Location: Yetanotherbloody Forest.
Characters: Vexen, Marluxia.
Rating/Warnings: MA/NC-17. Not really non-con, a bit of restraint, general gay smut. The SFW version is here.
Summary: Appreciation of bony hips is eloquently expressed at quite some length.
Chapter 066 : Yetanotherbloody Forest – No Love Lost.
In the dark all sounds of the forest seemed unnaturally loud; the quiet tinkle of the nearby stream, the occasional murmur of a soft breeze in the treetops, short little abruptly silenced squeaks as small animals met their fate in the jaws of some predator or other…
Scents were also more intense; the rich smell of dew-covered grass, the spicey-sweet resin smell of pines, the musky intoxicating scent of roses…
Vexen closed his eyes and tried not to think about the sensation of faint heat radiating from Marluxia’s form nearby.
One major downside to the current forced civility was the notable lack of frustration-fueled aggressive sex, he sullenly concluded.
Sex was one of Marluxia’s few good points, after all, and if he would have to suffer the man’s company for two weeks without any of the good points, he probably would strangle the bastard, or possibly bang his own head against a tree until he was relieved of his misery.
Presumably other people managed to get around to such activities even without a good quarrel setting the mood, but simply presenting the suggestion seemed like cheating somehow, and also had the huge disadvantage it could be answered with something as dreadful as “no”.
Perhaps some entirely accidental intimate groping masked as an attempt to lie down to sleep might-…
“You know,” Marluxia mused, “I never did get to demonstrate my appreciation for your bony hips last night.”
Of course, barely veiled hints worked as well.
Only a handful of casually spoken words, and yet there was a sudden tingling tightness in his guts.
“I don’t believe you did,” he agreed, surprised his voice was no more strangled than it was.
“Perhaps something should be done about that,” Marluxia continued, and even in the dark he could hear the predatory little smile in the man’s voice.
“Are you going to talk all night,” he sniffed, “or are you going to do something about it?”
Marluxia chuckled and moved with a rustle of silk, and suddenly there was a puff of warm breath against Vexen’s ear, making him jump.
“So impatient,” Marluxia breathed, his warm body moving closer, so very nearly touching.
He briefly considered snapping back, but as rose-scented hair tickled his face he had to admit that yes, he was quite impatient, and so reaching out in the dark until his hands could capture the tantalizing figure and hold his face still for a demanding kiss would have to do.
Invisible hands found his body even as smooth lips and devilish teeth accepted his challenge, and he shivered in anticipation.
“Let’s get rid of this…” Marluxia muttered as they broke apart to breathe, strong fingers roving across his chest until they found the zipper and opened his coat.
He reached out for silky cloth in turn, to tear the suddenly so superfluous garments off the Assassin, but found his hands caught in a vice-like grip that simply would give.
“You just lie back,” Marluxia commanded softly, still not letting go of his wrists. “And let me show you my appreciation.”
He growled and tried to jerk free, but was once again reminded of the sheer strength the graceful man possessed, and another stronger shiver trickled down his spine as he was gently but firmly forced down on his back.
Pinning him down for a few moments more to assert his dominance, Marluxia took the chance to nibble at his ear and he couldn’t bite back a helpless moan.
If asked a year ago he would never had believed an earlobe of all things to be an erogenous zone, but Marluxia’s mouth had taught him it could indeed be. Very much so.
Or maybe the Assassin simply had some underhanded talent of turning any part of a body into a bundle of throbbing, tingling nerves just by touching it. Thorough, repeated empirical studies of the past certainly hinted that way.
He squirmed and made a final attempt to jerk free, not wanting to admit to himself the restraint was shamefully arousing. The heat of the man and the sensation of that warm mouth teasing him blended with his own vulnerability and the overpowering scent of roses and left him helplessly dizzy with desire.
By the time Marluxia finally released his wrists to return his attention to removing their clothes he was affected enough to remain still, shivering, only yearning desperately for more of those thrilling touches.
There were times, he lightheadedly admitted to himself, when he didn’t give a rat’s ass about Marluxia's trustworthiness just as long as he kept being so ruthlessly divine in bed.
He felt a cool whisper of silk trickle over him as Marluxia removed his own robes and gasped at the unexpected sensation, heard a muffled chuckle out of the dark in reply.
“Do you feel appreciated, yet..?” was breathed almost inaudibly against his collarbone and he jerked sharply when a warm wet tongue swept across a nipple.
In the dark he couldn’t see his lover; presumably Marluxia couldn’t see him either, but that didn’t keep the man from finding his way across his body with ease; a bite at a nipple here, a nuzzle at his stomach there, strong warm fingers falling onto his hips one by one until they gripped hard enough to bruise.
He preferred not admitting to himself he found the bruising rather arousing, too.
“I very much do like your hips, Vexen,” Marluxia stated, almost conversationally, as he dug his fingers affectionately into the thin flesh padding the body parts in question, making him squirm again.
Burning soft lips placed a series of loving kisses along the curve of his hipbone, and the man certainly did seem genuinely appreciative.
Vexen clenched his teeth and tried very hard not to growl as Marluxia’s hair tickled his already painfully hard erection.
All this tender foreplay was all nice and good, but while Marluxia seemed perfectly content lavishing his undivided attentions onto his hips – honestly, as though earlobes were not bad enough! – the touches were driving him insane without offering any promise of release.
Shifting his grip slightly Marluxia practically gnawed on a protruding angle of bone, and he hissed with pleasure and frustration.
“Damn you, Marluxia!” he managed to gasp. “Will you stop fooling around and- ah! get to the point!”
A downright evil chuckle answered him out of the dark.
“The point being... this?” and a precise little lick at the tip of his arousal had him squeak shrilly, very nearly crashing over the edge right then and there.
He spat a series of foul curses, desperate for release, vaguely aware Marluxia was laughing softly at him with obvious amusement.
“My, my, you really are impatient tonight, aren’t you, my lovely..?”
He gnashed his teeth, clawing into the soft moss beneath.
“If you don’t stop teasing and fuck me hard this instant, you insufferable idiot, I will rip every single strand of flower-reeking hair from your sorry body with a pair of dull tweezers.”
There was a moment of utter silence at that statement, and then Marluxia descended upon him to give him a rough, messy kiss.
“I do love it when you tell me what you want, my dearest,” he breathed, and he could feel the quirk of a smirk on the rosy lips, bit down hard enough to taste blood to get his utter lack of patience across.
Hissing a curse Marluxia fisted a hand in his hair and forced his head down and back to kiss him properly into submission as punishment, lack of air fueling his need even further until he was almost, almost ready to beg.
He drew his knees up, tried to capture the strong, lithe body between his legs, whimpering softly into the kisses as their crotches ground together.
Throwing any acts of dutiful submission to the wind he reached up again to claw his fingers into ghostly pink hair, tearing the hateful man close to invade that teasing warm mouth the way he himself yearned to be assaulted.
He wanted it, craved it, needing the touch inside with every fiber of his being, hated himself for it, hated Marluxia more, hungering for him all the same.
“Please,” he snarled, beastlike, and there was nothing pleading or submissive about the word.
He half expected some idiotic smug retort, but Marluxia seemed as breathless as he by now and simply obliged, reaching down between them to guide himself home, finally pressing deep inside without respite or care.
Vexen threw his head back, aware he made the strangest desperate sound even as his fingernails dug hard into the Assassin’s back.
He was so close already, every cell screaming out for release, and he arched his back as Marluxia began to move, drew his legs up higher, beckoning him even deeper inside, so close, so very close now.
Marluxia was breathing hard into his shoulder, pounding into him relentlessly, the cloying spice-musky scent of sex and roses asphyxiating.
Even there, at the very edge, he knew a moment of clarity long enough to resignedly recognize he would be horridly sore and quite unable to move come morning, but now, right now, the burn only intensified the pleasure, and he embraced it willingly.
A little bit of pain, a little bit of poison, that was what true pleasure was really all about.
Marluxia had taught him that, too.
His fingers clawed convulsively at the perfect body on top of him as though to draw him closer, deeper still, as the first fleeting ice-burning lightning of perfection struck.
Marluxia snarled with the pain, hooking an arm under his knee and pressing his leg up higher, wrenching him open wider still and his breath caught as the next thrust slammed hard into just the right spot inside.
He bit his lip to hold back a cry, remembered they were the only sentient beings for miles and prudence be damned, the climax was too overwhelming and he screamed with it.
In rare unity they came together, a blazing wave of perfect intense release before the slow lazy fall back to the world.
For the longest time even the hushed sounds of the forest were drowned out by the roar in his ears and the sound of Marluxia breathing.
“That was… pretty good,” he managed after a while.
“Mm,” the Assassin agreed, face buried somewhere in his tangled hair. “Not too bad.”
“Maybe we’ll be able to survive for two weeks out here after all,” he mused.
“We left the bottle of lotion behind,” Marluxia pointed out with what sounded almost like a whine, still not bothering to move.
Vexen shrugged philosophically and finally managed to pry his cramping fingers loose from the Assassin’s back.
“We have lots of potions. We’ll manage.”
The flowery bastard muttered what sounded suspiciously like something about perverted old men and having created a monster, but Vexen was quite sure he didn’t hear any of it.
Marluxia was warm and the moss beneath soft and he was comfortably exhausted.
The darkness still smelled of roses.
Smiling, because he knew in the dark it couldn’t be seen, Vexen closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.