Thread by @iammadeofpages

Part 3. #Körangi CW: chastity talk, mental health issues.

Waking up, König startles as he looks around.
His bed is soft and real underneath him, flannel sheets trapping body heat in.

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But the body that lied next to him, that he swore wasn't a dream, feels like a distant hope he lured himself to hallucinate.
Gone. Not a trace of it having been there.

There's something already thick in his throat, and it only takes a few seconds of being awake before the usual worry settles back into his gut.
Heavy pressure of it making him nauseous.

God, the few second he gets when waking up without the anxiety is the only bareable part of the day. He dreads it returning every morning. It came early today, no wonder.

He fools himself into thinking he can smell sweat and spiced cologne on the sheets beside him.

Breathes the traces in and lingers on the dream-adjacent thought, wishing to fall asleep again and return to where it was real.

A sudden high clang of ceramics bumping together makes him bolt upright.

Sends him scrambling for the gun tucked under the matress protector, as the handle of his door jiggles a few times. Swinging open on the third try.

König readies the gun as silently as he can. Swallows before breathing out to steady his aim.

"Good morning."

A body whirls by, straight from the door that slams shut behind him, and into the tiny area their contracts state is a "well stocked kitchen area", but is in reality just drooping cupboards and a small table for one.

The regular camo gear is gone.

Just a wide back, toned legs, and occupied arms - dressed in tan fatigues. Mask on, but sunglasses off.
Dark hair shining in the rays of sunlight that leak in through the curtains. A stray piece of it falling forward as he leans down.

It gets to caress his forehead, before Horangi drags a hand through his hair and settles it back into place again.

"You're here?" König doesn't mean to ask, but it slips out in a whisper.
Barely believes any of this is happening. But he looks real.

The smell of him wafted by as he came in.

Red pepper cologne.

Chased by the smell of the coffee he was carrying in on a tray.
The same scenario as the dreams that like to taunt him, but it doesn't feel like them this time.

Horangi puts the tray he's carrying down on the tiny table, covering most of the surface, then turned to him where he's still in the bed across the room.

"Of course. I just got us breakfast before the restaurant stopped serving your porridge."

Porridge?

Yeah, he always ate porridge in the morning. Blueberries rippled through the oatmeal. Milk on the side.

There's a glass of milk on the tray, next to a bowl with steam wafting up from it. Sandwiches piled high next to the bowl. Coffee in a french press, steeping.

Two cups, stacked on top of each other. One orange to share.

König drives the heel of his palms against his eyes, pressing hard enough for sparks and shapes to explode behind his eyelids, distrating from what he saw.

It's too much. He can't. Yesterday couldn't be real.

There had been soft hands cradling him where he hurt so bad from his own stupidity and lack of discipline, and he saw - god, he saw everything.

"König, let's put this away, okey."

Horangi is suddenly close, sharp smell of him so strong, and then there's a tug on the gun he forgot he was holding. The side of it pressed against his head.

With a nod, he lets it go into the other man's hands.
Feels the lift of the mattress as he puts it back.

How does he know?

There's another dip in the matress as Horangi sits down.
König feels the heat of his leg, pressing into his own naked thigh.

Warm. Real. Does he dare look? Darkness means he'll still be there, and seeing disgust on his face wouldn't be a possibility.

Fingers on top of his own makes him press in even harder. Why would he even think about touching him? Please, let go. Go and don't get caught in him.

"Can we talk?"

König nods, weakly.

"Okey, and can I look you in the eyes when we do?"

No. Yes. Fuck, he can have whatever he wants. But he shouldn't.
Shame burns hot on his face and in his gut as he lets his hands be pulled away, gathered in long fingers and rough palms.

"Hey."

König huffs, tries to smile. Remembers him doing that same thing yesterday.

Saying it as if he actually wants to see him.
König dares to look up as he answers.

Brown eyes so soft and he can't understand why they would rest on him looking like that.

His voice barely makes it past the lump in his throat. "Hi."

"Did you sleep okey?"

Did he?

He's not sure. There had been a lot of dreams. But they hadn't been bad, not nightmares. Mostly pretty eyes and warm hands in a million different constellations.

"I- Yes, I think I did." God, his voice sounded awful. Raspy and unused.

"Good. You slept quite a while."

"Think you needed it." Horangi says, eyes pressing together so you could easily see he's smiling underneath the mask.
A plain black one today. No camo there either. Thinner too. Outline of his lips visible through the fabric.

König nods.

Horangi squeezes his hand in his own. Warm and gentle.
König wants to pick it up and kiss every curve of it. Yearns to cover his own face in him and taste how real he is.

"Come. Let's eat breakfast before it gets cold." (End part 3)