foxtophat | when i grow to be a poppy in a graveyard

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sails: skulcap

when i grow to be a poppy in a graveyard

[entering the boring way is, well, boring, but at least Catduggery is guaranteed to survive the transition. and it does give the Captain time to perfect looking cool and collected for the minute or so it'll take Skulduggery to reach him.]

Oh, that's right, I meant to ask... how did Izzy take the news? Did he give a little [mimes a golf-tourney fistpump] when he realized he was dead on about us?

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I think I've heard the saying before...

[he braces his knees between his thighs, grinding their hips together. slow at first, as he presses the skeletal approximation of kisses to the closest patches of shadow he can.]

[one arm falls above his head, while the other reaches out to him, running over whatever he can reach, fingers skimming the top layer of bone.]

You are so beautiful...

[he is, objectively, no more beautiful than an anatomy class model; sturdy, well put together, but fundamentally interchangeable with any other skeleton. and yet, the compliment is said so tenderly that he can't bring himself to completely refute it.]

I am nothing compared to you, my darling. My gorgeous shadow...

[maybe it's all gone to his head. maybe he's more tired than he thinks. the words are out of his mouth before he's even had a chance to think them.]

... Do you truly not wish me to change? [he's not even sure where that question came from. soft and quiet. like's he'll be afraid of the answer.]

[he stills, just for a moment, just to look at him. shadows and fire. wholly unique and so entirely undeserving of the worry he can hear in his voice.]

You are the most stunning being I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Why would I want to change that?

Because everyone else--

[his gaze drops, head turning away.]

... I don't know... I'm. Sorry. You aren't anyone else. You're... everything. I don't...

Shh. It's okay.

[he places one hand against his cheek, turning his face back towards his own.]

You don't need to apologize. Just believe me when I say that I don't want you to change. [he leans down, pressing his teeth to the skin his thumb just touched.] The only thing I want is to change how you see the world, and how the world sees you in turn.

... I think I believe I can, when you say it...

[he visibly blinks hard, his hand coming up to cover his, flame over bone.]

I really do love you. More than I ever thought I could.

[he thought he'd known what love was supposed to be when his family was killed in front of him. he'd thought he'd known what it would feel like, after spending decades around China Sorrows, who had encouraged him to fall for her again and again. he'd thought there would be no more tightness in his chest without a heart to skip a beat, no need for desire, no space left for happiness in his hollow cavities.

god. how wrong he'd been.]

I believe you. And I am utterly, madly in love with you in turn. Obsessed. Everything about you drives me crazy. [he rolls his hips, slow, careful, a little afraid of breaking him even though he knows that's impossible.] Shadow and flame... how could I not adore you?

[he covers his face with his hands for a moment before letting his arms fall again, a breathless laugh.]

I don't know how to say pretty things like you do... [he pushes back against him, body arched slightly.] Wish I did... I'd make you blush worse than you do me...

[he hums quietly, thoughtfully. there's a joke he could make about being a skeleton, but instead,]

You tell me you love me and call me beautiful. What prettier words do I need?

All of them. [a soft whine] Every single one. I could tell you I love you in an infinite amount of ways and even that wouldn't be enough.

[he continues to rock into him, pressing their bodies together, tilting his pelvis to sink even deeper.]

You only need to look at me for me to know. I can see it in your eyes.

[even when they're on fire.]

[a slow, inscrutable blink, almost catlike.]

... Harder. Please.

[he hums, delighted, and does as he's told, letting those eyes fill his skull with light.]

My beautiful darling. I hope the image of you is seared into the back of my skull.

Bet I could do that. [he reaches out to run his fingers over the side of his head, but doesn't break the surface.] Of all the places I'm afraid to touch... Where everything I love is...

[he lost his mind a long time ago to creatures much worse than the Captain. it could be argued that he was cracked long before the Faceless Ones, that they only destroyed something that was already broken to begin with.

but even then, rational instinct tries to win out in times like this. it's dangerous. they don't know what could possibly go wrong.]

In this one thing, you may be more cautious than me... [he tilts his skull, pressing against the fingers radiating heat through the bone.]

Someone has to be. [his fingers dip in, just slightly.] Never held anything so precious before...

[there's less than a centimeter of bone between those fingers and the interior of his skull. even the barest touch is deep enough to set his head ablaze; for a moment, it's all he can do to focus on the words being spoken past the burning, furious heat. his voice and hips stutter under the onslaught, sockets focused on the impossible shadow beneath him.]

Hhhh -- fffuck --

[he can't believe he ever thought he understood power. this is what real power is. it's letting a man's soul run through your fingers like water, and only thinking of how best to keep it together, not tear it apart.

he tenses against him for a moment, shaking, beyond words until he gathers himself enough to deliver the most important ones of all:]

I win.

[all of his swirling, maddening desire has newfound direction, choking him with sheer, overwhelming sensation. he barely hears that triumphant little declaration, choking out a desperate laugh, short pauses like gasps between his own words.]

You do. You do. I can't... [think. talk. take it.] Please, almost --

Stay with me, here.

[and then, eyes transfixed on the kaleidoscope before him, he presses that much further in.]

[he's barely aware of where here is, everything that he is boiling under the heat that spreads through his mind. the probing fingers could violate everything that he is, could tear him apart and put him together again as many times as they wanted, and still, he'd find himself eagerly seeking out this screaming, agonizing ecstasy.

it doesn't ever end. even when the overwhelming, unknown tension breaks, he can still feel the wildfire smoldering in that quarter-inch shell of bone. he shudders from skull to metatarsal and tries to claw some momentary coherence back from the white-hot edge.]

Aahh... shit. Hhmm. [emphasis on trying.]

[quickly mastering the art of looking smug without many discernible facial features.]

Another empty chamber. [he pets gentle fingers down the side of his skull.]

Mmmm? [which is as far into "what's that supposed to mean?" as he can get. look, you can fuck the skeleton out of the detective but you can't fuck the detective out of the skeleton.]

when i grow to be a poppy in a graveyard

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