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Guilt and relief are a sickening combination, yet the Torchbearer finds himself riddled with both as he walks through Trench.
Clancy is set to return today, with a mirror of Torch walking beside him on the opposite side of the continent. His dread grows with each step, he’s not ready for the look on Clancy’s face when he finds out. He deserves it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.
What does make it easier, even just slightly, is the knowledge that Clancy will be safe again. Back in Trench, away from the city, the bishops, even the island. He just wants Clancy back with him, after so long, he just wants to have him again. He hopes Clancy will allow him that.
The hazy image of him walking behind Torch drives him forward, pushing through until they finally crash into one another. It’s already dark, but the torch in his hand guides him toward where the other Banditos have gone ahead and set up a temporary camp. He can see the glow of the bonfire already, but more than that, he can feel Clancy’s presence grow closer.
He closes his eyes for a brief moment, he knows the area well enough to take a second to focus, to keep up the projection for just a bit longer. He hasn’t gone more than a few hours without doing it in six years—not since Clancy was taken back, but if he can just hold out for a bit longer, everything will have been worth it.
He loses himself in concentration, subconsciously gripping the mask in his hand tighter, until he finally reaches the clearing and sees him.
The air is stolen from Torch’s lungs. He can see him, he can really see Clancy, no haze, no blur, no layer of separation. He’s there, and all Torch wants to do is run across the grass and sweep Clancy into his arms and refuse to let him go.
He can’t, though, not with the way Clancy is frozen in place. Certainly not with how he turns away when Torch pulls his bandana down and sees that the one beside him is gone. Instead, he just waits for him to take it all in.
Standing across the field, Clancy is the most beautiful thing Torch has ever seen. Everything about him calls to Torch, the glow on his skin from the fire and the scar over his nose, his loose clothing and the cape draped over one shoulder, everything. The way he steps forward with purpose, with determination, and Torch immediately follows suit until they meet in front of the bonfire.
The silence kills him, but he presses the mask into Clancy’s hands. They had talked about it on the island, or at least a version of him had, about Clancy taking the mantle properly once he returned. Torch is falling back on the plan to avoid the temper he knows is boiling up beneath his skin.
Clancy takes the mismatched cloth and stares at it for a moment, and Torch looks down to see his fist tighten around the antlers in his other hand. He can’t help but hold his breath. He knows he should say something, but he’s at a loss, especially with the other Banditos watching them. He can’t imagine how Clancy must feel.
So he turns around and quietly dismisses their observers, and keeps watching until they’ve all wandered off, back to the tents set up for easy break down tomorrow. Clancy hasn’t moved when he turns back, but he is looking up now, eyes boring into Torch’s.
“Clancy—” he starts, although where he’s going, he doesn’t know.
“Alone,” Clancy says. “You left me alone for six years.”
“That’s not—”
“That’s what happened.” Clancy looks at him challengingly, jaw ticking. “Isn’t it?”
Torch falls silent, then nods. “Yes.”
He could try to explain, his best attempt to describe something something he hardly understands himself. He could try, but it would be like trying to explain how he moves his arm, or how a person can feel the stare of another. It’s innate, something he’s never had to think about. Everything in him just cries out for Clancy, to the point that his very consciousness splits itself in half just to be closer to him.
There are no words for that, none that Clancy wants to hear, not in this space between them.
Clancy shakes his head, his breathing unstable, and his trembling hand curls into a fist around the mask. “You…you lied to me.”
“Clancy, I—”
“You lied,” he repeats, the look in his eyes unbearable. He steps forward and shoves Torch’s chest, making him stumble back. “You lied to me for years, and now, what? You want me to pretend like that doesn’t matter?”
“I never said that.” He’s already pleading, tossing his torch into the bonfire to free his hands. “Clancy—”
But he’s cut off by another hard shove, and he stumbles again. Clancy lets the mask and the antlers fall into the grass to grab Torch’s hoodie and sharply yanks him forward until their mouths crash together.
He’s angry, knuckles white in the fabric as he pulls Torch as close as possible, shoving his tongue into his mouth and letting out a muffled sound. Torch makes his own noise in shock, but he lets his hands fall around Clancy’s waist, gripping gently, almost worried Clancy will shatter under his fingers.
Clancy pushes him away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I really…” he says, breathing hard, “I really fucking missed you.”
“I know,” Torch says, “I missed you, too—”
Clancy cuts him off again by pulling him back in, anger cooled but still present. He twists Torch’s hoodie into his hands, and Torch just moves with him until Clancy lets his head fall to Torch’s shoulder, breath warm against his neck.
“Where are we staying?” he whispers.
After gathering Clancy’s things, Torch leads them to their tent, air thick the entire way. Torch hardly has time to pin the tent shut before Clancy is on him, dragging him into another kiss by the waist. Clancy pulls him back until they reach the cot, then onto his lap, and Torch just wraps his arms around his neck and lets himself be guided.
Clancy shoves his hands under Torch’s hoodie, fingertips still ice cold, sending a shiver up Torch’s spine. He moans softly, and Clancy breaks them long enough to pull off both the hoodie and the shirt beneath it. His beanie and bandana are next, and then Clancy grips Torch’s sides, digging his fingers into his skin and staring down at his chest.
“Do you know…” Clancy says, voice low. “Do you know how long it’s been?”
Torch tilts his head. “How long since…?”
Clancy inhales shakily, thumbs tracing circles into his ribs. Torch watches as he moistens his lips and his eyes darken, and feels his face turn red and heat growing in his stomach when he realizes. “Oh.”
Clancy pulls him back down with a hand on his neck, then slides both down to grab his ass, rocking his hips up into Torch’s. Torch gasps, moaning into his mouth, and he grasps loosely at Clancy’s clothing just to try and steady himself.
“Clance, fuck, I—” he starts, pulling the beanie still on Clancy’s head off to run his fingers through the short hair underneath.
“Don’t start,” Clancy says, slipping his tongue into Torch’s mouth, “Don’t, okay—just—”
He never finishes the sentence, instead moving his hands to grip the sides of Torch’s thighs. Torch whines under his breath and spreads them further on either side of Clancy’s, unhooking the cape around his neck and pushing it aside. He breaks away, but Clancy attaches to his neck before he can say anything, sinking his teeth in just under his ear. Torch stutters out a moan, faltering while Clancy moves down his throat, his hands sliding back up to Torch’s ass. Torch relishes in the way Clancy is still grinding up against him for a moment before pulling himself out of his head and pushing Clancy back.
Clancy looks up at him, pupils blown and lips parted. “What?” he asks, his voice already gravelly.
Torch almost forgets why he even stopped him, but he takes a second before sliding off Clancy’s lap and onto his knees between his legs. Clancy breathes heavily above him, combing his fingers through Torch’s hair. Torch pushes the hem of his shirt up until he finally pulls it off, then noses along his stomach and ribs, kissing and biting at the soft skin.
Clancy whines softly, hips twitching as Torch works his way down. He brushes his lips over his waistband, looking up at Clancy with wide eyes, silently asking for permission. Clancy nods, lifting his hips enough for Torch to pull his pants down past his knees. He continues ignoring where Clancy is straining in his underwear, instead pressing kisses to his inner thighs, earning frustrated groans as he slowly and meticulously makes his way up and down each one.
Clancy pulls at his hair, leaning back on his other hand, watching his every move. “Fuck, get on with it.”
Torch nuzzles his hip bones. “Just wanna make you feel good,” he says, mouthing at his bulge through the cloth, adding to the wet spot already present. “Let me make you feel good.”
The sound Clancy makes tells Torch that he will, as much as he’d love to deny it. He indulges him, though, pulling his underwear down and taking his tip into his mouth. Clancy moans sharply, already bucking into his mouth as Torch sinks down further. He sets a steady rhythm, bobbing his head, but gradually gives control over to Clancy, letting him fuck into his mouth using the grip he has on his hair.
“Holy shit,” Clancy moans when he hits the back of Torch’s throat, feeling him gag around him. “Holy shit, Torch, fuck—”
He keeps going, dissolving into nothing but barely coherent moans and whines. Torch runs his hands up Clancy’s thighs, digging his nails in as Clancy moves his head roughly, lifting his hips off the mattress to get himself deeper. Torch drops one hand to palm himself through his pants, in need of some kind of relief, and whimpers around him.
“Fuck, are you getting off on this?” Clancy asks, and Torch looks up at him, nodding pathetically the best he can with a cock in his mouth, his chin spit slicked and lips stretched.
“Oh my god—” Clancy’s voice pitches up recognizably, and Torch puts up no fight as Clancy pushes him down with a hand on the back of his neck. He holds him there, nose pressed into his skin, thrusting a few more times before spilling down Torch’s throat.
Torch chokes slightly but doesn’t try to pull away, instead swallowing and staying in place until Clancy releases him. He lets his dick slip out of his mouth, looking up again. He drags the back of his hand through the drool coating his chin, leaning back on his heels, the space momentarily only filled by both of their heavy breathing.
And then Clancy is dragging him up again, removing both of their remaining layers, winding up on his back with Torch straddling him once more. Torch leans down to kiss him, while Clancy slides his hands over Torch’s thighs, gripping his hips tightly.
“Missed you,” Torch whispers. “Fuck, I missed you so bad—”
Clancy sits up abruptly, moving one hand up to his neck. “Still weren’t there, though,” he says against his mouth, biting down on his lip. “Were you?”
“Clancy—”
“I don’t want excuses.” Clancy wraps his other hand around Torch’s cock, garnering a soft moan. “Just want you to make it up to me now. Just want you, okay?”
Torch lets his head fall to Clancy’s shoulder, whining as Clancy slowly strokes him, biting weakly at his neck. He’s warmed up, skin tasting of sweat and traces of the bonfire smoke from earlier.
“You want that? You wanna be good for me?” Clancy asks, turning and pressing his lips to Torch’s hair.
He nods, words failing and only whimpering in response. Clancy smiles and sucks three fingers into his mouth, before bringing them down to tease his entrance. “Ready?”
Torch just nods again, wrapping his arms around Clancy, jaw dropping in a silent moan when he pushes a finger in. He breathes heavily into the crook of Clancy’s neck, adjusting to the feeling slowly as he pumps his finger in and out. He pets Torch’s hair with his other hand, listening to his soft noises, eventually adding a second alongside the first. Torch gasps, tightening his hold on Clancy as the pressure fades into pleasure.
“Taking it so well,” Clancy murmurs, right by his ear, drawing another whimper from him. “Like I never even left.”
He punctuates the sentence by crooking his fingers up, and Torch sees stars, moaning loudly and dragging his nails down Clancy’s back. Clancy chuckles, almost meanly, slipping in a third finger and continuing his relentless pace.
Clancy finally withdraws his fingers and Torch exhales heavily, lifting his head and sitting upright on his lap. He cups Clancy’s jaw with one hand, leaning forward to kiss him softly, stalling them both momentarily despite the need coursing through his veins.
Clancy starts to shift to switch their positions, but Torch stops him with a hand on his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress. “No,” he says, tracing a finger over Clancy’s tattoos, “Let me.”
His pupils dilate, lips parting, and he nods. Torch runs his finger down the center of his chest, relishing in the goosebumps he leaves in his wake. Then he takes Clancy’s cock in hand, lifting his hips and lining himself up, the head catching on his rim before he starts to sink down.
He shuts his eyes, steadying himself with a hand on Clancy’s chest, whimpering quietly when he starts to rock his hips up. “Slow—slow down,” he manages, cracking his eyes open and smiling weakly. “Been a while for me, too.”
“Fuck,” Clancy groans, hands moving to Torch’s waist and squeezing. “Fuck, Torch—”
A while is a bit of an understatement. Torch hasn’t been with anyone since Clancy left, the years since too busy with trying to find him even if he wanted to. Even on the island, there was never really time amidst everything else, and it hadn’t come up very often by the time they were headed back to Trench. Besides Torch wasn’t even sure he…could, through the projection, nor was he sure it was the time to find out.
Regardless, Torch gets the rest of the way down, their hips flush as he adjusts to the sensation. He rolls his hips in slow circles, and Clancy moans beneath him, digging his nails into his waist harshly. Torch raises up before sinking back down, head dropping as he settles into a rhythm.
He moves faster, lifting his head to look at Clancy, who he thinks may look more beautiful than ever, somehow. In the dim light of the tent, his head leaned back and eyes shut, curses and moans spilling out of his mouth while he kneads his fingers into Torch’s hips.
Torch cracks a smile, planting his hands on Clancy’s chest to keep up his pace. He shifts, trying to get him deeper, and tosses his head back when the angle changes just enough to nail his prostate every time their hips meet. Clancy snakes his hand down to wrap around Torch’s neglected cock, pulling a loud and desperate moan out of him.
“Fuck, please—” he whines. “Please, Clance, please—”
“Please what?” Clancy says, wicked smile on his face, speeding his hand up.
“Please,” he whimpers. “Let me—fuck—let me come, please, I—”
“Why should I?” Clancy asks, playing ignorant even as Torch’s movements falter, his thighs shaking.
Torch whines again, louder. “I—I’ve been good, haven’t I? I—god, please—”
Clancy pretends to think about it, but he bucks his hips up to meet Torch’s, matching the pace of his hand. “Alright, baby—go on, come for me.”
It’s the baby that really does Torch in, at the end of the day, painting Clancy’s hand and stomach with his release. He leans down, burying his face into Clancy’s neck and still fucking himself back on Clancy’s cock as he rides it out. He whimpers quietly, and Clancy combs a hand through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Hey,” he asks softly. “You good to keep going?”
Torch nods hazily, pushing himself back up to look at him. “Yeah,” he says, breathing hard. “Do—do whatever you want.”
Clancy kisses him, lifting Torch off his lap and swallowing the noise he makes when his cock slides out. He presses Torch face down into the mattress, ass in the air, and drapes himself over his back. “This okay?” he asks, nipping at his ear.
Torch nods, whispering affirmations, and Clancy pushes back in, groaning. He grips Torch’s hips so tight he’s sure to leave bruises, rocking his own forward, slowly at first before speeding up.
“Holy fuck,” he moans, pulling Torch back onto his cock with each thrust. He’s rough, rougher than Torch expected, although he isn’t complaining. He wraps his arms around their pillow, burying his face into it as Clancy seemingly releases everything that’s been pent up for the past who knows how long.
Yes, Torch thinks, whimpering and biting down on the pillow. Use me, use me, give it all to me, let me take it all away, use me.
Clancy braces one hand on the back of Torch’s neck, holding him down, his other still tight on Torch’s hip. His hips snap forward relentlessly, but soon enough, his rhythm starts to stutter.
“Fuck,” he groans, “I needed—fuck, I needed you so bad, I don’t—don’t know how I survived without you—”
Torch moans weakly in response, turning his head to look back at him over his shoulder. Clancy slams back in once, twice, three more times before he’s filling Torch to the brim, suddenly next to his ear again and moaning loudly into it.
Torch isn’t totally sure how long it is before he pulls out, but once he does, he pulls Torch into his side, petting his hair as he breathes heavily against Clancy’s neck. He drags his fingers over Clancy’s chest tattoos again lazily, tracing the patterns he’s been longing to feel under his touch again.
“I mean it,” Clancy says quietly, looking up at the tent’s roof. “I don’t know how I lasted without you. Not just—not just like this, I mean, just—in every way.”
Torch glances up at him, hand curling into a loose fist resting on his stomach. “I did what I could, what I—thought was best.”
Clancy rakes his nails across his scalp, and Torch leans into the feeling. “If I ask a question,” he says, “will you answer it honestly?”
Torch nods, nuzzling into his neck. “Of course.”
He’s quiet for a moment, continuing to play with Torch’s curls. “Was I really—did you actually leave me by myself?”
“No,” Torch says immediately. “It’s hard to explain, I don’t—I don’t really know—I’ve never had to. It’s…” He trails off, drumming his fingers against Clancy’s sternum. “It’s a power I have, like—like you and seizing, but different. If I really, really try, if I really need to, I can be in two places at once. Here and with you.”
“With me?” Clancy repeats.
Torch nods again. “Took a while for me to get used to doing it long-term, but once I did, I only took breaks while you slept.”
“You were always there when I woke up,” Clancy says, voice dropping to a whisper.
“Yeah, I—I didn’t want you to be alone,” Torch says, curling in on himself and shying away from his own admission.
A few moments of silence, before Clancy speaks again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I—” Torch starts. “I didn’t know how, I wasn’t sure when, you were dealing with so much, I just—I didn’t want to add to it, and the longer I waited—” His voice breaks, and he clutches Clancy’s side. “I’m sorry, I should’ve, I’m sorry—”
“I know,” Clancy says, tugging his hair to ground him. “I know,” he says again when Torch falls silent.
They stay quiet for another few minutes, until Clancy shifts, moving down until their foreheads are pressed together. He brushes their lips together, breath mixing. “You’re here now,” he whispers. “And so am I, and that’s all that matters.”
They kiss again, slow and sweet, Clancy’s hand coming up to hold his face gently. Torch wraps his arms around Clancy’s waist, pulling them flush against each other, and smiles against his lips.
They drift off like that, tangled together, for one night forgetting everything outside, waiting for them when the sun rises.