes. Reagan knew that in the morning Caius would leave and things would settle once again into their 'new normal', so she felt desperate to cling to this one moment, even if it might have been ill advised. It didn't feel ill advised though. It felt natural and comforting and good. Reagan brought her hand up to slide into his thick hair, her lips parting against his. She wanted more of him, so Reagan shifted onto her back so she could reach him better. He was already shirtless, so Reagan was able to slide her free hand over his bare shoulders and chest. Gods, she had missed touching him, feeling his lips on hers, tasting him.
Caius adjusted himself a little so Reagan could roll over, but he was shifting back in close to her as soon as he could. He slipped his arm around her, his hand still on her bare skin, caressing her back as he slipped his thigh between her legs. Her body was so warm and soft against his. This felt completely different than the sex they’d already had -- or the only sex he could remember having, anyway -- and something about it made his heart ache. Had this sort of late-night interlude been common between them? Was he falling into old patterns without knowing it? Maybe that should’ve been worrisome to him now, but it wasn’t. Caius just wanted more of it. He stroked his tongue against Reagan’s, holding her as close as he could without interrupting her hands’ exploration. He loved the way she touched him, so unlike anything else he could remember, and he just wanted to drown everything else in this.
It wasn't the first time they had woken in the night to make love, but it certainly had a different feel to it, likely brought upon by their circumstances. Reagan didn't want to question it. Caius felt too good and she cupped his face, moaning softly at the taste of him against her tongue. The familiarity of it for her was still there and maybe when he was gone again she would cry over the loss of it again, but for now, this was enough to keep her chest tight and her body warm and aroused. Reagan's fingertips trailed down his spine until she got to the waistband of his pajamas. She slipped her hand beneath them without thought, her palm gliding over hot skin. Reagan wanted to get him completely naked, to touch as much bare skin as she could, to drive him mad with pleasure. If only he could understand just how deeply she loved him, and missed him. She could only try to convey that in the way she kissed him, and even it felt oddly inadequate.
Caius might not have fully understood what he was feeling, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t coming across. There was a passion there that he couldn’t remember feeling with any other lovers, some deep connection that he wished he could see more clearly. It was jumbled and muted on his side, but it was there. Maybe it was the connection through their magic, buried memory, or just something that came from their intense situation, but he couldn’t deny that being with Reagan like this stirred emotions up in him. His skin tingled where her hand stroked it, and Caius started shifting around a bit and took his hand back to push his pajama pants down. He kept the kiss up as much as he could, not wanting to part from her at all. But he really wanted clothes to come off too. Once he’d kicked the pants down into a lump of flannel under the sheets, his hands moved to start peeling Reagan’s clothes off too.
Reagan helped him get her pajamas off, eager to be skin to skin with him again. She had no idea where her discarded clothes ended up, and she honestly didn't care. As soon as she was naked, Reagan shifted back towards Caius, her lips catching his in another heated kiss. His skin was hot beneath her palms and her fingers traced familiar paths over his chest and stomach. Instinct took over and Reagan rocked into him, wanting Caius on his back. Neither of them had any real control over what was happening in their lives right now, but at least here, in her bed in the dark, they could control this. The pace, the mood... the pleasure. Reagan slipped on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest as she kissed him deep. She was more than willing to shut her brain off right now, to just lose herself in this feeling for awhile.
He’d had vague intentions to just focus on giving her pleasure, but Caius couldn’t resist the way she directed him, and he rolled onto his back easily. Gods, she was such a good kisser ... though she would know exactly how he liked to be kissed, wouldn’t she? They’d probably developed those tastes and preferences together in the first place, when they were young teenagers. He wished that he remembered it all, a bit desperately at the moment. Caius kissed Reagan back with a growing passion, running his palms down her bare sides to grip her slim hips. He rocked up against the warmth of her body, his cock rock hard and needy. He didn’t want to rush, but fuck if he wasn’t aching to be inside of her already. One hand slipped back up Reagan’s body to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.
It was accurate to say that Reagan knew how to kiss Caius. She knew how to do a lot of things to him, given how long they had been sleeping together, on and off. But despite the familiarity, it never felt predictable, or stale. The fire she felt for him when she was fourteen still burned inside of her today. Rocking her hips slowly, Reagan slid her body along the length of his cock, letting him feel how aroused she was for him. Her tongue stroked along his, the rest of her body impatient and desperate to have him inside of her. But Reagan was always the one begging, pleading with him, relinquishing control. At least here, in moments like this. She knew Caius got off on it, and hell, so did she. But right now Reagan needed to be the one in control, to drive Caius crazy, to make him beg her. Maybe there was some part of her that wanted to see him unravel, to prove to him that he could let go and be vulnerable with another person. If he couldn't remember her, then he couldn't remember that.
She was right, he couldn’t remember that. And Caius had never been one to allow himself to be vulnerable with people. It was weakness, he’d been taught that by his father at a fairly young age, even if the lesson hadn’t been explicit. It was a deeply ingrained habit to protect himself, put up an aloof front, not let anyone see where the chinks in his armor were. It was that stubborn strength that had kept him at least halfway together through all of this. But things had changed now and he felt like he was coming apart completely. At the moment it felt good, all of his nerves alight with pleasure and desire as Reagan rubbed herself against him. She was so wet already, and the possessive way she kissed him had his heart pounding against his ribs. Caius groaned into the kiss, his palms rubbing against Reagan’s thighs and hips and around to her ass, his body rocking with hers while that ache in his core built toward desperation. He made a small effort to angle himself to push inside of her, but Reagan moved so he couldn’t, and Caius couldn’t stop the little whimper that escaped him.
There was a small part of her that wanted to grab his wrists and pin them down, but Reagan had missed Caius's touch so much that she couldn't bear pulling his hands from her body. She could feel his desperation in the way his hands moved over her, the way his body trembled and how his hips pressed up against her. She was careful not to let him take control, to deny him what she knew he wanted. What they both wanted. Every inch of her body was on fire, aching to have him fill her up. But Reagan could be stubborn sometimes and she couldn't rush through this. Tearing her mouth from his, Reagan placed her hand against his throat, the way he sometimes did with hers during sex. She didn't press or squeeze, but simply lay her fingers against his neck as she looked down at him through the dark. "I know what you want," she whispered. "But you have to say please first."
It was the first thing either of them had said since waking up and starting this, and the soft words sent a shudder of sharp, hot arousal through Caius. Especially combined with Reagan’s hand around his throat. Her palm and fingers felt both delicate and strong at the same time, and for a moment he was dizzy with something he couldn’t even name. He wanted to submit to her, to let her take control of him and tell him what to do, what she wanted, exactly how to please her. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to in the slightest, but fuck if it didn’t feel good in that moment. “Please,” he whispered back, a ragged edge to the word. Caius rocked his hips up against Reagan again to show her just how needy he was. “Please let me have you. I’ll do anything ...”
In that moment Reagan truly believed he would. She could tease him, rub herself against his cock and ask for the Sun and she was certain he would try to get it for her. But that had always been the nature of their relationship. This was nothing new for her, but she knew it would be for Caius. Despite the circumstances, Reagan had to admit there was a sense of excitement that seemed to thrum under her skin, knowing that this Caius had never given himself over to a woman like this before... that he could remember. Reagan wanted to take him, to show him exactly how they were equals, exactly why he had fallen in love with her. She was the only one with the power to control him like this. He just didn't know it. But he would. Reagan kissed him then, deep and slow, still slowly rocking her hips against him, enjoying the tease as much as he probably was. When she shifted her hips and reached between them to guide his cock into her, she sucked softly on his lower lip until she felt the tip of his cock pop inside of her. With a low moan, she then nipped at his lip with her teeth and slid down his length to take him in deep, releasing his mouth as she pushed against his chest to straighten above him. She stayed that way for a moment, her head back against her neck, her eyes closed as she reveled in the feel of him inside of her again. It hadn't been that long since they'd had sex, but it felt like forever.
Caius didn’t have the frame of reference to describe what was happening inside of him; he’d never been technically into BDSM enough to research it as far as he remembered, and submitting to anyone for anything wasn’t an active desire of his. This was different through, this was dizzyingly erotic and he wanted it so badly he had no choice but to just let go and let Reagan do what she wanted with him. The continued tease made him whimper and moan, his hips rocking up under hers, and then she was moving them into position and ... Caius had to flex a significant amount of willpower not to come immediately as Reagan sank down around him. He stared up at her in the faint ambient light, his lips parted, caught up in a surreal moment of feeling like he was looking up at a goddess. She wasn’t even looking at him, his body was just hers to use for her own pleasure, her hand was still around his throat, and Caius was completely engrossed in it. He wanted nothing more than to please her, make himself worthy of her, to surrender to her. Maybe his brain was broken and he couldn’t remember being hers, but right then he felt it, like every part of him belonged to Reagan Kelly, he was Hers.
Given how the last few weeks had gone, Reagan felt like she deserved this. Putting her own pleasure above everything else, making damn sure Caius knew who was in charge right now. She obviously wanted Caius to enjoy this as well, but Reagan knew he would no matter what she did. She knew him well enough to know that he would find this exciting, if a bit unnerving for a man like him. It was interesting on some level, because it was usually Caius who dominated her in bed, as it was generally the only place Reagan allowed it. But that was because Caius knew her inside and out. He knew what it meant for Reagan to submit to anyone, in any way, even him. But these circumstances were different, and Reagan knew this was one of the easiest, quickest ways for Caius to truly discover the kind of woman Reagan was. Opening her eyes, Reagan looked down at him, keeping her hand against his throat even she began to work her hips over his, keeping the pace slow and languid. Her hand hand slid over his chest, down toward his abdomen and back up again. She knew every mark on his body, every scar. Well, almost. There were new ones she would eventually come to memorize. She could probably tell him every spell or circumstance in which he got them. But he would know most of them, except maybe the faded scar on his chest where she had tried to kill him that morning in the fog. But that wasn't something to think about now. Not when Caius beneath her, his cock buried deep. He was gorgeous in the dark, completely at her mercy.
The day had already broken Caius down. He hadn’t been completely in his right mind when he turned up at her doorstep, and maybe he still wasn’t completely, because it felt so easy and so right to just give up control. The grip he’d thought he had on things -- the one he’d been so desperate to hold so nobody knew how much he’d fallen apart -- was an illusion, and this was just another way for him to learn that. It felt much better than his mind cracking apart, so surrendering to this felt good. He just had to trust Reagan, and that came much easier than he would’ve thought if he could think at all. As it stood, he couldn’t, he was just a bundle of nerves and a hard cock, full of feelings and nothing more, and it was a goddamn relief. He soaked in her touch, able to feel the appreciation there, and it made him feel even more like an object, but in a good way. The way Reagan rode him was tantalizingly slow and he felt more and more needy with every passing second, his hands rubbing at her thighs and briefly gripping her hips every so often. Caius knew better than to try and guide her though -- Reagan was in control.