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It was quiet.
The Great Hall had never truly been quiet; so far removed from the surface, there was no setting sun to signal a universal time of rest. There were always witches buzzing about the corridors.
But those days were behind Qifrey. He was in the countryside, far from any witches save the only one that mattered, in his very own house. Their house, he remembered with a dangerous bloom of warmth that he quickly tamped down.
He thought he might be lonely. He didn't miss the bustle of the Hall, but he had become rather accustomed to hearing the scratch of a pen and Olruggio's murmuring as he worked on his projects. But he had gone away to deliver a contraption, and for the first time in a very long while Qifrey was well and truly alone.
He drifted through the space, finding ways to occupy his time lest he become too complacent, tidying counters and rearranging decorations. He didn't feel entirely present, but neither did he feel content, so for now he was safe.
Then there was a gentle hum of magic as the Windowway opened, and Qifrey turned to look, and as he stepped through the portal Olruggio smiled at him in the way he did when he wasn't lying. And Qifrey found him to be terribly, achingly beautiful.
It wasn't the first time he thought it, but it struck him with such force that for a moment he was certain the Silverwood had finally pierced his heart. Olruggio took a few more steps inside, tilting his head slightly as he took in Qifrey's expression.
"You miss me?"
"Yes."
Qifrey's honest answer startled them both. Olruggio said he needed a bath and left Qifrey to grapple with the terrible swell of emotions that threatened to drown him. He needed to regain control, to compose himself before he became lost in it. But there was terror as much as there was joy, so perhaps it would not hurt to wallow in it for a time.
And wouldn't that be something? To indulge in it, if only for a short while. To let the adoration pour out of him. To let Olruggio see. To let him know the depth of the care he kept holed up inside, trapped in a silvery bough.
It was not as if the memories would linger.
Qifrey went to Olruggio's room, uninvited but never unwelcome. When Olruggio returned from his bath wearing naught but a bathrobe he found Qifrey standing there, dressed in his full witch regalia, staring at the glowing stones under his feet.
When Qifrey met his gaze, Olruggio looked properly worried. "You doin' alright?"
Qifrey nodded minutely. "I would like to kiss you."
Olruggio stared at him as if he had grown an extra head. "You what?! I'm not sure I heard you right."
Qifrey smiled in a way he tried to make real, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded. "I'm quite certain you did."
Olruggio continued to stare, cheeks quickly reddening. "I thought you didn't really…"
He didn't finish the thought, but he didn't need to; Qifrey knew exactly where his mind had gone. Because they had tried this once before, the awkward fumblings of youths who had only just begun to explore their changing bodies. It had frightened Qifrey for reasons he had not yet understood, and Olruggio, dear gentle Olruggio, had never pressed him for it again.
But Qifrey knew now the source of his anxiety, and he knew how to balance it, if only for a short while. It would need to be enough.
"We have both grown quite a bit since then, don't you think? Would you like to try again?"
Olruggio broke eye contact, glancing somewhere off to the side. "I haven't really done anything like that since then. I don't know how."
And wasn't that something? A possessive thrill shot through Quifrey. He'd never had anyone else. A sparkling joy followed by the customary guilt.
Qifrey tentatively reached forward, the lightest brush against his arm. "Neither have I. Shall we learn together?"
Olruggio met his gaze again, and there was a want there that left Qifrey breathless. "You really mean it?"
"I wouldn't lie to you." The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but they were true enough. Only the lies you told me to tell.
Olruggio reached forward slowly, as if he was certain Qifrey would disappear into smoke the moment he touched him. The first touch of his fingertips against Qifrey's cheek made him shudder so hard he thought he might need to end this immediately. But he couldn't stop now, not when Olruggio was looking at him like he was something incredible, not when something long buried in his chest was screaming with desire. He had to close his eye, lest the warmth in Olruggio's gaze burrow too deep for him to excise.
He felt the press of lips against his, warm and solid but uncertain. Blindly he reached forward, gripping the fabric of Olruggio's robe and pulling him closer. Olruggio stumbled but didn't fall, catching himself with an arm at Qifrey's waist. He huffed a breath of a laugh against Qifrey's lips and kissed him again, more sure this time, threading a hand through his hair, dislodging his hat and sending it to the ground with a soft thump.
Qifrey felt the scrape of facial hair against his jaw as Olruggio ducked his head to nose at his cheek. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."
Oh, but this was dangerous. Olruggio would forget, but Qifrey never would. He would forever carry the knowledge that Olruggio desired him, would fall in an instant if Qifrey would only let him. Perhaps it would keep Qifrey going, to know how close he lingered to everything he longed for, if only he were allowed to reach for it.
Qifrey opened his eye, safe now that Olruggio's face was hidden. He leaned into Olruggio's touch, savoring the warmth of him until he could bear it no longer. Qifrey tilted his head to whisper into his ear, "Take me to bed."
Olruggio startled, stepping back to stare at him with disbelief for the second time that night. "What?! Really? We've barely done anything yet!"
Qifrey didn't say that another gentle kiss might end his life. Instead he smiled and said, "I've been wanting this for a long time, too."
Olruggio's bed was only a few steps away. Qifrey picked up his hat and dusted it off, placing it carefully on the bedside table while Olruggio hastily straightened the sheets into something halfway presentable. As if they weren't about to muss them again.
Qifrey shed his robe, leaving it to pool on the ground as he considered the rest of his clothing. Olruggio was already all but naked; it was only fair that Qifrey match. He was acutely aware of Olruggio's eyes on him as he shed his layers, beyond feeling shame as the last of the fabric fell away. He lay down on the bed, back against the sheets, watching to see if Olruggio would follow him.
Olruggio seemed unsure of where to look, eyes skimming his body before jolting back to his face. Qifrey had never seen him so red.
He fumbled with the ties of his bathrobe before finally letting it fall away, and Qifrey stared unabashedly, drinking in the sight while he could, gaze tracing the path of hair down his chest and stomach. It very well may have been his only chance to do so.
Olruggio sat on the side of the bed, picking at a stray thread on one of the blankets. "And you're sure you want this?"
"I do. I am." This at least was the simple truth.
It felt right that Olruggio was warm, that his touch should leave a trail of heat in its wake. Quifrey wanted it to burn, wanted proof of his touch permanently etched into his skin. But Olruggio was gentle, and when he paused to press a kiss over Qifrey's heart he was ready to surrender to the burst of affection that threatened to overwhelm him.
He fought it only because he knew Olruggio would stop if he sensed something was wrong. He wasn't ready for that conversation, not now, not again. Better to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer, crash their lips together, drown the contentment in heat and desire. Olruggio broke the kiss to pant against his mouth at the scorching heat of skin against skin, groaning as he rested his forehead against Qifrey's.
"Fuck, Qifrey…"
That sent lava through his veins, burning away the serenity taking root inside him. Qifrey needed this. Qifrey needed this. He needed to see the fire in Olruggio's eyes, and to hear the sounds that spilled out of him as they moved together. He needed to be loved in a way that would not kill him.
"Olly, come here." He took one of Olruggio's hands and guided it downward, sighing softly as he wrapped warm fingers around himself.
Olruggio stroked him a few times before reaching for his nightstand, pointedly not making eye contact as he tugged open the drawer and retrieved a small, unlabeled pot of oil. He poured some onto his palm, warming it with his hand before taking Qifrey into his grip again, and oh that was far better. Dear Olruggio was always a quick study.
"Tell me what you want." Olruggio's voice was ragged, looking halfway gone despite barely having been touched himself. It was a very good look.
"You." Qifrey knew it wasn't a helpful answer but it was the only word he could squeeze past his throat.
Olruggio nodded like he understood, and Qifrey thought perhaps he did. He reached for the oil again, and after looking up to check in with Qifrey he pressed a newly slicked finger against his hole, pushing inside with an agonizing slowness.
It burned, and Qifrey clenched his jaw against the pain. Olruggio rubbed his thigh with his free hand, murmuring, "You need to relax. It's going to keep hurting if you don't."
Qifrey stared up at him for a moment, then let out a stuttering laugh. Olruggio withdrew his finger, frowning a bit as he no doubt tried to find the joke.
Qifrey smiled and patted his cheek. "This isn't going to work. Would you trade places with me?"
Olruggio didn't question him further, and after a brief amount of shuffling they had rearranged themselves with Olruggio on his back and Qifrey leaning over him. This was safer, he thought, being in control. Even if the wide, trusting eyes Olruggio was looking up at him with were difficult to stomach.
He mimicked Olruggio's motions, coating a finger in oil before pushing it inside. Olruggio tensed for a moment and then relaxed, letting out a long, slow breath. He grabbed Qifrey's other hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing.
"Keep going," Olruggio encouraged, and Qifrey wasn't sure what he was doing but he had always been rather talented with his hands. He let Olruggio guide him, learning the angles that worked and the ones that did not, and he was three fingers deep when he discovered that if he pressed just so Olruggio would yank on the hand still grasped in his.
"Qifrey," he groaned, "Stop doing that right now, unless you're ready to be done."
Qifrey couldn't help teasing the spot one more time before showing mercy and sliding his hand free. He wiped his hand on the sheets with a muttered promise to clean them later before grabbing the oil one more time. As he coated himself he took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him, of Olruggio naked and sweaty and wanting. Perfection.
He wasn't quite sure how to make the angle work, but they had come too far to be stopped by logistics. By lifting Olruggio's hips and pushing his legs back over himself they finally found a position that let Qifrey press inside, and he shuddered with the thrill of it. He could die like this, as close as he could be to the person he loved most in the world.
But he would never hurt Olruggio like that. Instead he moved, and the way Olruggio cried out beneath him chased away any thoughts of giving in. He needed to live long enough to see him fall apart, and to know he was the one who brought him there.
Qifrey's hands fell to Olruggio's chest, feeling the way his heart pulsed beneath his fingertips. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so present and alive. His heart raced and a bead of sweat trickled down his neck and Olruggio looked at him like he was beautiful.
It caught him by surprise, the sudden crest and crash of pleasure shooting through him, and he choked on a gasp as he stuttered to a stop, pressing as close as he was able. Olruggio was still straining beneath him so he took him in hand, stroking until he cried out in relief.
Qifrey was trembling when he pulled out and let himself sink into the bed beside Olruggio. Olruggio wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his back and rumbling soothing words. Qifrey barely heard him, pleasure fuzzing to contentment that flared immediately into alarm. He wanted this, wanted more than anything to curl into Olruggio's embrace and rest, but his time was up. He could no longer fight the rising tide inside of him.
He kissed Olruggio one last time, murmuring a soft "Thank you" as he reached past him to where his hat waited on the nightstand. Olruggio smiled at him, unaware and trusting to the last moment. He startled for only a heartbeat as the hat was pushed over his eyes before dropping off into an unnatural sleep.
Qifrey did not allow himself to linger. With swift efficiency he busied himself with cleaning up the evidence of their coupling, grabbing the quire from the pocket of his robes containing the spells he had prepared to assist him. A part of him hoped that Olruggio would wake, would catch him in such a compromising position and force him to explain. He would be too wary for Qifrey to cast another spell on him; he would have no choice but to confess. If Olruggio forgave him for this, Qifrey was certain he would not survive it.
He did not wake. Olruggio continued to sleep even as Qifrey retrieved his hat and robes and quietly slipped from the room.
Qifrey made it to his bedroom and locked the door before allowing himself to break. He sank to the floor, arms around his knees, as the guilt and shame crashed over him. He immersed himself in the pain of it, let it sink into his bones and blacken the branches that crawled up his back. The more he wished they'd take him the further they retreated, until they left behind naught but an empty well of despair.
When he had no tears left to shed he stood and moved himself into bed. He laid his hat on the space beside him and wrapped the ribbon around his hand, tight enough to hurt. He kissed the silky fabric and whispered quiet apologies that would never reach the ears of the person that needed to hear them.
When he finally closed his eyes, he was relieved at the speed with which exhaustion claimed him.