You're dying, says a part of his brain that remembers the burrowers, bone-deep certainty forged on a far-away battlefield, waiting for hours, waiting for when it reaches your heart. It's a better relief than he'd imagined he could ask for, the rough-sharp tearing deep-down agony and the certainty that this is the end, this is the end, he did as much as he could and if he can't be forgiven, at least he can be done.
(The golden moment, when Horseriver stroked his fox's ears and walked away over the invisible precipice, the black minutes when they first met, snarling and feral, finding each other in the mirror, craving exactly this - oh, he can't bear it, he can't, the most baffling of all revelations, he's a stubborn ragged stupid animal and something in him still wants to live- )
Jedao can't sustain a scream, rides out his ten seconds in low, heavy sobs, blinded by the mess of tears he can't wipe away, can only let drip and run onto the bedding, his chest heaving even where his mind is certain it's cracked open.
When he lets him go, it doesn't end right away. Things go back easier than they came out, pushing down into his body under patient strokes of Quentin's fingers.
"You did so well," he murmurs, while he runs his hand along Jedao's chest, "you did amazingly, you are so strong and you are so good."
He's careful to put everything back with love, with devotion, making sure he feels not just okay, but better.
He twitches and shivers, sucks in deep gasps of air, eyelids flickering. He doesn't say anything at first, his awareness of who and where he is seeping back in a jumble, and Jedao is too well-trained to say anything until he has a better grasp of his surroundings.
He aches all over, muscles strained from clutching and thrashing, but he knows he likes the touch, knows - Quentin, the voice is Quentin's, and the cloud of white hair, and Jedao can trust him.
Good, he thinks, but the gag stops him from echoing the word, so he just settles with a sigh and soaks up Quentin's ministrations.
He runs his hand over his shoulder, up at the point where he started, and presses a pulse along the web he handled. He bites again, but just a light graze of his teeth, to help him get used to feeling inside his own skin again.
"Nothing can get you through me. Nothing is going to hurt you. You're done."
Once everything is as it should be, Quentin drapes himself overtop of him, and speaks the word to release Jedao's arms and legs. He stays settled on him like a blanket, eyes shut, listening to his heartbeat.
His fingers jerk at the bite, shocky and overstimulated but not in a bad way. Jedao lets out a slow, deep breath, as if Quentin's weight could push all the air and uncertainty out of him. He curls an arm from the elbow, experimentally, shuddering through another breath, then wraps the arm around Quentin, hugs him tight.
Jedao makes a soft huffing noise that might be a chuckle as Quentin removes the gag, nuzzling Quentin and pressing a few light kisses of his own against the corner of Quentin's mouth, against cheek, against his jaw. His arm comes up shakily to stroke Quentin's spine.
"You were marvelous, darling," Jedao croaks, throat a little raw from shouting useless into the gag, his words a little bit slow but not slurred. He feels blessedly quiet now inside, worn out past the point of worrying, misty and lazy and sore.
He answers, and presses a reverent kiss to his forehead, before he sits reluctantly up.
"I've got some water, and some sweets for you." Because he is a reader, and the books say that this part is important. "Don't worry about me, just take it very slow. Gentle now."
"I'm the one who asked for this," Jedao reminds him, reaching for Quentin with the same arm he started with, which trembles slightly after all the exertion, and he doesn't manage to pull Quentin back down.
"Did you - like it, then?" he asks, feeling uncharacteristically shy.
He admits, and reaches up to brush the hair off his face, then thumb a tear away, along his temple, before grabbing the water off the dresser and cracking the cap, holding it gently up for him to take a tiny sip.
"Is that weird? I know it was therapeutic, I feel weird how- greedy I felt."
"And give me everything I needed," Jedao murmurs, before lying back and opening his mouth with a cheeky look. He isn't usually particularly fond of sweets, but he'll gladly take the opportunity to coax Quentin into hand feeding him.
Jedao curls up willingly in Quentin's lap, turning to press his face against Quentin's neck for long moments, nuzzling and breathing in the smell of him before allowing himself to drink more.
"It wasn't anything like I imagined," he admits. "But sort of perfect. It was so - direct, the feeling, I couldn't slide out from under it even for a moment."
no subject
(The golden moment, when Horseriver stroked his fox's ears and walked away over the invisible precipice, the black minutes when they first met, snarling and feral, finding each other in the mirror, craving exactly this - oh, he can't bear it, he can't, the most baffling of all revelations, he's a stubborn ragged stupid animal and something in him still wants to live- )
Jedao can't sustain a scream, rides out his ten seconds in low, heavy sobs, blinded by the mess of tears he can't wipe away, can only let drip and run onto the bedding, his chest heaving even where his mind is certain it's cracked open.
no subject
"You did so well," he murmurs, while he runs his hand along Jedao's chest, "you did amazingly, you are so strong and you are so good."
He's careful to put everything back with love, with devotion, making sure he feels not just okay, but better.
no subject
He aches all over, muscles strained from clutching and thrashing, but he knows he likes the touch, knows - Quentin, the voice is Quentin's, and the cloud of white hair, and Jedao can trust him.
Good, he thinks, but the gag stops him from echoing the word, so he just settles with a sigh and soaks up Quentin's ministrations.
no subject
"Nothing can get you through me. Nothing is going to hurt you. You're done."
Once everything is as it should be, Quentin drapes himself overtop of him, and speaks the word to release Jedao's arms and legs. He stays settled on him like a blanket, eyes shut, listening to his heartbeat.
no subject
no subject
He murmurs, and settles in, smiling against the crook of his shoulder.
"I am in awe of you. Oh- shit, you're still gagged."
Shifting up onto his knees to go get the knot, to come pepper his face with soft kisses.
no subject
"You were marvelous, darling," Jedao croaks, throat a little raw from shouting useless into the gag, his words a little bit slow but not slurred. He feels blessedly quiet now inside, worn out past the point of worrying, misty and lazy and sore.
no subject
He answers, and presses a reverent kiss to his forehead, before he sits reluctantly up.
"I've got some water, and some sweets for you." Because he is a reader, and the books say that this part is important. "Don't worry about me, just take it very slow. Gentle now."
no subject
"Did you - like it, then?" he asks, feeling uncharacteristically shy.
no subject
He admits, and reaches up to brush the hair off his face, then thumb a tear away, along his temple, before grabbing the water off the dresser and cracking the cap, holding it gently up for him to take a tiny sip.
"Is that weird? I know it was therapeutic, I feel weird how- greedy I felt."
no subject
"Greedy how?"
no subject
He says, and recaps the bottle, setting it aside, moving to reach for one of the little chocolates he found him.
no subject
no subject
"You must be exhausted. Catch your breath."
no subject
He turns his head, presses a kiss to Quentin's wrist.
"I'm resting, love. I'm not going anywhere."
no subject
He says, and keeps stroking, now shifting up to invite him into his lap, while he offers him water.
"Stay here and keep where I can see you."
no subject
"Yes, sir," Jedao says, teasing a little.
no subject
"That's right, sir. Don't forget it just yet."
no subject
no subject
"That was intense."
no subject
no subject
"I had a backup plan."
no subject
"You asked about electricity," he remembers.
no subject
He promises, and reaches for the blankets, grabbing a corner and tweaking them to come up over Jedao's toes, for warmth.
"If you ever want to do it again."
no subject
"You'll stay with me? You said you'd - want to."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
suicidal ideation
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw mental health, depression
cw mental health, depression
(no subject)
cw more suicide stuff
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)