Paper Lanterns Part 26 FULL VERSION (Patreon)

A/N: This obviously is written with the headcannon versions. So, just so you are not surprised, MC is male. Malcolm is transgender.

Swallowing, you look up at him, your breath short.  His hair fell in his face, dark and soft, cutting across his nearly black eyes.  The calm of the room shone across him, down the slope of his cheekbone. Across the curve of his jaw.  You reach up, tracing your fingers over each line of his face.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter.

“I’m sorry too.”

Neither of you knew what exactly you were both apologizing for.  It no longer mattered.  At that moment, forgiveness was more important than past deeds, coming to a resolve.  There was a point in which you had to simply move on and as he hovered over you, the soft warmth of his sweater pressed against your bare skin, you couldn’t remember anymore why you had wanted to leave this world.  Or him.  For so long, you had fought for it. To escape the Night Market and start a life somewhere.

Start a life.

That was always what you had said.

You held onto that notion so tight that somewhere along the way, you hadn’t realized that your life had started long ago.

“Ahem.” Both of you jumped, tearing your eyes from each other. Hazel stood in the doorway, a small smile tugging at her lips.  You practically push Malcolm to the floor in an effort to get to her, wincing as your side pulls. Hazel rolls her eyes and came to you instead, wrapping her arms around you tightly.  “My hero,” she whispers.

You wrap your arms firmly around her, hauling her close. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you? I’ll kill Tandri.  There was no reason to arrest you and… fuck I left Rat and Neve at your apothecary.”

Malcolm, from his position on the floor, shook his head. “Just thought of that, huh?”

Pulling back, Hazel cups your cheek.  “Everything is fine.  Neve took Rat back to her place.  The apothecary is shut up tight. And prison wasn’t so bad,” her smile was wane.  “I mean, it's dark, but they didn’t hurt me.  They just tossed me in a cell with no communication. I was only in there for a few hours.”

“Few hours too long,” you mutter.

Leaning forward, she places a soft kiss on my cheek.  “So,” she said, turning to her brother.  “I thought we would all be pretty hungry tonight.  And since we are lying low I can’t really go back to the apothecary yet and deal with everything.”

“Wait, why are we lying low if she made bail?” There was something Malcolm wasn’t telling you.  Or maybe the situation was worse than you thought.  Most likely, though, the two of them were once against standing in solidarity against your own fuck ups.

“Hazel made bail,” Malcolm stated calmly. “You didn’t.”

“So,” Hazel said, her voice pitching a bit higher. “I thought I would go out through the tunnels. Get a few basics. Bring it back here and cook for us all.  No decisions or plans on how we’re going to do deal with the Baron of the Mists is going to be made on an empty stomach.”  The look she gave both of us was significant. “I’ll be gone for say, three hours?”

“Four,” Malcolm smirked.

“Are you sure it’s safe for her to…”

“My bail was bought. My name is clear. Besides, I provide most of those guards with herbal supplements. No one wanted me there except Tandri. She’s always had it out for me.”

“Probably because you didn’t want to date her,” you say.

Malcolm’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

Hazel waved him off, checking your wound and tutting under her breath before rising from the bed. “I’ll be back soon.  Malcolm, they are still hurt. Please keep that in mind.”

Malcolm stared after her as she grabbed her shawl and secured it around her shoulder. There was a small drop near the back of the apartment. A trap door that led to the underground tunnels that ran along the underbelly of the city.

“Tandri wanted to date her? When?”  Malcolm didn’t even wait for his sister to be out of earshot before grilling you.

“When did she not.” From what you remember, Tandri had always had it bad for Hazel. But Hazel didn’t like cruelty in any amount, and Tandri’s was past intolerable.  “Are we really going to talk about Tandri, though?”

Malcolm crawled up on the bed, sweeping the covers aside. It was the first time you realized you were stripped bare, clothes tossed aside somewhere from when he had patched up your wounds. He hovers over you for a moment, still fully clothed, drinking in the sight of you splayed before him. You feel your skin flush, your fingers curling in the moss green sheets beneath you.  It had only been a week since you had fallen against his desk. Since you were inside him for the first time in a year.  Malcolm had always been home. From the time you were young. Never again would you allow that home to be shattered like it had been for so long now.

Reaching up, you grab the back of his head, taking a fist full of his hair and pulling him flush against you. You seek out his lips with a desperate need, wanting to get closer. Desperate to feel every inch of him against you.  Bracing himself on either side of your body, he stares down at you, and you feel your motions slow.  Suddenly, your touch turns softer as you begin exploring him.  Your heart pounds against your chest as you lock eyes with his own, suddenly feeling as if this was the first all over again. Back when the two of you were young and scared of the world, clinging to each other in the dark, aching for understanding that you only could find in each other's arms.

Cupping your cheek, he runs a thumb under your eye, pressing his finger to the corner.  Then, leaning down, he captures your lips with his, kissing you in a slow and soft breath that has your chest rising and falling with emotion.  Ever so slowly, his hands began to trace your side, lingering around your hips, ghosting across you in a shuddering moan.  Tilting your head back, you gasp.

“Look at me,” he whispers.  “I don’t want you to turn away tonight.”

You nod, falling so easily into his command.  You feel yourself arch against, rubbing against the scratchy material of his trousers, seeking the friction you loved.  Malcolm was going to take his time tonight. You could see it in the hungry way he stared at you. As if he wanted to watch you come apart against him over and over again and push you that much further. Until you were a mess, panting against the sheets, begging for more.

Threading his fingers through your hair, he rests fully on top of you, his hips grinding slowly against you in a slow and aching dip that has your thighs bracketing his own slender ones, squeezing him in an attempt to urge him forward.

Pulling his shirt up over his head, you toss it aside. You manage to flip him to his side, both of you avoiding your own angry wound.  Your tongue traces the scars of his chest, your hand snaking down to undue his belt.  Malcolm’s breath hitches as your hand sneaks inside, seeking out that warmth that you crave, dipping your fingers in the gathering wetness.  He kicks off his pants then, discarding them somewhere at the bottom of the bed with the sheets.  His own hand comes forward, wrapping around you, pumping up and down in a familiar motion. Leaning forward, you suck a mark into his skin. Something angry and mottled that come morning, you would look at and admire.  You can feel the way his heart hammers beneath his chest and the way his own breath hitches with the action.

You swallow each other’s moans as a frantic pace begins to swell, the two of you grinding against each other, hands slick with sweat and arousal.  When he shudders against you, you watch him. The way his eyes roll in the back of his head and the way his own wrist stills against you while he shakes.

When they open again, his eyes are nearly black.  He says nothing as he helps you sit up, wary of your side.  His hair is mused and his lips bitten and swollen, and you think that you might die if you never get to see this again.  You had forgotten. Forgotten how consuming he could be.  As he straddles you, hovering above your hard length, he keeps his eyes on you, staring. Unblinking.

Slowly, he lowers himself and you feel your world tilt into something right once more.  A broken whine escapes your lips as he settles against you, the two of you kneeling together on the bed, sweaty and full of gasping moans.  Something wrecked slips from your own throat, and you see him smile.

“There it is,” he whispers. Golden rays of light beam in through the enchanted window, cutting across the two of you in thick beams.

“There what is?” you pant.  You look at him desperately, laid bare to everything and everything he wants to know.

“What I was missing,” he leans forward, kissing the curve of your lips.  “That sound.  Dream about that sound still.”

You mutter some sort of curse as he raises and lowers himself on top of you, his fingers twisting in the hair at the base of your neck, while all you can do is cling to him and steady him as he rocks against you.  You feel that wet heat all around, taking you in and squeezing tightly as if to claim you.  Gritting your teeth, you feel the way your muscles clench as you help him raise and lower himself on top of you.  Leaning forward, he kisses you once more, his tongue licking the seam of your lips before pushing inside and battling your own.  You groan, knowing that the sound he gives you in return is one of self-satisfaction.  When you pump your hips upwards and feel him gasp in surprise, you can’t help but grin.

Malcolm starts moving faster, angling his hips in just such a way that you knew the end was beginning to near.  You can feel your own arousal beginning to take over, racing up your spine and wrapping around you in a clawing need. Leaning forward, you pant against his neck, suddenly overwhelmed by the emotion coursing through you. It was too much and not enough all at once, and you never wanted it to end but knew it was an inevitability that was rapidly approaching.

“Mal,” you choke out. “Please. Please please please.”

He doesn’t answer as he grips you tight, swirling his hips over and over again. You reach between your bodies, seeking him out, determined to give him release before your own. He slaps your hand away, and you cry out, clinging to him tightly.  Sweat drips from your brow as that aching swell reaches to full crescendo.

“Look at me,” he demands. And you are helpless.  You would do anything for him.  You know this.

Snapping your eyes upwards, you lock eyes with him, bound and determined never to look away.  When he tips over the edge, his mouth parting in a broken plea, you follow him. The two of you rock together, falling apart in each other’s arms, faces red and slick with tears.

~~~~~

After, you lean heavily against him, your sweaty cheek pressed to his, his hand running absently up and down your back.  Golden shafts of sun drift through in dizzying motes and for a brief moment, tucked far away, it was just the two of you once more.

“Your turn,” he rasps, his voice rough with pleasure.

“My turn what?” you look down at your spent bodies, the bruises forming around his collarbone, the red scratches you felt against your own jaw.  “I think I was very good at taking turns,” you murmur.

He pinches your hip.  “How did you fall in love with me?” he asks.  “When did you know?”

You look up at him. That was the thing about Malcolm. He had always been there. From the time you were a grubby little kid, wandering the streets, trying desperately not to be terrified.  Then, as you grew, as you learned, he had always been around, him and Hazel, the two of them your rock in a world that had never quite been kind to you. You don’t remember when you fell in love with him. Why it had been him over Hazel.  You just knew without a doubt one day that you were. You accepted it as easy as the air you breathed.

“I don’t think I ever fell in love with you,” you say quietly. “I think I entered the Night Market lost. I was alone and I was scared. Then I met you, and that part of me that had felt hollow since the day I was born was no longer there.  So, I never fell in love with you, Malcolm.  Because you were always just a part of me.  I just had to find you.”

There is nothing to say at the whispered confession.  Malcolm only curls you closer, pulling the blanket up over your rapidly cooling bodies and entwining his legs with yours.  With your arms around his waist, and his draped across your shoulder, the two of you lie in bed together, eyes cast towards the enchanted window, watching as the sunlight begins setting on the garden just outside.

The day was done.  Tomorrow, dawn would light the sky with a deepening night.  The lamplight that cast its spell across the Night Market, would continue to sway. And you, would have to walk the streets, fate rolling out beneath your feet.  You only wondered if the lights above you would guide you to a safe end.

1. Wake in the morning and discuss with Hazel and Malcolm what to do.
2. Sneak away in the middle of the night to confront the Baron. Leave Hazel and Malcolm out of this.
3. Try to leave the Night Market to keep them safe.