Archive of Our Own ^beta

Cool fingers lift my hand to equally cool lips that brush feather light over my skin. Honeyed words fall from the vampire's lips. Were I the man I pretend to be, I would be swept away by his kiss, his words, his touch, but I’m not. I’m a trained assassin and I know how to manipulate people equally as well. He means to secure my loyalty and bind me to him in a most primal way. That is fine with me, I’ll just do the same. We can use each other. I smile at him and twine my fingers with his, letting him pull me deeper into the woods.

The druid's hand is warm, large and leaves a trail of sensation as his fingers slide over my skin. This is about pleasure, his and mine. I’m not usually one to indulge, but the things he alluded to, the sensual promise was so raw that I could hardly help it. It is so different from my vampire’s practiced, rehearsed and honeyed lines. This is pure pleasure for no other reason than the pleasure itself. Our bodies are not guided by a script or practiced dance but the mutual seeking of sensation. His fingers slide up my arm over my palm to thread with mine. I can do nothing but close my hand on his, holding on tight as our bodies chase that ultimate end together.

Dirt, sweat, blood, and general gore covers the familiar large hand that reaches out to me. Without hesitation I take it, wrapping my own firmly around it. With strength that I no longer possess at this moment, his arm flexes using our mutual hold to pull me to my feet. I stagger but his body is there to catch me, to steady me. Then once I’m stable I glance around. My free hand reaches out snagging cool, equally dirty fingers. They tense in my grip before squeezing once then relaxing. I want to pull them close by our joined connection, to shed our armor and gear and press our skin together in reassurance that we are all still alive, but I can’t. So I settle for this anchor point to each of them as we watch the sun rise in the sky.

Cool fingers seek out mine, an act so rare that it almost startles me into jumping away. The touch is tentative, uncertain, and almost fearful. This is more than I thought it could ever be, the start of something new for me, for us. I twine my fingers with his, squeezing lightly in reassurance. I wish there was a warmer, larger hand to hold as we survey what I hope will become something more permanent, but my druid has wandered away, he will return someday. Until then we will build something here, my vampire and I, and it will be amazing.

His hands cradle both of mine and it hurts, it hurts more than I had remembered. It was my plan, my stupid idea that led to this. I could take it I knew I could, but it had been some time since I had to deal with pain on this level. I’ve gone soft, too sheltered by their love. Pain is becoming a foreign thing and I can’t decide if that is good or very bad. The coolness of his touch on my abused body, doesn’t do nearly as much to sooth me as the love and fury that are almost palpable they flow so strongly from him. Then large, warmer hands hover over top of ours. Warm emerald and gold light bathes our skin and the shattered bones begin knitting together even as the pain begins to fade. When it is finished, warm hands settle on top of mine, their temperature contrasting with the ones below. My hands are cradled safely in the middle of theirs, where no doubt my entire body will be later tonight. It was a foolish plan but it worked, and our home is safer for it.

My hand cradles hers, so tiny and perfect. Her precious little fingers clasp over my thumb as if they never want to let go and I swear to her right then and there that she will never have to. Cool fingers trace ours, lightly, hesitantly, as if afraid his very touch will shatter this most precious gift. Then a warmer larger hand covers all of us, binding us together, making us one with our new perfect addition, the first of what I hope are many little hands to come. This right here, not this building, this city, this realm, but this, these hands linked to mine, is my home.

I hold her fingers as carefully as I did so many years ago when they were fragile and new. I don’t want to let her go, but I know it is time. Gently, reverently, I place her hand in his, this interloper that has stolen her heart, and then I let go. I only take a step back, that is all I can manage, but it is far enough that a hand slips into each of mine, one warm and one cool. It is probably for the best. It wouldn’t do to play with a dagger menacingly at an event such as this. I don’t need to anyway, our presence is enough of a threat and he solemnly nods acknowledging it. She will always have a place with me, with us, but now her hand is his to hold.

My skin is aging, wrinkled against the unchanging pale smoothness and the only slightly more weathered tan expanse. Still their fingers close over mine, and I return the hold with strength. I may be showing the years, but their passion for me as they press my hands to our bed, remains unchanged. It is bolstered now with a depth of love that none of us saw coming. I know the evidence of my approaching end pains them, but it isn’t here yet. There is still plenty of life left in me and I intend to spend it with them.

Their hands cradle mine gently, tenderly. I don’t have the strength to squeeze their fingers in reassurance, not anymore, I’ve saved the last of my strength for this one last act. Painstakingly slowly I lift their hands and move them until they press together, my hands surrounding them. I’m left panting by the effort as our joined hands rest on my chest, but it hardly matters. I turn inside myself, reaching for that familiar sensation, the innate magic of life that lives in everyone. I figured out long ago that mine interacts with the Weave and allows me to manipulate it, but I don’t reach for the Weave now. I don’t want it. Not for this. I bring forth the energy curling it around our hands, letting a piece of my essence settle in both of them, marking them. I hadn’t told them I had planned this, using the last bit of my Life in this way and maybe in other circumstances I would feel bad, but this is the only thing I could think of to ease their pain. With the magic that is mine and mine alone, I imprint myself into their skin until they will each carry a part of me. I pour all that I am, all my love, hopes, dreams, and passions of a life well lived into them. Then I let go.

It is an eternity and an instant all in one before they both arrive. Time has no meaning here, not as it did on the prime material plane. Here is only light, warmth and peace. It is a place I never expected to find my final rest but I have it on good authority that an incredibly strong willed woman argued with a goddess for our eternity. I wait for them, but not for long. Then they are there, love radiating from them as their hands reach out. Immediately I return the gesture, both of their hands warm and familiar, their essence flavored with mine.

“My love,” my pale elf that is a vampire no longer breathes in wonder.

“My heart,” murmurs my tanned elf.

I use our joined hands to pull them to me, pressing close with bodies that resemble the ones we had when we first met. “Welcome home,” I say. They know my words are not about this place, but about the three of us, together into eternity beyond.