The euphemistic aside had drawn a smile from Fae that now falters into curiosity; his arms, which had been winding tighter around Dima, hesitate. He cocks his head inquisitively, then allows motion to return, drawing his love closer (as he was told!)
"Your puppy,” he muses thoughtfully. (The way Dima spoke it as though daring something, as though testing waters against a desire - what does the word mean to him?) (Fae's heard it used before in Morovsk - with derision, with fondness. Never a word applied to him, and thus never more than a passing intrigue, not worth pursuing.)
(He said puppy, and he said stay, and gave command.
And slowly, pieces come together: what a puppy might be, that the word would invite derision from outside, and adoration from within.
The pieces come together here, too: Dima chanced the word for a reason. Perhaps it's only the way it rolls off his tongue and settles on Fae like a protective blanket. Perhaps he's been looking for his perfect other to bear the title.
Perhaps he saw a wolf and thought, My Puppy.)
"Is that what I am?" he drawls, half-teasing, stretching languidly before curling closer and nuzzling his Dima with a worn but playful little smile. "If you say it, I must be."
Adoration floods his smile now, soft, soft, but vast and lined with gratitude. His voice lower, he adds, "Yes, Dima. I'll stay. Here, and anywhere else you go."
<.>
He knows the way the word might sound.
It's possible - it may be likely? - that Faolan has heard 'Puppy' before, either tossed about nearby, or offered in gods know what ways. And perhaps Dima ought to have been more cautious; perhaps he ought to have considered that while he has his own wishes for the word, his own beliefs upon its meaning, Faolan might bring another understanding entirely. Perhaps some manner of wounding was possible in so much as speaking the word, and Dima thinks yes, yes, he ought to have been more careful.
Before he can fall into self-censure, before he can begin to apologize, he notices the way Faolan draws him near, and speaks, seems to think upon the word. (Perhaps no apology is needed, or called for.) (Still, he'll need to be more careful.) (Still, he wants to guard his Faolan better.)
There's relief in the words that follow, in the nuzzle Faolan (his Puppy?) offers; there's some measure of caution in seeing the wornness of that smile, though yes, oh yes Dima loves to see playfulness in Faolan, loves to give cause for playfulness in Fae, who has met such severity in living, who has been so often cut off from the joys he so thoroughly deserves and ought to have.
And better still, to give Fae cause for adoration. To usher him toward ease; to show him just how honest Dima's wishing is, and show how deeply Dima wants his Fae.
There's a nudge to Fae's chest, then to Fae's jaw. There's a smile from Dmitri, who curls closer in kind, the closer twining of his arms speaking assurance and encouragement as he speaks, "I'm pleased, oh Faolan, I am infinitely pleased to hear it."
Then, after a moment, venturing in steady, loving tones: "Good Puppy.”
Watching Faolan for signs of uncertainty or misliking. Watching to see whether Faolan finds something pleasing in the name, or whether its mark is missed.
And offering softly, "It is a name I see in you. A name I'd like for you—"
"A name for the wolf that you are, and for all you mean to me: Dearest and desired; fire and tenderness; obedient because you choose to be; wild and fanged, vicious when you please.
"There is so much within you Fae. There is so many names I wish to offer.
"This— 'Puppy.' Is one. If you will have it. If you will know the breadth with which I mean it; the more-than-fondness that it holds for me.
"I have never had another. I have never wished another. It is for you and you alone, my Fae—
"If you find it suits you." There's a smile from Dima, a caress along Fae's jaw. "If you can find your home in part within it."
And, his smile sharpening slightly, losing none of its warmth, its adoration—
"Within it, and with your Daddy."
<.>
The signs are there: faint shivers unmistakable in the nearness of their bodies, the hitch of breath when praise falls on him in that form. There's no hiding that he likes it.
There's no hiding anything from Dima. (There's no hiding from Dima, and that though stirs slivers of pleasant anticipation and fear in his middle. A squirm of thrill, a promise of dizziness.)
Yes. Yes, he'll be Dima's Puppy, and his blood will boil and sing with the word. With how they've found some strange, uncharted way to be together, command as boundary and 'Puppy' a landmark along a shadowy, exciting path.
(Gods, he's worn and weary, but still feeling sparks threatening to ignite -
The smile Dima gives him doesn't help matters.)
When Dima speaks the word 'Daddy', Fae's confusion is evident, if fleeting; at first, he doesn't know why his father should be brought into this particular conversation.
And then he realizes that this has nothing to do with his father. This is the other half of 'Puppy', the side people don't speak of. What a man might be called when his lover is his Puppy, his pet, his - well.
Well.
It isn't about paternity. It's about care, about authority, about boundless love and deep, intense desire. About obedience. Loyalty.
(Submission.)
His cheeks are burning and his mouth is dry. He thinks Dima is waiting for an answer to an unasked question, do you like it or couldn't we?, or he's waiting for Puppy to obey or Faolan to refuse, and it seems to Fae there's really only one response that he can offer if he wants Dima's smile to stay right where it is. (And. If he wants -
Everything. Everything Dima has in store for him.) (Another flash of terror-thrill, sharper, eager.)
"Yes, Daddy."
<.>
Perfection.
It's perfect, it's sheerest bliss, and Dima could shout for joy, for rightness brought to actuality once more. (Everything, everything with this man - with Puppy who is also Faolan and Fae, lover and loving and love - is rightness writ explicit, turned to breath and being.) His eyes light bright with adoration and agreement; with confirmation, yes, that Puppy has done well, and pleased his Daddy perfectly.
With affirmation that in spite of tumult and attempted severance, in spite of every wrong inflicted upon Faolan and Dmitri and in spite of the way they've been maneuvered, mishandled, cast out, everything sings bright, sings with perfection and with consonance.
How can it matter what the world might do or attempt to bring down on them, when they have one another? When they can be Dmitri and Faolan, Dima and Fae, Daddy and Puppy all at once and always?
There is nothing that outweighs the truth between them. There is nothing to sever or to halt them; nothing to chain them from ascension, or transcendence; from bringing incandescent beauty to existence.
Smiling, feeling a shiver of his own, Dmitri rises to take Faolan into a kiss, deep and lingering, unhurried and offered with a breath of “Yes, my Puppy,” of “Yes, my Fae.”
And after, drawing slowly, slowly down against Fae's chest, his own crooked smile still beaming pride and fulfillment, Dima speaks again: "You please your Daddy perfectly.
"Ah, Fae. You give to me such joy and conflagration."
He winds his arms tight once more. Feels his form grow honeyed, heavy along Fae's own. And aware of both the burn upon Fae's cheeks and the weariness he holds - and isn't that fair, isn't that right, when they burned so many times together? when the darkness burst with rapture found again, again, again? - Dima strokes a soft, a slow caress along Fae's cheek, his smile grown slightly daft, writ utterly in admiration and in gratitude.
And Dima speaks again, the tenor of command still present and still soft as well with warmth: "You've done so well, my Dearest.
"You've given me so much— And we have all our life to give each other more, forever, for always.
"Just now, though—
"Just now, there is one more thing I'd ask you.
"There is one more thing your Daddy wants.
"Faolan. My Puppy.
"Ease yourself. Melt beneath your Dima; close your eyes upon the sound of Daddy's voice. You've done so much; you've done so beautifully.
"Now sleep, my Puppy.
"Daddy says, sleep.”
There's a soft sound, half a laugh and half a sigh, and almost-moan; entirely a promise. "I'll be with you when you wake.
"I'll be with you every day, for always.
"But you must sleep, my Dearest. Close your eyes, let Daddy hold you, guard you. Wrap my love around you.
“Sleep.”
<.>
There's only one thing he has to care about: Dima. (Daddy.) Everything else flows from a single source, all love and family, redemption, Liviana, and yes, even the wolf within himself. It's all perfectly held in Dima's hands. It ought to alarm him, how utterly he's giving himself over to a man whose family has tried to destroy him-
But why fight it? There's nothing left to lose and everything to gain. Dima can't do anything to him that hasn't been done before - except love him.
Perfectly. The love of a god, the love of a paramour, the love of something closer and more deeply united than either.
He's safe right here with Dima guarding him. He's never been this safe in all his life, never this loved, never with such peaceful silence in his head.
Well. One thought lingers. A small disobedience (and doesn't even that thrill him, to think what Dima might do if he, some other night in the many nights they'll share, disobeys?) It's born of care tonight, and though at Dima's command sleep threatens him with tendrils to drag him under, he hums opposition and murmurs, "And you. Sleep beside me, please?"
A tilted, drowsy smile chases his words.
"You ought to sleep."
From somewhere beyond the world of themselves and his hammock, a groggy voice mutters, "Why don't both of you go the fuck to sleep."
A rock hits the underside of the hammock, pelted by an ill-tempered elf trying to slip back into his 'trance'.
Fae is watching Dima with the look of a youth almost caught in some illicit game, his lips pursed and laughter stifled.
<.>
He has the world within his hands - the press of his Fae's form; the rings that hold their children; the love that flows from skin-to-skin in ceaseless reciprocation, breath and sigh and subtle tremor - and all the world wrapped around him.
Puppy's minor disobedience - the humming that suggests knowledge of and potential future thrill upon this disobedience (oh, good, pernicious Puppy) - can only please him, much as he adores this man, clear as is the offering of care; even falling through a heavy cloak of sleep, his Faolan reaches for Dmitri's wellness, seeks to draw his Daddy and his Dima with him.
Even the rock hurled, the sound of Sen's perpetual discontent, troubles nothing; of course the elf will grouse, and Dima will permit it. Will appreciate it, almost, when he sees the laughing look that takes his Fae, and joins Faolan with a soft laugh of his own, a nuzzling against Fae's chest and a caress through tousled hair.
"Beside you; wrapped around you.
"I will, my Dearest. Your Daddy, your Dima will follow you to dreaming, and guard you even in our dreams."
Another caress down Fae's cheek; another nudge against his jaw, and a kiss precisely, lightly placed just where he nudged. And catching Faolan's eyes, feeling his own half-slipping shut, his form further relaxing against Fae's, his smile warm with infinite affection—
"Sleep now, my Fae. We have all the world ahead of us, all of life to keep each other close."
no subject
"Your puppy,” he muses thoughtfully. (The way Dima spoke it as though daring something, as though testing waters against a desire - what does the word mean to him?) (Fae's heard it used before in Morovsk - with derision, with fondness. Never a word applied to him, and thus never more than a passing intrigue, not worth pursuing.)
(He said puppy, and he said stay, and gave command.
And slowly, pieces come together: what a puppy might be, that the word would invite derision from outside, and adoration from within.
The pieces come together here, too: Dima chanced the word for a reason. Perhaps it's only the way it rolls off his tongue and settles on Fae like a protective blanket. Perhaps he's been looking for his perfect other to bear the title.
Perhaps he saw a wolf and thought, My Puppy.)
"Is that what I am?" he drawls, half-teasing, stretching languidly before curling closer and nuzzling his Dima with a worn but playful little smile. "If you say it, I must be."
Adoration floods his smile now, soft, soft, but vast and lined with gratitude. His voice lower, he adds, "Yes, Dima. I'll stay. Here, and anywhere else you go."
<.>
He knows the way the word might sound.
It's possible - it may be likely? - that Faolan has heard 'Puppy' before, either tossed about nearby, or offered in gods know what ways. And perhaps Dima ought to have been more cautious; perhaps he ought to have considered that while he has his own wishes for the word, his own beliefs upon its meaning, Faolan might bring another understanding entirely. Perhaps some manner of wounding was possible in so much as speaking the word, and Dima thinks yes, yes, he ought to have been more careful.
Before he can fall into self-censure, before he can begin to apologize, he notices the way Faolan draws him near, and speaks, seems to think upon the word. (Perhaps no apology is needed, or called for.) (Still, he'll need to be more careful.) (Still, he wants to guard his Faolan better.)
There's relief in the words that follow, in the nuzzle Faolan (his Puppy?) offers; there's some measure of caution in seeing the wornness of that smile, though yes, oh yes Dima loves to see playfulness in Faolan, loves to give cause for playfulness in Fae, who has met such severity in living, who has been so often cut off from the joys he so thoroughly deserves and ought to have.
And better still, to give Fae cause for adoration. To usher him toward ease; to show him just how honest Dima's wishing is, and show how deeply Dima wants his Fae.
There's a nudge to Fae's chest, then to Fae's jaw. There's a smile from Dmitri, who curls closer in kind, the closer twining of his arms speaking assurance and encouragement as he speaks, "I'm pleased, oh Faolan, I am infinitely pleased to hear it."
Then, after a moment, venturing in steady, loving tones: "Good Puppy.”
Watching Faolan for signs of uncertainty or misliking. Watching to see whether Faolan finds something pleasing in the name, or whether its mark is missed.
And offering softly, "It is a name I see in you. A name I'd like for you—"
"A name for the wolf that you are, and for all you mean to me: Dearest and desired; fire and tenderness; obedient because you choose to be; wild and fanged, vicious when you please.
"There is so much within you Fae. There is so many names I wish to offer.
"This— 'Puppy.' Is one. If you will have it. If you will know the breadth with which I mean it; the more-than-fondness that it holds for me.
"I have never had another. I have never wished another. It is for you and you alone, my Fae—
"If you find it suits you." There's a smile from Dima, a caress along Fae's jaw. "If you can find your home in part within it."
And, his smile sharpening slightly, losing none of its warmth, its adoration—
"Within it, and with your Daddy."
<.>
The signs are there: faint shivers unmistakable in the nearness of their bodies, the hitch of breath when praise falls on him in that form. There's no hiding that he likes it.
There's no hiding anything from Dima. (There's no hiding from Dima, and that though stirs slivers of pleasant anticipation and fear in his middle. A squirm of thrill, a promise of dizziness.)
Yes. Yes, he'll be Dima's Puppy, and his blood will boil and sing with the word. With how they've found some strange, uncharted way to be together, command as boundary and 'Puppy' a landmark along a shadowy, exciting path.
(Gods, he's worn and weary, but still feeling sparks threatening to ignite -
The smile Dima gives him doesn't help matters.)
When Dima speaks the word 'Daddy', Fae's confusion is evident, if fleeting; at first, he doesn't know why his father should be brought into this particular conversation.
And then he realizes that this has nothing to do with his father. This is the other half of 'Puppy', the side people don't speak of. What a man might be called when his lover is his Puppy, his pet, his - well.
Well.
It isn't about paternity. It's about care, about authority, about boundless love and deep, intense desire. About obedience. Loyalty.
(Submission.)
His cheeks are burning and his mouth is dry. He thinks Dima is waiting for an answer to an unasked question, do you like it or couldn't we?, or he's waiting for Puppy to obey or Faolan to refuse, and it seems to Fae there's really only one response that he can offer if he wants Dima's smile to stay right where it is. (And. If he wants -
Everything. Everything Dima has in store for him.) (Another flash of terror-thrill, sharper, eager.)
"Yes, Daddy."
<.>
Perfection.
It's perfect, it's sheerest bliss, and Dima could shout for joy, for rightness brought to actuality once more. (Everything, everything with this man - with Puppy who is also Faolan and Fae, lover and loving and love - is rightness writ explicit, turned to breath and being.) His eyes light bright with adoration and agreement; with confirmation, yes, that Puppy has done well, and pleased his Daddy perfectly.
With affirmation that in spite of tumult and attempted severance, in spite of every wrong inflicted upon Faolan and Dmitri and in spite of the way they've been maneuvered, mishandled, cast out, everything sings bright, sings with perfection and with consonance.
How can it matter what the world might do or attempt to bring down on them, when they have one another? When they can be Dmitri and Faolan, Dima and Fae, Daddy and Puppy all at once and always?
There is nothing that outweighs the truth between them. There is nothing to sever or to halt them; nothing to chain them from ascension, or transcendence; from bringing incandescent beauty to existence.
Smiling, feeling a shiver of his own, Dmitri rises to take Faolan into a kiss, deep and lingering, unhurried and offered with a breath of “Yes, my Puppy,” of “Yes, my Fae.”
And after, drawing slowly, slowly down against Fae's chest, his own crooked smile still beaming pride and fulfillment, Dima speaks again: "You please your Daddy perfectly.
"Ah, Fae. You give to me such joy and conflagration."
He winds his arms tight once more. Feels his form grow honeyed, heavy along Fae's own. And aware of both the burn upon Fae's cheeks and the weariness he holds - and isn't that fair, isn't that right, when they burned so many times together? when the darkness burst with rapture found again, again, again? - Dima strokes a soft, a slow caress along Fae's cheek, his smile grown slightly daft, writ utterly in admiration and in gratitude.
And Dima speaks again, the tenor of command still present and still soft as well with warmth: "You've done so well, my Dearest.
"You've given me so much— And we have all our life to give each other more, forever, for always.
"Just now, though—
"Just now, there is one more thing I'd ask you.
"There is one more thing your Daddy wants.
"Faolan. My Puppy.
"Ease yourself. Melt beneath your Dima; close your eyes upon the sound of Daddy's voice. You've done so much; you've done so beautifully.
"Now sleep, my Puppy.
"Daddy says, sleep.”
There's a soft sound, half a laugh and half a sigh, and almost-moan; entirely a promise. "I'll be with you when you wake.
"I'll be with you every day, for always.
"But you must sleep, my Dearest. Close your eyes, let Daddy hold you, guard you. Wrap my love around you.
“Sleep.”
<.>
There's only one thing he has to care about: Dima. (Daddy.) Everything else flows from a single source, all love and family, redemption, Liviana, and yes, even the wolf within himself. It's all perfectly held in Dima's hands. It ought to alarm him, how utterly he's giving himself over to a man whose family has tried to destroy him-
But why fight it? There's nothing left to lose and everything to gain. Dima can't do anything to him that hasn't been done before - except love him.
Perfectly. The love of a god, the love of a paramour, the love of something closer and more deeply united than either.
He's safe right here with Dima guarding him. He's never been this safe in all his life, never this loved, never with such peaceful silence in his head.
Well. One thought lingers. A small disobedience (and doesn't even that thrill him, to think what Dima might do if he, some other night in the many nights they'll share, disobeys?) It's born of care tonight, and though at Dima's command sleep threatens him with tendrils to drag him under, he hums opposition and murmurs, "And you. Sleep beside me, please?"
A tilted, drowsy smile chases his words.
"You ought to sleep."
From somewhere beyond the world of themselves and his hammock, a groggy voice mutters, "Why don't both of you go the fuck to sleep."
A rock hits the underside of the hammock, pelted by an ill-tempered elf trying to slip back into his 'trance'.
Fae is watching Dima with the look of a youth almost caught in some illicit game, his lips pursed and laughter stifled.
<.>
He has the world within his hands - the press of his Fae's form; the rings that hold their children; the love that flows from skin-to-skin in ceaseless reciprocation, breath and sigh and subtle tremor - and all the world wrapped around him.
Puppy's minor disobedience - the humming that suggests knowledge of and potential future thrill upon this disobedience (oh, good, pernicious Puppy) - can only please him, much as he adores this man, clear as is the offering of care; even falling through a heavy cloak of sleep, his Faolan reaches for Dmitri's wellness, seeks to draw his Daddy and his Dima with him.
Even the rock hurled, the sound of Sen's perpetual discontent, troubles nothing; of course the elf will grouse, and Dima will permit it. Will appreciate it, almost, when he sees the laughing look that takes his Fae, and joins Faolan with a soft laugh of his own, a nuzzling against Fae's chest and a caress through tousled hair.
"Beside you; wrapped around you.
"I will, my Dearest. Your Daddy, your Dima will follow you to dreaming, and guard you even in our dreams."
Another caress down Fae's cheek; another nudge against his jaw, and a kiss precisely, lightly placed just where he nudged. And catching Faolan's eyes, feeling his own half-slipping shut, his form further relaxing against Fae's, his smile warm with infinite affection—
"Sleep now, my Fae. We have all the world ahead of us, all of life to keep each other close."
<.>