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Umbric is under no illusion that things are alright. Yes, the ren'dorei are permitted access to Silvermoon City at last – most of it anyway – but the invitation has had a strong 'for now' ring to it, and if circumstances weren't as dire as they are, he is honestly unsure if it would have been extended at all. (Which is incredibly unfair when all they've done is prove themselves, over and over, to be dedicated protectors of their homeland -)
But there is no use getting worked up about it now. Best to look on the bright side, which is what he intends to do.
And the bright side right now is being able to visit his old lover's friend's home at will.
Whether he'll be let in is another question – he had to pull a few strings to even be told his new address – but up until extremely recently, it looked like he would never have a chance again at all. And if the Void taught Umbric one thing, it's how to seize an opportunity.
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On his fourth day of trying, Umbric finally manages to convince Rommath to let him in instead of threatening to call the city guards. (Let alone actually calling them, like he did on day three. Honestly, maybe Rommath just let him in this time because returning even after that made him realize that Umbric would not give up.)
(He'll take it.)
Now onto the next challenge however... Finding the right words to say. Distantly, Umbric is aware that he should've planned for this. Sure, they have spoken recently, plenty. But never about private matters. Never in private. And somehow, that makes all the difference.
Not that Rommath behaves like it matters to him at all. Sifting through papers, scribbling short notes, and performing quick tidying spells like he was just in the middle of cleaning up his desk when Umbric knocked and has no intention of pausing the activity for his guest's sake.
Thing is; of course Umbric knows it's just an act. Of course he knows. It must be. It simply must. The alternative bears no thinking about. But it still cuts, it hurts, being ignored like this. He tries to start a conversation several times, but is stopped in his tracks every time with a curt "Not now".
Never, notably, followed by anything like a 'just sit over there and wait, I'll be right with you'.
(Maybe the right words don't exist. Maybe he can beg entry back into Rommath's space, but not his thoughts, his heart. But maybe Umbric just needs to be patient, and keep trying.)
It does not take long for it to become grating, despite Umbric's best efforts to stay calm.
"When does the Grand Magister think he will have time, then?" (He tries not to snap it, but after seeing Rommath move the same stack of paper for the third time – by a few inches – all while keeping his back turned to him, this proves very, very difficult.)
This makes Rommath turn around at last. "If you have somewhere else to be, then by all means, there's the door."
So that's the game.
Well, Umbric is not playing.
"For Light's sake- I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be, Rommath!"
The other elf's eyes narrow instantly at the religious exclamation, but mercifully, there is no reproach about using it. (Umbric does not think he could stomach an ideological debate about expletives, right now.)
Even more importantly: Rommath appears to be listening, at least for now. This is his chance. "Please", Umbric tries, voice gentle, "I just want to -"
"What." So much for listening. The ice in Rommath's tone could freeze the Sunwell. "Corner me, and tell me more of how you're totally in control of the evil inside of you, permeating your very being?" Every word drips with disdain, and Umbric tries his best not to flinch. Not so much the words – though those too – but the emotion behind them. It just hurts. "By all means, say it then." Rommath has crossed the distance between them as he spoke, now standing mere inches from Umbric; and using every bit of his meager height advantage to tower over him. "Say your piece; I can't seem to stop you. But then leave." The 'forever' is as loud as if he'd spoken it.
This is his only chance then. Alright. No pressure.
(And definitely no thoughts about how close Rommath is standing... just no. He shouldn't think about that period. It's not important, especially not right now but also not in general, because they're not... they're not.... they're not. Anymore. Umbric has not forgotten how he looked at him upon first seeing his new form. Rommath's friendship is all he can possibly hope to gain back, and even that only if he does not mess up now.)
His brain seizes upon a previous thought. Seeing. Maybe...?
He's taking too long to think. Rommath is turning away already. No-
"What have I done", Umbric blurts out. Steadies himself and holds Rommath's gaze when the latter whips back around. One chance. "What have I actually done to make you distrust me. All that you ever talk about is the bad things I – we – might do. But what bad thing have I actually done to deserve your" he has to swallow here, he can't help it "hatred?" It is unspoken between them that joining the Alliance does not count; this is not a Faction matter, it never was.
Rommath is all but quivering with rage, but clearly, struggling to form a response. Success. Or at least, hope. "The Sunwell -", he presses out at last.
"Is only in danger if we're physically near it", Umbric is quick to interrupt. Because it's true. Simply staying off the Isle of Quel'Danas – or out of the central building – is more than enough precaution. He knows that Rommath knows this. "I am a protector of my people. Our people." Rommath looks like he wants to protest, but Umbric continues. His voice is once again gentle, but no less firm for it. "I only ever wanted to use this power to protect us. Please, Rommath... you know this. You know me."
Rommath is still shaking with (what Umbric can only assume to be) barely contained fury. Umbric thinks he may be shaking too, but he couldn't name the emotion for the life of him. Everything depends on whether Rommath believes him now. Everything.
"I am the same person you've always known."
Seconds pass that feel like eternities. Umbric looks Rommath straight in the eyes, wordlessly pleading with him. We've both changed, but we're also the same, he wants to say, suddenly recalling with the sharpest clarity how those eyes burned blue once. A lifetime ago. Two lifetimes. Don't you see?
Rommath's chest is heaving. His throat is working, too, soundlessly, Umbric can see that even from the corner of his eyes. (Thankfully he can – at last, here, in the privacy of his own home, he put down that infernal collar. It's a defense mechanism if he's ever seen one, and it breaks Umbric's heart when he thinks about it for too long.) He is still not interrupting him though, not arguing, and that alone fills Umbric with more hope than he's had in years. Makes him feel strong.
Bold.
"Please", he says one more time, and without really thinking it through, places a hand on his former (?) friend's chest.
Wrong move.
Rommath sneers, nearly spits, and rips the hand away; so harshly it'll surely leave a bruise. Not that it matters – the hole in Umbric's chest hurts worse. For one long, agonizing moment, everything seems lost, and Umbric simply wants the Void to swallow him up. (And possibly, never spit him out again.)
Thankfully it does not, though, because the next thing he knows, Rommath hisses "You are so infuriating" and grabs him by the shoulders, shoving him into the nearest wall. Startled, and in truth, utterly sick of fighting the person he cares most for in all the world, Umbric does nothing but stare. Not that he even has time to do much of anything before Rommath descends upon him – and aggressively starts to kiss him.
Every higher-functioning thought in Umbric's mind winks out like a light. Nothing exists in his reality in that moment except Rommath's lips (and tongue... and teeth) against him. I love you. I love you. I love you. Fuck, I fucking missed you, his brain babbles nonsensically. He prays he has enough control left to not say it out loud. (If he ruins this he might actually walk into a Void portal, to never return to this world.)
Now, he really does not want to read more into this than it is, but Rommath's hands keep grabbing at his waist, and soon, his ass. (And if Umbric's knees buckle briefly at that, well, there are no witnesses here except Rommath. And Rommath can know all of him. If that's still something he wants.) And when Umbric grabs at his back in silent answer, and their kissing grows mutually deeper, well... from there it's really not much of a surprise anymore when Rommath suddenly starts herding him in one direction, after a few steps fumbles to open a door, and-
- gets impatient and teleports them about a foot above the bed, resulting in a brief "Oof" of a landing.
For a moment, everything feels so silly, so easy, Umbric can't help but cough out a laugh. And he swears, he swears the corners of Rommath's mouth crinkle up as well. That ghost of a smile is gone as quick as it came, however, and soon he's on him again, wrapping a hand around his collar and slipping four fingers beneath. (Umbric shivers briefly – and it's not because Rommath runs unexpectedly cold.)
"Off, or i'll rip it off." The unspoken 'it's a horrible eyesore anyway' is loud in the hard set of his brows, but he can't fool Umbric; he sees the ardour that burns beneath the hard exterior. (Not to mention, feels something else that's hard quite clearly where Rommath all but sits in his lap...)
Raising an eyebrow in an equally loud unspoken 'you too then' (and rolling his hips, just once, the pretense of trying to dislodge him too tempting to pass up), Umbric feels like he levelled the playing field quite neatly right then and there.
(Especially the way Rommath closes his eyes just for a moment there as their arousals brush, his mouth parting in a silent groan...yes, if anything, Umbric feels like he's winning. What, he isn't exactly sure, a lot of things feel fuzzy right now. But he feels light, so light, and that alone is more than enough. Definitely winning.)
In a flurry of cloth and a few quiet curses (most of them on Rommath's part, Umbric is more than delighted to note), they finish the tasks at hand quite quickly between them. Briefly Umbric is treated to sight of Rommath's worryingly thin body (not so good) and very flushed and hard cock (very good... full-body shivers good in fact), but it is really just a very short look; for his bedmate wastes no time at all picking up and bending his legs, pressing far enough down to be able to kiss him again.
(And if Umbric hasn't done this in a long time for decidedly Rommath-shaped reasons, and needs to employ some subtle-and-swift Void-y healing to manage some of the strain, well. It works, and if Rommath notices the spellwork he does not comment, and that's more than good enough.)
Rommath grabs (summons? conjures?) oil from somewhere. Umbric doesn't feel him move so it's probably a spell, but that's all he knows; he's closed his eyes at some point and does not feel like opening them again any time soon. Everything is alright here in the dark... warm... with Rommath.
(Well, a little cold with Rommath, to be honest, but he is warming up already.)
The next few minutes pass in concentrated silence, nothing but their breaths and the barest noises between them. They've always fit together like this. There is never even a need for words when they just understand each other; and finally (finally finally finally), they do once more.
Nothing but pleasure, and simple, giddy joy fills Umbric. It doesn't even feel particularly centered in his hardness, or at least it does not feel urgent; throbbing as it may be. Nothing feels particularly urgent right now, not even the end of the world. (What world?)
As Rommath finishes preparing him, and shifts somewhat to enter him properly, a stuttering breath leaves Umbric's chest. Everything feels poised on a razor's edge, but the fluttering in his stomach isn't nerves. It's pure want. Please. Please come back to me. Please come back to me for real.
Suddenly, Rommath speaks – for the first time since tugging at his clothes, Umbric realizes. He tries to focus on the words. "Don't think I'm not still angry", he makes out after a beat. Rommath's voice sounds surprisingly measured for how heavily he's breathing. Distantly, Umbric is aware that this is likely on purpose – that Rommath simply chooses to forgo projecting anger in order to project calm; certainty. It definitely does not mean that he is not angry. And yet....
That's alright.
Umbric almost surprises himself with how alright he is with it. If this is what Rommath needs... that's perfectly okay by him. (As long as he gets to keep him in his life. His kisses. His love. Him.) Therefore, with as much focus and gravitas as he can muster, Umbric nods to Rommath in acknowledgement. For a moment, they lock eyes, and everything ever said passes between them.
Then they both break the contact for different reasons as Rommath pushes inside. And once again... everything feels as it should be. As it's always been.
Like nothing ever changed.
Of course that could not be further from the truth, but Umbric has never denied reality so gladly.
The pace Rommath sets is just a little too fast to fit the illusion of control he is clearly still trying to maintain, and Umbric loves every second. The force of his thrusts as well; so hard one could mistake it for anger, but Umbric knows better. Knows that it's exactly as hard as they both like it, and feels the love, the memories in every movement. If it were up to him, in that blissful, abstract way... this could go on forever.
Which is why it catches him so much by surprise when suddenly, he hears something that sounds like a sob. And before he can even properly open his eyes (because that can't be right....right?), feels a tear drip on his cheek. Rommath...
Before he can do anything more than gasp, however, Rommath's thrusts start to fail; and two stuttering movements later, he finishes. Umbric feels it deep inside, and despite the bliss of it, for a moment... he's simply floored. It's only been a few minutes! Rommath hasn't finished this fast since... since...
Memories come rushing back, and he tries to push them away – to no avail. They were young then, so young... Umbric had tried a few, small things, but Rommath – always so focused and studious – hadn't ever tried anything at all. They were each other's firsts in so many ways. And Rommath had learned control so fast... No, he hasn't been this quick since before they started doing this.
And just like that, Umbric feels an overwhelming surge of affection at the only thing that this can mean: the loudest possible 'I missed you', louder than any words could ever be.
Then Rommath pulls out and collapses on top of him, and he's not sure if he's crying or not but he wraps his arms around him anyway.
If only his traitorous cock weren't enjoying the newly-provided friction so much.... he's trying his best not to buck or otherwise make his desire known, because his desire is not important, not nearly as important as this embrace is. But his cock twitches, he can't control that, and Rommath (of course) notices. And pulls away.
(Umbric wants to weep. 'Wait', 'no' and 'sorry' at the tip of his tongue. 'Please don't leave' nearly makes it out.)
But Rommath doesn't leave – he merely sits back up. And without a single word or hesitation, wraps a hand around Umbric's aching need and starts to stroke, his brow furrowed in that dedicated concentration he applies to anything he finds worth pursuing.
Umbric will take it to his grave, but it's that thought – that he's worth pursuing, that Rommath puts that single-minded focus to use on him for pleasure instead of scorn – that makes him finish in mere seconds, and then squeeze his eyes shut till tears of his own spring forth when his beloved his lover keeps stroking him till he's completely spent.
Afterwards, Rommath lies down on top of him once more without a single word. And perhaps most crucially: Without producing a handkerchief, or even trying the most basic of cleaning spells; effectively smearing them both sticky and gross. Rommath hates sticky and gross, Umbric knows this for a fact. No amount of afterglow can change that.
Except, somehow, something's changed, and Umbric nearly says 'I love you' right then and there.
Instead, though, he opts to press his face into his dearest friend's hair, holding on for however long he may be granted this. (It's greasy – greasier than he's ever allowed it to get in the past, at least. Oh Rommath.... still running yourself into the ground for everyone else. He resolves to change this, first thing, if Rommath ever lets him again.)
Eventually, Rommath speaks once more. "Disgusting", "Horrible", "You repulse me", "Don't know how i'm even touching you" are just a few phrases he can make out, and he knows immediately that it's not about the mess.
It's not the pillow talk many would want to hear, but Umbric knows when Rommath is truly irritated and this isn't it. Besides; he will gladly let him say anything as long as he keeps muttering it into the crook of his neck, holding onto him tightly all the while. He no longer feels mere wisps of hope that they might work this out... he is convinced that they will.
Somehow, they will.