Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ais. A man who, at first seemed intimidating, well, along with everything else in this city, I struggled to keep up with the information fed to me 24/7 since I arrived here. Like they said, information was valuable, which was probably why Ais seemed so hesitant to share it. I wanted to know more about the seaspring, to know if it could cure me, to rid me of these cursed hands, that every day remind me of my past, of the people I hurt, and the people that hurt me, but Ais seemed reluctant to share it’s powers with me. For what reason, I didn’t know.

Nevertheless it didn’t stop me from asking, from following him out of the Wet Wick, from questioning him, even after seeing what he did to that poor roughneck. Something about him piqued my curiosity, and I wanted to know more so desperately.

“Ducas! Where in the rat’s ass are you?!”

A loud shout interrupted our conversation. A shout from a deep gravelly voice. I stopped dead in my tracks. The shock paralysing me from head to toe, the potent scent of blood felt suddenly stronger as adrenaline rushed through me, and I remembered the bloodied body of the roughneck lay close to where me and Ais stood.

That was why they were here.

Before I could think I felt a tug on my wrist, and was pulled into the darkest corner of the street.

My heart hammered in my chest as it tightened with adrenaline, making me feel dizzy. Hyper aware of my surroundings, but also distant.

“Quiet”

The low but close voice grounded me. I looked up, a soft, subtle red light finding my eyes. As my heartbeat began to calm, it quickened again, once I realised the position I was in.

Ais had caged me between him and the wall, trying, although failing, to stop himself from pressing against me in the small space we’d found ourselves in. He towered over me, as I attempted to look just about anywhere other than his chest. Smoke enveloped me as my nose was once again filled with the pungent smell. His breathing was hot and heavy, probably due to the sprint we made to our hiding spot, but I felt it. Every breath he took, the rise and fall of his chest, the hot air against my face and neck.

If I wasn’t hyper-aware before, I certainly was now.

I squirmed, but he shot me a glare, the soft scarlet glow cutting off my movement.

“D-D-Do we really have to-” I started, before a sudden warmth was pressed against my lips, silencing my whispers. He shook his head, the hand covering my mouth slightly trembling.

I heard the wild shouts of the group echo through the streets, dangerously close to our hiding place. I glanced at them, their arms violently flailing about, thrashing tall spiked weapons into the cool night air, and violet sashes adorned each member of the group, a uniform perhaps.

Although I couldn’t be sure, as my vision was obscured by the darkness of the night, and Ais’s toned arm.

My mind wandered once more, as did my eyes, following the curvature of his muscles, trailing the teal markings, to his broad chest, his neck. I glance up to his face, earning a shit-eating smirk.

We stared right at each other. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, harder than before. He was still smiling smugly at me, waiting for my next move, I couldn’t think straight, but I felt urged to make a move. His hand was still covering my mouth, so I had no way to protest, not that I wanted to, or could either way.

Without hesitation or thinking, I opened my mouth, my breath warm against the palm of his hand, and I bite down, my teeth sinking in. Hard.

His eyes widened, holding back a gasp, of pain, I presumed, a light blush dusting his cheeks. I kept my mouth firmly on his hand, my face holding my own shit-eating smirk.

Then I started to taste metal, my eyes matching his as the realisation that I drew blood hit me, but I still didn’t budge. Instead I froze, both in fear, but also a strange excitement, wondering what he would do to me next.

He waited a few moments, then leaned in slowly, his breath shaky, leaving me wondering how much I actually hurt him. He murmured, in a soft low voice, making me shiver.

“At least someone could draw blood today”

My heart leapt into my throat, and I finally removed the grip on his hand. He stayed next to my ear, unmoving for a few moments, then I heard a soft inhale, and felt a stabbing pain in my neck.

I winced, biting my lip to hold back the grunt of pain that dared to escape my lips. My face felt hot, and I could sense him smirking again, despite not being able to see his face.

As he rose, I sighed at the loss of contact, the dizziness slowly fading but never going away, and my heart still racing.

My legs felt like jelly, as if I was about to crumble to the ground in that very moment. I looked anywhere for support, one hand eventually resting on his shoulder, as I moved the other one to feel the wound.

Thick, warm liquid quickly coated my fingers. Blood. I look up at him, expecting the same grin plastered across his face, but he was now looking out into the street, and I realised that the gang had left.

We stepped back out into the pale moonlight, the cool night breeze reminded me of just how close we were a few seconds ago, I looked towards him, but he doesn’t seem to notice my glance. I poked him playfully, and he then looks at me.

Then I realised why he was looking away, his face was bright red, and although attempting to hide it, the red only grew deeper. I snickered slightly, earning a stern, yet playful glare.

“Didn’t know sparrows could bite” he said softly, exaggerating that last word, grinning once again.

“You’re lucky I didn’t do worse” I said, my confidence growing after seeing him flustered before.

“Try me”

The thought of wiping that smirk of his face was tempting, but I resisted “No, then I’d be giving you what you want”

“Staying hidden was the best option” he looked away once more “Would be a hassle to run into them with you there”

“What, because I’m deadweight?”

He glanced at me, showing a soft, sincere smile this time. “Because three bad impressions are enough for one day”