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It’s going be one of those days, I think, groaning inwardly as I hear a commotion in the marble-lined hallways of the Vesuvian palace.
“I said sixteen peacocks, not sixty!” I hear a familiar voice shouting. “And where in hell is Volta with the menu samples? This masquerade has to be perfect, I-”
The gilded study doors fly open, revealing Lucio in a frazzled state flanked by equally distressed looking attendants.
He freezes when he sees me, his face turning from surprise to relief to mortification in between heartbeats.
“You’re not Volta,” he says sheepishly as I dip the tip of my quill into the ink bottle sitting inconspicuously to my right, continuing the spell I’ve been recording from the old tome I had someone drag up from the library. I’m trying to find a remedy for headaches.
“No,” I agree. “I am not.”
The room is silent, the sound of my scratching on the parchment the only thing audible.
After a few moments of this, Lucio sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you know where to find her?”
I pause my writing. I know that Volta is in the kitchen, hounding the chefs for some more hors d'oeuvres before she needs to bring up a sampling for Lucio. Even after the Devil’s contract with her had been broken, Volta’s appetite has had little change. She is still the voracious foodie that I had known during my time in the palace, just like Lucio is the same self-absorbed, party-planning, tunnel-visioned disaster that I managed to fall for. He isn’t always this bad though, nowadays, which is why I stick around.
I put down my quill, making sure that Lucio notices I now have his full attention. “No, but stay for a moment. I want to run something by you.”
Lucio pouts, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one hip, waiting for me to elaborate.
When I make it clear that I plan to do no such thing while he is still flanked by his entourage, he makes an exaggerated sigh and waves them all away, shutting the door. “Yes, I’m sure,” he says as they protest about all the decisions still to make, and what to do about the extra three dozen or so peacocks. As soon as the door is fully shut, Lucio visibly relaxes, shoulders softening as he trudges his way back towards me.
“I don’t know how I did that for so long before,” he admits, flopping dramatically onto the chaise resting nearby. “So many menial details. I want everything to be perfect, of course, for your sake as much as my own, but…”
I smile, shutting the book with my notes marking the page. “You’re overworking yourself, love.” I walk over to where he lies, scooting his legs aside to sit with him. He shifts so that his back rests on my chest, hand hands in his hair. We tend to respond well to physical contact, sometimes more so than words, and so I bring his flesh hand in mine, massaging the tension away.
“Someone has to figure it all out,” he whines, leaning into my touch as I spread the impromptu massage to his shoulders, his back. “I never wanted to have a designated masquerade-planner before because I liked having an excuse to think about something fun for once, but now that Noddy and Valerius run the more political and infrastructure side of things, there’s nothing left for me to do besides plan the masquerade.”
“You’re still a few weeks away, Lucio,” I remind him. “There’s plenty of time to figure out everything as we get closer. But for today…” I bring my lips up to the bit of skin peeking out from above his collar, drawing out the suggestion which I know will be met with numerous inevitable protests. “Why don’t you take the day off? Let someone else handle things or just put it all on hold.”
Lucio whips his body around to face me with the expression that I had slapped him. “Take a break?” he scoffs, looking incredibly offended. “Do you know how many years I spent wishing I could do something - do exactly this? Plan a party, taste the imported Golden Goose without a care in the world? The last masquerade, lovely as you were, wasn’t exactly my idea of fun.”
I look at him evenly, summoning up every ounce of the endless patience I have amassed in the time I’ve spent keeping Lucio on track. “Darling, I think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. The masquerade will be perfect, it always is. But as your significant other first and as your head of magical operations second, I know when you’re pushing yourself too hard. You can take a break.”
“But I-”
“When’s the last time you slept a full night?” I ask, noticing the circles under his eyes even with all the eyeliner I know that he applied carefully this morning at the break of dawn to hide them, to pull the focus away from how tired he's become. “I can’t remember how long it’s been since I woke up and you were actually still in the bed with me.”
Lucio’s words freeze in his mouth, and after a moment, a devilish, if not slightly exhausted grin, spreads across his thin lips. “Is this your way of saying that you miss me?”
“Yes,” I answer, surprising the both of us with my quickly-given candor. If that’s what it takes to get him to calm down for once, I have no qualms with letting go of some of my pride. “Besides,” I add, sitting against the back of the chaise myself. “You’re running your poor attendants ragged. Not everyone has your stamina.”
Lucio snickers, his hands finding their way to my upper arms and pressing there. “How right you are, although you’ve always managed to keep up with me just fine.”
“Which is how I know that you need a break, Lucio.” I lean forward, pressing my head against his chest, sighing my own weariness away. It’s been the kind of day where you just wake up tired, and I wouldn’t think twice about calling it quits early and spending the rest of the afternoon lounging in a bedchamber or partaking in something of equal leisure if I were him and could afford to do so with no repercussions.
“You really think I should call it a day?” he sighs after a long moment, breathing into my hair, touching it softly, messing it up out of the style I’d carefully put it into.
“Mmhm,” I agree, my head pressing against his collarbone. I could stay like this for quite some time, letting tension seep from my skin, just knowing that he’s here, safe.
I suppose that’s what I worry about the most these days. Lucio’s safety. He’s got all sorts of guards and I know he can handle himself so long as he has a sword. Hell, even just the talons on his prosthetic overlay are enough to scare most people away. Physically, Lucio should be fine against any normal, non magical opponent. His judgement and tolerance to fully magical opponents, however, is still severely lacking.
Outside, I can hear the scampering footsteps of harried palace staff, people trying to follow through whatever orders one of their three heads of government have asked them to do, Nadia, Valerius, or Lucio. It's rather fortunate that Lucio’s just been delegated to party-planning, and even then, he’s really only responsible for one party every year, the biggest and tackiest of them all, but also the party which brings the most foreign custom and trade. He’s good at parties, good at hosting them, schmoozing with guests, although he’s best experienced in small doses to new introductions. It’s all fine by me, though. Him having no real duties means that I’m usually the object of both his free time and his near constant affection, even if I tend to do more work around this place than he does. Magical defenses and regulations of spells aren’t going to sort themselves out, after all.
Lucio sighs, doesn't quite look at me yet. “I’ll consider taking the rest of the day off, but only on one condition.”
Oh great, here comes the bargaining.
I wait, patiently prompting him to continue by raising my head and looking up at him.
His eyes meet mine through hooded lids. “Come up with me,” he softly suggests. “Let’s make a night of it, I’ll even swipe one of the bottles of Golden Goose for us to share from the cellar downstairs if you want. You know how bored I get up there all by myself with nothing to do.”
“You don’t have to bribe me with gifts to spend time with you,” I laugh, secretly enjoying his desperation, his longing for me.
“I know,” he drawls, looking away and turning a bit pink. “But old habits die hard and you deserve a break just as much as I do, if not more.”
I twist to face him, pressing my hands on his chest and thinking wicked thoughts. “You know, you are still the Count of Vesuvia,” I rasp, wiggling my eyebrows. “You could just order me to take some time off to spend with you.”
“Oh please,” he scoffs. “We both know that I’m not the one who wears the metaphorical pants in this relationship. Besides, it isn’t as much fun if I make you do things. I’d much rather you choose that willingly.”
“Somebody’s had some character development,” I joke, giving him a peck on his smiling lips.
“What can I say? I learned from the best.”
...
A wink and a trip through some hidden passageways later, Lucio and I arrive in our shared bedchamber, greeted by the gentle kisses of Mercedes and Melchior as they stir from their bed in the corner of the sitting room.
Lucio melts into them, falling to his knees on the floor while they jump up to reach his face, messing up both his hair and his pristine white suit with their excitement.
“Softy,” I tease, sealing the passageway and sidestepping the whole slobbery affair.
Mercedes trots over to me after a moment, pushing her head against my palm in our typical, courteous greeting. I reward her with some scratches behind her soft white ears.
“Go play,” Lucio tells the two of them, sending them into the front room and closing the dividing double doors that lead to the boudoir and bathroom, leaving the both of us in peace.
“Care to join me in a bath?” Lucio asks, gesturing at the slobber covering his skin.
“A relaxing bath?” I ask, remembering all too well what happened the last time we tried to ‘take things easy’ in the hot, steamy chamber adjacent to the bedroom. Lets just say that things got quite a bit hotter and heavier than either of us were expecting, and very little relaxing had been done.
“If you wish,” Lucio concedes with an eyeroll. “Although I would argue that the shenanigans we usually find ourselves engaging in are relaxing as well, in their own way.”
I snort, and walk into the bathing room to turn on the water before either of us get undressed. I’ve done enough ‘wait around awkwardly for the bath to fill while naked’ with Lucio and his lack of foresight to have developed a knack for these sorts of things. I dump a variety of bath oils in the pool as well, lavender and chamomile and vanilla, trying desperately to think calm thoughts and hope that it dissipates into the water. I don’t recall that lavender, chamomile, and vanilla are also aphrodisiacs until I’ve already dumped them in.
I guess we’ll just have to be sleepy and horny at the same time.
“That smells divine, love,” Lucio purrs, ensnaring me in a hug from behind. That seems to have become our thing or the present - Lucio finding an excuse to be the big spoon wherever he can. It’s a nice, if not unexpected, change of pace, though being a big spoon is difficult with an arm made of metal, even if he loathes taking the thing off otherwise.
I let him hold me for a minute more before swiveling around to press my hands on his chest, breaking the connection between us ever so slightly.
“Clothes, love” I say softly, my voice a whisper on his skin.
He smiles, closing his eyes. “If you wish.”
I press a gentle, quick kiss on his lips - somewhere I know the dogs haven't gotten to first - and start to mess with the buttons on his suit jacket. He’d recently been forgoing the expensive, ceremonial red sash with all his war medals in favor of a just slightly less eccentric silhouette. It makes him seem less pompous, which was my intent upon raising the suggestion, but it also lets me get everything off him faster, a pastime which has become one of my favorite hobbies. Lucio, my own little dress up doll.
Or rather, my “undressing” doll.
I get all the buttons open, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers as I help him shed the white coat. I discard it in a pile to the side. Next are his tall boots, and my hands leave trails of touch along his thighs as I reach around them to undo the lacings. He holds my shoulder gently as I help him to step out of them, flesh hand sure and strong while the metal extends to the side for balance. All the while, his eyes remain closed, his lips sealed, patient, smiling.
I tug at his waistband, relishing the little intake of breath the action gives me.
“You’re being so good today,” I remark in a dark tone, undoing the button and beginning to pull the fabric from his legs. “So quiet.”
He takes a moment to think of a response, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s managed to fall asleep standing up. I help him step out of the pants like he had the boots, and let my own eyes rake across his toned, supple body.
“I know it makes you happy when I shut up,” he jokes, suppressing a yawn. He’d never admit to being tired, not like this when he can’t use it to be dramatic. This is real exhaustion, not one put on for show.
I tut my tongue. “You know I love to hear you talk,” I remind him, making him look at me with a hand to his jaw. “But you are being good.”
He straightens at my praise, my darling boy. My eyes flicker to his prosthetic arm, the straps keeping it on. Even after a year of time together, he’s never talked about his arm, never wanted to take it off. I usually give in to his request, as it is the only one he tends to make of me.
But I'd really prefer not to brush up against the cold metal of the thing in the bath tonight exhausted as I am, even if he is careful to keep it away from me when possible.
“Let me take care of you, Lucio,” I whisper gently into his neck, my hands already finding their way to the arm’s fastenings. He might just be tired enough to give in to me.
He pauses for a moment once he realizes my intent. A second later, his good arm is wrapped around my waist and his head is buried into my shoulder. For a while, all I can hear is the sound of the tub being filled and his steady, stabilizing breaths.
“You really want to?” he mumbles after a while. “It’s not very… I’m not very glamorous, or anything.”
“You’re afraid I won’t find you attractive?” I scoff, ruffling his hair. “Is that also why you hate taking off the makeup?”
“Well that’s just a lot of annoying effort. I mean, have you ever tried getting something labeled ‘waterproof’ off your skin using water? It doesn’t work.”
I laugh a little, pulling back so that I can face him, but I stay close, present.
“Open your eyes for me,” I prompt, noting the obedience with which he answers despite him not seeming to want to look at me just yet.
His eyes, clear and free from the redness of plague, dart between the two of mine, trying to read what I have to say. Again, his emotions are open, honest. Fear, hesitation, concern.
“Tell me what to do,” I breathe, touching the straps. Lucio’s become self-sufficient with them, able to get the arm on and off of his own accord with ease. He doesn’t need my help, but oh, he wants it. Desperately.
“Here,” he instructs softly, timidly, moving my hands to the largest fastener. “This one first, and then the others.”
I break eye contact to see what I’m doing, movements precise and careful. His breaths increase beside me, I can feel the heartbeat in his chest pick up.
I continue ahead, not stopping until the arm is off and in my hands.
“It’s heavier than I thought,” I remark, staring at the thing. I’m keenly aware of Lucio watching me, my reaction. I place the arm on the counter beside us. When I turn back, he’s looking away. I’ve seen his arm before, of course. Fleetingly, though. I never let my gaze linger for too long out of not wanting to make him uncomfortable. I’d seen it covered with fur in his ghost form, and in all honesty, I've become rather accustomed to seeing the place where his flesh ends. I accept it as just being part of him, though after the many years of having it, I can’t help but think that Lucio never has quite done so himself.
“If I can still love you after seeing you as a goat ghost,” I begin, placing a kiss on the top of his left shoulder. “I hardly think that seeing you barefaced and armless will make a difference.”
His brows shoot up, and he squints his eyes open to see if I’m joking.
“Well,” he mumbles after seeing my authenticity. “When you put it like that…”
I can’t help but giggle, caressing the back of his blonde hair as I press out foreheads together.
I turn the tap off with a flick of my fingers, and I vanish Lucio’s discarded clothes and free myself of my own with a second motion. I like taking my time to undress him, but when it comes to myself, I cannot be bothered. Our clothes have magically fallen into the laundry hamper, and I lead Lucio in the hot, flowery water, relishing the release on my tired muscles and joints as I wade in ever further.
Lucio audibly moans as he sits down on one of the built in benches, steam rising up to his face.
“Come,” I instruct, prompting him to scoot closer to me while I wipe at his face with a dampened cloth.
“We should do this more often.” he whispers once I’m done getting rid of the eyeliner with circular motions and a very small dispelling charm.
“You like being pampered?” I say in a way that makes it less of a question and more of a tease.
“By you, always. Though I wouldn’t mind taking care of you as well, if you’ll let me.”
“Someday,” I consent. “When you aren’t so tired.”
He hums in agreement, the sound echoing through his faintly scarred chest. So much fighting, so many battles…
He pulls me onto his lap, sluggishly, and I let him win this fight, small as it may be, straddling him. I stay very still, trying my best to ensure that this remains a “relaxing” bath. His hand wraps around my waist, fingers rubbing circles on my water-heated skin. His face is so soft, so calm.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, kissing my forehead. “You’re so good to me. Always.”
“As are you.” My hands find his hair, damp from the steam but not yet wet. His eyes open a sliver, searching.
“Am I? Really?”
“Of course.” He pouts, disbelieving, and I laugh, cutting myself off with a light kiss on his soft, relenting lips. “You are, Lucio. You make me happy. Safe. Pampered.”
He laughs, the muscles beneath me tensing. “I suppose the palace can speak for itself, then.”
“You believe in me,” I remind him, kissing his jaw, his neck. “Trusted me to save you, even when no one else would. You fight for me, for us. What we have.”
We rarely talk about the Devil, about all the things that could have gone wrong, all the mistakes we just barely avoided making. The both of us against the world, or so it had seemed. We had help - Asra, Julian. Nadia, Portia. Muriel, in his own way, but we don’t see much of them all now. For all intents and purposes, it’s just the both of us now in this big castle, an almost lonely thought if dwelled on for too long.
I pause my trail of kisses to glance up at him, perspiration dotting his fine brow like diamonds.
“I’ll always fight for you,” he whispers, solemnly. “You’re the only thing worth fighting for.”
He kisses me, softly, promising. As much as I value the sentiment, I can only hope that neither of us will ever have to fight again. I’ve certainly had enough of it in my lifetime, and enough lingering nightmares about it to last into my next reincarnation, whenever that may be. We stay there, in the bath, for a long while, pausing the slow, languid kisses for me to wash Lucio’s hair, for him to caress my back as I bend over to rinse out my own. We don’t get further than kissing, than touching, the closeness more of a comfort than a stimulant.
The water grows cold, and I don’t bother to reheat it. I pull my half-asleep count from the tub, stand him on the tiles where he can drip without care as I summon a warm wind between my fingers, running my hand along every plane of his body, drying him slowly, entirely. Like the clothes, I take no time in drying myself off, a snap of my fingers sending the water spraying back into the bath like rain and earning a low chuckle from my love.
I tug him into the large, silk-lined bed, pushing decorative pillows out of the way and sprawling him across sheets like a fine necklace being placed on display.
He reaches for me, eyes closed, only to find empty air as I back away, opening the large windows to our right and spread the curtains wide. The sun has just begun to set over Vesuvia, and the unusually warm winter wind plays with the white, lacy hangings I’d selected while redecorating like some sort of dance. The city we’d saved, we’d sacrificed for. Died and been resurrected to protect, to salvage.
I turn to face Lucio, the other thing I’ve protected, that I’ve saved. He stares at me with a quiet longing, a restlessness deep in his tired eyes. And yet, also with satisfaction.
“What?” I smile, leaning into the wall.
“I love you,” he whispers from where he lays. “I love you and that city and every day I get to just stare at you, basking in it. In what we’ve done, in our reward.”
I blush, though I am careful to keep his gaze. He barrages me with a sea of compliments every waking moment that he isn’t busy complimenting himself, but every once in awhile, one will stick out like a lifeboat amongst the waves, amongst the seas of endless casual declarations of love.
I walk over to the bed, snuffing out the bedside candles. The sheets are cool and crisp when I slide into them, but I soon find Lucio’s familiar body heat as he tugs me towards his chest, the both of us staring at each other as if the world has been too kind, too giving. As if we might yet slip away despite the year we’ve had, the freedom. The peace.
He kisses the darkness from my eyes, leaving them oh so heavy.
“Let’s bask together then, my love,” I whisper against his skin, watching the sunset’s pink light reach his sharp face, his smile.
Somewhere in the distance, a rogue peacock caws, eliciting a groan form Lucio and a teasing laugh from myself.
Yes, we really will have to take more time off every once in a while, especially since we’d fought so hard to have that privilege, that freedom. That chance to lie in each other's arms, forgetting the world and just existing for a moment, happy in the fact that we have won, we are free.
We are safe. We are loved.