Conflict of Interest | Solomon (Obey Me)
summary : you should have known that an apprenticeship under your best friend would bring nothing but trouble. keeping relationship strictly platonic was difficult enough in itself, so it was inevitable when your additional time together drew you into one another's arms. the only issue with falling in love with Solomon was that you knew nothing would ever be the same.
no pronouns / second person pov
warnings : explicit language, no actual smut but pretty direct allusions to sex, mildly toxic relationship
very loosely inspired by the Bright Eyes song Lua (and the Mac Miller cover of it on soundcloud) :
and i know you have a heavy heart / i can feel it when we kiss
me i'm not a gamble / you can count on me to split / the love i sell you in the evening / by the morning won't exist
what feels normal in the evening, by the morning, feels insane.
To say that you and Solomon weren’t on good terms would be an understatement.
It hadn’t always been like this – in fact, until very recently, you had held no one closer. Your close friendship had only gotten stronger once you officially adopted the role of being his apprentice. You had always been apprehensive about mixing your professional and personal lives, but you knew there was no one you trusted more to help you hone your magic than your white-haired friend. And after everything the two of you had been through together, no one else understood you quite as well.
The two of you had more than proven that you made a good team, both as friends and sorcerers. After months of spending nearly every moment together, there was no one you felt safer with – no one you cared for more deeply – than your mentor. There came a point where you couldn’t fathom anything, not even fate worst’s punishments, threatening the bond that you shared.
Then Solomon made the very mistake that you had sworn you would never make.
He sashayed across the invisible line drawn so thinly between you – the line you had been pacing frantically along for months. It was inevitable; you’re sure you would have caved and made the same error if he hadn’t. Drunk on excitement and a little too much wine, there was no better atmosphere to destroy everything the two of you had so carefully built together.
The inevitability of it all was painfully obvious by the way you melted in his hands when he touched you, pulling your hips against his with an unashamed grin. It was obvious when your eyes fluttered shut on instinct at the sensation of his cold fingertips grazing your warm cheek. And it was obvious still when he desperately covered your lips with his own, and you realized that this was what you had truly been waiting for, all this time.
It was the beginning and the end of it all. You spent that evening, and many more just like it, disregarding all common sense in a frenzied haze, desperate to scratch an itch that had been burning in both of you for far too long. Nothing about it warranted any conversation between you, as it never felt necessary.
In such moments, he was as eager as you were restless, the glide and feel of his bare skin against your own seemingly the most normal thing in all of the three realms; like you were destined to fall for him. As though he wouldn’t rest until he had come to know every inch of you, his intentions rarely clear and almost never pure.
You knew from the conditions of it that the depth of your emotions were not reciprocated. You had avoided it for so long because you knew he would ruin you, and you were of the impression that he most likely knew it too. It was common knowledge that he couldn’t love you, but when his head was between your thighs, watery eyes shining up at you in near worship, it sure as hell felt like he did. And if your desperate cries of his name weren’t enough to show him how you felt, you hoped the pretty purple marks you painted along his collarbone did the trick.
The unfortunate thing about time, of course, is that evenings always come to an end. Sometimes, waking up in the morning is a beautiful thing. Other times, waking up in the morning, deeply sore with a pounding headache, means facing the unfortunate reality that you made a mistake.
That’s always what waking up in Solomon’s bed meant. The same bed, yet miles apart – at arm’s length, if he was still there at all. He had wanted you so fiercely just a few hours ago. You had known all along that you didn’t want this – you didn’t want to put yourself through this – and now you had. The blame fell equally across the two of you. You each had sins to repent.
You’d think you would learn from your mistakes, but you didn’t. Not a week later, when you found yourselves alone together in a train cabin on an uncomfortably long trip in the human realm. Or two weeks after that, when he called you in the dead of night just to hear your voice, begging you to come to him. While you typically did quite well with your lessons, you seemed to be having a hard time learning this one.
You didn’t care to know what his purposes in nocturnally pursuing your heart were. Perhaps you were simply convenient, or maybe you were just someone he was comfortable with. You doubted anything more. But you believed with aching decision that you would keep running this race however long it took. He was still, at the core of everything, your best friend. You craved consistency from him, but you were content with whatever cards fate decided to play. You would’ve been content with anything, as long as it was him.
Now you could hardly stomach the sight of him.
Yet here you were, reliant on him once again.
Lost in past, there was no one else you could contact who might be able to help you figure out what the hell was going on. It just so happened that he had been looking for you too, apparently unsatisfied with the way you left things.
“Well when you suddenly disappeared, I had to come look for you,” he said earnestly, as though his concern was genuine. As though this was nothing more than another adventure for him in the Devildom.
You couldn’t help but scoff, “Funny, how quickly you worry when I’m not at your convenience.”
You watched as his face shifted from concern to frustration. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re also my student and friend,” he said sharply.
You raised an eyebrow, fighting against the anger that flared in your stomach. “Also?” you repeated scaldingly. “What exactly is the first thing you think of when I come to mind?”
He rolled his eyes, biting his lip to keep from snapping at you. After he had gone through all this trouble, practically cementing himself in the past with you, still unsure of a way back, he was infuriated that this was how you chose to greet him. As much as he tried to fight it, he was also frustrated that you wouldn’t believe him when he said he had been worried about you. He knew things had changed, but he had never thought you could believe he didn’t care about you.
You were expecting an answer, and it took him a moment to work out how to properly articulate one. “I was speaking in reference to which of our relationships you clearly value the most,” he spoke apathetically.
His assumption seared at your chest, and you had to dig your fingernails into your palms to resist the urge to curse him. You knew he’d be stronger than any curse you could conjure anyway, especially in your current state of mind. You opted for non-magical words instead. “It’d be in your best interest not to assume you know how I feel,” You cautioned.
When he simply raised a lazy eyebrow, your frustration reached a fever point. Trying to collect your anger to formulate a rational argument, so it was inevitable when you threw your hands up, your eyes threatening tears.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
The air of Cocytus Hall grew still. For a moment, Solomon wasn’t sure if his anger was fading or growing worse. Regardless, his composure hardly changed. “Then why do you?” he asked.
You wanted to scream. “You know why,” you seethed through gritted teeth.
His expression flickered briefly, his cool expression drifting into a soft look of shame. It was only a matter of moments before he was back to his normal self, quietly admitting, “I do know why.” He let a silence fill the air, unsure of how the hostile look in your eyes was making him feel. After a breath, he dared to say, “I want to hear you say it.”
Only he would be pompous enough to make demands in the midst of an argument. As a mentor, his arrogant insistence was welcomed, but when he got like this…
“Why?” You began your interrogation, your voice raising against your will. “Why must I always lower myself for you? Why do I always have to be the one who’s vulnerable? Who’s at your convenience?” By the end of it, you were shouting, and you had nearly cleared the room, putting yourself directly within arms reach of Solomon.
You wouldn’t hit him, of course. You’d never do such a thing, not even in your worst of tempers. But you could feel your anger bubbling through your veins, like steam rising from your skin. You wanted him to be able to feel how much you hated this. How much you hated that you were stuck here with him. How you hated the way you felt about him.
“You’ve never said it,” Solomon simply answered, his demeanor unfazed by your new proximity. If anything, he used your movement to his advantage, straightening his back to perfect his posture, a silent reminder of who exactly you were talking to.
Still, he knew well that you weren’t one to shy away quickly, not even from him. “Why would I?” you countered, your eyes narrowed and dark. “I do respect myself, Solomon.”
“I see it in your eyes every time I take off your clothes,” Solomon hummed in a low voice, his gaze still holding an argumentative heat. “I feel it every time you kiss me, every time you ask me to stay a little while longer. You couldn’t hide it if you tried, MC, yet you’re too damn stubborn to admit it to my face?”
At that point, your anger bubbled over into embarrassment, which bubbled into helplessness. You didn’t understand why he was being so cruel. “Why do you insist on making this so painful?” you asked, at this point, seeking mercy.
What you were seeking found you. Solomon’s eyes softened, the expression different from his usual lustful gaze. He let his passive façade slip, exposing a gentle vulnerability I hadn’t seen from him in quite some time. “Why can’t you just admit that you’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice thick with repressed emotion. Your gaze faltered, and it was his turn to push back. “What is so terrible about your attraction to me? Why are you so ashamed?”
“This is why!” You snapped quickly, your anger returning. “Because you know exactly how I feel about you, and you hold it against me. You use is to your advantage, for your entertainment!”
A sudden look of desperation flashed across his face as he finally understood how you truly saw him. “You think I want you any less?” he asked in a quiet plea. Suddenly, the thought of you thinking such absurdity reignited his anger. His voice raised as he pressed, “This isn’t just some game to me.”
A slight scoff slipped past your lips on instinct, causing his shoulders to tense. When he peered at you with burning curiosity, you finally voiced your deepest thoughts. “Solomon, you’re using me! You’re using how I feel about you!”
His initial instinct, of course, was to say absolutely anything he could to prove to you otherwise. He had meant every drunken whisper and lustful remark, every desire for you he had ever had. He needed you just as dependently as you had ever needed him. He had lived for centuries and never encountered anything that compared even remotely to you.
He longed for you achingly, but knew that the two of you had a lot of things to balance. You had a lot of roles to fill. He had always figured that there was simply a time and place.
Now, hearing your devastating beliefs, he wanted to argue, fight, plead – hell, the man was ready to drop to his knees. But as he turned over the entirety of your statement in his head, he suddenly couldn’t focus on his need to reassure you. His mind fixated on your vocabulary, and the way that even now, even after everything you both had said, you still had not said that you loved him.
It was driving him mad.
A wave of anxiety had him running a hand through his shaggy white hair, tugging almost painfully at the roots. When he withdrew his hand, his hair was a tousled mess, and the sight of it made your breath catch. His eyes settled on you in a silent plead.
You don’t know what it was, or what about it was so compelling, but you seemed to be able to read his expression fluently. Something clicked in your brain, forcing you to the conclusion that maybe this was something Solomon needed.
You were pleased when tears didn’t settle into your eyes. Maybe you had been doing a good job getting over it. “I just don’t understand why, Solomon. Why are you doing this to someone who loves you so much?”
There it was. The word left your perfect lips and strung Solomon up by his throat, forcing him to completely freeze into place. He had been directly asking for it – begging for it – but he admittedly wasn’t sure you’d ever cave. Even then, he didn’t know if it would have the impact he hoped.
It wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t exactly a whole, intended confession. It left him wanting, aching to hear you repeat it a little more clearly. The more he thought about it, the more he discovered the he wanted to hear you say it over, and over, and over…
Your heart fluttered at the genuine desire that clouded his grey eyes. For so long he had wondered if fate had simply decided that being loved was not in the cards for him. Of course, he had heard false declarations in his lifetime – insistences and sweet nothings thrown his way from demons and humans alike in an attempt to get something from him. He had on many occasions been consumed by lust, left to wonder if anyone could ever truly long for him in such heady exasperation.
He had dismissed such musings long ago, deciding within the first few centuries of his life that he had nothing to gain from dwelling upon his condition. He had become one of the most powerful sorcerers – one of the most powerful beings – in all the realms. Certainly, his energy was better exerted onto other things.
Yet now you were here, eyes flared indignantly, the words he always found so far out of reach laying on your lips. At long last, the one quality he thought he was truly incapable of possessing. The lone piece missing from his immortal soul. Years ago, accepting Diavolo’s terms of an exchange student program, Solomon never would have thought that what he had been seeking for so long would turn out to be you.
But when your eyes finally gave way to tears, your jaw quivering in a fight against your frustrated sobs, there was no doubting it. “Are you happy now?” Your voice shook as you questioned him, your watery eyes squinting against the weight pooling against your lashes. “You win, Solomon. I love you, and I’ve always fucking loved you, and you’ve never once deserved it.”
Something in his brain snapped. His words caught in his throat, his body too far stimulated with the simultaneous relief of hearing your confession, and resentment at your regret. You accused him so easily of being cruel, yet freely stood before him, assaulting his pride with the most shattering contradiction imaginable. He should have reminded you of your fault in this, held the mirror to your eyes as you accused him being indecisive with your feelings.
But he couldn’t blame you. Nothing about his flippant ways warranted being loved by you. Not the way he disappeared for weeks, sometimes months on end, withholding a menagerie of secrets from you. Not his cocky demeanor every time you caved and admitted you needed him, nor his snarky remarks whenever you genuinely sought out his comfort.
He couldn’t help who he was – what he was – but he had so often proven that he really did possess the ability to treat you properly. He knew you better than anyone else. For so long, he behaved as though he would do anything in hell and creation to keep you safe; even now, he was clumsily putting himself into harm’s way to bring you home. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t see that.
“I don’t feel like I’ve won,” he eventually admitted in bitter reverence. “I feel like I’m very much losing something very important.”
A pressure weighed on your chest as your shoulders heaved an exhausted shrug. “We can’t keep doing this,” you finally surrendered.
As soon as the words began to leave your mouth, Solomon began shaking his head. “MC, please,” he begged, his eyes glossy. “I need you.”
His voice was gutted with his admission, the most sincere you’d ever heard it – or possibly the best performance. You shook your head at what you assumed was his final futile attempt to keep you from walking away. To you surprise, when you turned to do just that, the sorcerer bolted in front of you, blocking your path to the door with a desperate look in his eyes.
“Solomon…” you warned, your tone sharp.
He held his palms out in a signal of peace. You understood the expression on his face as a request for one final chance to tell you how he felt. When you didn’t move, he let his hands fall to his side. “You don’t understand. I have never needed anything but my own talents. I have hundreds of years of experience, and yet I don’t think I would know how to move on from you leaving. All this time, it was as if I’ve been missing this piece of myself. Then one day, there you were, and…”
He trailed off, his eyes adverting from yours as he let out a deep sigh. After a moment to compose himself, he returned his attention to your awaiting gaze. “Neither of us are perfect, me particularly less so,” he admitted bashfully. “But we can’t change who we are. I am, and will be for as long as the earth turns, so deeply sorry that my actions ever led you to believe that I do not love you. I never intended to inflict any of this misery on you. But you have to understand who I am.”
At first, your frustration stabbed at you, insisting pessimistically that he was simply making excuses. The longer you gave yourself to steep, the more you seemed to understand the expression drawn across his handsome features. He had rarely, if ever at all, spoken about past relationships or flings. You had never allowed yourself to assume one way or another, but his testimony seemed to be proving to you that he was so desperate for you to love him because he had never been loved before.
It then dawned on you that he really wasn’t asking you to continue allowing him to carry things on as they had been. He wasn’t asking to use you. His eyes were begging for you to simply be patient with him. You loved the man he had been when you were friends, on those warm evenings, and he was quietly promising to become that man permanently, if you would just stay.
You hated the way your resolve crumbled when his fingers tentatively reached for your wrists, gently pulling your hands into his. You knew that he should have run out of chances by now, but you had to admit that neither of you had exactly been clear in your communication before. You were inclined to give in just because of that.
The problem lied in the nature of Solomon’s words. He was speaking the truth, as you knew, but his admission was not the promise of quick change that admittedly was ideal. It was a request of commitment – and, in fairness, an alleged vow of the same. He was asking for you to be with him, to help him become someone worthy of your devotion. It was no small ask, but his hands had moved to settle on your waist, and you found yourself relenting.
“I’ll stay,” you conceded quietly, absentmindedly stepping further into his reach. One of his hands moved up your body to caress your cheek, his eyes burning with relief and desire. You allowed him to press a soft kiss to your lips, but pulled back as he tried to deepen it. Catching his desperate gaze, you reiterated, “I will stay for now.”
Solomon’s eyes flickered. You knew he was already thinking of future ways to prove to you that he was worth it. The thoughtful expression quickly disappeared, replaced by a look of admiration that you were becoming quite familiar with. “I’ll take any time you’ll give me,” he confessed feebly before regaining control of the situation, kissing you fiercely.
This time, there was no pulling back. Not as he kissed you hungrily against the mantle in the living room that had just moments ago been a battle ground, his thigh braced between your legs as you moaned his name against his mouth. Not as you felt him press against you, every excited muscle of his body fighting desperately against his clothes. Not as he led you stumbling down the hall to the room he had claimed as his own, telling you between kisses that it was your room now, too.
You didn’t pull back as you allowed yourself to succumb to the familiar comfort of being with him. It was different this time, your minds and bodies freshly fueled by the emotions you had shared earlier. This time, when his haughty gaze told you he loved you, you believed him.
And when you woke up in the morning, anxiety pooling in your stomach at what you had yet again done, you found yourself being kept warm and safe by the protective arms of your mentor. Feeling you stir against his chest, he pressed closer against your back, kissing you lightly on the back of your neck. “Good morning, darling,” he murmured, the words casting a slight breeze across your skin.
There were no feelings of insanity as you turned in his arms, your heart burning at the sight of his half-asleep smile. When you dared to press a kiss onto his lips, he fell right into it, his hand against your lower back holding you close. When he finally released your lips, your head was in a daze. Belligerently, you murmured, “I love you.”
His body tensed against you, still not used to being on the receiving end of those words. His reaction instilled panic back into your chest, as you worried that he was going to end up regretting his vulnerability after all.
You were well prepared to scramble away from him, until you felt his lips brush against your skin; first your forehead, then from your temple to your cheek bone, dotting a purposeful line down your jawline until he paused over your lips. “I love you,” he repeated back to you. “So much that I can’t stand it.”
And when he kissed you again, his lips moving perfectly against yours, you finally understood what he meant about being two parts of the same whole.
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