Fragile Things (Drabble Four)
Sometimes Neal had nightmares.
He had them quietly. He would thrash around in his bed, never uttering a sound. A pained look would cross his handsome features. The material of the sheets would be fisted in his hands. He would kick and twist his body. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Tears would slowly leak from his eyes.
When this would happen, Emrys would kiss him. Gentle, almost butterfly soft, kisses that would trail up his jaw and land on his lips. Barely there circles would rub on the back of his neck with skilled fingers. Neal would wake up, tears still falling, and Emrys would kiss them away.
Sometimes they made love: slow and syrupy like molasses. Other times, they would hold each other. Neal’s dark hair kissed by Emrys’ pale pink lips. They would sleep, curled close to each other.
Sometimes Emrys had nightmares.
He had them loudly. He would scream and cry. Ancient languages would fall from his lips mixed with names. His face would twist in such agony that it broke Neal’s heart. He would buck in bed as if trying to escape invisible bonds. Things would fly off shelves, drawers would rattle. Neal learned to lock precious things up in a safe.
Neal would force him awake. A powerful kiss would wake him up. Neal would crush their lips together, drag his teeth across the bottom. Emrys would wake his eyes a bright, dazzling gold. Neal would feel the magic twist in the air, brush against his skin. Emrys would pin him on the bed.
Neal would know in these moments that his lover was not human. This was Merlin: an ancient being, the powerful sorcerer, who loved his ancestor passionately. He could feel the magic wrap around him, claim him. Minemineminemineminemineminemineminemine…
They would fuck: fast and hard. It was still making love but a rougher edge to it. They would nip and bite and tug and scratch and grab and dig. It was all passion and fire and burning. Leaving them feel like they would spontaneously combust under its heat.
They would sleep on top of each: aching and so very sore. But it went deep into their bones. It felt good, almost cleansing as their shallow breathing mixed with words of love.
Sometimes, neither of them had nightmares.
They would climb into their shared bed in Neal’s room at June’s. Sometimes they would make love and entwine their fingers until they fell asleep. Other times they would talk, trading stories of their lives. Neal would listen fascinated as his lover told him about the towers of Camelot, his tiny apartment in Italy during the Renaissance, helping start the American Revolution, traveling the world, and so many things that it made Neal look at Emrys in awe. Emrys listened with equal fascination as Neal told him about his past, about his earlier work, sneaking into the Louvre disguised as a security guard to learn to draw, meeting Mozzie, and his dreams of the future.
There were times when they did not say a word.
They climbed into bed and just laid together, basking in the feeling of the others body. Emrys would release tendrils of his magic, making the room glow or them hover above the mattress. Emrys would tuck his head on Neal’s shoulder while the conman would card his fingers through the short dark hair.
They let the silence be filled with all the things that they never needed to say.