orendalogs | IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Entry tags:

IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

Who: Anyone, everyone? Aoba and Declan to start.
What: Destiny
When: After the House of Wolves, before The Taken King.
Where: Earth, The Last City, The Tower and beyond.
Warnings: Could be sorta zombie stuff (Hive), could be xenophilia? I dunno. Gen warnings, yo.

Earth. 700 years into the future, humanity is all but gone, huddled in a massive city in the mountains, surrounded by gargantuan walls and living in the shadow of the slumbering, perhaps dead, body of The Traveler. The massive being of benevolence and light that came to Earth bearing gifts of knowledge that would bring about the longest Golden Age in Terran history, hovering in geostationary orbit over The Last City of men, protecting what is left from The Darkness beyond with the remains of it's Light.

For those on Earth it is a well-known story. With The Traveler's dying breath it created Ghosts, fragments of living Light that in turn resurrected men and women across the galaxy, bringing to bear the Guardians, warriors to fight the Darkness. Earth and all the nearby planets are populated by humans, the Awoken, Exos and a variety of species of ever more distant origins, some less generous than others. The Guardians make their headquarters in a colossal spire at the edge of The Last City. There, in the Tower, the Vanguard and other factions of humanity work together to hold the line and fight the Darkness and every other threat to the known universe. The little understood Guardians rarely venture beyond the Tower, preferring the company of their brothers and sisters in arms, but all look to the Tower as a beacon of hope.

There is danger and adventure to be had; the likelihood of death and the possibility of rebirth. The future is uncertain, but all who walk in the Light know the Darkness is coming, and the wise life to the fullest.

[ Destiny Wiki ]

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"I don't mind," he answered, shaking his head and reaching around for his mug. He turned his head to the side to sip from it, not seeming the least bit bothered by the minor inconvenience.

"I like that you feel comfortable enough to do those things. It makes me less anxious, knowing you consider this your space as much as mine," he mused, before adding, "And your music isn't bad. It's different, but still good. Mac's music is good, too. Sometimes I like it; it's just about the mood, I suppose." He shrugged, the muscles of his chest flexing behind Aoba.

"If you'd like, we can listen to some of my music sometimes? I enjoy playing Wagner on the ship."

Your space as much as mine, Aoba repeated in his head, quietly wondering. That was what it felt like to him? Was it like inviting Aoba to use the shaders on the apartment, too?

Aoba wasn’t about to assume that his proposed desire for partnership meant anything of Declan’s would be his, as well—but at the same time, imagined that was just what would be said and offered, since it basically all had been already. How Aoba could ever meet that, contribute to that, he didn’t know…but he’d devote himself to figuring it out, when he returned again.

“I’d like that,” he agreed, picking up his own mug. “It’s only fair you get a chance to play your music too, and I want to know about the things you enjoy.” Case in point, Aoba motioned towards the paused screen. “Ready to start the movie?”

He smiled to himself, glancing away behind Aoba, grateful he couldn't be readily seen. Reaching with his free hand, he tapped the controls on the wall and settled back to loop one arm around Aoba, the other occasionally feeding himself until it was all gone.

"I will always answer your questions," he murmured offhandedly, falling quiet when the credits finished and the dialogue between grandson and grandfather began. It was a movie with a lot of romance, adventure, acts of derring-do , and humor. In all, it was an easy movie for Declan to watch that had all the things he enjoyed and none of the things he didn't. There was no one to feel sad for, there was no real tragedy, and there was a genuinely happy ending. He could spend more time tucking Aoba against him and less time silently sobbing over a turn in the plot.

He’d only wanted permission to love him. Those words came back to Aoba at the wrap of Declan’s arm, the sensation a surprise but also not unwelcome. Desire could want all that he did, but the truth of the matter was, Aoba had never been in a solid relationship before. Cuddling with the person he wanted to love….

Aoba sipped at the cider because it was there, and nibbled some of the bread for similar reasons, but as he found out where he fit and how relaxed he really was, his own free arm nested over Declan’s like the armrest of a chair—except chairs didn’t have fingers you could twine your own down into to better secure your place.

The movie was…unusual, but oddly charming. He thought there was a lot to read into the fact that Declan liked this kind of movie, so even if it wasn’t exactly to his own tastes, he wasn’t bored by it in the least. He did wind up more slouched, though, head canted a bit to one side, his body seeming ever more determined to find ways to cozy up to the Guardian’s warmth and support.

The movie went on into it's happy ending and Declan considered a minute before flipping on a French movie titled Amelie. He didn't mind if it was watched or not, instead taking the makeshift tray now devoid of goods and setting it on the floor nearby, which freed them both up for more relaxed reclining. The Titan took the opportunity to scoot a little more into the bunk corner and down, moving Aoba a bit.

The end result was Declan being able to stretch out on his side, head propped on one hand, one leg bent, the other out straight. It gave Aoba most of the bed to work with, and pressed him to make his own choice about how close he wanted to be. Declan, for his part, just reached out with his other hand, fingertips lightly caressing Aoba's knuckles, eyes fixed on the angles of bone and soft curvature of skin, expression sleepy.

Aoba was, in the gentlest of ways, a little bewildered by the shuffle of movement. He’d been comfortable, disinclined to move, and wasn’t sure where he was winding up until he was there: on his back, with most of the bunk suddenly and arguably to himself, with only his hand being touched.

Not even Desire wanted to make something much of it. All Aoba heard was grumbling that things were too cold. There wasn’t enough contact between them in comparison to before, now.

Declan looked ready to sleep. Was it even properly nighttime? Did the Reef even have something resembling a day-night cycle? But Aoba felt a tiredness, too. The day, such as it had been by his perspective, had been long and full and complicated. Some proper rest was very much due.

So with a little shuffling of his own, touching up how comfortable he was nestled into the pile of pillows, Aoba heaved a relaxed sigh and considered Declan from under heavy eyelids. A moment after that, and he lazily patted at his own chest with his unoccupied fingers.

“Don’t be so far away,” he murmured, attempting to coax Declan nearer, tiredness keeping him at a minimum of words.

He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, smiling vaguely before nodding once and lowering himself fully to the bed, scooting in enough that the length of his body tucked against Aoba's. He hesitated a moment, clearly considering his options and his personal inhibitions before shaking his head to himself and sliding his arm across the other man's belly, tugging him in snugly.

"I'm afraid I might crush you," he admitted after a moment, tilting his head and nuzzling his face against Aoba's hair, eyes closed and lips parted, inhaling of the man's scent. He didn't think it was all that strange.

"I mean...holding on too tightly."

Declan was no Judge Frollo, but Aoba got a case of the shivers for reasons completely of his own. Fireworks went off in the nerves of his hair as Declan nuzzled into it, sharp and intense and yet not exactly pain. It jolted through his body in ways he wasn’t quite sure what to do with, Desire mentally rolling over with something like a low groan, as if considering changing his mind about not expressing certain opinions.

The feel of Declan’s breath ruffling the strands wasn’t much better, but Aoba tried not to dwell on it. What the hell, really? To go from hating it when other people touched his hair because of it frequently hurting because people were rough or inconsiderate, to being—turned on because it was Declan??

But it felt better to be close again, the combined warmth of their bodies shared under the shelter of the blankets. Words, Aoba. Focus on the words.

“…I don’t think you would,” he answered, laying an arm along Declan’s again. Even with the mutterings of his other mind, the contact was pleasant. Aoba was aware of the Guardian’s bare chest and arms against him, but he was only self-conscious because of his own split thoughts, not because of any outward feelings of pressure. Declan was decidedly unthreatening for such a large man.

“You’re too gentle for that…and I want you to hold me.”

"If I could always hold you, I would," the man murmured, shifting enough to free his other arm, moving his hand to gently brush Aoba's hair safely out of the way of getting snagged if either of them moved too much. Without anything else to do with his arm, he slid it under Aoba's pillows, effectively letting them tuck that much closer to each other.

"I want to kiss and touch so much of you, my scalp tingles and my skin prickles," Declan sighed, gazing at the other man with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I don't know if I'm as gentle as you think...It's hard to know what parts of me are good and what parts are a little ugly."

…he did? Really?? Well, okay, granted Aoba knew that already but—it was secondhand from Mac. Hearing it directly from Declan himself had a completely different effect on Aoba. It was the kind that made him want to squirm again, struck by the seeming dichotomy of Declan claiming to want that much, while at the same time being so self-controlled and deferring.

Desire, Reason, Restraint, came a mutter. Nothing unbalanced or fractured in him.

Only for a moment did Aoba wonder what restraint had to do with the two of them, but that was a plot thread for another time. He had enough on his mind with Declan so very wrapped around him, chaste and unassuming but also…wanting.

“Well I don’t…know how much of that I can judge you for, considering…you know. ‘Desire.’” Aoba hesitated briefly, not so much afraid as all those levels of embarrassed. Mac had said to be straightforward….

“…What…is that you think could be ‘ugly’?”

"I don't wish to speak of it, if I may keep my silence for now?" Declan admitted a bit sadly. "It isn't anything I would lie about, and I'm certain I'll speak of it eventually. I just...am not comfortable with that part of myself. I don't know if it's good or not." He'd speak if pushed, of course, unwilling to keep anything from Aoba when secrets had already caused too much trouble for them.

"There is desire in all of us," Declan reasoned a moment later, fingertips running lightly up and down Aoba's covered side in small loops.

"Sometimes those desires are frightening. Sometimes they challenge our perceptions of ourselves. Sometimes you can find a healthy outlet for an unhealthy desire, sometimes there's only one answer to the need. I'm not so different from you...I just have everything stored in the same place. Maybe it's a little harder that way, though? Hm..."

Aoba had to stare. All of him did, a significant part of him losing his sleepy contentedness in exchange for that stare.

Is he being a hypocrite at me right now? Desire wanted to know, with the feeling of narrowed eyes. Aoba could feel in him the urge to come forward, to demand answers if ‘straightforwardness’ was supposed to be so important.

He held him back, not in a state of warring, but as one would a friend on the urge of a bad decision. There was no pain, no headache, but it drew out a brief silence where his attentions went inwards rather than outwards. When Aoba ‘returned’, as it were, it was with a soft sigh.

“…Mac said to be honest with you, but also to be patient,” he finally said, cheeks a bit heated as he pushed through with narrating some of his thoughts. “Part of me wants to call it unfair for you to ask that, but…I understand, too. So I’ll only say this one thing:

“You’ve seen some really ugly sides of me already, and you haven’t judged me for any of them. Whenever you feel comfortable to…talk about it, I’ll make sure I give you that same courtesy, okay?”

Nodding with a small sigh of relief, the Titan tilted his head a bit, closing his eyes and resting fully. The tension seeped out again, the large man contented with the answer. It wasn't that he wanted to keep things, only that he needed time to sort them out and understand them. He could easily be honest about his desires, they knew that much, but he wanted to piece together what those feelings and ideas were before voicing anything half cocked.

"I'm just...afraid. I don't mean to seem like a coward. These feelings are strange to me, and make me uncomfortable for reasons I can't fully understand, and so can't properly explain. That, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, either, when we've only just figured this much out. I could be happy like this, forever, but I know...at least a part of you wouldn't be happy with just this. I'll try. I promise."

Declan was afraid? Wait, okay, that…as long as Mac wasn’t spewing complete bull, maybe that had something to do with whatever ‘hierarchies’ meant. Desire had some ideas and, predictably, didn’t think any of them were a big deal, but Aoba kept him grumbling in the background for now.

“Sounds like we’re pretty much in the same mindset, then,” he said instead, carefully reaching a hand up until he found the strong angle of Declan’s jawline, giving a few caresses of touch much as his side had received. He dismissed the subject of chaste-or-not, focused only on the similarities of not fully understanding themselves. For Declan it was sexually, for Aoba it was his entire existence, but a similarity was a similarity nonetheless.

"I want to love you the way you deserve to be, and want to be, loved. You deserve everything, but what you want..." he shrugged slightly, face tilting into the touches, easily guided like a dog eager to be scratched in just the right spot.

"...I can't know your thoughts, but I have an idea. And I mean...It isn't that I don't want the same things. Only that those things seem so distant from me for reasons I don't understand, and can't articulate. The unease I feel is. Hm. Quite nauseating, almost? Some things I don't mind so much, they just...don't seem appropriate, given the circumstances," the Guardian coughed softly, and Aoba could almost certainly feel the heat radiating from his face.

"I find you very beautiful, and desirable. I just need you to understand that my hesitation has nothing to do with a lack of attraction. If anything...I'm far too attracted, really."

“Well I don’t want to make you nauseous!” Aoba had to splutter, something like an incredulous laugh and something just plain up squirming, half in disbelief that they were talking about…things in a roundabout-but-not way.

To think Mac had said they should just go ahead and do things. Well, that went to show that however much the Warlock had helped with some particular insights and a kick in the pants, he didn’t know everything about the two of them.

“Declan, look, I…don’t worry about what’s going on in my head and what I want, okay? I still don’t even know for sure. But I’ll work on me…and you figure out you. We’ll never find a middle ground if we’re trying to guess what the other wants, but if we can each figure out ourselves…then going from there will be easier, right?”

He crept his fingers up higher, finding Declan’s hair. The angle wasn’t quite right for a good combing, but he played his fingers through what he could reach, finding the textures of hair and scalp alike.

"You don't make me nauseous," Declan stated firmly, opening his eyes and looking quite serious until those fingers found his hair again and he sank into the bedding once more.

"Thinking about things and the coordinations makes me uneasy. There are things I imagine, due in no small part to your...aggressive approaches. I've been...distressed, ever since. Frustrated. Things I didn't know had any interest to me were suddenly highlighted. It complicated things. When I thought about them more seriously, before I came to think that you weren't interested, it troubled me. I'm having difficulty not measuring acts against one another in the weight of their impact on a person. I can't make sense of it, and I worry it may negatively effect our progress as a couple. I don't want to hold us back when we've just figured out the path forward."

Now who's overthinking?

More for them to have in common, though the particular circular ruts of Aoba's own overthinking hadn't been quite the same. The idea of Declan thinking about potential liaisons in such apparent detail was something all the more for Aoba to squirm over. Desire had really made a mess of things by trying to make the moves he had....

He ignored Desire's dry 'stare' in favor of another soft sigh, turning his head up and back in attempt to touch Declan's face with his own. A press of brows, a nuzzle, anything like that.

"Well, for whatever it's worth... it's not like I'm going to insist on anything you're not comfortable with. Even... even that other side of me said it to Mac, when he was grilling me earlier. I do want... something, yes... but I don't think I really care about the 'form' of that 'something'...."

The tilt of his head was good timing, coupled with the words, Declan's eyes open and gazing at Aoba when the man moved. Lips brushed forehead, and the Titan's hand stilled for a moment.

"Then perhaps there are some things I don't have to think too hard about," he mused, blinking slowly before pressing another kiss more deliberately against Aoba's temple.

"I would worship you, given half a chance, Aoba. I don't think you know how much of you fills my chest and head."

…Aoba’s squirming progressed from the mental alone to something actually physical, a shifting of his legs under the blanket betraying all his very failed attempts to not think about the way the electricity in his skin wanted to heat its way through the rest of his body, just from something as sweet as a kiss combined with those words. Aoba might not have known what ‘worship’ entailed, exactly, but it hardly sounded bad….

Is he trying to be the death of me? came a frustrated groan, laced with images that were outright obscene, bringing back to mind Aoba’s guilty little escapade in the shower that one time.

Aoba’s face had once again reached lobster-like shades of red, his fingers going still, then curling gently back into his palm—not recoiling, but certainly hesitating. Now it was Aoba who felt like there were mixed messages flying about, and wasn’t that an irony?

“Either…either we need to change the subject for now,” he stammered, “Or I’m going to—have a really hard time sleeping….”

Because of course, asking Declan to follow through on that offer didn’t feel right. Not when the man had to be given time to figure himself out just as much as Aoba did, right?

Of course Aoba and Declan's versions of worship were different semantically, but the Titan wasn't so ignorant as to miss the double entendre, eyes drifting to the side for a moment. He considered for a very long time, breathing slowing in much the same way it did when he was tracking an enemy in his sights before taking a shot.

"Would you want me to do something about it?"

Though he was certainly no enemy, and felt in danger of nothing more than his own body and the outrageous thoughts stirred up by the side of himself called Desire, Aoba was as still and as quiet as he could be, lest he somehow make things worse for any of them.

When the Guardian finally spoke, Desire surged into the most intense presence Aoba had ever felt of him short of a pounding headache. Aoba swallowed hard, tightly closing his eyes for an almost equal amount of time.

“…Yes,” he finally managed, voice hushed and almost hoarse, as if some form of internal yelling had physically rasped at his throat anyway. No overthinking. No deferring. Just answering the question given.

"Go lock the door," Declan stated, eyes flicking towards the entrance and back again, hand reaching out to slide across the bunk control panel, the lights in the quarters dimming slightly. He kept his expression carefully neutral, ignoring the thundering of his heart.

He'd kept reading, once he'd started; a minor problem of his, if it could be called that.

The Titan knew plenty of things, now, that he wasn't afraid to do provided he had the permission. Things that didn't make him fret over how disgraceful it might be for Aoba. Things that would let him continue to take care of the one he loved.

Lock the…but from who? Ren and Ghost? No one else could get on the ship, and as much as Aoba wouldn’t want anyone including either robot walking in on them, he really doubted—

Don’t ask, Desire practically growled as the lights dimmed. We’re gonna do whatever he wants.

‘Within Reason’ the thought almost finished, wordplay included.

Moving was decidedly difficult, but somehow, Aoba managed to pry himself from Declan’s side and squirm out of the bunk, his gait decidedly…awkward as he went to touch the door panel, locking it as easily as Declan had dimmed the lights. It was no better as he made his way back, weirdly grateful for the loose fit of his sweatpants.

…Though it did beg what he had to be so embarrassed about, if he really wanted what he said he did. Desire was more than ready to come forward and take his place, it was true, but Aoba felt like he owed this to Declan. It was important to Aoba that he back up his words and his promises by staying forward, at least…half the time.

But he still had the stage fright jitters all over again as he returned to the bunk and eased back onto the mattress, face flushed and body electric with anticipation.

Declan watched, filing everything away in his memory, picking apart details, making decisions with every wobbling step Aoba took. A hand reached out when the other man made it to the bunk, Declan helping him into it with grace and poise, making something that might have been a bit rough seem more formal. There was an elegance the Titan wanted to observe, feeling that two lovers coming together ought to have a delicate artistry to it, even in it's most vulgar moments. There would be nothing misconstrued as disgusting, nothing to make Aoba cringe away.

"May I undress you?" he asked softly, fingertips grazing gently over Aoba's shoulders, down his arms. They trembled a bit, a mix of terror and excitement warring within him, but he refused to back down when so much they both wanted might be in reach.

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