polariity | Prisonstuck XI

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prisonstuck

Prisonstuck XI

[The invitation comes to the hive in drapings so rich, the Psiioniic knows it is worth more than the lives of some trolls. With it comes bad news.]

[Things up until this point have been... Well.]

[With her wiring removed, their little Helmsgirl has learned to move with her own limbs again in short time. She'd not been a Helmstroll long, after all, before they'd taken her away from it all. She clings to his side like he's a pillar or a shield, more often than not, only harder when Dualscar is about however muuch the Psiioniic tells her he's no threat to them, not right now at any rate. He stays patient best he can; it was a lesson he needed time to adjust to as well after all. There's the lusus too, fetched from its plains, and he's seen it poking its nose out from its den some nights to snuffle suspiciously at the smell of the sea.]

[Those same nights have him wishing he's not so used to it himself.]

[Yet he is, and only part of it is because he was raised in a port town where the smell of the ocean permeated even past the scent of blood and sweat in the factories. The other part is in the form of the handsome seadweller troll he takes to pail whenever he returns from his seas, that same scent flowing deep into the Psiioniic's lungs as he presses his mouth to Dualscar's throat as welcome.]

[Funny, he thought he'd have to worry about pain and humiliation only the first time he laid eyes on the lightning-horned troll who had stepped into his cell with a cold violent slash of a smirk and eyes that glittered malice. Some days as the two of them lay in the same recuperacoon and he's tracing literary quotes against Dualscar's spine, he wonders if maybe that weren't more preferable. Pain and humiliation from highbloods, he knows that well. All those in the slave caste do. It's being treated so carefully, so tenderly and with those violet eyes gazing at him in trust, that's new and he wonders if maybe this isn't a trap of its own.]

[Because he keeps making excuses. They both do. He pours through all of Dualscar's books and takes advantage of that royal station and blood to get access to information he'd have to work for if he were out and free, and he keeps telling himself This is all for when I leave, it'll be useful then. Except leaving never happens. He needs to make sure Sonica gets better, he needs to make sure the lusus is fine, he needs to make sure Dualscar will be fine when he inevitably sets off. He needs to do this, he needs to do that, and he knows it's just bullshit, so much bullshit, and it's terrifying.]

[Tomorrow. I'll leave tomorrow is what he's telling himself for perhaps the 52nd time when Dualscar enters the library with that envelope with its ocean purple seal and gold stationary and pretty handwriting probably written by a domestic slave whose life was worth less than the price of the ink used. It puts him on edge even without seeing the look on Dualscar's face.]

[It's an invitation to some fancy highblood party, which he would normally not even give two shits about save for the fact that he's mentioned. Politics amongst nobility aren't something he's care for but it's impossible to not see between the lines here. This is some reputation bullshit- to see that the great Orphaner Dualscar really has done his job correctly, to see that he's really broken the runaway-slave-turned-rebel. Maybe there's really some genuine curiosity there too. He'd known that taking a title like his was both a boast of power and also a pair of big middle fingers to the Empire where the word "psionic" also meant "battery". There has to be some vague interest in what sort of mouthy little lowblood would do something like that... and how far he's fallen.]

[Finishing the letter has his mind screaming at him leave leave right the fuck now because the prospect of being paraded (however acted out) like some glorified prize in a room full of highbloods and seadwellers with his only protection being Dualscar makes him want to vomit pure acid.]

[He says no and nearly refuses to budge on it at first. The entire affair nearly puts him on the tipping point of a manic swing, fingers jittering with energy and eyes bright. He comes around within the hour, reluctant and nervous, but what can he do? Highbloods and their goddamn reputations- failure to provide is humiliation on a best case scenario and culling on worst. He can't run away with that possibility weighing heavy. Logic says it's because Dualscar is their best link into the system, but really it's because the idea of him dying makes him want to set an entire fleet and maybe a few major cities on fire.]

[At least the invitation leaves plenty of forewarning, because fuck knows he needs to get into the act of being a slave again and also figure out how to act the part of a domestic slave. There are apparently a thousand and two utterly ridiculous rules a domestic slave needs to follow and know. They get into an argument about forks. Everything is ridiculous.]

[But he's clever and a goddamn genius, so it's not as hard as it could be. The night comes for the whole affair. Dualscar looks fucking resplendent, as they both know he should be, and him, well, he gets clothes good enough to not be an eyesore but drab enough that it's clear as moonlight he's property. He shakes, violently, when the seatroll pins his sign to his clothes to mark who he 'belongs' to. The quiet apologies can only help so much.]

[For blatantly obvious reasons, he's never been inside a proper highblood estate during one of their little get togethers. Read about them in books, seen glimpses of them in advertisements for movies he never had money to see, things like that, but nothing more. It's nothing like seeing it for real and even when they're still approaching, he's hit with the sudden painful feeling of being outclassed and surrounded. Thank god he's not in a manic swing- he gets the thought to jump out the window and haul ass the opposite direction and in a swing like that he'd probably do it.]

[But he's stable, he's stable and he can do this, and he does his best to remember all the bullshit he's had to stuff into his mind on the short amount of time they've had. He does his best to act a good slave for all he wants to scream at it all, obeys Dualscar's curt orders and follows quietly just behind him with his head bowed. Living with the seadweller, he thought he'd be used to riches but the sight of just the entrance hall is... Shit. Holy shit. He just barely catches himself before he can swear that sentiment out loud. It's obnoxious extravagance, that's what it is, and he can't properly articular why it terrifies him.]

[Good thing no one wants him to fucking talk. He just sticks to Dualscar's side, or at least as close as he can manage under this farce of theirs, and tries not to scream at being surrounded by so many hues ten times as high as his.]

[No one touches him, is the good thing, or at least no one touches him much, Dualscar the protective bastard he is, but there's enough words and actions that Psii knows it's only because of his immediate presence there that it hasn't happened yet. It's both a relief and a worry when he's finally dismissed to go assist the other slaves, and he hopes his hurry is seen more as an eagerness to please. At least he can do the other thing that had encouraged him to attend: put a finger to the pulse of the collective slaves here, see if there's any trustworthy, see if there's any other followers amongst the collection.]

[It keeps him busy for most of the night, doing what work he can and getting a feel for the other lowbloods here. But eventually, inevitably, he's regulated to simply standing at the side and trying to play invisible while something deep inside him won't stop trembling. He's left hoping that another lowblood will have him work and keep his hands (and his mind) busy, or that Dualscar will give him some form of a break from all this.]

[He tries his best not to think about what he might have to do if another highblood comes to fetch him for whatever reason first.]

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[Dualscar couldn't have even imagined the surge of relief that would run through him when he sees the Psiioniic, and how he's unharmed. It takes every ounce of strength and determination in his body to not immediately run to his lover and wrap him in his cape, pulling him away from here, away from these trolls who would turn him into a battery and abuse him, who view him as a thing and not a brilliant, vibrant individual. The fact that not so long ago, Dualscar was one of those trolls, he brushes over, the thought making him uncomfortable.]

[Dualscar keeps in position, his arms crossed over his chest and glowering, until the slave is gone and he's sure they're alone. Then he dives forward, pulling his cape forward and wrapping it around Psii, ducking his head so they can speak in hurried, worried tones.]

Are you okay? No one touched you?

[He lunges forward right as Dualscar does, and- he's not weak. For so long, he's worked on not letting himself be weak, not letting himself be just another lowblood to be used. His words, his title, his actions, everything has gone towards making himself not weak. He can't let himself be weak.]

[But right now, it's more a comfort than he can say to have Dualscar wrapped so much around him. For now, he can almost pretend like that can keep him safe and he doesn't have to fight against himself or the rest of the world.]

[Pretending is the only way he can keep himself from screaming and trying to burn everything down.]

[Gently, his fingers curl along the back of Dualscar's neck and he lets out a shaky breath. He's trying not to shake, but it's hard.]

I'm not okay. [He's acting a slave again, being eyed like a slab of meat at the market. He's surrounded by too many highbloods who hate him and too much wealth. There is no way to be 'okay'.] No one touched me. 22, I'm going to lothe my mind like thith.

Wwe'll leavve as soon as wwe can.

[Once, Dualscar would have loved a party like this, would have enjoyed showing off and posturing and being loud and obnoxious with a bunch of other highbloods. A part of him still does love it, but another part of him just wants to cradle his lover in his arms and go home, to retreat to their little room off the library and relax together, close and tight in each other's arms.]

Another hour, maybe twwo... if I leave before then, they'll suspect something...

[Even leaving after another hour will be viewed with suspicion, but the rest of the highbloods can just lump it.]

And then wwe'll go home, and it'll be okay.

[He leans in, kissing Psii's cheek, and brushes his fins along the side of his face.]

No- no, it'sth fine.

[It's not, but he tries to get himself to relax as his brings one hand up to cup Dualscar's face. Keep him there close right where he is for a little while longer.]

I jutht need a break. How long can you thtay away like thith?

For awwhile.

[It wouldn’t be the first time he’d left a party like this for the purpose of abusing a slave, a thought that makes something dark and small curl in the pit of Dualscar’s stomach. He puts one jeweled hand over Psii’s, linking their fingers together.]

They wwon’t notice I’m gone for another ten minutes; they wwon’t care for another thirty.

Then I'll jutht care enough to make up for all the douthebags in attendance.

[It's hard to swipe his thumb over Dualscar's hand when there's so much gold and gems on it, obtrusive and in the way. Still, he tries, and kisses along Dualscar's jaw.]

C'mon. Let'sth fine thomewhere a little more private.

Privvacy?

[By now, Dualscar knows Psii well enough to have a pretty good idea of what's on his mind, and he cracks a slow, disbelieving grin.]

Wwhat exactly do you havve in mind?

[Innocent wigglers not a day since hatching could look as innocent as him as he smiles in the face of that grin. Okay, no, that's a solid lie. Day-old wigglers don't have the kind of spark Psii gets in his eyes.]

You thay that like you think I want more than an innocent cuddle.

[...Although, to be fair, they do plenty of that too, with or without pailing.]

[Sometimes literal sparks, when Psii is feeling particularly feisty.]

You'vve got the look in your eye that says you wwant more than a cuddle.

[Not that Dualscar is complaining, of course; his fins fan forward in interest, lifting and separating into large waves, and he tightens his arm around Psii's waist.]

Havve you found anywwhere more privvate?

[Because if they get caught, it's likely that whoever finds them will want to join in, and Dualscar getting all protective over his slave would break their cover.]

[It says a lot about the shift in their dynamic that the feeling of that muscular arm wrapping tight around him doesn't make him panic anymore, not when he's in the right state of mind anyway. Instead, it just feels reassuring and good, all the moreso when he thinks on how this muscular and dangerous troll lets himself be beneath him quite literally, all exposed.]

[Makes his breath catch sometimes, too.]

[He draws a finger along the back of one fin, still marveling at the delicate feel of it, and gives a grin.]

I can't bring you there if you're keeping me up againtht you like thith.

[Sometimes, when he touches him, Psii still does panic, and it's hard for Dualscar not to take it personally. He knows he deserves it, that he can never make up for what he did, but that doesn't change how much it hurts when it happens.]

[But Psii melts into his arms, and then flashes that dangerous, enticing grin while he touches one of Dualscar's fins just right, and it flutters against his fingers.]

Maybe you can just tell me, and I can carry you.

Oh yeah? [The finger is dragged along extra slow as he says those words. There's nothing so satisfying as watching those fins react to his touches, the way they give away so much more than what Dualscar can tell him.]

I dunno, 22. You've been thpoiling me pretty bad. I might be too heavy for you at thith rate.

[Which isn't quite a lie- he's recovered nicely since his stay in the prison and is no longer the starving waif of a troll he'd once been. Certainly nothing Dualscar can't handle, 'tho.]

[Dualscar has never been any good at controlling his fins, something Psii knows and takes advantage of, and this is no exception. He waves his fin forward, letting its edges run around Psii’s fingertips, and then grins.]

That sounds like a challenge.

[AND IT IS ACCEPTED. Dualscar reaches down with his other arm and bodily lifts Psii into the air, cradling him against his chest.]

Wwhere’re wwe going?

Fuck-!

[But it's a breathless and delighted kind of curse as his fingers scrabble against Dualscar's shoulders before he settles comfortably in his arms. His lips pepper a couple of kisses against one of his fins.]

My handthome and thtrong theadweller hero.

[The kind of ridiculous words you find in some cheap bodice ripper that you can buy if you do a pretty trick, and he knows something like that is supposed to be purred out all attractively. Unfortunately for his "seadweller hero", he's just going to get that typical grating snigger that seems as much a part of Psii as his lisp. Shifting in place, he starts to gesture Dualscar in the right direction.]

Down one of thethe thide hallth- there'll be a portrait with a hoofbeatht, the room on the right of that.

[Dualscar's fin curls towards Psii, covering the side of his face, and Dualscar hoists him a little closer, copping a feel on his ass as he does.]

That's right.

[He knows Psii is joking, but he can't help swelling with pride a little all the same. After so long being a villain, maybe being called a hero does things to him that he's not quite willing to admit yet.]

Damn. I wwas hoping to take you under the gaze of a mighty hoofbeast.

[Yeah, right. That's some creepy blueblood shit right there, and Dualscar sniggers with Psii as he whisks him down the hall and into the room.]

[Yeah, he knows you want some of that nice skinny nerd ass, Dualscar.]

[Things feel so light from the rest of the night, wrapped up in these arms and Dualscar grinning to him in a way that's genuine instead of cold and fake. It makes feeling those fins brushing against his face feel so much nicer, and he lets his eyes flutter closed a little bit. If he weren't such a pessimist, moments like this...]

[Maybe moments like this could make him think things might turn out alright.]

[Best he can, he tries to keep his laughter quiet at that comment.]

Fuck you. If you tried, my bulge would retreat into my body forever. You'd never get laid again.

[The room is an office of some sort, a finely made desk in the center flanked by towering bookshelves filled with title after title of business and war. It's more for show than anything actually used- there's no lived in feeling like what Dualscar's library radiates. Just another way of showing off wealth. As the door shuts behind them, he leans down to capture his lips in his, one hand sliding up to tangle in that wavy hair.]

[Sometimes, when he's holding Psii, listening to him rasp and lisp his way through his words, feeling psionics that could dismantle the world tickle along his skin with utmost control, brushing across him like feathers, Dualscar thinks that maybe, just maybe, everything he's ever learned or held dear is completely wrong.]

[He tries not to dwell on those moments. It will make the inevitable ending that much more difficult.]

Yes, that's the plan before the night is ovver.

[Dualscar ignores the trappings of the room, knowing that whatever they mess up a slave or a drone will clean, and he carries Psii to the desk, setting him down on its surface and leaning over him, bracing himself with one hand while he runs the other down Psii's side.]

Wwe don't havve a lot of time...

[Even as he settles on the hard surface of the desk, his legs are already wrapping around Dualscar's waist eagerly. They're getting better, he thinks as he slips one hand up one of those fine muscular arms. They're not like before, there's no shyness in his eyes or hesitancy in his actions that contrasted to the way he kissed at him once when he had him on the counter in the food preparation block. ]

[It's nice, and he likes it as he wraps his fingers around one of those lightning horns.]

Then what are you waiting for?

[And with that, he pulls him in close to press their mouths together.]

[Dualscar is learning! He's been alive for a lot longer than Psii, and he's never had a sweet, caring quadrant before. It's hard to let go of everything he knows and trust, even though he wants to so very, very much.]

[He ducks his head, though, when Psii grabs his horn, ignoring the clench in his stomach and the way his nerves still tingle with a fight response, and sticks his hands under Psii's slave garments.]

Hey... I wwant to showw you something.

[He lifts off his breastplate, setting it aside. He's wearing a skin tight shirt underneath, one with his sign stitched over the left side of his chest in purple thread. Or normally it does, because today, he's carefully pinned a slip of paper with another sign over it.]

See? I thought, maybe...

[He trails off, looking at Psii with hopeful, woofbeast eyes.]

[Oh]

[Okay]

[That's]

[a thing]

[It takes him a second to realize how yellow his face is getting, at which he promptly releases Dualscar's horn so that he can cover his face at least a little with an awkward laugh. No one's ever been red enough for him to wear his sign anywhere. His other hand comes up, sweeping across his face and into his hair like he can somehow wipe away the flush that's only getting stronger on his face.]

[He might actually have a very vague idea of how Dualscar feels now sometimes.]

You. Uh. Been reading romance novelth?

[He is smiling and blushing like an asshole. This is hell. Hell is having a handsome seadweller look at you with the cutest look on his face eager to please you and wear your sign over his. The absolute worst.]

[For a split second, Dualscar is afraid that he's offended Psii, that he doesn't like having his sign on a highblood's chest, and he almost reaches up to take it off and dismiss the whole thing as a bad job. But then he sees the blush rising over Psii's cheekbones, the way his entire face turns yellow--and how could anyone think yellow is an ugly color, it's the most charming color Dualscar has ever seen--and relief floods through him.]

Maybe a feww.

[He bends down, brushing his lips against Psii's, and gathers him close.]

I wwish I could showw all of them. I wwish I could wwalk back out there wwith your sign on my chest and let them all knoww.

[Fantasy, drawn into the air with words. That would be suicide, and they both know it. But it paints a lovely picture.]

[It's a relief to get back into something he knows, his hands falling away from his face to go back to settling on Dualscar's shoulders. Kisses and talks about the bad life decision that is their entire romance, he can handle it compared to something so clearly romantic and heartfelt from this awkward fool he pities.]

You only get to do thomething ath idiotic ath that if I can take the helmet off. [His lips brush against Dualscar's with each word, fingers rubbing against the back of his neck.] I can't let you be the only one doing thomething dumb, after all.

Mmmmm, yes.

[That sounds even better, and Dualscar bows his head so Psii can reach his neck more easily, lightning bolt horns lightly touching double paired ones.]

We can be stupid, bravve fools together.

Might ath well make more bad life decithions at a part...

[He laughs a little bit, quiet, as their horns softly bump and rub against each other. Beneath his fingertips, he can feel that cold skin warm beneath his touch and knows it could get warmer still.]

[Stupid brave fools... Yeah, that about sums it up.]

You know, I could have thwore you thaid thomething about not having a lot of time...

[But he can't complain too much when it's nice to be like this, fingers starting to wander up into Dualscar's hair.]

[As a partner? As a part of something better? Part of Dualscar wants to ask Psii to clarify, but he thinks he knows better. He probably doesn’t really want to know the answer. Better to pretend, to imagine it can be like this for longer, that they have the rest of their lives to be like this, stealing secret caresses and soft words in an unused office in a seadweller palace.]

Yeah. Not a lot.

[But he’s finding it hard to move things forward, more interested in running his hands down Psii’s narrow sides and letting them settle on his hips, brushing their lips together and nipping very gently at Psii’s lower lip.]

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