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y00ms · 2 days ago

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Part 26 of my appreciation project.

@velvettsage A fic based on their wonderful art piece here and here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

A dizzying sense of disorientation—that's what Emmrich felt as he curled inwards, arms tucked to his chest, a low groan escaping his lips. Everything around him rocked gently—wood creaked, water sloshed, straw poked at his back. The air was damp and musty, and golden slivers of light pierced through gaps in the cover above. He blinked, slow and groggy, adjusting to the gloom. Then, a weight pressed against him.

A warm weight.

As his vision sharpened, he looked up—only to be snared by what he saw.

Kaelus was wedged between his legs, bent awkwardly over his torso—one arm braced above his head, the other pinned at his side. Their eyes met: Kaelus', heavy and garnet; Emmrich's, wide and hazel.

Both of them flushed scarlet at once.

"P-Professor, are you all right?" Kaelus asked hastily, his voice hushed. "I mean, I'm not—I wasn't trying to—this isn't—I think we're in a crate."

"Yes, I've gathered that," Emmrich said, his eyes darting anywhere but the elf's face. His hips tingled where Kaelus' thighs squeezed them, and he swallowed, desperate to ignore it. "What happened?"

"Your gift. The gemstone," Kaelus assumed. "When I handed it to you, there was a flash, and then... this." He gestured vaguely at their predicament.

Emmrich, recalling the strange event, unfurled his hand and gasped. There, resting in his palm, lay the smooth lilac gemstone Kaelus had given him—still glowing faintly.

"Of course," he said, donnishly. "Smuggling. This must be an enchantment keyed to discreetly relocate contraband—likely triggered when it comes into contact with something valuable. Such as my rings."

Kaelus winced, guilt gnawing at his chest. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted that shady merchant!"

"Then why did you?"

"Well... he wasn't all bad. I just thought—he had such nice teeth."

Emmrich tittered. "Yes. Charming dentistry is always a mark of trustworthiness."

He flipped the gem in his hand, muttering an incantation under his breath. Almost immediately, runes shimmered across its surface, and Kaelus felt it forge a link with the Fade.

"What are you—?"

"I can reverse it," Emmrich explained. "But it needs time—it's recalibrating, calculating the spatial tether between our current position and the Lighthouse."

"So until then, we're stuck," Kaelus mumbled, his voice strained. "Like this."

There was a long, unbearable silence, their bodies still huddled together. Emmrich's breath began to quicken despite his best efforts. He hadn't had someone this close to him in ages—and of all people, it was the elf who'd been shamelessly flirting with him for months.

"Professor?" Kaelus shifted, attempting to readjust without jostling the older man. "Professor, I... I'm sorry. This is my fault—we ended up here because of me."

"I-it's all right, Rook. Just... let's not move too much."

"Hold on. Let me see if I can get us out. I might be able to—"

As Kaelus pushed upward, searching for leverage on the lid, his pelvis pressed hard against Emmrich's—a sudden, heated connection that stole the breath from them both.

"Stop!" Emmrich yelped, the sensation far too intimate. "Please... stop moving."

"Shit." Kaelus stilled, shaken by his blunder. "Sorry, Professor."

Emmrich stifled a moan, feeling like a wanton fool. He had believed himself beyond such urges, but having Kaelus so inappropriately close was unravelling him—leaving him aching and unmoored, at the mercy of his own treacherous body.

Then he couldn't help but chuckle, hoping to distract himself.

"At this point," he murmured, "I think we can dispense with the formalities. 'Emmrich' is just fine, Rook."

The younger man flinched, then smiled. "'In that case, I'd prefer if you called me Kaelus."

There was another moment—quieter, calmer—before Emmrich looked at the gem in his hand once more.

"Why did you think to give this to me?" he asked—not accusing, only curious. "All things considered, it was incredibly kind, and most unexpected."

Kaelus hesitated, his blush deepening. "Ever since you joined the Veilguard, you've been good to me—always checking in, offering help, worrying about my wellbeing. I'm not used to that." He paused, his nails scratching the grain of the wood beneath him. "I just... wanted to give you something to show my appreciation."

Emmrich glanced up, touched by the raw honesty in his voice.

"It's my pleasure," he said, but his breath hitched when he saw the expression on Kaelus' face: desire. Severity.

Confidence.

Slowly, the elf leaned in, his breath hot against Emmrich's face, lips barely skimming the space between them. Emmrich's pulse raced—not with certainty, but with a tentative fire. He was older, so much older, and the weight of years loomed over him like a shadow.

This was wrong. This was reckless.

Yet, despite every caution warring inside him, a carnal longing stirred—a need impossible to ignore. He tilted his head upward, drawn irresistibly closer to Kaelus, unsure if what was about to happen was a mistake—or the very thing he'd been yearning for.

Then, suddenly, the gem shone, and they were teleported back to the Lighthouse—to the study they had been whisked away from.

As clarity hit him like a battle axe, Emmrich averted his gaze, the gem still humming in his palm. His features tightened in shame. Kaelus sought his attention, trying to hold onto the moment, but the older man refused—and that refusal hurt.

For a while, neither spoke.

"Thank you," Emmrich eventually said, trying to bring levity to the tension, "for the gift. It certainly made for an interesting morning."

"It wasn't supposed to—!" Kaelus bit his tongue, then offered a humble bow. "I'm sorry. I should've been more careful when buying back alley runestones. It won't happen again."

Then he turned and fled the room, utterly mortified.

"Wait!" Emmrich reached out, but it was too late.

He stared at the door long after it had slammed shut, wondering what, precisely, he would have done had the teleportation taken a second longer.

-----

Evening fell like a plague, and Emmrich paced the halls, his mind a cacophony of regret. Since their jarring return—since their almost-kiss—Kaelus had spent the rest of the day avoiding him, leaving the weight of unspoken feelings to hang between them like fog.

Ignoring it hadn't helped.

It clawed at Emmrich now, tormenting him. He hadn't meant to humiliate the younger man, nor spurn his advances, and he certainly hadn't meant to make him bolt from the room as though he'd been scalded. But he couldn't blame Kaelus—especially since he'd recoiled as though the very idea of his kiss was repulsive.

Determined to make amends, he seized his coat, hurried down to the basement, and dashed through the eluvian.

-----

The Rivaini night air wrapped around Emmrich like a balm—mild, soft, laced with the sound of waves and the scent of salt and stone. The moon hung low over the horizon, half-veiled in clouds, and the beach stretched before him, silvered and still.

Footprints broke the surface of the sand—light, measured, familiar.

Emmrich followed.

They led him past the dunes, through the scattered palms, to an oasis nestled at the edge of the cove; the breeze waned, quieting as if out of respect—and there, shirtless and barely more than a silhouette, stood Kaelus.

His bow was drawn, elegant and effortless, his body taut with focus as he loosed an arrow into the tree ahead. It struck with a satisfying thunk, followed by another. Then another.

Emmrich stopped just short of the clearing, his heart pounding.

Say something.

But words stuck in his throat. All the rehearsed apologies, the explanations, slipped like sand through his fingers. He managed to say only one thing: "Excellent form."

Before Kaelus could turn, the clouds shifted. The moon emerged, bathing the clearing in pale light—and Emmrich's breath caught.

Dozens of scars ran down Kaelus' back—harsh, ragged lines etched deep into his skin like history carved in flesh. Some long-healed, some fresher. They crisscrossed his spine, shoulders, sides. Each one a story he hadn't told aloud.

"Professor?" The elf faced him with a tender smile, as if the unpleasantness from that morning never occurred. "What are you doing out here so late? You're usually asleep by now."

Emmrich didn't reply. His eyes were locked on Kaelus' body, wide with sorrow. It took a moment before his voice returned.

"Those scars..."

Kaelus blinked, then peered over his shoulder. His brow furrowed, but he let out a dry laugh. "Ah. That. Comes with the life of a Crow, I'm afraid."

"Lucanis doesn't look that—" Emmrich trailed off, struggling to find a word that wouldn't offend.

"Bad? Marred? Unsightly?"

Emmrich stepped forward, his hand clutching his chest as if he could soothe the ache inside. "That must have been... Maker, Kaelus. That must have been awful."

"Seasoned," he insisted.

Kaelus' jaw clenched, his smile faltering. "No, he wouldn't. Lucanis wasn't an orphaned mage boy raised in a house full of initiates who loathed his very existence."

The elf lifted a hand, fingers brushing the scar that ran along his cheek. "It was," he whispered. "Until this one. Most of my scars came from combat training. But this one..." His gaze dropped to the ground. "Do you know how hard it is to train with weapons when your mana is constantly begging to be used instead?"

"I can only imagine," Emmrich said with a wince. "A young boy, in the throes of puberty, coming into his powers—at an age when instinct rules everything."

"It was brutal," Kaelus admitted. "My senses fought me at every turn, often leading to a failed parry or a weak defense. So... sometimes, I let instinct take over. The other boys didn't like that very much."

He paused, drawing a breath. He wasn't sure why he was telling Emmrich all this—only that, for some reason, he wanted to.

"They decided to brand me," he continued. "Make sure I'd never forget my place. As if I ever thought I was above them. I was just... eager to hone my magic. To grow stronger. I never saw myself as superior."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"That day... I lost control. It's all a blur—electricity, fire, shouting. One of them, the boy who led the assault... he died. After that, no one ever touched me again."

Emmrich didn't speak. He saw the pride Kaelus tried to force into his expression—the defiance, the attempt to convince himself the boy had deserved it. But beneath it, plain as day, was pain.

The silence lingered, filled only by the soft lapping of waves.

"Why are you here, anyway?" he asked, glancing up at him. "Surely not to admire my archery. Although, if that's the case, I'm not opposed to you watching—"

Before he could finish, Emmrich closed the distance between them and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Kaelus froze.

The sudden warmth of Emmrich's arms around him, the firm pressure, the gentle tracing of fingers over his back—over those scars—undid something inside him. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Kaelus melted into it, burying his head in the crook of Emmrich's neck.

"I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm sorry for how you were treated. I'm sorry for embarrassing you in my study. And most of all, I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner."

He pulled back, cupping Kaelus' cheeks, his thumb caressing his scar. For a fragile moment, he simply held him, searching his face—not for permission, but for the courage to act.

Then he kissed him.

Kaelus stiffened, his eyes widening—but the shock lasted barely a beat before it broke. His bow slipped from his grasp, forgotten as he grabbed Emmrich's coat, clinging to him as though the sea might pull him under, and Emmrich was the shore. He kissed him back fiercely, with a kind of hunger that wasn't merely want, but a plea—to be seen, to be heard, to belong.

Emmrich let him take the lead—until he felt Kaelus stumble, overwhelmed by the passion. Then he moved in, claiming control, his lips teasing the elf's jaw, then his throat, then the bare skin of his chest, savouring the taste of sweat and ocean air.

Delicious.

Kaelus gasped, the pleasure edging towards something too intense to bear—then shuddered as Emmrich sank lower, unfastening his trousers with a reverence that made the whole encounter feel like a dream.

"E-Emmrich," he stammered, giving him a chance to reflect, to reconsider. "Are you sure you want to—? Agh!"

He cried out—loud and breathless, stunned by the heat and conviction, by Emmrich's mouth, his hands, all of it. His back arched, his knees buckled—but Emmrich caught him, arms steady as he laid him on the sand before he collapsed.

"What do you say, my dear?" Emmrich grinned. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

"Where we left off?" Kaelus wheezed, his chest heaving.

Emmrich nodded, wedging himself between Kaelus' legs and bending comfortably over his torso—one arm braced above his head, the other pinned at his side. Their eyes met: Kaelus', wide and garnet; Emmrich's, heavy and hazel.

Both of them flushed scarlet at once.

#queue #emmrook #datv

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