[ P ] The Getaway

A R Y T H M E T I K

Arythmetik tossed himself to the soft grass near the riverbed. He was panting heavily, droplets of water clinging to his chin from the long drink that barely sated his thirst. Despite the cushion of the earth, every muscle in his body ached. There was no escape from the exhaustion. And yet…it wasn’t torture. The professor’s bright, emerald eyes flickered up to his companion, his lover, his partner. Grigori seemed completely unperturbed in comparison, and Arythmetik couldn’t help but admire his boyfriend’s…prowess.


This vacation in Perth was supposed to be a relaxing getaway, a chance to escape stress and duty for just a few precious weeks. They planned to stay in the evergreen forest at least until the first snow. This far north, the mountain air spilled down from Tir Na Nog and whistled through the firs, roiling over the still-green grass. It was incredibly refreshing and pure: like a new beginning. The training even kept Aryth from getting too cold. Grigori mentioned at the end of the corn maze that learning to defend himself could help the scholar feel like…well, less of a burden. And it was only fair if Grigori taught the meeker male his trade, since Aryth taught him to read. Arythmetik hated the idea of violence in any form, and yet…he could not deny that he was already feeling more confident. At least, if he could protect himself, he wouldn’t force Grigori to relive that horrible experience by making himself an easy target.


There was an addendum to this newfound confidence: Aryth did feel embarrassingly weak compared to the rugged sassenach. His legs felt like jelly as he breathed heavily and said, “I must…make a pathetic sight.” A bittersweet grin pricked at the corner of his open mouth. Still, his tail shyly tapped the ground when he looked at Grigori’s blond features. “Thank you for…giving us a break, ’teach’,” he teased. His half-hearted smile widened.

<3

The vacation was all that Grigori could have asked for. Peaceful quiet in the wilderness, away from the noise of civilization. The taste of freshly self-caught prey, instead of food bought at the market or dried rations. And, most importantly, time. All the time they could spend together, no longer separated for a sizable part of every day by their respective duties. It made him wish that they could retire to this kind of life one day, but alas - all that he appreciates about this lifestyle is too harsh for an elderly wolf to endure. When the time comes for them to give up their work, they will have to rely on the comforts and conveniences of society.

And yet, for all his enjoyment, there was a creeping unease hidden behind every thought. Peace and quiet still felt like a fragile illusion, criminals could be lurking at every corner. Grigori couldn't stop thinking about the possibility, however slim, that they would threaten what's precious to him again. He was tense, bursting at the seams to contain the raw rage beneath his skin. It was difficult to believe that not too long ago he'd been ready to embrace a peaceful life without violence. Now, he could barely resist the urge to seek out trouble before it's given a chance to find him, or somebody else. When he looked at his reflection in the river, he saw a stoic expression and calm, grey eyes. But he knew what also hid there, right beneath the surface. Waiting...

It was by thinking of Aryth that he willed himself to hold back. The scholar trusted him enough to look past his methods when it was a matter of life and death, but going out of his way to do it again, unprovoked? That would be much more difficult to justify. And if he had to choose between what they had and sating the vengeance-hungry beast inside of him... then he will starve the beast. No matter how long it gnaws at his restraint.

His partner's voice drew his attention away from his thoughts and the water. Grigori turned his head, eyeing the smaller male with scrutiny. "There's beauty in hard work and honest effort, y'know." Though he wouldn't be surprised if such words were originally conceived to comfort those who have to make up for their lack of appeal, there was some deeper truth to them. "Besides," he started, taking a step towards the other. "Yer always a great sight." For added effect, the cowboy ended his words with an exaggerated dreamy sigh, then smirked.

But unabashed flattery aside, the young professor was making commendable progress. It was probably difficult for him to see with how often he pushed himself to exhaustion, but from Grigori's perspective it was plain to see how steadily his endurance was improving. Even more than that, it soothed the cowboy's heart to see him start acting more like himself again. Of course, it was only the first step - after the buildup of strength and stamina, fighting practice will be a real test. Nonetheless, the results so far were promising. Well, in all aspects but one.. "Yeah right, how 'bout ye call me that when I manage to get ye to hunt proper? I'm gettin' tired of fish." He frowned as he complained, but that didn't stop him from leaning down to affectionately boop the other's nose with his own.

That reminded him of what he was going to do before his thoughts got in the way, so he walked back to the river, this time actually stepping into the water. Now he just had to stand still and wait for an opportunity... "Yer not doin' it on purpose, are ye? Ye seem to like watchin' me fish..." Now he was fishing for a reaction as much as he was for food. It hasn't gone unnoticed that he's been getting more looks from his lover during their various exercise activities. For the most part, he feigned ignorance, to avoid making the other more mindful and careful about it. The attention was welcome, and in a way, it reminded him of the day they met, how he had tried to show off to make an impression during their river crossing. It is some consolation that no matter how uncertain the future gets, they'll always have these fond memories to comfort them.

„*”

A R Y T H M E T I K

The professor felt a bit abashed, even though he was sure Grigori meant to compliment him. Of course the cowboy was attracted to a bit of hard work and sweat—the blond male’s fortitude impressed Arythmetik, after all. He shouldn’t have been so quick to disparage himself. It was a pattern, ever since that awful, fateful day: he did it during the tutor debates by losing his cool and presuming his failure, but he was doing it now, too. Talking down about himself. He hated it when Grigori did that, so why was he perpetrating that foolish behavior? Perhaps deep in the confines of his subconscious, Aryth knew he would rather direct his hatred and disgust at himself than his partner. The blame for those bandits’ gory deaths was on the scholar. It was the only way the professor could reconcile the man he loved more than anything with the violence he detested more than anything. On the surface, however, those thoughts weren’t clear, even to the educated man; at least, not yet.


Right now, his primary concern was the heat flushing his face and the way his heart pounded as Grigori tapped his nose. He blinked, emerald eyes following the curve of Grigori’s tail, scanning his bulging muscles as he leaned over the riverbed. “I have no problem with fish,” Aryth breathed airily, still panting faintly. “In fact, I love fish.” Still staring. “They…taste better, when you catch them.” Finally, a small, coy grin returned to the corner of Aryth’s maw. He’d been in his own head a lot since the start of their vacation, but he was intelligent enough to see that something bothered Grigori as well. And yet, the sassenach managed to flirt, to comfort, to keep up Aryth’s spirits with expert charisma. “It’s…more than I deserve.”


Clearly, he wasn’t talking about fish anymore.


But, with a huff, Aryth rose to his paws and shook off the exhaustion. “But I don’t want you to think you’re a bad teacher. Let’s try hunting, for real this time.” The scholar’s eyes glimmered as he stared at his partner. The fresh, mountain air rushed past them in an invigorating frenzy. “I want you to be satisfied…you know, with our dinner.”

Grigori made an honest attempt at focusing on the water and the fish that might hide beneath its surface, yet Aryth's words continued to seduce his attention. He raised a brow, slightly at first, then higher and higher as the other continued. That's... certainly quite the choice of words. He let out a huff and shook his head, willing himself to get back to fishing. "Nothin' 'bout deservin' to it. Just how it oughta be between partners." A light, matter-of-fact response. Grigori knew that if he was to entertain the question of who deserves what, he'd be the first one to stand out. So he didn't. Sometimes, instead of second guessing everything, it's better to just accept things as they are - good. Admittedly, it wasn't an approach he's practiced much in the past, but... life doesn't wait for anybody. If he wants the best possible future for himself and Aryth, he needs to make it himself, not just wait and hope it'll work out.

He threw just a single glance when he heard the scholar stand up and suggest hunting, and when he looked back to the water, he just barely caught a glimmer of scales passing him by. Well, that's one fish they won't eat... clearly, fishing isn't in the stars today. Not in this moment, at any rate. It'd be impossible to stay focused after the words that spilled from his lover's lips next, anyway. "Tomorrow mornin', then. I'd never waste this kind of determination on anythin' but the best huntin' hours." He turned around to walk out of the river, eyeing the other male intently. "Besides-" The tone of his voice changed, low and warm like a crackling fireplace. "-how am I to think 'bout food when you speak like this?" He didn't stop until they stood chest to chest, and even then, he leaned forward - gently, just enough for the other to feel his presence, but he'd stand his ground there, steely and unyielding. Why should Aryth admire his physique from afar when he can have a feel of it instead?

His muzzle sought the young professor's ear, grasping the tip of it with his teeth and giving it a gentle tug. "...I'm glad I can accompany ye to the castle." It'd be difficult to spend so much time apart again, like they had to back during the heat wave. Especially in this scenario; Grigori was just an average wolf, Aryth was being recognized by the country's elite. The cowboy had no such unfulfilled ambitions to fuel any jealousy, but distance is all the greater when it's no longer just physical. "This time ye really might be well-known enough to have fans. Thinkin' of how jealous they might be of me, doin' this..." He nuzzled the russet male's neck, rubbing his nose against flushed skin, savoring the uncharacteristic hint of musk caused by their earlier exercise. "-I must be a lucky guy, eh? But that's fair. To them, yer just exceptional, one of the country's finest. To me... yer one of a kind." Famous wolves are dime a dozen. Someone you can share the rest of your life with, that's a position that's much more difficult to fill.

That said, he's gotten a bit carried away, hasn't he? "Hah, look at me ramble.. hope your knees ain't jello from all that." he grinned teasingly. He wouldn't mind sweeping Aryth off his feet, but at the same time... It was Aryth talking that got him all riled up to begin with, so he wanted to hear more. "So, ye were sayin'..?"

„*”

A R Y T H M E T I K

The golden light of late afternoon trickled through the boughs, and Aryth wasn’t an experienced enough hunter to realize all the prey would be sleeping or hiding right now. (Not to mention hunting while one was already exhausted from stamina exercises was…not smart. Even a scholar with the knowledge of a hundred books lacked common sense from time to time.) He was happy to take Grigori’s words at face value, though, if it meant the fire between them had room to breathe. And it did. Something about the air, purified by the giant evergreens of Perth, was more fresh and invigorating than the tiny den back home. The Arboretum was comfortable, but bogged down by routine; here, sleeping under the stars, the two wolves had a chance to focus on nothing but themselves and each other. Oxygen was the fuel that made their fire hotter, that made it burgeon in a torrent of heart-pounding passion.


It forced Arythmetik to reckon with the darker side of himself, the part that wanted to ignore Grigori’s deadliness. There was nothing but a moth’s breath of space between them, and shivers racked his body from Grigori’s fangs against his ear. Doubt can perish in the time it takes to whisper a single loving word. And once the sassenach’s breath furled against the back of his neck, like smoke dancing over the embers of a campfire, the hesitation that held the scholar back for so long melted. His subconscious had been plagued with nightmares of bandits and the dark implications of what Grigori himself was capable of—what he may have done in the mysterious desert landscape of his past. But now, deep down, Arythmetik’s heart and mind knew that he didn’t care. What mattered was who and why Grigori was here. Those shadowy memories were replaced with moments from the castle, the place where they shared their first kiss and many since—subtle and behind structural pillars. But perhaps the princess still saw and giggled quietly at her humble teacher’s romance. As his lover’s rugged voice murmured notes to his soul, Aryth’s subconscious filled instead with visions of nobles sharing secrets, watching the Professor and his handsome bodyguard click across the hall to Mhairi’s study. He felt the happiness of teaching a smiling student; of Grigori experiencing luxury for perhaps the first time, even if it was just a taste; of the man he loved more than anything waiting just in a room down the hall—an eager Nimue chittering at him about her turn—while he worked.


Most of all, in the forefront of his conscience, the earthen male thought of how right it felt when Grigori’s strength was applied to his aching body.


By the time Grigori pulled away to grin and tease, Arythmetik’s legs really were jelly. But the warmth spreading, and the roaring fire in his gut, ignited an energy previously unmatched on this trip. Quite seriously, the scholar’s now-burning, emerald eyes glimmered up at his counterpart. His lips were parted just so, white fangs peeking, as though itching for something of which to grab hold. Now it was Aryth who pressed forward, and he could have sworn that Grigori felt the pounding in his chest, sensed the electricity in his blood. And strangely, the thought that crossed his mind in that instant was how well they fit together physically, but emotionally as well.


“I haven’t seen you chewing mint lately,” Aryth uttered, his voice teetering on the edge of madness, but soft and warm enough to sound like himself. “Perhaps…not for weeks,” he murmured like an afterthought. All the while, his mouth moved toward Grigori’s with purpose.

Aryth, ever a rational mind, wasn’t quite so prone to fits of passion as he was receptive to them, but that made coaxing one out all the more special. Grigori could already tell from the look in his eyes, one that made his breath catch in his chest. Though he hasn’t moved an inch, the other’s approach felt more like being drawn in. And drawn he was, captivated, fixating on the smallest details like the faint twitch of the scholar’s whiskers, counting his breath by the waves of warmth that just barely reached his skin. Then his voice, his voice! Gentle as always, but in this moment, it drowned everything and danced on vibrations of the air like a thunderous roar. ”I…” A single sound that was barely a breath, there was no time for a full response. His eyes closed, and only when their lips finally met did he allow himself to move, leaning in hungrily to meet his lover halfway, but never going so far as to overtake his direction. It was a flawless moment, and no action of his could make any improvement.

Grigori broke the kiss by tilting his head upwards, gasping for a shallow breath of air, but he didn’t pull back. His posture was relaxed, yet muscles taut, desperate to act on his burning desire for the other. All he allowed himself was half a step forward, offering his neck to the scholar’s lips in lieu of the kiss that ended. ”I haven’t felt anxious” He hasn’t really thought about it until now, but the answer came easily. Aside from the day the princess requested his presence, when he might have chewed through Aryth’s weight in mint, Grigori hasn’t felt the urge to fret over anything. Since the odreal with the bandits, most everyday concerns seemed so trivial. And while he could have worried about how Aryth coped in the aftermath, the young professor’s training has given him a more productive outlet for his concern. And as long as they were on this vacation, keeping up with his habit merely for the sake of routine would be too much of a hassle.

A habit… how did it start, anyway? Grigori couldn’t recall, though for some reason he felt like he should be able to. Like the empty space in the memories he searched through was something unfamiliar. Instead, all he could rememeber was how much nervous mint chewing the male right next to him has caused. Every time he couldn’t decide how to make a move or worried how it will be received, and every time Aryth caught him off guard with a ruthlessly sincere compliment… ah, how far they’ve come together.

And in that moment, the cowboy was utterly baffled with himself. What the hell has he been waiting for? What held him back? It was almost alarming how he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the reason. It’d be one thing to suddenly realize it was a silly one, but to realize there is none?

No, it doesn’t matter. The only important thing is that he fixes his mistake, before life decides to remind them again that every day can be the last, that any tomorrow might be too late. And so he lowered his head back down, looking in the green eyes of the wolf he would spend the rest of his life with. The one and only. „Arythmetik,” He couldn’t recall ever saying Aryth’s full name, though it was possible he might have tried it on his tongue once when he first learned it. It’s only natural, then, that it was fitting for this once in a lifetime moment.

„Marry me?” There was not a hint of hesitation in his voice, nor any fear of rejection. There was no doubt in his mind that they were meant to be together. In a way, he was worried that his certainty will take away from the experience of hearing the answer. But there was only one way to find out, so he waited intently.

„*”

A R Y T H M E T I K

Arythmetik wanted to lose himself in the mountain landscape of Grigori’s frame: the hardened muscles that held him as steady as rock; the blond pelt, rustling like pines in the chill autumn wind; the grey, misty gaze that enveloped him in its mystery. Aryth could live here forever. He breathed the fresh air of the man’s scent, pressed his face lovingly into Grigori’s neck. The fire burned between them and stole all the oxygen, forcing the Sassenach to gasp for air. And Arythmetik thought he couldn’t love his handsome bodyguard any more. Until, of course, those words spilled from his lips. Simple words, with the power to change everything.


The professor stepped back, straightening to face his beloved counterpart. He wanted to see the look on Grigori’s face. It was a surreal moment, one he never expected and yet…it felt like it was always going to happen. The scientist in him didn’t believe in fate. But the poet in Aryth knew this moment was perfect. “Only if you’ll marry me, too,” Aryth said gently, his smile spreading wide, shining brighter than the sun and stars and the entire universe. It was a tone that promised: this is meant to be. And no sooner had the scholar responded than he swept back in for an embrace. He was not a forward male, nor was he traditionally romantic. But in that moment, safeguarded from the darkness of the past, he—they—existed only in the present.


Tender fangs found purchase against Grigori’s jaw, his skin. Russet fur, speckled with tan, cream and brown like owl feathers, blended against Grigori’s pale and timber coat until one body could not be differentiated from the other. There was only one soul here. A teacher and a cowboy, cut from two distinct cloths, united by an impossibly strong thread.


It was true love.

code by claerie

@Grigori