the_cupbearer | psl for Raylan: post-shootout

Ganymede doesn't back up any further, and he's still sitting close to Raylan; he doesn't want buffer space for this, because he knows pretty well that Raylan is not the type to be physically violent at someone who hasn't earned it, or out of lack of imaginative options.

"His name was Zeus. Still is." He was still around, though greatly diminished. "I feel like I should tell you nineteen was a great deal more adult then than it is now. I wasn't a little boy, even then." And yes, he could pass for mid-twenties fairly easily, if he dressed and spoke and moved the right way; that was easy enough and he'd been doing it for years now. "I suppose it goes without saying that my birth name is not Benjamin Prince."

To be fair, 19 wasn't a child as it was, just young, just lacking experience. And 6,7000 years old was more experience than regular people could process inside a heartbeat. But there was no path for Raylan to get mad about it - things were what they were. Zeus at least, Raylan knew. Zeus was a whore, even in modern tellings.

The realization that Benjamin Prince wasn't his name felt like a betrayal more than anything else, if only because part of Raylan's heart was starting to sink into this relationship. Trust was being built with every successful day that neither of them got hurt in one way or another. And inside a heartbeat, in a flash, he wondered if he knew 'Ben' at all.

But it was a small hurt in a long list of hurts Raylan has had over his life, and one he knew he could deal with.

"I think I'm gonna need that drink now." It's sighed with wide eyes as he pushes himself all the way up and pads over to their makeshift bar to pour himself a drink. Halfway through he looks over his shoulder at his lover again.

"Zeus? Like, The Zeus?"

"Yes," Ganymede said with a soft exhale, not quite a sigh. "That Zeus."

He watched Raylan move and go to the bottle to pour himself a drink, acutely aware of what hadn't been said yet--and might not ever be said. But he'd begun the conversation, and even if it went badly he was going to finish it. "I know it sounds ridiculous. But it is the truth."

The first drink poured is downed before he's pouring out two more and carrying them back over towards the bed so he can sit down, one glass handed out to Ben.

"I believe you, darlin'. You got no reason to lie to me about this, far as I can tell. I just.. I don't quite understand how it's possible is all. Let's-- let's just start this simple. If Benjamin isn't your name, what is, and what do you want me to call you?"

He takes the drink, rearranging to unfold his legs a bit as he sips at it. Alcohol really does nothing to him at this point, and he rarely pretends otherwise unless he's trying to get himself shitfaced--which is, thankfully, rare. "My legal name is still Benjamin. And it's been what everyone's called me for the last fifteen or twenty years. The name I was born with is...well, the language we spoke is dead, but the closest thing to it is Γανυμήδης. In English it's Ganymede, but very few people know that."

Ganymede shrugs gently as if he were trying to rearrange an ill-fittign shirt, though he's still comfortably naked where he sits. "You can call me anything you like, Raylan. I can be just Ben, like I have been."

"It ain't about what I like. I think names are important. They mean somethin' to people."

It was about respect, it was about calling him by what he wanted to be called by, without any masks or lies or cover ups to keep his life the way it was going.

"What do you want?"

"They do," he admits, nodding. "And names are important. My given name, Ganymede, means roughly 'rejoicing in virility', which I would love to not have to explain all the time," he says with a gentle laugh at himself. "The names I choose for myself do tell a story as well--Benjamin meaning son of the right hand, or favored son; Prince meaning, well...prince. And I was. Youngest son of the king," Ganymede said quietly, drinking more bourbon. He does still miss his family, however much times, and the family dynamics, were different then.

"What I told you before is still true. I had two older brothers, and both are dead. And my hometown was destroyed in a war. Just the Trojan War." He reached out for Raylan's hand, fingertips gentle on the back of his hand. "I want you to call me Ben. What you have been calling me. I am Benjamin Prince as much as I am Ganymede son of Tros, as much as I was Bellamy Martel, or Sebastian Maddox. Or any other names I've had."

There was no hesitation in the way Raylan's hand turns over to spread his fingers and capture Ben's, entwining them together with a soft squeeze. He was stunned, brow softly furrowed and mind stuck on 'The Trojan War'. He didn't even know how long ago that was, without looking it up.

"So you're Greek?" The words were out of his mouth before he could help it and he felt immediately stupid for it. It didn't matter what Ben was, even if Raylan was asking out a curiosity about the man himself.

"Alright so you're - Immortal? What happens if you do catch a bullet in an unlucky place? I know you bleed, I can see the damage but-" How did that translate out?

"Trojan," Ganymede corrected softly, shaking his head a little though he squeezed Raylan's hand back with no small amount of relief. That his partner was confused or concerned or both he didn't mind; that he wasn't rapidly heading towards the belief that Ganymede was insane was what mattered. "Losing side of the war. I'd be...sort of halfway between Turkish and Greek, if I had to try and put a name to it." But he doesn't really consider himself any modern ethnicity or nationality, to be fair. He predates most countries anyway.

"That's where the slightly more complicated parts come in. I am immortal, yes, in that I won't age or die of natural cause. It...properly, I would be a demigod, though I don't really think of myself that way. But I can be injured--and temporarily, I can be killed. It's happened before even if only temporarily." Several times--many times, if he cared to count them all, but he doesn't. "But it doesn't stay. I always come back again, like waking up after you fall asleep too suddenly. I've never stayed dead more than about half an hour, at my best estimate."

Edited 2024-10-27 00:14 (UTC)

Raylan had always assumed the Trojan's were Greek, but that was likely obvious from the kneejerk question. He was open to re-education, even if this wasn't something he could possibly ever imagine without help understanding. Neither was he going to be testing what Ben was telling him and it will probably take him seeing it happen over the next few days for the reality of it to set in.

"A half hour? Shit. You're not Lazarus from the Bible too, are ya?"

It was an attempt at a joke - if they could even huff a little bit of a laugh, they were okay, right? Or had Ben heard that before, a million times over thousands of years.

"I'm not, that I can say easily. Though I have met some of those," he adds--people from the Bible, he means, though he doesn't elaborate much. "It's caused me some problems before. Waking up in a pine box and a shallow grave after being hanged doesn't do you any favors with anyone much."

Ganymede shifts back over to lean in against Raylan with a soft smile and a gentle laugh. "Back then there really wasn't a 'Greece' like we think of it now, it wasn't just one country. There were a dozen or more cities, each their own place, and their own people. But no, I wasn't Greek at all--people used to use that as an insult to men who like anal sex, 'being greek'. Because there was, and still is, a lot of social stigma attached to men who like being on the bottom." He's not angry, and he's certainly not insulted, because he knows Raylan didn't mean the question like that.

"I know it's hard to wrap your head around."

Raylan was quiet for a long few moments. It was a lot. A little overwhelming if he was honest and he was struggling, despite him trying his best. It was hard to articulate, only because there was such a vast age of references that lay between them. Vast age of understanding and experience between them.

The tidbit about 'being greek' being some insult about gay men made Raylan pull a disgusted face and shake his head. "No, god, I- I've never heard it bein' like that; that's not what I meant at all. It's not an opinion that I'm vocal about outside for obvious reasons, but anyone willin' to take a dick, to deal with primal men like that - winner in my book."

He believed it, yes, but there was a hint of 'telling yourself something a million times over to make it true' underneath the way he says it all.

"And it is. A lot to wrap my head around. Thank you for tellin' me, even if I'm gonna need to chew this in installments." If that was okay. He was a simple man and there was nothing simple about this situation.

Ganymede had to chuckle at the face Raylan made at that, shaking his head. "No, no. I didn't think you meant it like that. I just thought...you should know. I didn't think you'd think less of me for it anyway," he murmurs--not only because he's been in that position with Raylan himself, but also because the marshal just doesn't seem the type to spew vitriol over something as trivial as sex preferences. "You're allowed to be confused about it all. I am, and I've lived it."

And sometimes, his life barely made sense to him, much less anyone else. "And you're allowed to not want to know any more, either. If this is just too much, and too weird...you can blame it on today being a mess, and forget about it by morning." Ganymede wouldn't begrudge him that. He'd normally have brought this up much more tactfully and not just come out with it all at once, and in bed to boot, but the circumstances had presented a rare opportunity. Still, he fidgeted, pulling the braid of his hair over his shoulder to tug on it gently, a gesture Raylan had most likely seen him do before when he wanted reassurace, but wouldn't ask for it. Not in so many words.

"Do you still want me to stay here tonight?"

He was glad the ignorant faux pax was forgiven - he really would keep it in mind going forwards, but Ben was right - it wasn't Raylan's style. He liked to take dick as much as he liked to give it, though that wasn't something he was comfortable admitting out in the wide world like Ben was. He was also reassured by Ben's permission to be confused. The last thing that Raylan wanted to do was insult him.

"I want to know more. I wanna know you. And of course I still want you to stay tonight." He brings their laced hands up to kiss Ben's knuckles before unwinding their fingers to wrap an arm around the man as he discards his glass and pulls Ben back down onto the bed with him so he could wrap him up in his arms.

"Nothin's changed with me. I want you to know that. This all doesn't change how I feel about you or how much I enjoy spendin' time with you. That's all that matters. That we're enjoyin' each other."

The kiss to his hand, and the following pull to envelop him into Raylan's arms, made Ganymede all but melt into place again, only too happy to settle against someone who wanted him there, and didn't think he was crazy for having said all of what he'd just said. It was a lot--more than a lot if he was entirely and bluntly truthful with himself--and hearing Raylan say he wanted to know more was as uplifting to him as any love declaration would have been.

Possibly more than that, really. It was hard to get to know all the layers and nooks and hidden pockets of Ganymede's personality, the things he'd hidden away for so long to get by that didn't serve him making his way in the world anymore. "I enjoy your company more than you know," Ganymede murmured, settling down and in close against Raylan in the safe, protected hold of his arms. He brushed gentle kisses over his lover's collarbones and neck and chest, everywhere he could put his lips. "You make me feel worth the attention. The way you hold me and touch me...nobody has taken me at my word when I tell them I don't want gentle. Not in a long time."

He wasn't seeing Ben for anything other than who he was - now they just had literally thousands of years to add onto that day by day exploration. It was as simple as that. Neither did Raylan take Ben's outpour of vulnerable honesty for granted.

.. But on some things, Raylan's control was poor.

"Maybe they think it's elder abuse." He pulls back a fraction so he can smile down into Ben's face. The smile is soft and warm, but after he's sure Ben knows he's joking, it all slips towards something more serious.

"I trust you to know what you want. What you can handle. I'm not scared of hurtin' you. Not like I am with women. I trust that you can make smart decisions, even if maybe some'a my questions didn't suggest that. Just lookin' for what holes we can plug if we put our heads together.. And I suppose that's all moot now, but don't think that I'm gonna worry a fraction less now. Hurt is still hurt."

Ganymede gave a soft, inelegant little snort of laughter at the joke, but it put him at ease to know Raylan could tease him about it. It would be okay, the marshal could handle his extraordinary age, even if it would have to come in fits and starts and not all at once. Ganymede could deal with that all too easily. Even if his smile dimmed a little at the explanation, it didn't disappear, just softened.

"It doesn't have to be moot that you worry. It does still hurt if I get cut or break a bone." Or get shot, but he doesn't say that. The bandage still taped to his ribs says it plenty loud. "I still worry for you too. I know you're going to have guns pointed at you, and I know your draw has to be faster than everyone else. And I know it is," he murmured, fingertips tracing nonsensical patterns over his lover's skin just to feel. "But killing does something to a person. Even those of us that don't regret what we have to do at times."

"It's not, I won't worry a fraction less than I do now, which is a considerable amount." Of course he would still worry. This didn't change that.

But he takes and lets a breath out of his nose as Ganymede got around to what the man had asked for earlier. What Raylan had promised him earlier. Normally, Raylan didn't talk about work, because it always resulted in more worry. Worry that had eaten Winona alive from the inside. Worry that he couldn't curtail no matter how much reassurance he tried to give. Ben's touch helped soothe some of the bubbling anxiety that he would cause the same kind of pain to the now older man.

"Sometimes I don't like that it's the only thing I'm good at. But then I end up savin' some one from somethin' terrible, even if it doesn't change anything for them; not really. But at least they're alive enough to hit their next struggle. I've-" He stops and tightens his lips a little as he thinks about how to say it.

"I know what it is I'm doin' and over the years, it bothers me less. Lives don't weigh the same as they used to, if it's just some criminal cockroach. I don't know what that says about it."

"Maybe...I like you worrying about me," Ganymede murmured gently, shifting over to lay on top of Raylan, stretched out with his chin resting on the man's chest, watching and listening to what he said--and how he said it. It told volumes that Raylan wouldn't say what bothered him lest it bring consequence for someone else. "Oh, I don't think it's the only thing you're good at by a long shot. You're a smart man, Raylan Givens, no one can deny that. And the world is always going to need people like you--no matter how much it tries not to."

Ganymede has seen that over the years and centuries, and it's pointless to ignore the necessity of having men who are willing to kill when necessary. Ganymede himself has killed, and he doesn't regret it. The lives he took were forfeit to him for a reason. "I think it says that you've learned people have to want to be saved. You're ahead of most of us in that respect, honestly." He'd been guilty of falling into that trap himself, of trying to dig someone else out of a hole they were in, at the expense of his own well-being. Ganymede tilted his head and laid a gentle, thoughtful kiss over Raylan's heart. "What are you worried about it saying?"

Edited 2024-11-11 17:56 (UTC)

"Then you're all set, ain't you," Raylan rumbles back with good humor as he shifts with Ben's roll, letting the man move him as he wanted, hands sliding up to settle on Ben's thighs before moving up to drift along his back instead as he peers down into the youthful face.

Ben's praise held a lot of weight but it battled against a lifetime of self-shaping and situational renforcements that had long dug into the back of Raylan's mind and taken route. And he'd tried, over that lifetime, to dedicate himself to other things but chasing men down, killing those that deserved it, was always where he ended up.

How many bodies saved equaled out those taken, in the end?

"That it says I've gotten callus about it. That I might shoot my gun, end a life, for less than a good reason.. That I ain't any better than the people I'm puttin' down and end up bein' my daddy's son more than I already am."

He trusted Ganymede, despite the secret the now 'older' man had kept. He'd never been hurt here, never been mocked, and being able to answer honestly was a reward worth having.

"We're both safe, and here together," Ganymede says softly. "It could be worse." Raylan could have thought he was crazy, that his story and his age were unbelievable. It was a constant worry for him, really. He listened to his lover when he talked about becoming callous with the violence necessary for his job, and feathered his fingertips over Raylan's skin, soft and gentle.

"I don't think you're callous, love. Not even close," he murmurs. "If you were, you wouldn't have cared why someone got themselves killed today. You wouldn't have offered to teach me how to get myself out of that position safely, and you've done both." Ganymede kept his movement slow and easy as they spoke, tracing looping patterns over the swell and curve of the body underneath his. "I don't know your father, but I don't think you're much like him, the way you talk. But I know it worries you--what has he done that makes you dislike him?"

"It could always be worse," he murmurs back. His brain was far too willing to list out the reasons why, but he wasn't going to let that spill out of his mouth and ruin the mood. Ben's touch was both calming and soothing and left Raylan more inclined to lay here in the ease of their afterglow.

He liked the way 'love' sounded coming off those lips though. It warmed some deep part of him.

"If only we could talk other people into feelin' that way." The people that controlled the investigations into him, that controlled the babysitters that he was sometimes saddled with, the suspicious, however correct it was to come from suspicious men.

Ben's question was an innocent one, but that didn't stop the sting of being forced to look back on it any less.

"I could spend a year and a half detailin' out what Arlo Givens have done and it still wouldn't touch the true list of his sins. One day I'll tell you, but not tonight. All you need to know is that Arlo Givens isn't anythin' better than an abusive con man, lookin' for an angle to make a buck, no matter who he fucks over in the process. But I'm angry like him. Rash, like him. Capable of terrible things. Of bein' a terrible person, if I chose to be."

"If you chose to be," Ganymede repeated gently. "But you don't. Everyone on this earth is capable of terrible things, Raylan, you now that as much as I do. But it takes intent to do it." He fully believed that, as much as he fully believed the man he was laying on naked and already injured was not, in any stretch of the imagination, one of those people inclined to actually be terrible.

"I know you think I'm a terrible idealist saying all this. But I don't think you'd make the choice." He'd bet an awful lot of money, and other things, on that decision, and Ganymede stood by it. "Look at me, love."

He waited until Raylan looked at him, and stretched out to kiss him, lips soft and disguising the nip from his teeth on Raylan's bottom lip. "I like you holding me like this."

"Except when I do," he replies quietly, darkly. He wasn't as good as everyone seemed to think he was, though that didn't diminish how hard he tried to stay on the better path. It wasn't something he talked about, wasn't something he lingered on too long, but it was there none the less.

He comforted both of them by keeping his thumb moving along Ben's back, gaze lost out on the smooth curve of the man's shoulder, trying to not be haunted by his myriad of choices. When he's asked to look, he does without hesitation and without hiding any of the Everything that might be shining in them.

He hums softly as he kisses him back, huffing a little groan of amusement as his hands spread across Ben.

"That works out pretty well, considerin' I like holdin' you like this. It's.. peaceful here with you. A break from.. Everythin' out there." He made Raylan forget, for a few moments, the ugliness that lay outside the doors.

"Mmm, there you and I differ. Not all violence, not even all retribution, is the mark of evil," Ganymede murmurs softly in response. But he'll let the point lie, conceding to keep Raylan from digging into himself too deeply.

He dipped his head to press his lips to his lover's skin, gentle and slow as he enjoyed the feel of those hands. "I try to keep things peaceful. Not only because it helps you," he teased. "Talk to me, honey. Seems like something's bothering you."

psl for Raylan: post-shootout

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