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Assan took a breath, leaning back against his door. The air full of wood and the subtle tinge of smoke, how he liked it and wanted it. A small smile stretched upon his face seeing his room exactly as he had left it, despite how much time had passed.
Or at least it was almost exactly as he left it, his blue ice eyes glanced to the empty spot on his low-legged table. He pushed himself from the door and maneuvered himself through his crowded room to the table. Once he reached it, he leaned down to touch the empty space. Assan remembered exactly what he had left there among all his other knick knacks and objects. His small smile grew and he flopped back on to his chaise lounge, kicking his feet up into the empty spot. He felt contented with the fact it had been the brat to roam among his things, he wasn’t sure he’d have been as forgiving if it had been anyone else.
There was a soft knock at his door and he hummed, leaning his head over the back of his chaise.
“Come in.” His voice carried through the silent room and the door slowly pushed open.
“Assan.” Caswyn addressed him, carefully stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. Assan felt himself brighten in spirits a little more at the Trevelyan’s presence, to no longer be alone and imprisoned in his own head.
“Came to check on me?”
“Maybe. Are you feeling okay?”
“As fine as someone who went through possession could be, I suppose.” Assan chuckled despite how deep and dark that thought really felt, dropping it down into the bottom of his stomach to be forgotten.
“Stop acting like it’s a joke, you were dead.” Caswyn’s voice came out levelled, but held such a chilling accusation. Assan could almost say that the little spoiled brat felt slighted at him leaving no more than a bunch of strangers behind, what a silly thing to be upset about. The human barely knew him and he barely knew the shem; at most they shared a bed more than once, but there was a difference between knowing someone and knowing someone’s body.
“I wasn’t dead, brat. I just wasn’t here.” He let out a sigh, wondering if the little Trevelyan would leave it at that. The human had definitely become more vocal in his absence.
“We thought you had died, you walked away to what we all thought was death with a Maker forsaken smile. You left us–”
“You took my figures.” Assan interrupted, focused back on the empty spot where he rested his feet. His head tipped forward again to stare at his leather boots and he crossed them, before looking back to Caswyn still at the door.
“I…I did.” Caswyn’s response came out slowly, a frown on his face as he obviously picked up on Assan’s change of topic like he always did. Clever, prideful, little shem that he was.
“What did you do with them?”
“We have them on the war table. If you want them back, you’re welcome to take them.”
Assan hummed again, resting his head back again to stare at the ceiling.
“Keep them, I don’t need them.” Assan dismissed the offer, a smirk quirked his lips. “Did I do you justice? I worked very hard to carve you just right, in all the right places.”
Caswyn coughed and Assan’s smirk slid into a grin, though he wondered how Caswyn first reacted to seeing the wood carving of himself. Something Assan made with his own, impatient hands out of boredom and with a little too much care. He may have been casual with the little Trevelyan, but he still appreciated the man’s attractiveness and his willingness.
“It was nice, actually. I was honored you took the time to make a figurine of me.” Caswyn’s unnecessary response made Assan nod and a small silence fell over the room, though Assan could hear the tiny brat shuffling in the background. Trevelyan eventually breaking their quiet by clearing his throat and Assan’s view of ceiling was blocked by Caswyn’s visage, The human looked down at him, searching for something with those gorgeous iron-cold eyes. “I want to repay you somehow.”
“A kiss might work, maybe a bit of your time. We elves are so plucky and desire demons are so misleading.” Assan chuckled again as Caswyn let out a huff, the human settling his arms on the chaise back above Assan’s shoulders.
“I was thinking of something more material and long-lasting?” Caswyn emphasized.
“Hm, I don’t know. I don’t really need anything at the moment.” Assan explained, his hand reaching up to play with the cuff of Caswyn’s glove.
“What do you want, then?”
“You bent over? Or just the nice silks of your bed, that would be wonderful.”
“Assan.”
Assan laughed at the glare he recieved, the other man’s face slowly reddening more and more at each tease Assan gave.
“I don’t know, truly. I don’t get gifts, sometimes I give them and sometimes I take them. I like boots, what about boots?” Assan offered and relaxed further into the cushions, the moment almost feeling like he never left. As if he never suffered at the hands of a demon or needed to be brought back, saved, by the brat.
“Boots then, I’ll have a custom pair made.” Caswyn assured him, the noble nodded and pushed away from the chaise.
“Or you could just as easily give me a sweet taste of you and save yourself the trouble.”
“Or you could get my boot up your ass.” Caswyn’s lips twitched in the slightest as he forced a sigh.
“True, so very true.” Assan laughed again and Caswyn stepped out of Assan’s sight, his boots thudding against the floor and moving towards the door. “Thank you, brat.”
“Welcome back, Assan.”