Tag: Diablo 3 fic

This is based off of the endgame around Diablo 3. A lot of the angels ( http://diablo.wikia.com/wiki/Angel ) can be found in their Heavens, impaled on things or tied to walls, and it’s suggested that more are held captive in various places. There’s also a number stranded on Pandemonium, a demon-infested battleground between worlds. Sharpclaw and my Nephalem characters objected to that being allowed to continue. 

I have and will be taking some liberties with angelic anatomy. 

Warnings for implied torture, nothing explicit. 

Basically, Sharpclaw rescues a large number of glowy, frightened cats. 

They were all frightened at first.

The ones lost in Pandemonium were less afraid, still with
some fight in them, but none had weapons to fight with. They tried, lashing out
with gauntlets to claw into him, but failed to do any damage beyond deep
scratches- which immediately had them retreating, frightened of the punishment
that was sure to come.

The ones found impaled in the Heavens, transfixed with agony
in their home that should have been safe, were shaky and too weak to fight.
They tried, but failed again, not even leaving marks. They were the easiest to
move, as well, low on energy and mass.

The ones rescued from torture pits were the worst. Many
didn’t have enough energy to manifest their wings, if they even had their wings left, and they were all
scarred and carved up and missing pieces of plating. And they were scared- shrieking terror or shutting
down entirely when he reached for
them, desperately struggling to escape as they were moved, but most of them
crashed to the floor the second they got out of his arms. Which didn’t help
their fear, only made it worse, and made it easy to tell when another former
prisoner had been brought in.

The Pandemonium refugees swore furiously when carried, and
the impaled ones hissed and grumbled as they were moved, but the tortured ones
either screamed wordless terror or made absolutely no sound. And it was hard to
decide which was worse- the screaming or the ones who were too broken to scream.

And none of them liked the person handling them.

The Nephilim? They killed demons. However powerful, however
frightening they were, they had that going for them.

This?

This was a demon,
or half-one. Larger than humans normally grew, and pale, incredibly pale. Red
pupils, long, white hair, pale skin that easily showed bruises- he almost would
have looked like something they were used to if not for a set of features that
were distinctly inhuman.

Humans were not digitigrade. Humans walked flat on their
feet and wore shoes, they didn’t walk on the last joints of long, clawed toes
with thick pads. Humans did not have swishing tails as long as their legs,
either. Most of all, humans did not have
short, pointed horns rising from their brows. Humans didn’t have digitigrade
legs, tails, and horns, but demons did.

This was a demon. However
gently it carried them, however much it tried to whisper soothing things to
them, it was a demon, and it was
going to hurt them, they were certain
of it.

Even if they were in a… strangely… comfortable place.

They were in a very large room inside of a stone building, a
castle. The floor was badly shattered, and someone had hauled massive chunks of
the stone into a large ring. The interior was filled with packed dirt which had
been covered thickly with straw, forming a relatively soft surface that was
about shoulder-height off the ground everywhere around it. The elevation was
minor, but much better than being on the ground or in a pit, and it meant that
they were together. They could press together with the worst injured inside,
the healthier ones on the outside for protection, and surround the
still-shaking ones with Angelic colors to help calm them.

Well. Calm them until every time the demon came back over.
It was the only one large enough to carry them, so every new arrival who
couldn’t walk was carried over to be placed on the plateau with the rest. Which
frightened easily half of them every time, especially when the demon turned up
wearing armor. Even when it spoke to them.

“Hey, look- I’m just a bit tired of you lot clawin’ my arms
up. I don’t blame you, but that hurts. So… armor. It’s- I don’t think any of it
is demonic? Just regular armor. It’s not gonna hurt you. Uh… right? What- are
you all allergic to steel? No? Okay. I’m gonna leave you alone.”

Not terribly reassuring. The thing did seem to be telling
the truth for now, though, it left every time it said it would. At least until
it came back.

And the last time it came back, it smelled rather strongly
of inhuman blood. One of their number was wrapped around its frame, claws dug
into its shoulders, screaming battle cries and striking at his frame with wings
that managed to badly singe its clothing despite being barely there. A warrior,
despite everything, who refused to be pried off and put with the others. The
demon wasn’t hurting the warrior, oddly enough, but clearly didn’t like this.

“Ow, ow, okay, can- can you not with the- ow, hey, I’m
trying to put you down, can you- ow,
all right, that’s- that’s my shoulder blade, I need that, can- ow, okay, I- fuck-“

The warrior’s last cry turned into a shriek of surprise as
frost puffed out around their torso from somewhere around the demon’s mouth,
and the demon took advantage of their surprise to grab them and pull them off-

A third of their number turned away and the rest bristled in
anticipation of the punishment that had to be forthcoming-

And then the warrior was tossed unceremoniously up with the
rest of them, and the demon backed away, swearing under its breath and shaking
its singed hands. “Ow! Sorry about that, but you had your claws on some nerves
or something, I- look, I was trying to put you down, I can’t really do that
with your claws around my shoulder blades! I-I get that you don’t like me, I
get that I scare you, but- if I wanted to hurt you, I would have already! I-I
wouldn’t be doing this. So… can you just… not? Ow. Now I gotta go find healing
potions again. Too bad those probably wouldn’t work on you lot.”

When the demon finally turned away, they were all torn
between apprehension and pleasure at seeing just how badly their warrior (who
is now shaking angrily and trying to scrape frost off their armor) had managed
to claw its back up. The back of its shirt was a tattered ruin, and the skin of
its back wasn’t much better.

Good.

Unfortunately, when it came back, it didn’t appear to be
injured any longer. Nor was it wearing a shirt. Which revealed… nothing
sinister. More pale-white skin, a few barely visible blood vessels, and an
assortment of mostly-minor scars. None of them were really looking at the
demon, though- they were looking at what was in its hand. It wasn’t holding
another of them, but a clay jar with a few thin wisps of smoke coming out of
it, which was very suspicious and
more than a little bit unnerving. No matter what it was saying.

“Okay, look, I’m not up to anything- well, I am, but it’s
not bad. This is a scent diffuser, it spreads smells around. It’s got some
herbs in it right now, and a little candle, and it heats the herbs up and makes
them give off good smells. It’s lavender, mostly, supposed to be calming. Look.”

Stepping a bit closer, the demon turned the jar around to
show a small gap in the side, through which a tiny candle was visible. “It’s
not anything dangerous. See? Just a tiny flame. I don’t know if lavender works
on angels, I don’t even know if you guys can smell anything, but… it’s worth a
try, right? It won’t hurt you, at least.”

They hissed angrily as the demon drew closer, but it only
placed the jar on top of a slab of stone and backed away, leaving the jar there
to continue giving off a scent.

Admittedly, the scent was… not objectionable. Not overly
strong or cloyingly sweet, just… a scent. They backed away from it as far as
possible nonetheless, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything unpleasant. Aside
from… smoking faintly.

That was the last time one of their number was brought in,
and no one else came close for long enough to let them settle and start talking
among each other.

Inquiries about whether old friends were alive, questions
about who knew what regarding their captor, about the Nephilim.

And none had any good answers.

Mostly, no, old friends were dead. Or were among the ones
huddled silent, dim, scarred, and unrecognizable in the center of the mass. A
few met old friends again, embracing and pressing tightly together, and refused
to be pried apart- they needed the familiarity.

No one knew what to make of the Nephilim, and quite a few
arguments stirred up over the topic. They were terrifying, that was certain,
powerful enough to take down even an Archangel. For the moment, their
attentions seemed to be focused on eradicating evil, but they were humans. Violent, unpredictable,
unsteady-minded humans. They could turn on a moment’s notice, that much was
certain, the question was of whether they would.

And the demon… that was the thing that had them all the most
confused. It looked like a relatively composed demon, but it bled like a human,
albeit with a strange smell. The frost, urgh- that could have been a spell, but
the breath origins made it seem demonic. It was warm, though, frost or not- it was warm through its clothing. None
of them really knew how warm humans were supposed to be, but it certainly
wasn’t demon-hot.

Must have been a hybrid, they decided, a human and a demon
breeding somewhere. Which made it three-quarters demon, which was close enough
to fully demonic for them to continue thinking of it as a demon. That was all
it was, after all. Even if it was… strangely gentle. Because that had to be a
trick, it did- that was the one thing they agreed on.

Well. Most of them.

A few disagreed. The quieter ones, weaker, still shaking off
the phantom sensations of chains and blades. When nudged, they spoke softly of
powerful hands putting shears to work against their bonds, pulling barbs from
their frames, a pale figure whispering reassurance before breathing frost
against overheated plating. They hadn’t enjoyed the various modes of transport,
any of them, but he’d settled them gently in the wagon and had carried them
carefully despite their struggling.

One of them who still smelled faintly of smoke had something
written on their chest, something which, upon inspection, was a sigil written
in charcoal. The sigil was cold to the touch, applied over plating that had
been near-melted by hellfire, and cooled any scorched plating brought near it.
Several of them wanted to remove the sigil, thinking it harmful, but the
scorched one retreated further and guarded it with both arms until they
stopped. And the sigil… didn’t seem to be doing any harm. It was a design they
didn’t recognize, not demonic in origin.

Eventually, they were distracted from their discussion by
the approach of… something. Something strange enough to bring many of them to
that edge of the plateau to stare. It looked almost like them, a suit of armor
with empty spaces in the joints, but it didn’t smell like them. Nor did it have
any light to it, anywhere. And it smelled of flame, that had some of them very
concerned, but it was approaching calmly enough- and they were curious. A construct, maybe? They’d
never seen the likes, but it could have been one. It was definitely animate,
and it chirruped a friendly noise up at them as it approached.

Questioning it yielded no clear answers, though. Either it
couldn’t speak, or it didn’t want to. It just reached up to set two buckets of
water near them, then added a few coarse cloths. Dipping one of the cloths into
the water, the construct (?) scrubbed rather blatantly at its own arm,
evidently demonstrated, then put the cloth back. Head tilted, it walked slowly
around the platform, looking up at them, then waved slightly and left.

Concerning, but no direct threat, and many of them jumped at
the chance to get the filth off their
frames. The water was clean, the cloths were soft, and they weren’t about to
stay this dirty for any longer. Not when none of them were strong enough to
burn their own frames clean.

Oddly considerate of their captors.

Probably bait.

Nevertheless… this wasn’t the worst situation any of them
had been in. Nice, if not for their suspicion.

They were still suspicious, though.

(This is based on one of my Diablo III characters, a demon hunter, who has one of these weird cow things as a pet. In the game, this type of pet runs around and picks up gold for you after it’s dropped, but doesn’t fight. The cow-pet occasionally gestures and stabs at enemies with her spear, but can’t actually damage them. http://diablo.wikia.com/wiki/That_Which_Must_Not_be_Named?file=TWMNBN.jpg )

Usually, when Dalu
followed the sounds of an animal in distress on a demon-infested farm, he found
the demons tormenting some poor animal that he’d end up having to put out of
its misery after he took care of the demons. 

This? This was not an animal, at least not any
he’d ever seen. 

The being snarling up at him from the ground
was bovine in appearance, but small, only about waist-height. More than that,
it was bipedal, long limbs folding strangely under it as it tried to back away
from him. It had bright red eyes, which were a bit odd, but the udder on its stomach rather cut down on any intimidation factor. Whatever it was, it was bleeding heavily from a deep wound on its
outer thigh, preventing it from standing up. The rest of it was dirty and
bloodied almost as badly, though it didn’t appear to be badly wounded anywhere
else. 

Dalu stared down at whatever in gods’ name
this was for several long moments, watching it scrabble uselessly to get away,
then sighed and reached for it. He ought to put whatever this was out of its
misery instead of gawking at it-

But it bawled in terror and pain as he grabbed
at it, kicking at him with its one good leg, and the idea of killing it faded
away. He didn’t really want to hurt it, strange as it was… maybe he could
patch the damn thing up and chase it off afterwards. 

It was quite a fight
to get the thing hauled off and bandaged up, and Dalu was sporting several
hoof-shaped bruises by the time he was done, but it had settled down
somewhat and was just staring at him from across the campfire. 

Which left him wondering what to feed it. What did one offer something shaped like this? 

Hm- might as well try and ask. “And what do I feed you? Hay? Raw meat? The flesh of newborns?” 

The thing didn’t respond, so Dalu watched it for a moment more, then pulled a piece of dried meat from his pack and slowly held it out to the thing. Whatever it was, it bled like an animal, and he didn’t feel like he should just let it starve.And Dalu was curious- what did this eat? 

Meat, apparently, because it snatched the meat away from him and gulped it down in several large bites. It then sat up further, looking very interested, and stared hopefully at the pack until he gave it more. Quite a bit more, actually, he had plenty. Those giant beasts he kept having to kill so they’d stop charging him didn’t taste half bad when smoked, and he wasn’t about to run out of beasts to slay any time soon. Now, what else could he feed it? 

Turned out he could feed it just about anything he tried. An old carrot, some hardtack, a large handful of long grass from near a creek, a cattail root- all greedily accepted. Also, a locust that got too close was snapped up, even though the creature seemed to be mostly full by that point. It just ate everything, then? 

Maybe he ought to keep whatever this was with him so it didn’t get up to any trouble. That would give him more time to figure out what it was, for one thing. 

And it seemed quite content to follow him around as soon as it was up and about. He fed it at least once a day, offered it the carcasses of any un-contaminated beasts he slew, pointed it towards water, and that was it. 

Then he found a goblin. The damn thing led him through three packs of goat-men before he managed to shoot it enough times to kill it, and it left gold strewn everywhere. 

Dalu fully expected to not get that gold back when he saw the thing gathering it up, but he didn’t pay it much attention. It was just after the strewn gold trail, not the bulk of the coins and the pieces of armor that Dalu actually needed. 

To his surprise, though, the thing ran back and forth between him and the trail, dumping the gold it had gathered into his pack every time it came back. 

The next time he ended up with gold scattered about, this time from a series of shattered urns, it did the same thing. Then the next, and the next, always bringing him every single piece, and starting to watch more alertly for gold once it figured out that he approved. 

Eventually, it kept a large gold earring, which it fit through the hole between its nostrils. Later, it found and kept a simple crown, then a large spear. 

By that point, it had grown, and it was chest-height to him. It was also much more durable, seeming to take no injury from most attacks, and fast enough to flee from anything that posed any real danger. All of which would have been alarming, except that it kept bringing him gold, it stashed a brush in his pack to groom itself with, and it grumbled to itself and slept on top of him when they had to stay somewhere cold. 

Weird cow he’d never identified or not, he was rather fond of the thing. Even if it did occasionally yell at villagers. 

This is based off of a necromancer I play in Diablo 3, Dinnau, and the Templar who accompanies him. No knowledge of Diablo 3 is needed, except that the heroes, like in most video games, don’t tend to stay dead. Also, Dinnau has literally saved the world several times. 

No significant warnings, just awkwardness, a small amount of sexual tensoin, and mentions of someone temporarily drowning. 

Kormac was quite certain that it was never a good thing when
the medics couldn’t agree on if someone had died. Granted, it might not have
mattered here as much as other places, since Dinnau had a habit of not staying
dead either way, but still. Spending any amount of time submerged in a frozen
lake was bad, but being dragged into said lake by one leg and spending an
unknown amount of time at the bottom, tangled in animated (and angry) seaweed,
was especially unfortunate.

But Dinnau still wouldn’t
stay in the medical area. Something about wanting to recover in a quieter
place. Which Kormac understood, but when medics told you to stay somewhere, it
was usually a good plan to stay somewhere. The medics were too busy to deal
with someone who was trying to leave and only might need  assistance later,
though, so Kormac was on what had been termed “drag the stupid idiot back if he
starts choking” duty.

Dinnau, fortunately, was not choking. Just sitting as close
as possible to the fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket, glaring at the flames.
And still, still shaking. Really not
a surprise; Dinnau seemed to get cold easily, and his skin had been ice-cold
when Kormac had managed to get him back out of the water. He was probably still
cold, even if he was warm enough to be alive.

So… maybe Kormac should try to get him warmed up a bit more?
And not in the way that certain
people would suggest, just- another blanket? Or- hm, no, they’d already given
him some hot soup, he probably didn’t want more.

Given that, what could Kormac do?

Deciding to try and figure it out from a bit closer, he
carefully approached Dinnau from the side, trying to be fairly loud so he
wouldn’t startle his companion. Startling a necromancer in a bad mood was a
good way to end up with bones, yours or otherwise, somewhere you did not want
them.

Once he was close enough, he sat down next to Dinnau, slowly
reaching to set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Dinnau- are you well?”

Wait, no, stupid question, and he realized it, but-

Well, he got a bit distracted. He’d accidentally nudged the
blanket off of Dinnau’s shoulder, and that revealed some rather interesting
scars. And the fact that Kormac had managed to put his thumb into the hollow of
Dinnau’s collarbone. “Ah- oh, by the Heavens, you are cold. Is there- may I assist?”

“Am I cold? I hadn’t noticed.” Dinnau muttered dryly, but
didn’t pull away from the touch. In fact, he leaned into it slightly, seeking
the warmth. Kormac was large and hefty and pleasantly warm, and that… that had
Dinnau’s attention.

Gaze flickering up to Kormac’s face, Dinnau sized the
Templar up for several long moments, then backed up and gestured to the place
where he’d been sitting. He was on top of a thickly padded bearskin rug to keep
the chill of the stone floor away, so he fully intended to stay here in front
of the fire, and… maybe he could add Kormac to his anti-cold measures. “You may
absolutely exist. Come here- get comfortable. And… take your shirt off.”

…what?

Oh, of course, that made sense, it would be easier to
transfer heat without clothing in the way, but-

…wait. Dinnau was clearly not wearing a shirt, and-

Well, Kormac knew for a fact that the necromancer been
completely naked for some amount of time in the medbay, as his clothing had
been both soaked wet and frozen almost solid, but he didn’t know if Dinnau had
ever… actually put anything, other than that blanket, back on.

Was he about to end up with Dinnau in his lap, naked?

And how much did he object to that idea?

Not anywhere near as much as he should, oh goodness.

But Dinnau was still shivering, and Kormac had offered, and-

Oh goodness.

Hoping he didn’t look as flustered as he felt, Kormac
removed his shirt and sat in the suggested spot, hands wrapping tightly into
the fur of the rug in an effort to keep them from wandering into, well-

Dinnau had some very interesting scars, from wounds that had
been too deep or had waited too long for a healer to fully repair, and he
somehow managed to make deathly pale skin look good, aaand-

Okay, so, yes, Dinnau was at least wearing undershorts, and
Kormac felt rather like kicking himself for his sudden desire to have things not that way, but-

Dinnau stood up to stretch, the blanket falling away slightly,
and made a face at the cold air before he was distracted by Kormac’s
expression. Said expression was somewhere between surprise and want, and it was actually rather cute,
but a bit surprising in this context.

Surprise notwithstanding, Kormac didn’t look uncomfortable,
so Dinnau shrugged off the blanket and sat in Kormac’s lap. As soon as he was
in place, he pulled the blanket up around himself again, leaning back and
stifling a moan at the sensation of
warm skin against his entire back. Oh, that was divine. Why hadn’t he done this before? He and Kormac had spent
enough time dragging each other out of battle and patching each other up, they
could certainly manage this much cont-

Did he still have
that stunned expression? And- all right, Kormac was far too stiff, this was not
okay. “Kormac, you’ve seen me shirtless before, and we are comfortable with
each other.

Please try to relax. You are quite welcome to put your hands
somewhere other than the floor, and-“

Pausing, he twisted around to meet
Kormac’s eyes, his voice soft and serious. “If you want me to leave, tell me. I
am not here to make you uncomfortable, and I am not going to die if you are not
comfortable with me in your lap. You are not obliged to let me touch you. So-
do I need to move?”

“You’re… usually… rather covered
in blood when- when you aren’t wearing a shirt.” Kormac managed, then
immediately raised his hands at the question and hesitated for an instant
before settling them on Dinnau’s forearms. “No! I-I am not- not uncomfortable,
merely- you are worryingly cold.”

And it was true! Dinnau was still
shivering and far too cold, and his entire back against Kormac’s front was
slightly less than pleasant. And it was, uh. Kormac’s nipples had noticed the
cold, so… hopefully Dinnau didn’t notice that. Ahem.

Awkwardness aside, though, Dinnau
was relaxing against him. And it was… oddly pleasant.

After a moment more, Kormac slid
both hands under the blanket, around Dinnau without trapping his arms, and
hugged the shivering necromancer closer to his chest. Muttering something about
efficiency, he tried his best to behave himself, but ended up slowly tracing
along a scar that had ended up under his fingertips. An odd curving pattern,
tiny deviations to either side, like whatever caused it had been rattling
rapidly back and forth. Which was… this was OK to inspect, right? He just…
happened to have his hand on top of it, and it was just a scar on Dinnau’s
side, nothing… nothing too… anything.

Even if Dinnau had made a sound when he felt Kormac’s arms around
him. That was just- just because he was a bit less cold now. Probably. Right?

“Is, uh… is this acceptable? You
are still quite cold.”

Dinnau shuddered and slowly
pressed further back against Kormac, doing his level best to melt into the very warm Templar, and once again barely
managed to not moan. Kormac was unfairly warm,
nice and solid, and was holding him- and
there was something just delightful about being held close like this. He should
have done this a long time ago, and they were definitely doing this again. “Ah… there we are. Thank you, Kormac,
this is… oh. Much better. And-“

A quick pause, rolling one
shoulder back in a rather pointed manner, and he chuckled very softly to
himself. “Yes, I did notice the cold.”

At the inevitable sputtering that
ensued, Dinnau sighed and patted Kormac’s hand, huddling a bit further down
into the blankets and Templar that were serving as a nest. “Kormac, I am not
afraid of your nipples. You do not need to apologize, I do know a few things about anatomy.”

Akgh.

Having no idea what to say to
that, Kormac elected to say nothing at all, biting his lip and going silent
after he was done sputtering. Still holding Dinnau close, he thought for a few
long moments, hands cupped against Dinnau’s stomach… and noticed something.

That strange, oddly pleasant
mage-woman was right. Dinnau was skinny, more
so than he had been when Kormac had met him. Probably needed to eat more. No-
definitely needed to eat more. Was going to be hard to convince him to, though,
unless-

Wait.

Kormac reluctantly took his arms
from around Dinnau’s frame, wrapping the blanket tightly around the lanky man
instead, and squirmed away with an apologetic sound. “My apologies, Dinnau-
give me a moment, please? I-I have- stay, I have an idea- sit.”

Dinnau whined up at him, actually whined,
as Kormac moved, and something in the Templar’s chest tightened unpleasantly at the sound, but he kept
going- got up and left the room, moving almost at a run so he didn’t have any
time to give in to the urge to immediately go back. He didn’t want to move- he
wanted to stay and help Dinnau get warmed up, but he had to grab something
first, this- this was important.

When he came back, he was
carrying a bowl of stew in one hand and a small, cloth-wrapped bag of sand in
the other. “Apologies, but- you need to eat, and you need to warm up, and-
these will help with both. Here-“

Dinnau had been startled by the
sudden movement and very unhappy with
the sudden influx of cold air and the loss of heat and contact. Not even a warning, just cold stone re-chilling his ass
through his undershorts. Rude, abrupt, cold- all his least favorite things.

By the time Kormac got back,
Dinnau was sitting hunched into a ball of blankets and anger, Glaring up at
Kormac, he did his very best to project his extreme dissatisfaction with the
situation, resisting the urge to immediately climb back into the Templar’s lap.
That was kind of an embarrassing urge, no matter how much he wanted it. Kormac…
was apologizing, though, and had…
brought him things.

Maybe he… would get a bit closer.

“Someone is heating sand in an
iron pot and pouring it into these bags- it stays very warm. Take this, and
then- this is a very good venison stew. You are-“

Kormac hesitated for an instant,
taken aback by his own tone, then squared his shoulders and drew himself up.
“If you want- want me to keep helping you warm up, you are going to eat this.
Or at least some of it. I know you’re
only half human, but you need to eat at least
half of the time, and you don’t. So- eat!”

Holding his breath slightly and
hoping that he hadn’t upset Dinnau, Kormac thrust the bowl towards him, waiting
to see what sort of reaction he would-

Oh.

Dinnau briefly considered
protesting that he didn’t often because he wasn’t hungry often, but halfway
through the threat he was ready to give in. Fine. Pride or not, he was cold,
and… eating what smelled like a very good stew was not enough of a price to
deter him from- well, anything. Especially not something nice like this.

But the rest of it… heh. There
was that confidence- good for Kormac. Dinnau smirked just slightly, then
shrugged and climbed into Kormac’s lap again, wanting the warmth back. “Yes,
sir.”

Oh- that got a response. A rather
startled look, then a vaguely more confident expression as Kormac settled him
more firmly into place and held him close. Cute. How a man heavier than him was
‘cute’, Dinnau had no idea, but… heh. It worked.

Now… awkward sputtering aside,
there was a warm object and a bowl of stew to enjoy. Taking the liberty of
shifting until he was comfortable again, Dinnau set the bag of sand under his
(still icy) feet, then sighed and stared down at the bowl in a short attempt to
summon an appetite. Nothing. And he hadn’t eaten in… quite awhile, probably
days, so he should… probably be hungry. Had been hungry, before, when he hadn’t
been using his power this much… maybe this was a consequence.

Did he need to eat at all, then?
Hm- probably sometimes, he’d needed to tighten his belt a few times before,
but…

Oh, fine. It wouldn’t hurt him to
eat something, and this did smell nice. Nor could he bring himself to mind the
order- it was out of concern for him, not a feeling of entitlement to his time
or cooperation.

Kormac stayed fairly stiff at first,
uncertain if he’d crossed a line somewhere by giving orders, but relaxed as
Dinnau complied. No, it didn’t seem like Dinnau was angry. Or… anything but
relaxed, actually, he was eating. Slowly, but that seemed to be the usual.
Dinnau never ate quickly, seeming to prefer leisurely, small meals over faster,
filling ones if they were low on time. Odd, but it made some amount of sense in
context.

This time, though? This time, Dinnau
was going to eat this entire bowl of stew, at least if Kormac had anything to
say about it, and Kormac had several things to say about it.

It didn’t end up being difficult to
get Dinnau to eat, though. Which was fortunate. Kormac probably wouldn’t have been
able to muster the gumption to put considerable effort into something so far
above his station as ordering around the
man who had saved all of existence several times over. Giving orders to
anyone felt strange, and Dinnau… Dinnau should have been in charge of things.
He certainly shouldn’t have been… calling Kormac “sir”. And Kormac should not have been enjoying that little word
as much as he was.

But he managed not to make a big
deal of it- or any deal, really, he didn’t respond in any way. Not on purpose,
at least.

And that was just how it went.

Dinnau gradually finished off the
stew, then set the bowl aside and snuggled back into Kormac’s frame, drowsy and
finally starting to warm up properly. Sighing softly, he turned to the side and
hummed gently to Kormac, shifting around until he was comfortable. But… this
wouldn’t be for Kormac, not for long.

“Kormac, this is very comfortable,
but… I am going to fall asleep very soon. You should… probably lie down. Get
comfortable. That is an order… I am not about to let you make yourself
uncomfortable on my behalf.”

“Understood,” Kormac whispered,
moving carefully so as not to dump Dinnau out of his lap, and got comfortable
on the rug in front of the fireplace. It could have been very awkward to lie
with another person like this, but
Dinnau looked half-asleep, and Kormac wasn’t about to do anything that would
potentially get him woken up. He was just going to play along with whatever
Dinnau wanted so that the necromancer would sleep
properly for once.

And because… because it was very
nice, once he pulled the blankets up over them both.

Dinnau muttered something indistinct
and thankful, nuzzling into Kormac’s chest without any hint of shame, and
pressed as close as he could get. Humming gently, he put an arm over the
Templar’s frame, thoroughly enjoying the warmth and more than enjoying the fact
that Kormac was actually relaxing against
him. That was good- some contact would probably be good for Kormac.

Well. Kormac was now lying in front
of a fireplace, shirtless, covered in blankets, with a man in his undershorts pressing against him. This was… wow. Okay. Far,
far too nice, bordering on sinful if
not for how much good it was doing Dinnau. Because, importantly, Dinnau was warm, had just eaten, and was falling
asleep.

Perfect.

He fell asleep like that, holding
Dinnau close, and it was amazing.

 

Waking up like that was also amazing.
And warm.

Too
warm in one particular place, though. Silently cursing and trying to figure
out how to get away well enough to not disrupt Dinnau, Kormac slowly started to
move away, then stilled when Dinnau clung tighter. Okay, that- that was an
issue, because he needed to get away and do something about this, but Dinnau
really didn’t want him to-

Dinnau cracked open one eye, but
didn’t bother to take his face out of Kormac’s chest, just spoke loudly enough
to be heard. “Kormac, stop… I am not afraid of your dick.”

More sputtering. Cute. Dinnau
smirked against Kormac’s chest, then exhaled deeply and drifted off again, not
having fully woken up in the first place. He’d just… sleep. And enjoy the
warmth.

Wasn’t like offering to help Kormac
with that little ‘problem’ would get a positive reaction. Otherwise he might
have stayed awake. But… no. Maybe some time later.

Hopefully some time later.