Edit/Re-Written: May 31, 2022.
A Knight W/ Shining Eyes: Chapter Two; A Thankful Thought
Warning: mentions of drug use (non-consensual), mentions of self-harm and past abuse.
Neal shifts on the bed, a low groan escaping him as he burrowes his face deeper into his pillow. It's comfortable and that makes his eyes snap open. Ever since living with Ian comfort didn't come easy, there was no room for him. More often than not he would sleep on the couch, except during his friends' heat's. Omegas tended to be possessive and needy during them, so he was often dragged into nests during those days.
He forces himself to remember what happened the night before as he rubs a hand over his face, cleaning the mess out of his eyes and around his mouth before trying to comb back his tangled hair. With a wince he gives up on that task, instead letting his eyes wander around the room. They snap down onto a figure at the edge of the bed, body hidden with the silk blankets resting over his shoulders.
Eric. Neal sits upwards and lends forward onto his elbows, studying the man. His dark hair reached down to his jaw, long and silky, and the highlights that decorated it shines with the sunlight that streams through the room windows. That same sunlight streams down his cheekbones, decorating his skin, and overall enhancing how attractive the other was. He could even count how many eyelashes Eric had as they rested gently on his skin. He didn't though, because that would be creepy. Instead he looks around, finding the room bare. Where was Ian?
With one final glance to Eric he steps off the bed, freezing when the others breath falters just slightly. Shit-
"You should go back to sleep, you're not fully rested yet." Eric's deep morning voice echoes against the bed and even without looking at him Neal can tell the other is staring at him with those searching golden eyes.
He shrugs at the statement, looking over to meet the others' gaze. "What does that mean? It's not like I got hurt."
Eric shifts, a low groan escaping him as he leans on his elbow, tilting his head slightly as he stares at Neal. It's an intense stare, enough to send shudders of anticipation down his spine. It was obvious that they had great chemistry, especially when something as simple as a stare made Neal want to shove the other against the bed. But it was new. And he didn't know how to express it. The words throb at the end of his tongue, wanting to be voiced out but he just finds himself clenching his hands on the sheets of the bed, resisting the urge to press his lips against Eric's.
He wants to kiss him again.
"True, but I want to make sure the dosage I gave you completely wears off. We wouldn't want you making stupid decisions." The other states with a smirk. The words take a second to process but when they are Neal finds himself gasping. There's no way-
"You gave me GHB?" Neal asks in disbelief, grunting when a teasing shimmer enters Eric's eyes. It really doesn't come as a surprise, but he doesn't register any pain, or notice any new marks on him. While GHB could be used for dangerous activities there were no signs that suggested that Eric had done something to him, just that it had been used to knock him out.
"I'd never lie to you, Neal." Is the only response he gets, a definitive yes. Neal doesn't pay attention to how serious the other is with the statement, deciding to ignore it for another question.
"Where's my friend?" He asks, staring into the others gaze, wanting to see if there was tell for lying. In any other situation he would've looked for other things to use against him, people liked to call it blackmailing, but not Neal. For him it was just negotiating. Getting people to do what one wanted because they were scared, embarrassed, ashamed, was easy. But it wasn't when the person he wanted to negotiate with made his chest tighten with the emotion of fear - an emotion he hated, a vulnerable emotion.
Yet despite that there was also this other part of him that wanted to. . .trust Eric. But was that just because he hadn't been laid in a couple of months? Or were the feelings coursing through him something more?
"Resting in another room. As you should be." Eric informs, words leaving his lips smoothly as he continues meeting Neal's gaze. No tell that he was lying. But what if he was just a really good liar?
He has the urge to run, to hide away from his emotions and simply look for Ian. Was he really okay? And even if he did find him, what would he do next? Sure, he could try and carry him out, but if Eric really wanted he could take them both on. Especially when he considered Ian's unconscious condition. What to do? What does he do? His lips press together as he considers his second option, he could always do what those men always complimented him on; delivering pleasure.
"Why don't you join me?" He asks, peeking up at the other from beneath his eyelashes. Eric's breath hitches at the back of his throat and Neal takes the opportunity to reach out and grip the other's jaw, running his thumb over Eric's cheekbone.
As Eric sits up, he leans closer, lips tickling the skin of Neal's wrist. "That's a great idea, Bright Eyes."
There's that dumb nickname again, Neal thinks, gasping when Eric lunges at him. A groan escapes him as his back meets the bed, and before he can even ask what the fuck Eric is doing the other lays over on top of him, his head resting on his chest.
"There. Joined. Now get some rest." Eric informs childishly, and the tone makes Neal's heart hurt. More hesitantly he adds, "And also . . .you shouldn't be using yourself for that."
"Whatever. It's not like you care." Neal states with a scowl, shifting to get more comfortable. Despite the frown, he can't help but want to smile. That was definitely a first, he hadn't thought of it as using himself, it had just been something he was used to doing.
Eric hums at that, lifting himself to look down at him. The position is intimate, no doubt about it. And it helps in conjuring up images that Neal can't deal with right now. As if knowing exactly what effect he has on the other, Eric grins, a dimple coming into view on his right cheek. "I care more than you think."
And without thinking Neal is reaching up to grab Eric's face, bringing it down to peck his lips. It's warm, spark-filled, and he wants to do it again. Eric watches him, reciprocates the action, and lets out another hum. Again there's no tell, but Neal can't help but think that maybe Eric is just a really good liar.
–
Large hands travel beneath his shirt, lifting it up and using the pads of his thumbs to run over the skin that make up his abdomen. They're huge and relentless in their journey to explore his body. There's a gasp as they meet his nipples, and the sound works to make the other chuckle low - and deep. The sound makes Neal shudder and a second later all sounds are muted by the lips that press against his own, shutting him up.
The next time he wakes up it's to an empty bed. The dream was obvious, he doesn't dwell on it too long. Fantasizing about someone he just met? Stupid. But he couldnt deny how much he wanted Eric to fuck him. . .maybe even while he was asleep. But that was something for relationships that discussed those types of topics. They didn't even have a relationship.
With quiet steps and even quieter breaths he makes his way out of the room and into the hallway. He's still wearing the uncomfortable clothes of the night before, leather digging into his skin at the folds. That however isn't as uncomfortable as the blankness of the house. The hallways are painted white and have no decorations. No pictures, or art, or anything. There was nothing he could learn about Eric from his home.
Hell, it felt like he was in some type of facility.
He continues down the halls, sighing in relief as he spots a pair of large doors. Rushing towards them, he peeks inside only to find Eric laying down on the couch, head lopsided as he watches a show. Knowing he won't get anywhere in such a house he walks inside, leaning over the backrest of the couch.
"What'cha doing?" He asks, putting all his weight on his arms to push his body upward onto the backrest. The room is filled with the low chatter of the show and Eric spreads himself on the couch as he looks up at him.
"Why don't you find out?"
"I will." Neal huffs, rolling over slightly to fall straight on top of Eric. The other groans at the additional weight, but doesn't move to shove him off. With a teasing grin, he forces himself to lift his head, "Am I heavy?"
"Not as heavy as your friend." Neal bites down on his bottom lip to hide the incoming grin, happy that Eric had mentioned Ian.
"Why didn't you take us to the hospital?"
Eric raises an eyebrow at the question, "When you knocked out I went to go check on him again, he was lucid and coughing. But he told me not to? I didn't want to take you guys and risk losing you."
The statement makes Neal freeze but he doesn't show it, instead he presses his head against Eric's chest, finding some comfort in the rhythm his heart produces against his rib cage. Seconds pass and soon he feels the unmistakable touch of a hand playing with his hair. He lets it as he closes his eyes. There is no way Eric had just said that. They had just met, why would he be scared of losing him?
Despite it being new, it was nice being wanted for something other than his body and the pleasure he could provide. It was almost like he could be who he wanted without any judgment or restraints. Like he could be himself. The seconds passed and Neal was close to passing out again, tiredness gnawing at his bones when they rudely interrupted by a low grumble coming from his stomach.
That's right. . he hadn't eaten an actual dinner yesterday or any breakfast. He let out an annoyed grunt, refusing to acknowledge it as he rubbed his cheek against the other's abdomen. Eric laughed at the action, almost fondly, "Want me to make you something?"
"What if what I want to eat is you?" He murmurs without hesitation, the suggestion coming to mind without second thought. Still, once the words left his mouth he froze in memory of what Eric had told him before.
The other hums, pressing a kiss to Neal's head. "That's cute but no." No? Rejected, again. Twice by one person, guess decency is still a thing, he snorts at the thought but can't help feeling a little disappointed. Eric sighs, almost as if knowing what he's thinking, "We met yesterday, Neal. There's no need to. . .rush that."
That, as though the act itself is disgusting. Who is he kidding, maybe it's not the act itself but rather he that Eric is disgusted with. "And yesterday at the club it seemed like you wanted to rush whatever this is."
He grunts in annoyance, yelping when Eric suddenly sat up with him on his lap. With narrowed eyes and pressed together lips he stares down at Neal. It's frightening, an emotion he's being reacquainted with a lot since he met Eric, but he doesn't back down, staring right back.
"The dance may have had sexual components but by no means was I hoping to get something sexual out of it." Eric begins, eyes shifting upwards as he thought of words. Neal gulps nervously at the realization, knowing the other makes a good point. "And even though we didn't get to talk much, I do like you. Now I just wish you would try and get to know me as well instead of doing whatever this is."
He makes a vague gesture between them and Neal can't help but feel sick at how easily he dehumanized the other. At this point seeing anyone as a potential threat was second nature, he didn't even think about it too much, trying to get one over on him. As the statement sinks deeper he can't help but feel guilty at his actions. Silence grows between the two and Eric takes the chance to place Neal on the other side of the couch, standing and making his way out of the room.
The large doors are left open in a silent invitation to follow. Neal doesn't, instead he looks down at his quivering hands - resting atop his legs. Getting to know Eric, as in returning the courtesy instead of meeting and screwing. That was new. Maybe that's why his relationships never lasted long, he had used his body and skills for so long, he never thought of looking into other social cues. That's what schools and jobs were for; the learnings of interactions. He never had any of that, just a room and his brothers.
Maybe he should have tried to go to school after he left the house, but so many years of being denied an education by his father made him nervous and ashamed. What would others think? He would definitely be below grade level. And what about the markings on his body? Or the way he insisted on hiding his arms and neck? There would just be too many questions and not enough trust.
A shaky sigh bubbles from the back of Neal's throat and he's quick to mask it with a cough. There's an itch on his arm and he instinctively reaches to dig his blunt nails into the skin that rests there. The idea is quick, fleeting, but he catches it, understands it as another form of escape.
He's quick to stand off the couch and goes down the hall in the opposite direction that Eric had gone in. He wanders until he finds another door and peering inside he finds the room he was looking for, a bathroom. The door creaks and he winces as he steps inside, freezing when he catches his reflection in the mirror. Green eyes stare back at him, tempting him, daring him. Did he really want to do this? It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, he had done it a million times. So why was it that everytime he did it, the amount of guilt to do it again just kept increasing?
"Shut up." He hisses at his reflection, patting down his pants until he feels the rough texture of a pocket knife. It was always this, this or anger. And right now, he really doesn't really have the energy to feel angry enough to destroy something, especially when, well, it isn't his house to be able to go around destroying things. But he is his own person and that's the only convincing he needs to take out the knife and flick it open.
A sharp exhale escapes him as he rolls back his sleeves and presses the edge of the knife against his skin. It's okay- he's - a grunt and the feeling of fear and then a second passes and the hand that was holding the knife is being held in a strong grip. His eyes flicker up and in the mirror he meets Eric's golden gaze, eyes filled with something he can't quite pinpoint. His jaw clenches, there is that stupid, unknown emotion again.
Before Eric can ask the obvious question Neal is answering, "I'm just checking my reflection."
Eric's jaw tenses as his other hand takes the pocket knife, folding it closed. Neal watches, heart dropping at his comfort object being taken from him. In a place like this, with someone like Eric, he really wanted some control.
"Instead of checking your reflection," The other begins, sliding the pocket knife into his jeans and loosening his hold on Neal's wrist. "You are going to help me cook." A demand, not a suggestion. He has all the control now, and honestly, Neal doesn't hate that idea as much as he thought he would. He nods, melting when Eric leans forward and over to press a kiss against his cheek. Neal takes advantage of the position, reaching up to wrap his hands around the other's neck, tugging him closer to press their lips together. Eric allows it, lets their lips move against each other and the sparks that he only feels with the other grow, making him gasp and moan. As the kiss deepens he feels his knees weaken, and without thinking about it he turns to open his mouth.
With a growl Eric takes over, hand reaching up to grip Neal's chin as his tongue enters his mouth, only pulling away when Neal is panting. With a half-assed punch to the other's chest, Neal whispers "Like you care."
And just like before, Eric's eyes sharpen, and he grips Neal's chin to force their eyes to meet. "I care more than you think."
The words aren't said like before though, they're seethed. Neal knows he's crossed a line, but he also can't help the small tickle of fire that travels down his spine straight to his groin at how the other was manhandling him. That was also something he wanted, to be dominated completely by Eric.
"We should go cook." He says instead, letting the desire simmer in his body. Eric's gaze searches his for a second, then he's nodding and pulling away, a smile tugging at the ends of his lips like nothing happened. Maybe they'll talk about it later, when everything is calm, and the weight of his actions aren't resting so heavily on their minds. Neal hopes they do, he wants to reflect on his actions, and maybe even-
"Yeah, let's go feed your whale stomach." Eric teases, large hands traveling down to pat said stomach. It makes him want to giggle and that thought alone has him blushing in embarrassment. Giggle? Really?
At this point there is no maybe, he definitely wants to thank Eric.
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May 31, 2022: Editing: why tf is this so long omg I regret everything.
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