moralsandsass (moralsandsass) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-05-04 09:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, elijah mikaelson, ezio auditore da firenze |
Who: Ezio & Elijah
When: This morning
Where: Ezio's place
What: Elijah has an asshole for a younger brother and the dreams decide to give him the present of a dagger in the heart
Rating/Warnings: language, suggestive shenanigans, familial dysfunction, vampirism, blood, Elijah's face. The usual
Status: Complete
When he’d fallen asleep, Elijah had assumed he would be fine. At least, he figured the worst that would happen would be another bad dream. This dream, however, started innocently enough. He’d found Klaus and given him clothes to wear. He was a hybrid now. He was unkillable. There was no way forward but to make sure that his brother followed through with what he’d promised. He needed him to take him to his family.
Seeing Stefan Salvatore had been a little bit of a surprise, but not really much of one. He wanted his brother to be saved. He wanted Klaus to save him. As if it came without strings. But then things shifted. Klaus was facing him and the dagger was piercing his chest and sinking into his heart.
In the world outside of the dreams, Elijah was still asleep, but the dagger seemed to appear out of nowhere and drove itself into his heart. He made a pained noise in his sleep before his skin started turning gray, the veins darker and more prominent. If he could have thought it, Elijah would have noted that his wording had been imperfect.
Ezio considered his bedroom a sanctuary - it was a nod (even if he didn’t realize at the time, when he was moving in) dedicated to his Renaissance self, a very ‘old-world charm’ sort of feel, Tuscan and classic, with rustic wall sconces, barely any wall space because it was all covered by art, an antique bed, and things like Egyptian cotton sheets. Those were just a luxury. But his room was meant to be an actual, physical reminder that he was not burdened by the weights of an Assassin’s life here. He was so much more free, not forced onto a path carved by a dangerous need for vengeance - at least not yet.
Those old feelings of anger, hate, rage - everything he’d felt when he learned his family had been murdered - threatened to poison him sometimes. But it hadn’t done much for Ezio there, Mentor of the Italian Assassins, so he doubted that would change now.
However, since his room was a sanctuary, he did not expect to stir awake (he was not a heavy sleeper anyway) and find the person he was in bed with looking very desiccated. That was the word for it, wasn’t it? Dried up and void of color, of life?
Que?? “Ficcati una barca in culo con i remi aparti!” he spat, a bunch of swears and curses; the sentence basically translated to go stick a boat up your ass with the oars out (Italians were very colorful with their swearing, you see) and it was not directed at Elijah. Who could not even register it anyway. No, it was directed at who had done this - because Ezio knew. Maybe he had never met Klaus in this life, but he already did not like him - when they did meet, he would have to try to look at him and not see all the fucked up things he’d done to his family, in a whole other world.
Grabbing the end of the dagger with both hands, he swore again and just pulled. The fucking thing would come out. The world not be able to handle what would happen next, if it did not.
The dagger wasn't difficult to pull out. Luckily. Elijah did not immediately waken, but with time, the color came back and his first breath in was sharp. “I've really got to work on my wording,” was the first thing he said, eyes still shut for the moment.
For all that he loved his brother here, he was angry with him. How could he continuously ruin his life? How could their lives be so bad that they wanted to punish each other like this?
He slowly opened his eyes, forcing himself to ignore the hunger that made itself known at that point. Ezio's face came into focus and he gave him an apologetic look. “Thank you for...not letting me stay...well, you know. And sorry you have to deal with this.”
Oh no. No, no, no. Ezio was not so calm (not to mention he had no idea what Elijah was talking about - wording, what? What in the name of the saints did that have to do with anything?), and he wasn’t very collected. Mostly because he thought Elijah was dead - this dagger was obviously dangerous, and Ezio remembered him saying exactly that. Which was why, with a sound of disgust, he tossed the weapon across the room so it slid under a dresser somewhere; he would not be looking for it, for awhile.
“Va’a farti fottere! Va’a farti fottere con un ciuccio imbizzarrito!” As he told Elijah to go fuck himself with a runaway donkey, he was up out of bed too - dressed, mostly. There were pajama pants on, but no shirt. “Vaffanculo a chi t’è morto.” And go fuck his dead family members, for good measure.
This man scared the shit out of him - but that simply expressed that in a way that involved fiery, heated swears. In a moment, Ezio would offer his neck (literally). He could see how starved Elijah looked, as he took some time to recover. But for now, the angry Italian went to prepare a cup of coffee so he could spike it with amaretto; he just needed to take a moment and breathe.
Then he was back. “I suppose staying with me did not help prevent that sort of thing very well,” he noted. In English. Well, that was a good sign.
Elijah would have been more insulted if he hadn't known that being yelled at was mostly because Ezio had been worried. He could understand. He knew what he looked like, what it was like. It was practically like being dead, but it wasn't. It was temporary. He knew what would do it permanently, but he wasn't of a mind to talk about it a lot. He didn't want people getting ideas.
He took a moment to sit up when Ezio left the room, eyes carefully scanning the room to see if he could see the dagger anywhere. He didn't trust that it wouldn't appear out of thin air again and stab him in the heart. But he didn't see it.
“No. It didn't help prevent it,” he agreed. “I am sorry. I didn't see it coming.” Which he should have. This was Niklaus. He ran his fingers over the front of his shirt, nose wrinkling at the patch of blood on it. Even in the waking world, Niklaus was ruining his clothes. “Hopefully his temper tantrum will be over soon.”
“I am sure it will not be,” Ezio responded darkly; that would just be too easy, wouldn’t it? He sat on the bed (the sheets were likely ruined, but oh well) and gripped Elijah’s slightly bloodied shirt in his fingers, twisting the fabric, still holding on as he shifted to lie back - it was meant to coax his innamorato vampiro closer.
Elia looked like he had been trapped in a coffin for centuries, nothing but darkness and a prison lined in velvet - besides the stained clothes, but his pallor, his face, the expression in his eyes. How could someone do that to their own brother? And especially for reasons so ridiculous. “There is no need to apologize,” he added - after all, he didn’t really blame Elijah. Who could control what happened in their dreams? No one.
His hands slid down, now holding the sides of Elijah’s shirt - they disappeared beneath, his palms warm when he pressed them against skin. “You are hungry,” he observed as he leaned up for a kiss. “Prendimi, mio caro. Ti amo, ti amerò finchè ho vita,” his voice was still a little thick from sleep. Extra bits of that sing-song rhythm to the words, extra melody, extra tiramisu soaked in espresso. But he may have purposely laid it on extra thick as well.
“I did try to kill him,” he said quietly, frowning a little. Had he deserved it? Well, Elijah couldn’t say he didn’t. Not exactly. He’d hunted their family down and took them from him. He’d let him think for years that he’d scattered them across the sea. And he’d had them the whole time. He’d taken the one thing that mattered the most to him and kept it from him. And for what?
Elijah let himself be pulled closer, carefully ignoring the sound and smell of blood. Part of him had wanted to argue, but he was tired and hungry. Ezio hadn’t yet been the sort to turn him away, but then he usually didn’t take without permission. At least not when Ezio was involved. He didn’t worry about other people nearly as much.
“Perhaps not,” he murmured, the majority of his energy going into not feeding. At least for now. “But I saw your face. I did not mean to frighten you.” Not that he could have helped it. He had a dagger in his heart. Still, he did not like to worry Ezio. He did not like to worry anyone, but he was (regrettably) very bad at such things.
You are hungry. Which was enough to prove that he was incredibly terrible at hiding it. Or maybe he just looked as awful as he felt. He met him halfway for a kiss. And then Ezio gave him permission, but with words that made him feel lighter somehow. He’d been afraid of those words, as if, by saying them, he would somehow make whatever good they had going for them would change. It was perhaps the dreams affecting the way he looked at things. But they’d been said and he was happy for it. He paused with his lips against Ezio’s neck. “I love you.” His face changed then, sharp teeth, eyes red, and veins under his eyes. He sank his teeth in and drank, careful not to get too carried away.
Elia was such a worrier. And maybe he had cause to worry so much about his siblings (since neither of their parents obviously did), but one thing he never had to worry about was this - meaning Ezio, and their relationship. Even if a lover’s quarrel was like foreplay for him, even if he expressed his fear by forming obscenities, he would not change how he felt overnight and he planned to be there - ti amerò finchè ho vita, I will love you while I still have life. They both knew it would not last forever, so why waste time not enjoying it?
And strangely enough, he did enjoy this - not everyone would agree, he was sure, but he liked the intimacy and even just the sense of taboo that came with his partner drinking his blood, and vice versa. It was perhaps different because one of them was a vampire - likely, Ezio would not enjoy it so much if that wasn’t the case. The craving for blood, the fact that it was needed, that just amplified everything.
“Il mio tesoro,” he murmured as his eyes fluttered closed and he stroked Elijah’s hair, shifting suggestively against him. “Bellissimo, il mio cuore è per voi - “ The words just moved through his lips, like how bubbles floated to the top of a drink, all fizzy and random while he had fangs in his neck. “I love you.”
In English, even - he was not used to saying that in English. He did not think he ever had before. Ti amo meant the same thing, but for Italians it was different than the ti voglio bene, which translated to ‘I love you’ as well - but that was meant in the sense that you wanted the best for someone and cared for them. Ti amo, it was very strong, very intense - and only meant for those you loved in an all-encompassing sort of way with no room for doubts or questions. Those words, he’d never said to another person before either.
Being vampire gave him a thirst for blood and heightened emotions and senses at its most basic. The dreams shed very little light on his feeding habits up to now, but if given a choice, he preferred these moments. Almost all of his senses were tuned into Ezio - the scent of him, the sound of his words and heartbeat, the taste of his blood (a hint of amaretto to it today), and the feeling of his hands and body. It was heady. It was the emotions tied into it made it even more than it would have been otherwise.
He moved to slide a leg between Ezio’s before pulling away from his neck. “You’ve been drinking,” he said after he pulled away. The tone was one of amusement. It was easy to tell these things. Just as it was easy to tell if someone had been using drugs. Not that he could talk. He was sure that if someone drank from him, he would taste like alcohol all the time, but that was all an attempt to control himself. He kissed Ezio, not worrying about the blood.
“Mmhm,” he hummed in agreement, making room for Elijah between his legs, hands on his sides as Ezio scrunched fabric in his grip and actually cursed it still being there. He felt woozy and lightheaded, as he always did after having teeth sunk into him, but he was certainly not complaining. “You drive me to drink, Elia.”
Teasing, certamente, even through those literal bloody kisses and while looking at Elijah with his black hole pupils and the protruding fangs, those veins beneath his eyes making him appear to be every bit the vampire he truly was. But it wasn’t as if Ezio was afraid of him. “You are alright, bello? After all that?” he asked then, his lips smeared with his own blood - he could not pick out the nuances, like drugs or alcohol or sweetness or sour. When he needed a boost, after being a snack, Elijah’s blood just tasted salty. Like iron, as blood often did - to a less sophisticated palette, anyway.
Was he all right? Not entirely. No, it was difficult to be all right knowing that there was such a rift, that his brother could be so far from him, but...he wasn’t sure that he wanted to think too long about that. “I am frustrated, but otherwise okay. He kept his promise, just not the way I intended him to.” His face slowly returned to normal and he sighed. “He said he would take me to my family, reunite us. He promised. I should have realized he was going to do something like that.”
But he was hopeful, willing to put his trust in his brother again...even without a reason to. Elijah wanted to believe he would learn from it, but his family was his weakness and he had a blind spot a mile wide when it came to his siblings. “I am ever the optimist or the fool. It’s hard to say.” He frowned slightly, moving to steal another kiss. “Remind me, should I start making deals in the future, to think of all possibilities.”
Ezio hooked both legs around Elijah, using the leverage to shift their positions - he rolled over, sitting atop his amore, knees on either side of him. “It is difficult to think of all possibilities, bello,” he smirked quietly. “You are an optimist, when it comes to your family - you want to see the best in them. It is also difficult to let go.”
To give up. Hardly possible, it seemed. It was like those blood ties were shackles - and really, giving them up was one of the hardest things someone could ever do.
“You know when he told you love was a vampire’s weakness?” Ezio ducked his head, going for more kisses - long ones, mostly, tongue in Elijah’s mouth and tracing his teeth. “Of course it is not true. In my own dreams, love was the only thing that brought me peace. That is...what it does.”
Elijah looked up at Ezio at that moment, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It can’t hurt to try, you know.” But he knew that he’d been right. It would be difficult to think of all of them. Especially with Niklaus and his blindspot. “It’s impossible to let go,” he said after a moment. But he wanted to try to at least be more sensible when it came to his brother. It was possible that if he started to dream, he would begin to behave the way he had in his dreams. He needed to think about that. Eventually.
His hands slid up Ezio’s legs as they kissed. “Sometimes it feels true,” he said quietly. “After everything.” But he preferred the way that Ezio saw it. “But if you believe it is not, then I will endeavor to agree with you. For my own sanity.”
“You must experience it for yourself, to see what I mean,” he spoke against Elijah’s mouth, nibbling on his lower lip - and Ezio could share his wisdom and philosophies, his own experiences, all he wished but it would not matter. Not if Elijah only heard the words, and didn’t feel them. “So I hope that love brings you peace - in this life and the last.” Surely it would be difficult, with a brother like Klaus, but whatever this world was - it did not have to be like the last. The power to make it so was within them all.
Then he grinned a bit deviously, hands finding both of Elijah’s and stealing them. Ezio laced their fingers together, moving to pin Elijah’s wrists up behind his head, pressed there on the pillows. “I also know of a way for you to get rid of your frustration now, bello.” Oh, really. He was ever so helpful, this Assassin.
Elijah wanted that. He wanted peace, but he also hadn’t seen much good in his dream. Little snippets of happiness. It was overwhelmed by the darkness. But he wanted to know that there was more good in the dreams. At least outside of them the good outweighed the bad. “I hope so, too.”
The combination of his hands being pinned over his head and Ezio's words made him chuckle. If he had wanted to, he could have easily gotten out of his hold. He didn't really mind where this was going, however, so he just arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that so?” A smirk formed on his lips. “And what, exactly, did you have in mind?”
Ezio had plenty of things in mind. Elijah just inspired all sorts of dirty pictures, though sometimes he had to wonder if his partner missed women - as in, the shape of them and the feel (it was quite a bit different than sleeping with a man, let’s be honest) and even their scent. Every woman was unique, of course, but still. Overall, Ezio saw the appeal - he appreciated both genders, it was just that he happened to love a man. Though he knew Elia was most experienced with women.
He was adventurous and so he’d thought about offering a threesome eventually if Elijah needed that softer touch (a threesome because there was no way he could just look the other way and let it happen without being involved) - but Ezio, on the flip side, also considered he might be too jealous at this stage in their relationship; he wanted Elijah all to himself.
“Cavalcare il cazzo,” he purred throatily, grinding downward, seeing if the native English speaker would know what that meant. Ride your cock. Very romantic, no?
It was true that Elijah had not been with a woman the way he had with Ezio in quite some time, but he had fed off of them. It was not the same thing, of course, but there was still a certain level of intimacy to the situation if he was willing to admit it, which he wasn't. He preferred to see it as a very mechanical exchange. He got something and they got a good, false memory out of it. Still, when he told Ezio that he hadn’t wanted more than blood from the people he drank from, he’d meant it. Well, the ones that were not in this room currently.
Elijah may not have said it, but he was a little jealous of Ezio’s dream woman. Not that he had a reason to be and he couldn’t truly talk. He knew for a fact that he had strong feelings for Katherine in the dreams. He had given up on her for his brother’s sake, believing that he truly cared for her. But he knew that did not change the way he felt or the fact that he had gone through the trouble of making sure that she would live through what his brother had planned for her. He couldn’t let her die.
But he didn’t want that here. He wanted her to live, but he did not feel anything for her outside of friendship. Currently he was happy where he was and with the person he was with.
Italian. Somehow it made even the most curious of things sound less vulgar. He had learned a lot of Italian in similar situations, but a majority of the things he’d learned were not things he should repeat to a lot of people. Swearing under his breath, he allowed for a little struggle, as if he wanted very much to touch him in that moment...which was not entirely without truth. “You are a menace,” he said. “And it’s going to be a little difficult to do anything with all these clothes on.”
“You are suggesting we get naked, Elia, what am I going to do with you,” Ezio chuckled, clucking his tongue as if admonishing that dirty idea. An idea Ezio was all for, mind you, considering he was already in the process of yanking Elijah’s pants off. Why did he even sleep in these anyway?
Yes, this Italian really was quite a menace. But he had to make it interesting for Elijah - for the duration of their own little, small slice of forever.