[he stays still and silent while gallagher dresses his wounds, no matter how much it hurts, especially when he's cleaning out the grime and blood. by the time gallagher is done, sunday is breathing heavily despite having not moved, the pain robbing him of his breath.
he immediately takes another drink, pops it open, and downs it. the most inelegant that gallagher has ever seen him, honestly, but he thinks he can be afforded a moment of impropriety considering his situation. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand afterward, begging the drink to work its magic a little faster. he looks fucking haggard, to say the least. but, well-
-this is the price of ambition.]
...You were not lying when you said you wanted to cooperate after all. [he sinks back onto the couch, just marinating in his misery and letting the drink work to mend his flesh.] It would be a useless endeavor to do all this just to kill me, after all. You'd gain little from it - other than satisfaction, if your detestation runs deeper than your actions would suggest.
[ It doesn't bother Gallagher that Sunday downs the drink in a manner that isn't so typical of him. If anything, it just shows that the man is the same as the rest of humanity— imperfect in many ways. The Hound even grows more fond of him, but he resists the urge to ruffle silvery blue hair because he knows Sunday might not appreciate that.
He stands up to put the cloth and small box away, still keeping up with the conversation since his space is not that large anyway. His voice carries through regardless. ]
Why would I lie about that? Your sister already chose to side with me, so I figured you would too.
[ In hindsight, that was his mistake for not considering the likelihood that Sunday might swerve a different way, but still he thought... ]
Besides, killing you is the last thing l want. I'd rather you wake up from this dream instead.
[ By the time he says this, he's standing right in front of Sunday again, a small smile on his lips. ]
You should get yourself looked at in reality if you're hurt this badly here.
[he's a bird, not a dog like you, gallagher! treat him with some delicacy!!! ...outside the bedroom, of course. but they're not quite to that point yet. sunday doesn't even realize that that point exists between them, that it's a possibility, so caught up with his ambition and goals as he was. he'd had stray thoughts, sure, but he was quick to reign them in, to recenter himself to the ultimate goal.
and well, now that goal is shattered.
robin is far too trusting. sunday knows it's not really fair to think of his beloved sister that way, but he's had to for her protection. even then, she nearly got killed- and she could again-
he shakes his head. breathe. she's fine- or she better be.]
Allow me to stay just a little longer. [his eyes stray downward, then hurriedly back up. get that out of his face gallagher, god!!!] I- don't want to face reality just yet. And I don't mean the consequences of my actions. [but the reality of his ambitions laying to ruin. that he can't keep everyone safe and happy in their little cages after all.]
I imagine you'll want company anyway, yes? What happens to you, after all this?
[ To spare Sunday from the torture of looking at his cock (up close and personal), Gallagher kneels before him, reaching out with one hand to grasp him by the wrist. Mostly to remind him that whatever bad thoughts he may be having right now, this Hound is here to protect him from the worst of it. To remind him that he isn't alone, and will never be for as long as Gallagher still exists. ]
You'll have to face it eventually, but you're welcome to stay here until then. For as long as you need.
[ Now it's his turn to look down, sunset eyes unable to meet Sunday's golden ones while he thinks about his own future. ]
... You already know that I'm a minion of Enigmata, that I'm made up of several parts from others who exist. I'm not real, technically, so I'll be out of your hair soon enough.
[thank the great one that he's finally free of gallagher's oppressive package. he can breathe a silent sigh of relief. but he is then - touched, his wrist taken into gallagher's hold, a light shiver originating at the point of touch. it's grounding, which he sorely needs, especially upon hearing gallagher's explanation.]
What do you- you're going to disappear?
[he frowns at that. gallagher may have stabbed him (sunday isn't bitter about that, he swears), but he's still... he's here by his side, warm. and that means something. he isn't sure where to direct his own gaze either, so he just lets it drop to his held wrist. held in gallagher's warm, solid hand. how could someone who exists here and now - just cease to be?
he supposes it makes sense. gallagher wasn't supposed to be here. isn't supposed to exist. goes against the natural order of things.
but then why do his wings fold at the very thought?
why does everything eventually get taken away- he looks up, now.]
Many more fantastical things have occurred in this great universe than the inorganic becoming organic. If you're merely going to disappear, then why do you form thoughts as any other? If you are just pieces scraped together, then how is it that you are unable to meet my gaze?
For a man doing so much for my own sake, why do you give up so easily on yourself?
[ The answer comes easily to him, even if he remains unable to meet Sunday's eyes. What Sunday asks of him is something that has been on his mind for the past little while, most likely because of how his curtain call is closely approaching. His own existence has always been something he's aware of, resigned to his fate as a fictional creation that's only meant to fulfill a role.
Now that the role is done, it's time for him to exit stage left. Never to be seen again.
But why does he linger still? Why is he holding onto Sunday without any intention of letting him go? Why does it hurt to think about leaving him behind? ]
If I can change the cards I've been dealt with, I would— but it's impossible for something fictional like me.
You clearly wish to have a future. So fight for it.
[have just like - even a sliver of sunday's ambition, gallagher! prior to his downfall, of course, because he feels beaten and broken and hopeless right now. why is he giving up so easily? has he even tried to figure out a way to become real? there has to be a way. like he said, stranger things have surely occurred.
gallagher is a pathstrider. so he has a will of his own. he must-
-ah, why is sunday feeling so desperate all of a sudden. perhaps... it is the lack of expectation from gallagher. since all his plans have come to ruin, he can just exist here. let down his guard. what's the worst that can happen when the worst that could happen has already occurred? his wings droop.]
Are you dispensing all these pleasantries because you know you're going to disappear, soon?
[ Sunday makes it sounds so easy. If it was a matter of simply fighting to have a future, then he would've found a way to do so alongside keeping Penacony safe. Alas, his case is a bit different, he thinks, because you can't exactly fight against a fate like his. Then again, it's not like it has ever been tried before, so who knows—
But he won't say much more on that subject. There's no point in leaning into false hopes.
He trails his fingers upward, all the way until he reaches the base of Sunday's wing. There he starts petting the man, a gesture meant to soothe his desperation. ]
Nah. If you remember, I wanted to work with you, but you chose the Order over me. If it weren't for our Paths, I know we would've gotten along very well.
[ Their topics of conversation aside, things have been pretty pleasant... right? ]
I did. [there is no denying his choice. and seeing where he ended up... would he do it again? his faith is shaken. his foundation crumbling beneath his feat. he knows nothing right now. he just knows he wants gallagher to stay. to fight for his life, like he fought for sunday.
the touch on his wing is a little startling. sadly, he is but a man, and proven to not be the great one's strongest soldier. he leans into the scritches, a weary follower wanting a bit of comfort. he is so tired of sacrifice. how much more will he have to lose? he would rather die than lose robin, at least. so he supposes if nothing else, he will have her. or he will be dead.
but what a sad reality that would be.]
You can't leave me. [said to himself rather than to gallagher, though it's certainly loud enough for gallagher to hear.] I won't allow it.
[he gets a little lost in his thoughts, and if he didn't have an iron grip on the frequencies of his halo, gallagher would surely feel the frustration and anxiety welling up within him. the look in his eyes sharpens as he finds his resolve, hardening, narrowing. he reaches out to grasp gallagher's tie, to tug him firmly closer, until their faces are but inches apart.]
You will not scatter to the winds to be forgotten until I permit you to do so. If your story is to end here, I will pen your future myself if I have to. Your soul will belong to me and me alone. If you've been abandoned, I shall be your new master and give you purpose. [his golden eyes blaze bright with that familiar light of ambition. something new to fight for.]
[ You can't leave me, Sunday says, even if it isn't addressed to him. I won't allow it.
Gallagher can feel how quickly his breath gets stuck in his throat after hearing those words. Whispered as they are, they're still loud enough to cut through the noise that's been a constant inside his own head ever since his part in this story has come to an end. They reach beyond the discordant notes, reminding him that just because one door closes doesn't mean that's the end of it.
Another one will create a new path, especially when there's someone on the other side extending their hand.
Sunday pulls him close, and Gallager allows it. Sunset eyes meet the blazing determination simmering under that golden gaze, and if he were in a better state of mind, he would have kissed Sunday right there and then. He presses their foreheads together instead, his expression faltering. ]
Even if you're the only one who remembers me, it's all I need. [ Maybe that's not what Sunday wants to hear, but it's the truth. Gallagher can't ask for anything more than that. ] But why would you go this far for an old Hound who has outlived his purpose?
I've been asking you that very question this entire time. Why indeed. [he looks up at gallagher, wondering why this man seems so intent on aiding this broken little bird. is it similar to the way he felt when he and robin came across the charmony dove? just an earnestness to help another in need? especially a frail little thing, small and vulnerable to the world.
gallagher said they might have gotten along. perhaps it's to chase that imaginary connection of another lifetime.
he searches gallagher's expression. he's never been quite this close to gallagher before. were his eyes always this fiery? so warm with-- want. sunday may not have much experience in matters of romance, but combined with the look, words, and actions, it's not difficult to parse together the reason why gallagher might have extended his hand. and he's halovian, he isn't ignorant of the many admirers he's had over the years. he knows the look of interest.
it's a little surprising. he doesn't know how to take it. but what he does know is that this makes convincing gallagher to keep on living all the easier. he reaches up, sliding smooth palms against stubbled jaw.]
Ah - I may have found my answer after all. [thumb traces along gallagher's lips. careful. precise.] Though I will admit, I didn't expect you of all people, real or not, to desire the very man who found himself at the end of your blade.
[ If Gallagher were being honest, which he usually isn't, then he wouldn't know how to answer that question either. Why, indeed. Why does he feel compelled to extend his hand to this broken bird in hopes that it will find solace in his grasp? It's strange for something like him to even have desires, to want something so selfishly when he's been made for one purpose alone, and yet here he is, leaning into Sunday's touch.
How warm those fingers felt on his flesh, despite how stitched together they were by stolen traits. He becomes still when Sunday traces over his lips, his breath catching in his throat once more. It's difficult to tell what his heart — can he even call it his? — is doing, but it beats wildly. Perhaps loud enough for the other man to hear.
He huffs quietly, hoping it would quell this surge of emotions. ]
... I only wanted to show you the truth. It's not my fault Dormancy likes to ferry souls over with a blade.
[ Or it might be? But he won't elaborate on that. ]
But I still lost. Your faith is unwavering. It's almost admirable.
Almost admirable? And yet, you still look at me with sin.
[he keeps his hold on the tie, keeping gallagher close. he touches against gallagher's face, his chapped lips, the stubble along his cheek, the wrinkles along his laugh lines. gallagher's gaze is so heated against him, much like his body. which is very large, covering his own body completely.]
Are you holding yourself back for my sake? If you're supposedly going to disappear, shouldn't you want to indulge in every desire before that happens?
[he slips his thumb into gallagher's mouth, pressing down on his tongue with idle interest. as if he's forbidding gallagher to talk just yet.] I am but a fallen angel at this point. Your consideration is kind but ultimately unnecessary. THEY of the Triple-Faced Soul no longer looks upon me with favor.
[grief and hopelessness engulfs him once more, making his wings droop. and in a moment of rare impulsivity, something that was denied from him for so long, he removes his thumb from gallagher's mouth, tugs him even closer to press his lips against gallagher's. he can have this want, too, since he's been abandoned by his faith.]
[ That's exactly it— Gallagher is holding back because he will disappear. He'll be gone before Sunday even realizes it. He would tell him so if he weren't forbidden from opening his mouth, that exploring finger trapping the words in his throat, left to be forgotten. Just like he will be once the curtain call finally comes for him.
Isn't that a worst fate? To selfishly reach out for something, only to let it slip through your fingertips like sand?
But Sunday doesn't give him that choice. His eyes widen when soft lips press against his, caught off-guard by the boldness of the move, especially because of who initiated it. This is the last thing he ever expected Sunday to do, and yet— he melts into it, one hand reaching up to frame the other man's face, holding him close as he kisses him back.
It's soft, sweet; gentle in all the right ways. As if he's still afraid of what might happen if he completely loses himself in it. But he follows after Sunday's lead, lingering.
[and oh, does sunday lead. despite having kept himself pure for his aeon and thus having no experience with this, he just pushes forward with all the confidence of a man who knows exactly what he wants. and what he wants is gallagher. and what he has is gallagher. and he'd very much like to keep it that way.
he fists his hand in gallagher's hair and keeps him close. he's moving purely on desire and passion, wings folding around their heads as if to maintain privacy to an unseen audience.
gallagher is a big man, and he's always known it but has never been quite so aware of it as he is now. gallagher's mass practically covers him completely, bracketing him in such a way that onlookers would hardly even see sunday. but there is no audience and there are no onlookers. it's just him and gallagher. and he shall ensure it remains that way. no matter what he has to do to make that happen.
there's a blip in sunday's tightly-held frequency of his halo, emitting feelings of longing, of lonliness, of hopelessness. just a moment, before sunday brings himself back into the moment rather than losing himself in the kiss. even if gallagher may disappear in the next hour, sunday... sunday still must maintain control of his frequencies. he shifts a little, perhaps bumping into a, ah, rather difficult part of gallagher's anatomy. heh.]
[ The wings hiding them away from the rest of the world are soft against his skin. He wants to reach out and run his fingers along their shape, but what he wants to do more than that is hold Sunday close. Even more so when he can feel the man's yearning, his hopelessness and loneliness.
He holds onto him even tighter as the kiss deepens, almost as if he wants to rob them both of air just so this moment can remain frozen in time forever. Because he knows they don't have forever, but that barely matters anymore.
Kissing Sunday is sweet, sweeter than anything he's ever tasted. This is surprising to him but mostly because he never expected it to be this way, but then again, he barely knows anything about Sunday, and every little thing he learns is a blessing. Something he'll keep in mind for the future if they're lucky.
And when the man brushes against his cock, he groans lowly, muffled by the kiss. It prompts him to break away just enough to murmur against the man's lips. ]
... Careful, angel.
[ He doesn't want to be greedy, but he wants Sunday to do that again. ]
[sunday is breathing heavily, as if gallagher had stolen his breath right out of his lungs. at first he doesn't know what gallagher is referring to, but when he shifts again, he feels a particular hardness, one that makes him both flustered and... excited? like a child breaking curfew. like telling one's parents no for the first time. it's an exhilaration he hasn't ever known.
and he intends to explore this path further.
he smiles, but there's a sort of smugness underlying it.]
There's nothing to worry about, Mr. Gallagher. I am taking care to be cautious with my injury.
[knowing 100% that is not what gallagher meant, he now purposefully rubs his leg along gallagher's cock, feeling him harden and thicken further. he knows how this works, at least, from the few times he's allowed himself to indulge in sin before ruthlessly punishing himself for it.]
[ Gallagher's own voice is rough, nearly breathless. Sunset eyes narrow ever so slightly at Sunday because he doesn't trust that smile one bit. Not because he thinks the Halovian is going to hurt him, but more so because he can tell when someone has every intent to tease and humiliate others. Sunday seems like the type to get off on having this much control over someone, so—
His breath stutters into a soft groan. The audacity of this man to rub against him like that while pretending to be innocent. If he wasn't injured, Gallagher would have shoved him on the floor for that. ]
Now you're playing dirty, feathers. That's not fair.
[ One strong arm reaches to guide Sunday down on the couch, urging him to lie down so this Hound can loom over him. ]
[gallagher has read sunday like the holy texts sunday grew up on. he does get off on having absolute control over others. it's how he lives and breathes. and thank god gallagher is patient enough to teach him to eventually be able to practice it healthily. even if neither of them are focused on that yet - too busy living in the moment, at the fact that gallagher could disappear at any moment.
he looks up at gallagher. he should be wary - this man stabbed him. but... he's really shown that that was just. a tactic. to show him the truth. that it wasn't out of malice or spite, but out of... care for him. he sees that now.
he reaches up to place a hand on a stubbly cheek.]
Perhaps that's my precise intention, Hound.
[he folds a knee up to brush against him with more purpose this time, so gallagher knows what sunday is wanting. and it's him.]
[ Once the two of them are on the couch, he looms over the other man, observing him quietly this entire time. The hand resting on his cheek feels nice against his skin, prompting him to lean into it like a lost dog looking for simple affection. He doesn't want to lose this, and he knows it's selfish to think this way.
But with Sunday insistently pressing his knee against his cock, he loses all capabilities to think of anything else. His whole body shudders out of instinct, feeling just as touch-starved as the other man. ]
If that's the case...
[ Don't mind if he indulges.
He captures Sunday's mouth in another searing kiss, both hands now roaming all over the man's clothes. The Halovian has too many buttons and latches that he's half-tempted to start ripping the fabric apart, but he knows he'll get reprimanded for doing so. He takes his time to unwrap him, but whenever he loses patience, he rewards himself by cupping the other man's cock, palming him over his pants to tide them both over.
At the same time, he's moved on from kissing him to worrying the skin on his neck, wanting to leave pretty bruises that can't be hidden by clothes alone. ]
[inexperienced lips meet gallagher's, unsure what to do but simply following gallagher's lead whenever possible. he can feel the other's impatience, is ready to scold should he tear his clothing, but the hound is ever a good boy and seems to temper his impatience.
temper it by touching him, that is.
the touch is surprising, draws a breathy gasp from sunday. he's certainly been curious, and may have done an unholy deed here and there (with severe self-punishment afterward), but dear thousand-faced great one... it feels so different when it's someone else touching him. he squirms, even more so when gallagher directs his attention to his neck. he is quickly feeling overwhelmed and feeling way out of his element. he has to gain his sense of control back, he-
-he comes quickly with desperate little ahs before slumping against the couch. holy...
his entire body goes slack as he fights to catch his breath, hands clinging to gallagher for dear fucking life. he can't even find it in himself to be mad that his pants haven't come off yet (just wait for it, though).
[ Rather than wait for Sunday to come to that realization, Gallagher fishes him out of his pants unceremoniously, quickly sliding off the now stained piece of clothing from his legs along with his underwear just so rough fingers can wrap around his cock. He feels so pleased with himself for making Sunday cum this fast, but he's sure the man's inexperience also has something to do with it, so he won't tease him for what just happened.
Instead, he kisses him deeply, hungrily, wanting to steal every gasp and moan from the other until he can't think of anything else but this. The way their bodies are close. The way Gallagher is still touching him, tentatively, slowly, just so he doesn't hurt him past the oversensitivity.
His lips move from Sunday's to murmur hotly next to his ear. ]
Feeling good, angel?
[ It's excruciating to take this slow, but he doesn't want to rush after the man just reached his release. He'll give him some time to recover from it while he leaves lovebites all over his neck. ]
[sunday's flushed, his pale skin making it all the more obvious. he's not really embarrassed by his experience at least, but more just overwhelmed by everything that's going on right now. his legs are trembling, pale thighs shiny with his spend. it feels so incredibly sinful - is incredibly sinful. he's warring with himself if it's even okay to feel this way.
he doesn't have the time to worry about it, though, because he's swept up in gallagher's pace, his kiss. he truly can't think about anything or anyone else but gallagher. his weight, his warmth, his scent - the man simply encompasses him entirely, in a way sunday's never experienced before.]
I- just keep going-
[because admitting he feels good from carnal pleasures is definitely a sin. but... he's starting to like being a sinner in a sense, if it means getting to do this with gallagher. the wings on his head fold a little around his face, as if providing a protective barrier from all the sins of the world.
but... but he wants another kiss... he wants gallagher to do more... he wants more.]
[ The soft pleas earn a smile from Gallagher. He's all the more eager to grant every single one of Sunday's desires, no matter what they are. He leans in for another kiss, a second one, a third— he licks into the man's mouth, relishing his taste that reminds him of sweets and a sunny day. His fingers wipe the cum from the crown of Sunday's cock, gentle as he does so.
It feels surreal to be doing this with the former Head of the Oak Family, because the man has always made it a point to carry himself with dignity and respect. This sinful exchange between them, the old Hound never thought it would ever come to this. That something like this would ever happen. But he's here to make sure to take advantage, because it might be the last chance he'll ever get.
He pulls away from the kiss, sunset eyes narrowed and darkened with desire. His hands trail down Sunday's thighs, spreading him open to expose him some more. An obscene position, but it's necessary for what he wants to do next. ]
You sure you're ready for this, Sunday?
[ His cock looks strained behind his pants, but he rubs the bulge of it against the Halovian's taint, close to where he wants to be and yet still so far away. Even underneath the fabric, he looks huge, so he needs to know if this is what Sunday truly wants. ]
[and gallagher will be the ONLY one to see sunday like this, spread out and vulnerable and indulging in sin. so eager and wanting. so raw and selfish. once gallagher disappears into nothingness, no one will ever see him like that again as long as he lives.
it's not fair, that sunday has fallen to find the one who would love him so unconditionally... only for that man to fade away. perhaps it's punishment. perhaps a man like sunday deserves to find the most fleeting of desires only to lose it. but if this is the only moment of carnal passion he will experience, Thousand Faced One damn it all it's a memorable one.]
I'm not sure. I only know that- that I want you. And I want- no, I demand that you give me all of you-
[a soft sigh at the press of gallagher against him, and he wantonly cants his hips up for more. what 'more' contains is... honestly, somewhat of an unknown to sunday. he has the gist, of course, but- all he knows is. wherever that path takes him, he just wants to be with gallagher in any way he can. as close as two people, fictional or not, can get.]
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he immediately takes another drink, pops it open, and downs it. the most inelegant that gallagher has ever seen him, honestly, but he thinks he can be afforded a moment of impropriety considering his situation. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand afterward, begging the drink to work its magic a little faster. he looks fucking haggard, to say the least. but, well-
-this is the price of ambition.]
...You were not lying when you said you wanted to cooperate after all. [he sinks back onto the couch, just marinating in his misery and letting the drink work to mend his flesh.] It would be a useless endeavor to do all this just to kill me, after all. You'd gain little from it - other than satisfaction, if your detestation runs deeper than your actions would suggest.
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He stands up to put the cloth and small box away, still keeping up with the conversation since his space is not that large anyway. His voice carries through regardless. ]
Why would I lie about that? Your sister already chose to side with me, so I figured you would too.
[ In hindsight, that was his mistake for not considering the likelihood that Sunday might swerve a different way, but still he thought... ]
Besides, killing you is the last thing l want. I'd rather you wake up from this dream instead.
[ By the time he says this, he's standing right in front of Sunday again, a small smile on his lips. ]
You should get yourself looked at in reality if you're hurt this badly here.
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and well, now that goal is shattered.
robin is far too trusting. sunday knows it's not really fair to think of his beloved sister that way, but he's had to for her protection. even then, she nearly got killed- and she could again-
he shakes his head. breathe. she's fine- or she better be.]
Allow me to stay just a little longer. [his eyes stray downward, then hurriedly back up. get that out of his face gallagher, god!!!] I- don't want to face reality just yet. And I don't mean the consequences of my actions. [but the reality of his ambitions laying to ruin. that he can't keep everyone safe and happy in their little cages after all.]
I imagine you'll want company anyway, yes? What happens to you, after all this?
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You'll have to face it eventually, but you're welcome to stay here until then. For as long as you need.
[ Now it's his turn to look down, sunset eyes unable to meet Sunday's golden ones while he thinks about his own future. ]
... You already know that I'm a minion of Enigmata, that I'm made up of several parts from others who exist. I'm not real, technically, so I'll be out of your hair soon enough.
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What do you- you're going to disappear?
[he frowns at that. gallagher may have stabbed him (sunday isn't bitter about that, he swears), but he's still... he's here by his side, warm. and that means something. he isn't sure where to direct his own gaze either, so he just lets it drop to his held wrist. held in gallagher's warm, solid hand. how could someone who exists here and now - just cease to be?
he supposes it makes sense. gallagher wasn't supposed to be here. isn't supposed to exist. goes against the natural order of things.
but then why do his wings fold at the very thought?
why does everything eventually get taken away-he looks up, now.]Many more fantastical things have occurred in this great universe than the inorganic becoming organic. If you're merely going to disappear, then why do you form thoughts as any other? If you are just pieces scraped together, then how is it that you are unable to meet my gaze?
For a man doing so much for my own sake, why do you give up so easily on yourself?
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[ The answer comes easily to him, even if he remains unable to meet Sunday's eyes. What Sunday asks of him is something that has been on his mind for the past little while, most likely because of how his curtain call is closely approaching. His own existence has always been something he's aware of, resigned to his fate as a fictional creation that's only meant to fulfill a role.
Now that the role is done, it's time for him to exit stage left. Never to be seen again.
But why does he linger still? Why is he holding onto Sunday without any intention of letting him go? Why does it hurt to think about leaving him behind? ]
If I can change the cards I've been dealt with, I would— but it's impossible for something fictional like me.
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[have just like - even a sliver of sunday's ambition, gallagher! prior to his downfall, of course, because he feels beaten and broken and hopeless right now. why is he giving up so easily? has he even tried to figure out a way to become real? there has to be a way. like he said, stranger things have surely occurred.
gallagher is a pathstrider. so he has a will of his own. he must-
-ah, why is sunday feeling so desperate all of a sudden. perhaps... it is the lack of expectation from gallagher. since all his plans have come to ruin, he can just exist here. let down his guard. what's the worst that can happen when the worst that could happen has already occurred? his wings droop.]
Are you dispensing all these pleasantries because you know you're going to disappear, soon?
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But he won't say much more on that subject. There's no point in leaning into false hopes.
He trails his fingers upward, all the way until he reaches the base of Sunday's wing. There he starts petting the man, a gesture meant to soothe his desperation. ]
Nah. If you remember, I wanted to work with you, but you chose the Order over me. If it weren't for our Paths, I know we would've gotten along very well.
[ Their topics of conversation aside, things have been pretty pleasant... right? ]
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the touch on his wing is a little startling. sadly, he is but a man, and proven to not be the great one's strongest soldier. he leans into the scritches, a weary follower wanting a bit of comfort. he is so tired of sacrifice. how much more will he have to lose? he would rather die than lose robin, at least. so he supposes if nothing else, he will have her. or he will be dead.
but what a sad reality that would be.]
You can't leave me. [said to himself rather than to gallagher, though it's certainly loud enough for gallagher to hear.] I won't allow it.
[he gets a little lost in his thoughts, and if he didn't have an iron grip on the frequencies of his halo, gallagher would surely feel the frustration and anxiety welling up within him. the look in his eyes sharpens as he finds his resolve, hardening, narrowing. he reaches out to grasp gallagher's tie, to tug him firmly closer, until their faces are but inches apart.]
You will not scatter to the winds to be forgotten until I permit you to do so. If your story is to end here, I will pen your future myself if I have to. Your soul will belong to me and me alone. If you've been abandoned, I shall be your new master and give you purpose. [his golden eyes blaze bright with that familiar light of ambition. something new to fight for.]
Do you understand, Hound?
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Gallagher can feel how quickly his breath gets stuck in his throat after hearing those words. Whispered as they are, they're still loud enough to cut through the noise that's been a constant inside his own head ever since his part in this story has come to an end. They reach beyond the discordant notes, reminding him that just because one door closes doesn't mean that's the end of it.
Another one will create a new path, especially when there's someone on the other side extending their hand.
Sunday pulls him close, and Gallager allows it. Sunset eyes meet the blazing determination simmering under that golden gaze, and if he were in a better state of mind, he would have kissed Sunday right there and then. He presses their foreheads together instead, his expression faltering. ]
Even if you're the only one who remembers me, it's all I need. [ Maybe that's not what Sunday wants to hear, but it's the truth. Gallagher can't ask for anything more than that. ] But why would you go this far for an old Hound who has outlived his purpose?
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gallagher said they might have gotten along. perhaps it's to chase that imaginary connection of another lifetime.
he searches gallagher's expression. he's never been quite this close to gallagher before. were his eyes always this fiery? so warm with-- want. sunday may not have much experience in matters of romance, but combined with the look, words, and actions, it's not difficult to parse together the reason why gallagher might have extended his hand. and he's halovian, he isn't ignorant of the many admirers he's had over the years. he knows the look of interest.
it's a little surprising. he doesn't know how to take it. but what he does know is that this makes convincing gallagher to keep on living all the easier. he reaches up, sliding smooth palms against stubbled jaw.]
Ah - I may have found my answer after all. [thumb traces along gallagher's lips. careful. precise.] Though I will admit, I didn't expect you of all people, real or not, to desire the very man who found himself at the end of your blade.
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How warm those fingers felt on his flesh, despite how stitched together they were by stolen traits. He becomes still when Sunday traces over his lips, his breath catching in his throat once more. It's difficult to tell what his heart — can he even call it his? — is doing, but it beats wildly. Perhaps loud enough for the other man to hear.
He huffs quietly, hoping it would quell this surge of emotions. ]
... I only wanted to show you the truth. It's not my fault Dormancy likes to ferry souls over with a blade.
[ Or it might be? But he won't elaborate on that. ]
But I still lost. Your faith is unwavering. It's almost admirable.
[ If it wasn't so frustrating, too. ]
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[he keeps his hold on the tie, keeping gallagher close. he touches against gallagher's face, his chapped lips, the stubble along his cheek, the wrinkles along his laugh lines. gallagher's gaze is so heated against him, much like his body. which is very large, covering his own body completely.]
Are you holding yourself back for my sake? If you're supposedly going to disappear, shouldn't you want to indulge in every desire before that happens?
[he slips his thumb into gallagher's mouth, pressing down on his tongue with idle interest. as if he's forbidding gallagher to talk just yet.] I am but a fallen angel at this point. Your consideration is kind but ultimately unnecessary. THEY of the Triple-Faced Soul no longer looks upon me with favor.
[grief and hopelessness engulfs him once more, making his wings droop. and in a moment of rare impulsivity, something that was denied from him for so long, he removes his thumb from gallagher's mouth, tugs him even closer to press his lips against gallagher's. he can have this want, too, since he's been abandoned by his faith.]
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Isn't that a worst fate? To selfishly reach out for something, only to let it slip through your fingertips like sand?
But Sunday doesn't give him that choice. His eyes widen when soft lips press against his, caught off-guard by the boldness of the move, especially because of who initiated it. This is the last thing he ever expected Sunday to do, and yet— he melts into it, one hand reaching up to frame the other man's face, holding him close as he kisses him back.
It's soft, sweet; gentle in all the right ways. As if he's still afraid of what might happen if he completely loses himself in it. But he follows after Sunday's lead, lingering.
(He wants to stay. Please let him stay—) ]
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he fists his hand in gallagher's hair and keeps him close. he's moving purely on desire and passion, wings folding around their heads as if to maintain privacy to an unseen audience.
gallagher is a big man, and he's always known it but has never been quite so aware of it as he is now. gallagher's mass practically covers him completely, bracketing him in such a way that onlookers would hardly even see sunday. but there is no audience and there are no onlookers. it's just him and gallagher. and he shall ensure it remains that way. no matter what he has to do to make that happen.
there's a blip in sunday's tightly-held frequency of his halo, emitting feelings of longing, of lonliness, of hopelessness. just a moment, before sunday brings himself back into the moment rather than losing himself in the kiss. even if gallagher may disappear in the next hour, sunday... sunday still must maintain control of his frequencies. he shifts a little, perhaps bumping into a, ah, rather difficult part of gallagher's anatomy. heh.]
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He holds onto him even tighter as the kiss deepens, almost as if he wants to rob them both of air just so this moment can remain frozen in time forever. Because he knows they don't have forever, but that barely matters anymore.
Kissing Sunday is sweet, sweeter than anything he's ever tasted. This is surprising to him but mostly because he never expected it to be this way, but then again, he barely knows anything about Sunday, and every little thing he learns is a blessing. Something he'll keep in mind for the future if they're lucky.
And when the man brushes against his cock, he groans lowly, muffled by the kiss. It prompts him to break away just enough to murmur against the man's lips. ]
... Careful, angel.
[ He doesn't want to be greedy, but he wants Sunday to do that again. ]
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and he intends to explore this path further.
he smiles, but there's a sort of smugness underlying it.]
There's nothing to worry about, Mr. Gallagher. I am taking care to be cautious with my injury.
[knowing 100% that is not what gallagher meant, he now purposefully rubs his leg along gallagher's cock, feeling him harden and thicken further. he knows how this works, at least, from the few times he's allowed himself to indulge in sin before ruthlessly punishing himself for it.]
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His breath stutters into a soft groan. The audacity of this man to rub against him like that while pretending to be innocent. If he wasn't injured, Gallagher would have shoved him on the floor for that. ]
Now you're playing dirty, feathers. That's not fair.
[ One strong arm reaches to guide Sunday down on the couch, urging him to lie down so this Hound can loom over him. ]
I'll devour you if you're not careful.
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he looks up at gallagher. he should be wary - this man stabbed him. but... he's really shown that that was just. a tactic. to show him the truth. that it wasn't out of malice or spite, but out of... care for him. he sees that now.
he reaches up to place a hand on a stubbly cheek.]
Perhaps that's my precise intention, Hound.
[he folds a knee up to brush against him with more purpose this time, so gallagher knows what sunday is wanting. and it's him.]
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But with Sunday insistently pressing his knee against his cock, he loses all capabilities to think of anything else. His whole body shudders out of instinct, feeling just as touch-starved as the other man. ]
If that's the case...
[ Don't mind if he indulges.
He captures Sunday's mouth in another searing kiss, both hands now roaming all over the man's clothes. The Halovian has too many buttons and latches that he's half-tempted to start ripping the fabric apart, but he knows he'll get reprimanded for doing so. He takes his time to unwrap him, but whenever he loses patience, he rewards himself by cupping the other man's cock, palming him over his pants to tide them both over.
At the same time, he's moved on from kissing him to worrying the skin on his neck, wanting to leave pretty bruises that can't be hidden by clothes alone. ]
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temper it by touching him, that is.
the touch is surprising, draws a breathy gasp from sunday. he's certainly been curious, and may have done an unholy deed here and there (with severe self-punishment afterward), but dear thousand-faced great one... it feels so different when it's someone else touching him. he squirms, even more so when gallagher directs his attention to his neck. he is quickly feeling overwhelmed and feeling way out of his element. he has to gain his sense of control back, he-
-he comes quickly with desperate little ahs before slumping against the couch. holy...
his entire body goes slack as he fights to catch his breath, hands clinging to gallagher for dear fucking life. he can't even find it in himself to be mad that his pants haven't come off yet (just wait for it, though).
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Instead, he kisses him deeply, hungrily, wanting to steal every gasp and moan from the other until he can't think of anything else but this. The way their bodies are close. The way Gallagher is still touching him, tentatively, slowly, just so he doesn't hurt him past the oversensitivity.
His lips move from Sunday's to murmur hotly next to his ear. ]
Feeling good, angel?
[ It's excruciating to take this slow, but he doesn't want to rush after the man just reached his release. He'll give him some time to recover from it while he leaves lovebites all over his neck. ]
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he doesn't have the time to worry about it, though, because he's swept up in gallagher's pace, his kiss. he truly can't think about anything or anyone else but gallagher. his weight, his warmth, his scent - the man simply encompasses him entirely, in a way sunday's never experienced before.]
I- just keep going-
[because admitting he feels good from carnal pleasures is definitely a sin. but... he's starting to like being a sinner in a sense, if it means getting to do this with gallagher. the wings on his head fold a little around his face, as if providing a protective barrier from all the sins of the world.
but... but he wants another kiss... he wants gallagher to do more... he wants more.]
Give me more- please-
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It feels surreal to be doing this with the former Head of the Oak Family, because the man has always made it a point to carry himself with dignity and respect. This sinful exchange between them, the old Hound never thought it would ever come to this. That something like this would ever happen. But he's here to make sure to take advantage, because it might be the last chance he'll ever get.
He pulls away from the kiss, sunset eyes narrowed and darkened with desire. His hands trail down Sunday's thighs, spreading him open to expose him some more. An obscene position, but it's necessary for what he wants to do next. ]
You sure you're ready for this, Sunday?
[ His cock looks strained behind his pants, but he rubs the bulge of it against the Halovian's taint, close to where he wants to be and yet still so far away. Even underneath the fabric, he looks huge, so he needs to know if this is what Sunday truly wants. ]
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it's not fair, that sunday has fallen to find the one who would love him so unconditionally... only for that man to fade away. perhaps it's punishment. perhaps a man like sunday deserves to find the most fleeting of desires only to lose it. but if this is the only moment of carnal passion he will experience, Thousand Faced One damn it all it's a memorable one.]
I'm not sure. I only know that- that I want you. And I want- no, I demand that you give me all of you-
[a soft sigh at the press of gallagher against him, and he wantonly cants his hips up for more. what 'more' contains is... honestly, somewhat of an unknown to sunday. he has the gist, of course, but- all he knows is. wherever that path takes him, he just wants to be with gallagher in any way he can. as close as two people, fictional or not, can get.]
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