Enthalten

[analisegrey]

Also available on AO3.

Caleb doesn’t have an Itch like Nott does, not exactly.

There are things he wants, obviously; there are things he’s stolen because he’s wanted them or needed them, taken when maybe it wasn’t the best idea, or the smartest time. He doesn’t feel a compulsion, though, it’s not the same.

That’s not to say that sometimes- not often, but sometimes- he has needs.

 

He can’t remember if he had them before the madness. In fact, it’s one of the small number of things he doesn’t have perfect recall about. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens often enough that it doesn’t come as a surprise when one day as they’re traveling he starts to notice a certain restlessness. They’re not far from the next town, maybe a few hours, and he knows they’ll hit it by nightfall, plenty of time to find a spot and get rooms at a local inn. He also knows from experience that those few hours are going to be interminable. He can already start to feel it, an itch in his brain he can’t scratch, like he might fly out of his skin if he doesn’t move, if he doesn’t do something, but of course there’s nothing to do; he’s on a cart on a road. He knows he could get out of the cart and walk, but he also knows that would draw attention, which he most assuredly doesn’t want. He tries to focus on his book, to lose himself in the words he’s read at least a half dozen times by now, but it’s not holding his attention. As time passes, it’s getting more and more difficult to hold still, to not fidget in place. He doesn’t realize he’s clenched his hands into fists until someone else’s hand- Molly’s- settles over the top of one of them with a gentle squeeze.

“Alright?” Molly’s voice is a low murmur between them, and it takes Caleb a moment to regain full awareness of what’s happening around them. No one’s paying attention, but Molly’s leaning into him, a look of concern on his face. Caleb makes his hands relax, though it’s an effort; he hadn’t noticed they were starting to ache.

“I- ja, I’m fine.”

Molly clucks his tongue, and squeezes at Caleb’s fingers. “Don’t lie to me, dear, it’s unbecoming. What’s wrong?”

This thing between him and Molly is new, still. It’s only been a month or so since they decided to take a chance, and a few weeks less than that since they realized they both had certain...proclivities. So far they’ve been complementary, each filling needs the other has in ways they both find pleasurable. This particular need isn’t one that’s come up yet, and Caleb isn’t sure how to articulate it. He’s never been able to explain it to himself, let alone had to explain it to anyone else. He licks his lips, and his fingers twitch in Molly’s hold. “I don’t- I don’t know how to explain, it’s-” His free hand clenches and unclenches, not quite under his control, and what’s he supposed to say? That he feels he’s going to burst at the seams? That he isn’t grounded, feels like loose lightening. That he wants- needs - to fight something, to struggle though he doesn’t know against what, just that he knows he wants to lose.

He looks around. Nott is asleep against the back corner of the cart, Jester and Fjord sitting up front driving and chatting. Beau and Yasha are riding slightly ahead, and while there’s still nobody paying attention, Caleb can’t bring himself to talk about it, not out in the open like this.

“Can- once we’re settled at the inn, ja? I’m not- I don’t feel-” Molly leans close and pecks Caleb on the lips, surprising him into silence.

“That’s perfectly fine, dear, get your thoughts in order. Let me know if you need anything before then, though?”

Caleb nods, and tentatively squeezes back at Molly’s hand, eliciting a grin from the other man.

The next couple of hours drag by. By the time they hit Schneedorf, a small town along the northern reaches, Caleb can barely breathe. He thinks if he opens his mouth he may scream, and gods, it’s never been this bad. He’s holding onto his composure by his fingertips, and every loud noise as they enter the town scrapes against the inside of his head; his hands are clenching again, but he can’t help it. Molly’s been giving him worried looks for the last forty-five minutes, but hasn’t said anything, just holding onto one of Caleb’s wrists in a careful but firm hold. It helps a little, keeps Caleb from shaking to pieces, and when Fjord comes back out of the inn with keys, Molly flashes a grin at him, makes some sort of lascivious comment Caleb doesn’t entirely catch, and then he’s being tugged out of the cart and up to a room. Molly deposits Caleb on the bed, points at him and says, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” before disappearing out the door and shutting it behind him. Not knowing what else to do, Caleb does as he’s told. Without the distraction of the cart’s rattling or sounds of the rest of the group, the room quickly grows too quiet, and clenching his hands doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

Caleb curls forward, hugging himself, the nails of his right hand digging into the meat of his left bicep through his coat. The pain grounds him, helps him stay in the here-and-now, but he’s still fit to burst, thrumming with an energy he doesn’t know how to expel.

The door to the room opens again, and Caleb starts, but he’s coiled too tightly on the bed to really jump. It’s just Molly, though; he’d grabbed their packs, and sets them down just inside the door before closing it behind him and locking it. He looks over at Caleb, and his face goes soft and sad. “Oh, sweetheart, no.” He comes up to Caleb, insinuates himself between Caleb’s knees and gently grasps his wrists, pulling his hands away from where his fingers are digging in hard enough to bruise. Molly lifts Caleb’s hands up to his lips, each in turn, and places a kiss on the knuckles of both. Caleb’s hands are shaking; he’s not sure when it started, but there’s no way that Molly hasn’t noticed.

Caleb’s right hand is still at Molly’s lips when he speaks, and Caleb can feel the buzz of the words through the bandages. “What do you need, cariad? How do I help you?”

A sound of frustration bursts from Caleb’s throat, and he feels himself wind impossibly tighter, his knees pressing against the outside of Molly’s legs as his body tries to draw in on itself. “I don’t know, Mollymauk. It has not been this bad in a long time.”

Molly hums, contemplative. “So this isn’t the first time, then. What did you do before?”

Caleb hesitates, knowing Molly isn’t going to like the answer.

“I did not do anything, Mollymauk.”

Molly stills, and it takes effort for Caleb not to pull away. Molly gives him a look he can’t decipher, then tilts his head to the side, brows drawing down. “Nothing?”

“No, nothing.” Caleb moves to run a hand through his hair only to realize Molly is still holding his hands. Even with the aborted movement, Molly doesn’t let go. “It’s uncomfortable but if I ignore it long enough it goes away.”

Molly opens his mouth, closes it, and it isn’t often that Caleb catches Molly at a loss for words. “I’ll just rest early tonight. I’m sure it will have passed by morning.”

Molly’s face does something complex, and his hands twitch, still holding Caleb’s. “You- Caleb, no.”

Caleb is caught between wanting to flinch from Molly’s tone and to press toward the sensation where Molly’s hands had spasmed around his own. He manages to split the difference, suppressing most of a shiver before forcing himself to look up and meet Molly’s eyes, however briefly. He’s still having trouble figuring out Molly’s expression- it’s a cross between pained and sad, but he doesn’t detect any disappointment or anger, which gives him the courage to ask, “What?”

“Caleb, you can’t just-” Molly closes his eyes a moment and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When his eyes open again, his expression has settled into one closer to fondness. “That’s not exactly healthy, love.”

“Perhaps not, Mollymauk, but since I don’t know what to do about it, what choice do I have?” He doesn’t mean to snap, but he feels scraped raw, his nerves frayed, and if there’s no way to deal with this, he’d rather ignore it and sleep until he’s back to whatever passes for his normal.

“Do you trust me?”

Caleb doesn’t even have to think about it. Despite his own particular issues, he trusts Molly implicitly. He’s trusted him for months with his life, and would- does- trust him with much more than that besides. “Of course I do, schatz.”

Molly smiles, something smaller and sweeter than his usual grin. He releases Caleb’s hands to reach up and cup his face, leaning in until their foreheads are pressed together, Molly mindful of his horns. They’re both quiet, just breathing together, and then Molly lifts his head to press his lips to the top of Caleb’s head before drawing back. “I need a few moments to get ready. I want you to go use the washroom, then when you’re ready, come back and undress to your level of comfort.”

Caleb looks up at him, anxious, apologetic. “Mollymauk, I do not think I can-”

Molly shakes his head and steps back out of Caleb’s space.“Not sex. This isn’t about that, I don’t think, but it’s still something you need, and if I can help you with it, I’d like to. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment, Caleb wants to turn him down, to hole up somewhere quiet and alone to let it pass; instead he lets out a shuddering exhalation of air that feels like it’s coming up from his toes, his shoulders dropping minutely. He nods, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ja, I- I would like that. Please.” The last word is so quiet he isn’t sure if Molly’s heard it, but he does, stepping forward again, ducking down to press a fleeting kiss to Caleb’s lips before moving back and to the side so the other man can get up.

“Go on then, darling. I’ll be here when you get back. Take all the time you need.”

Caleb nods again and stands, exiting the room. He doesn’t know what Molly intends, can’t begin to imagine what might help this, if anything can help this, or if he’ll just have to let it run its course as usual.

By the time Caleb returns to the room, slipping quietly through the door, Molly is waiting, perched on the chair near the desk, barefoot and with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms; his sleeve-covers and coat are set aside, wrapped around his scimitars on the desk. Molly rises and comes over to stand in front of where Caleb’s frozen just inside the room. Normally Caleb is about the same height as Molly, but without his boots on Molly has to look up slightly to catch Caleb’s eye. He reaches up and brushes back a tangle of hair that’s fallen in front of Caleb’s face like a curtain, and Caleb leans into the touch, turning his face to press against Molly’s palm, placing a gentle press of lips to the skin there.

“Clothes off as you’d like, then have a seat on the bed.”

It doesn’t take long for Caleb to remove his coat and boots; he takes more care removing his books and the leather harness they reside in, setting them gently on the desk next to Molly’s coat and swords. He untucks his shirt so the tails fall loose, carefully unwinds and folds the linen bindings from around his hands and forearms, sets them aside with his books. He sits, perched on the edge of the bed, finds his hands are shaking again, and clasps them together in an effort to hold them still.

Molly steps close, gently running the tips of his claws through Caleb’s hair, letting them lightly scratch at his scalp, eliciting a shudder. “Good boy.”

Caleb shivers, leaning into Molly’s hand; his relationship with that phrase is complicated. He craves hearing it, but at the same time doesn’t believe it.

But he wants to.

Molly knows, knows what he’s done, and for some reason beyond Caleb’s comprehension doesn’t blame Caleb the way he thinks Molly should. It’s the same as with Beau, with Nott, and for the life of him he doesn’t get how they can’t know, how they don’t see. He’s been as explicit as he can, told them the horrible things he’s done, plain as day, and somehow- somehow- they haven’t left him. He doesn’t understand why, but he’s too much a selfish coward to take it for granted.

“Caleb.” There’s the lightest tug on his hair, and he’s pulled from his thoughts to see Molly looking down at him, calm, patient as always.

“There you are. Where did you go, darling?”

Caleb shrugs, feeling himself start to wind tighter. He wasn’t aware he’d relaxed any, but now that he’s back in the present he feels himself tense again, the crawling under his skin, the wild energy with nowhere to go, no outlet, and it feels like it’s eating him alive from the inside.

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that. Do you have words right now, Caleb?”

Caleb feels a flicker of affection break through everything else as he shakes his head. He’s thankful, and not for the first time, that Molly understands to a certain extent, that he gets that sometimes words are hard, or just non-existent. There’s no judgement when words elude him, no anger when he can’t meet Molly’s eyes; just the same calm, quiet acceptance every time. Caleb doesn’t know that he’ll ever be able to tell Molly how much that means to him.

“Thank you for letting me know, love.” Molly runs his thumbs over Caleb’s cheekbones in a firm sweep, and Caleb’s eyes slide closed as he leans into it. “I’m going to start now, is that alright?”

Caleb nods, and Molly smiles, pressing another kiss to the top of Caleb’s head before stepping away and picking something up out of his travel bag. He’s holding a few bundles of rope, but it’s not the rope Caleb is accustomed to seeing the group carry. It’s been dyed a dark green, and has a sheen to it, looking softer than the hempen rope they use day-to-day in their travels. Molly comes back over and drops all but one bundle onto the bed next to Caleb, and starts to unwrap the remaining bundle.

“Arms, love.”

Caleb holds his arms out in front of him with no hesitation. He trusts Molly not to hurt him, trusts Molly to know what he’s doing. His trust appears well-placed; Molly’s movements are sure and well-practiced as he takes Caleb’s left hand in his, pulling it up to place a kiss on the inside of his wrist before wrapping it in loops of rope.

The rope is just as soft as Caleb had thought it looked, and he watches, fascinated, as pale skin disappears under dark green. Molly is doing something that Caleb can’t quite follow which leaves little loops of rope up the inside of his arm. When Molly finishes, he tugs at the loops, moves Caleb’s arm around, and looks up at Caleb’s face. “Is that alright? You can move your fingers easily?”

Caleb wiggles his fingers, touching each fingertip to his thumb, back and forth once, then nods to Molly. Molly gives him a soft smile in response. “Lovely, you’re so good for me.” and holds his hand out for Caleb’s other arm. Caleb squirms, but it’s not unpleasant. He knows Molly hands out compliments like candy, whether Caleb thinks he’s deserving or not, but once again, he’s not prepared to tell Molly to stop.

The process is repeated- a kiss to his wrist, then the rope again, winding up and around his arm with the little loops at the inside. Molly finishes tying off the tail of rope at the end, and checks the smaller loops as he had with Caleb’s other arm, having Caleb test the movement in his fingers. “Wonderful.” Molly climbs up on the bed behind Caleb, reaching for another bundle of rope as he goes. “Arms behind you, dear.”

Caleb freezes.

He wants this, it feels good so far, the pressure on his arms, holding him, containing him, but it’s a double-edged sword. If he’s restrained, he’s helpless, unable to defend himself, unable to fight back, unable to protect Molly. What if something happens, what if someone gets in, tries to hurt them, tries-

“Mo chroí.” Molly’s hands have moved to Caleb’s shoulders, placing firm steady strokes down his upper arms, grounding, before going back up to his shoulders and stroking down again. “It’s alright. I know what I’m asking is difficult. I’m asking you to trust me, and I know that’s hard. If this is as far as you want to go, that’s ok. If you need a minute, that’s ok, too.” Molly hooks his chin over Caleb’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him, squeezing hard, and Caleb sinks into it with a soft noise, leaning back. “Give me one snap to stop, two snaps to pause, three to keep going.”

Caleb thinks a moment, then snaps his fingers three times.

Molly places a kiss on his neck that makes him shiver, then pulls back, and Caleb immediately misses the warmth.

“Arms then, love.”

He’s shaking all over now, but Caleb manages to get his arms behind him. It’s getting harder to sit still, to not get up and pace, or rock, or just move somehow, but Molly asked him to sit, to be still at least a short while, and for Molly Caleb will try. For Molly, Caleb would try to do a great many things.

There’s gentle tugging at the ropes on his arms, and then the sound of sliding rope, and his arms are being pulled together behind his back from wrist to elbow. There’s the slightest strain on his shoulders, but Caleb is far more flexible than most people give him credit for, so it isn’t overly taxing; he has no doubt that on a long enough timeline it could be. A few tugs later, and Molly’s hands are on his shoulders again, smoothing down his arms and down to Caleb’s hands, teasing Caleb’s fists open to fit his fingers inside.

“Give my hands a squeeze.”

Caleb grips back at Molly’s hands, and there’s a quiet sound of approval from behind him.

“Wonderful. If your hands start to lose feeling or go tingly, let me know.” Molly pulls a small bell from his pocket and folds it into Caleb’s right hand. “If you need me to stop at any point, drop that, and I’ll hear it, alright?”

Caleb nods, fingers tightening around the quickly-warming metal of the bell.

Molly slides past Caleb off the bed and to the floor, grabbing another bundle of rope. He quickly begins to wind it around Caleb’s upper arms and chest until there are solid bands of rope wrapping him up like a hug, and for the first time in hours, Caleb can feel an outer edge to the energy trying to rip him apart. It isn’t gone, not by any stretch, but there’s a limit to it, an end in sight; all he has to do is last long enough to get there.

“There we are.” Molly is finishing a knot to Caleb’s side, and he can’t see what exactly Molly’s done, but he knows he’s not getting loose without help. Molly briefly cups Caleb’s jaw in a warm hand before taking a step back and looking Caleb over, expression softening further. “Aren’t you a vision.”

Caleb snorts; he can only imagine how he looks right now, and it’s probably closer to ‘nightmare’ than ‘vision’. His arms and shoulders try to clench, to curl in on himself in the face of Molly’s words, but finds the ropes resist the movement, pressing in and holding him steady, and oh- oh this is-

He tugs at his arms again, harder than before, and this is perfect, the constant pressure from the ropes, the knowing that he can struggle until he wears himself out but they aren’t going anywhere until Molly decides, that Molly has him- and it’s everything Caleb wanted, everything he needed, even if he didn’t know how to say it. He shudders against the hold the ropes have on him, flexing his arms and shoulders just to feel the resistance the ropes provide, and when he looks up at Molly, he’s overcome with emotion, one he can’t easily define; he’s starting to get the shape of it, the size of it, and it’s a little terrifying but also awe-inspiring to know he can feel something so big, when he hadn’t thought himself capable any longer.

Molly is beaming at him, and reaches out with both hands to cup Caleb’s face, leaning in and kissing him. It’s not as heated as some kisses they’ve shared; it’s fond, slow, a light graze of lips, staying close enough to share air, and then Molly’s pulling back. Caleb doesn’t realize he’s leaning forward to chase after him until he starts to overbalance and almost falls over, Molly catching him by the shoulders before he can.

“Now then,” Molly grins at him and uses his grip on Caleb’s shoulders to shove him back. It’s unexpected, and Caleb topples over, landing with a soft thump on the mattress, pinning his bound arms behind him. Molly crawls up Caleb’s front, straddling his hips and settling his hands on Caleb’s shoulders, pressing his weight forward onto them. With his legs over the side of the bed, Caleb can’t get the leverage to sit up, but he still tries, using what little core strength he possesses to attempt to dislodge Molly. Molly just grins wider, easily keeping Caleb in place with just his body weight.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to toss me, dear.”

Caleb growls, twists and fights against the ropes, growls louder when he gets absolutely nowhere. He pauses, panting for breath, and Molly smiles down at him, sliding sideways off Caleb’s lap to sit next to him, staying close, but not crowding.

This is much better than he’d been expecting. He doesn’t know what he’d thought Molly would do, but he knows this wasn’t it. He’s glad Molly thought to try, though. The energy is still thrumming through him, but it’s not as overwhelming, like the rope’s helping contain it. He squirms again, enjoying the compression, the pressure, and even if he had his words, he doesn’t think he’d be able to describe the feeling, to detail the way it scratches the itching in his brain like nothing else ever has, like he didn’t think was possible.

Caleb’s distracted from his thoughts by the the light scratching of claws against his scalp, Molly petting his hair and smiling indulgently at him. “Is this helping?”

Caleb sighs, tilting his head up to nuzzle at Molly’s hand, stretching so he can reach to kiss at Molly’s palm again before he nods, eyes sliding shut. He lets himself fall back to the bed, relaxing into the hold the rope has on him, and presses his face in against Molly’s chest. There’s a quiet rumble of laughter, and Molly goes back to petting him. As the minutes pass, the energy drains, his restlessness fading, and for the first time since Caleb can remember, the itch dissipates without having to sleep it off, seemingly tamed for the time being. He’s boneless, resting limply against Molly’s chest, and if it weren’t for the strain he’s starting to feel in his shoulders and arms, he thinks he could happily fall asleep where he lies. Instead, he bumps his head lightly against Molly’s sternum to gain his attention, and the hand in his hair stills.

“Hello again, love. Are you ready for me to untie you?”

Caleb nods, and then presses a kiss to Molly’s collarbone before rolling back over to the side so Molly can sit up.

Molly gets a hand under Caleb’s shoulder blades and helps lever him upright, steadying him when Caleb sways in place.

“If you just turn a bit to the side- yes, just like that, thank you, dear.” Molly undoes the ropes wrapped around Caleb’s upper arms and shoulders, and as the ropes fall away Caleb feels the last dregs of tension fall away as well. Molly undoes the tie holding his arms back, helps him gingerly move Caleb’s arms back in front, taking the small bell from Caleb’s hand. “Hold on.” Molly unwinds the rope around Caleb’s left arm first, and Caleb is so absorbed by the imprints from the rope left in his skin he doesn’t realize his right arm is free until Molly is kissing the inside of his wrist.

“There you are dear. Are you feeling alright?”

“Ja.” Caleb blinks, and now that the ropes are all gone, he barely has any energy at all. For all that he spent the last hour just laying on a bed with Molly, he feels as if he’s done some sort of great athletic feat, the last reserves of his energy utterly spent. Molly smiles wider and pulls Caleb forward so he can give him a quick hug.

“That’s fantastic, I’m glad it helped. You look exhausted, and I’m going to let you rest in a moment, but I’m going to ask you to eat and drink something first, alright?”

He drinks from the waterskin Molly hands him, and eats some of the dried fruit he’s given as well. He’s fading quickly, and Molly seems to realize it because before he can say anything Molly is pulling the blankets down and helping to ease him into the bed. Caleb’s so relaxed he feels like he’s melting into the pillows, into the mattress, and his eyes close without his say so. He barely registers a weight settling next to him and a kiss to the top of his head before he’s sinking into a deep restful sleep.