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Lithian could have killed a man.

The thought jarred him, shaking him to his core, and left a cold knot of nausea in his gut. It followed him on his blind rush ‘home’ to where he was temporarily staying with Casseth, and loomed even as he closed himself inside the four walls of the room he shared with his intended. He was vaguely aware that Cas had likely followed soon after him, but his mind didn’t fully register any of it, only the heavy, rushing pounding of his heart and the quiver in his limbs as he curled in on himself. He toed off his boots, crawled onto the bed, placed his back to the headboard, and tucked in, arms wrapped, and forehead to his knees.

He could have killed a man.

Not only a man, but the man that Araceli — his best friend, aside from Casseth himself — loved. It would have been easier on him to convince himself that he wouldn’t have, couldn’t have. Regardless of how close he came, when it came down to the final fact, either someone would have stopped him, or he would have faltered himself. He didn’t have it in him. He hadn’t been that angry.

But Lithian was not so sufficient a liar as that, and he knew better.

Detraeus had terrified him. Watching him loom over Casseth, weapon raised, after having brutally torn apart the bodies of part-orderites in the arena before, Lithian had never known a greater fear before that moment. And for the weeks and months after the incident in the pit, Lithian had hated him. Sincerely. He could not remember having ever hating anyone before in his life, but he had hated Detraeus well and truly, and perhaps that sentiment had carried forward.

Detraeus had been bitter, angry, and violent before the pit match, and after it, Lithian had only been rendered more incapable of reconciling Casseth and Araceli’s tendencies towards defending his behavior. He’d wanted the man nowhere near Casseth, couldn’t fathom why Casseth still trusted him, and worried every day for Araceli’s safety in his presence. Prayed that Casseth failed in his efforts to bring the man back to Soudul. Detraeus was hateful, unpredictable, and dangerous.

But deserving of death…?

Lithian shuddered. When he had chosen to hone his talents as both a weapon, and a remedy, he had never considered that he would one day hold a life in his hands with any other goal than to save it. Not to extinguish it.

Never to extinguish it.

He shut his eyes.

Lithian shuddered at Cas’ touch and leaned into it, instinctively seeking solace in contact. He unfolded, just enough to reach out and tug Cas in enough to coil against him, and there, he stilled, tucking back close and clinging. A long silence followed where he simply held, but his mind refused to calm, and eventually, the words left him.

“I could have killed him, Casseth…”

Lithian shook his head. “I just…have never been so angry before — he threatened you, I…don’t…understand…why you still trust him…how Ara trusts him…how she feels safe with him…” He squeezed his eyes tighter shut. “But I shouldn’t have—I never should have—I never thought…” He winced. “Ara is one of my best friends…but I feel as though I’m driving her away, and now…”

Shivering, Lithian let his eyes shut at the kiss. He relished in the distraction, wanting everything in that moment but to linger on the topic at hand, and, pulling Casseth forward when he pressed, he initiated a shift in positions. At its end, he wound up with his back to the sheets, fingers bunched in Casseth’s shirt front, face flushed and lips parted. Smiling a fraction, he hummed and teased his fingers down Cas’ chest to the bottom edge of his top and then beneath it, ushering up to slide over skin and thumb over the shape of Casseth’s stomach.

“And I, you,” he said. “Will you…” Lithian hesitated, biting at his lip and stilling his touching. On the one hand, he was eager to move on — forget, at least temporarily, the darker concerns plaguing him — but in the end, his worry won out. “You will go back to spar with him again,” he murmured, “ …won’t you…”

Lithian bit back whatever he might have said in response.

He’d known, if he were honest with himself, that Casseth would say as much. But it didn’t make the words easier to hear. Then again, it didn’t make things worse to ask, he supposed. Sighing, he made a split second decision, braced himself, and rolled them, flipping to push Casseth back to the bed and looming over him.

Before Cas could object, Lith dipped, catching his lips in a kiss to silence anything he might have said and then rising to a sit, straddled over his hips. Lithian worked his fingers down his vest front, unbuttoning and unfastening before slipping the cloth off his shoulders, down, and off. Shirtless, he reached for Cas’ chest and began working open the cloth there, too, to expose dark, charcoal grey skin. He leaned down, and kissed. With each new inch bared, he trailed his lips down like trail markers, until arriving at the top seam of Casseth’s pants.

There, he lifted his lashes. Eyes trained on Casseth’s face, he placed a last, lingering kiss at Casseth’s newly bared hip before saying, “I want something, Casseth…”

Above him, Casseth made a sound caught somewhere between a breathless laugh and a groan. “Oh?” he responded, and Lithian hummed as he nodded, raising up again and moving to lean over Cas.

He caught Cas’ lips in a kiss, tugging at his lower lip with a n** of teeth, and then, palms flat to Cas’ chest and mouth hovering a half inch over him he said with complete seriousness: “I want you to quit fighting at Vienrith Stadium.” Lithian shut his eyes, all but positive of the answer he would receive on this request, too, but similarly persistent. “Please…”

Lithian blinked, entirely thrown for a moment. He had expected a no, braced himself for a no, been sure he would get a no, but asked anyway. To hear consent, however — not even arguing, simply plain, unfettered assent — shocked him, and for several seconds, he simply stared, barely daring to give in to the hopeful flutter building in his chest.

“Casseth…you mean it…?”

The tentative hope in Lithian’s chest blossomed, bubbling over into full-blown, ecstatic relief, and he half laughed, half whined as he leaned forward, catching Cas in a forcefully enthusiastic kiss. “Yes, yes, of course,” he blurted into the kiss, sparcing words in between movements and skimming his hands back down Casseth’s chest. All but immediately, he was rocking back onto Cas, fingers at his waistline and mouth trailing down from his mouth to his throat. “I think…we both have far too much clothing on.”