[Original Pairing] Mephisto/Nemphis, #20 Take it in your stride, walk
Title: Let it Slide
Author: raikune
Pairings: Onesided Sunday/Mephisto, implied Mephisto/Nemphis, Samael/Sunday
Rating: R, lime
Theme: 20 Take it in your stride; Walk
Claimer: They be my h0s.
Summary: Companion piece to "Lost". Mephisto seeks comfort in the arms of his oldest friend. Some h/c.
It’d been six months since Nemphis died and the little demon had nowhere to go, no one to care for. He turned to his friends for comfort and support, which they willingly gave, and for a little while it seemed like things would be better.
But as a half-incubus Mephisto knew he couldn’t ignore his appetites, and when his money had trickled down to almost nothing from the rentboys and human lovers, he found himself alone, afraid, and almost mad with desire and loss.
There had been one other person who had been his initial crush, when he was still young and foolish, until Nemphis had come along and it seemed he had finally found bliss.
Finally he’d plucked up his courage, and, fumbling and blushing and miserable (like some fucking kid, he thought) he shuffled up to his oldest friend and stuttered out a few sentences:
C’mon, Sunday. I gotta have someone. Best mate, Sunday, you’re my best mate and you’ve helped me a lot, do this one thing for me? Please?
The least he expected was a punch across a face, a kick, or some insult and the casual toss of his worthless body into the near wall. But the older demon just looked down at him silently (Mephisto wished he could see past those reflector lenses) and cocked his head.
“I guess it’s going hard for you, huh?” the Deep Lord finally replied, scratching his neck lazily. “What the hell. Ok.”
Mephisto almost choked. Seriously? Oh God and shit and Lucifer, he used to dream of this sort of thing happening…
In fact, it was nothing like his dreams. It was something different altogether.
---
“Won’t Samael be, ya know, jealous?” Mephisto asked nervously, surveying the shadowed apartment where Sunday occasionally bunked whenever he was in the area. He kept twitching as if he expected the hybrid to come attacking at him from all sides.
“Yeah, probably,” Sunday replied in a tone that indicated he could care less. “Damn fairy’ll get over it. It’s not like we’re official or anything. S’not like ‘m gay.”
Mephisto snorted. “Uh, hello? You’re banging him, man.”
“The whole thing is just sportfuck,” the Deep Lord replied. “And anyway, I’m not attracted to other guys. Just him.”
“That’s a weird kind of gay.”
“Shut up or you won’t be getting’ any gay at all.” The Deep Lord headed toward a bedroom, silhouetted by afternoon light. He stripped his shirt off in a casual motion, letting it drop to the floor. Mephisto followed him eagerly.
Sunday was pawing through a drawer when he entered the room. Mephisto stopped in the doorway, admiring his friend’s lean, scarred shoulders and tapering back. He remembered his earlier fantasies: how he wanted to kiss that scar that ran down between the shoulder-blades, nuzzle that chiselled, masculine jaw, tangle his fingers in that wildcat hair. The front of his trousers was now uncomfortably tight.
“I can smell the horny comin’ off you from here,” Sunday remarked, waking him from his daze. “God knows what you were like with…hn.”
Mephisto grinned lopsidedly, hearing the demon catch himself. “’S ok. And I was gentle,” he argued. “Well…when he wanted me to be.”
“I ain’t as kind as you then,” Sunday answered, turning around and stretching a strip of cloth between his hands. “I know you’re in a fragile place right now, but I don’t really know how to be gentle, Mephisto. Though Samael says I’m getting better at it. Trying to get me to be fuckin’ romantic and all…I think he’s reading a little too deep into us.”
“Don’t be gentle with me, then,” the younger demon countered. “I’m tired of bein’ fuckin’ coddled. Do as you want.”
“Then you’ll put this on.” Sunday waved the cloth at him. He snickered at his friend’s blank face. “A blindfold, Mephisto. Kinky guy like you should know. You don’t think I wear my shades during sex, do you?”
“Uh…no.” Mephisto reddened. “Not that I’d mind if you did.”
“Well, kissing’s awkward when I do. Here.” Sunday stepped behind him and tied the blindfold. Mephisto grinned. Lack of sight made things more interesting.
There was a whisper of air and then a hard click. Mephisto realised that it was the sound of a pair of sunglasses being set down. He licked dry lips: this was fucking dangerous. If his blindfold slipped at the wrong moment, everything could be over.
He was probably being paranoid, but he swore he could feel a strange heat on the back of his head. My imagination, Mephisto argued valiantly.
Strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, and he was pressed against a taut, muscled chest. His forehead rubbed against a collarbone. Sunday whispered hotly in his ear: “Heh, it ain’t like you to be so shy, Mephisto.”
“I’ll show you fuckin’ shy.” Mephisto nipped at the collarbone and set to work fumbling at the other’s belt. The smell of that hot, tan skin was driving him crazy.
“My generosity only holds out for so long,” Sunday drawled, watching in amusement. “So does my gag reflex. You have twenty minutes, starting now.”
“I always knew you were a jerk,” the younger demon muttered, tearing off his shirt. He stretched up on tip-toe, hoping, and was rewarded with smooth dry lips against his own. Mephisto sucked hungrily, relishing the taste and touch of another’s mouth. It had been too long.
He trailed his hands over the demon’s unseen face, feeling the contours and ghost of a stubble. “You’re too tall,” he whined. “Come down here.”
“Bitch, you’re the one who’s going down,” Sunday growled and the young demon squeaked as he was picked up bodily and thrown through air and onto a bed. He lay there gasping until he was straddled and his mouth claimed again. A hand was kneading the bulge in his jeans and he moaned wantonly.
“Shit…” Mephisto drew Sunday’s head down and licked at a certain spot under the ear and behind the jaw. He was surprised when this drew a growling purr.
“Ooh…did I find your weak spot? Hmm?” He licked it again and the Deep Lord tried to pull his head away. “Oh I did. Interesting…mmmm…I wanna hear that again…”
“Fucker,” Sunday hissed but growled in pleasure as Mephisto lent his experienced tongue to his skin. He let Mephisto pull him down fully on top and let the smaller hands bite into his shoulders.
It’s a strange feeling for both of them when they finally fuck, when they growl and moan and move against each other. Some wall has been broken down, some privacy breached and it’s almost frightening. Mephisto is grateful though, grateful that his aloof friend has willingly torn down his barriers, even if only for an instant. He wants this, needs this and Sunday knows that too. Even after his orgasm leaves him limp and shaking, after tears start gathering in his eyes, the older demon does not move away when Mephisto starts sobbing lowly into his shoulder. It was the Deep Lord’s one redeemable quality: he took things as they were.
“Ok, so that was more like forty minutes,” was the first thing Sunday said to him after he’d stopped sniffling, “But since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let it slide.”
Mephisto started laughing, and Sunday joined in.
---end
Author: raikune
Pairings: Onesided Sunday/Mephisto, implied Mephisto/Nemphis, Samael/Sunday
Rating: R, lime
Theme: 20 Take it in your stride; Walk
Claimer: They be my h0s.
Summary: Companion piece to "Lost". Mephisto seeks comfort in the arms of his oldest friend. Some h/c.
It’d been six months since Nemphis died and the little demon had nowhere to go, no one to care for. He turned to his friends for comfort and support, which they willingly gave, and for a little while it seemed like things would be better.
But as a half-incubus Mephisto knew he couldn’t ignore his appetites, and when his money had trickled down to almost nothing from the rentboys and human lovers, he found himself alone, afraid, and almost mad with desire and loss.
There had been one other person who had been his initial crush, when he was still young and foolish, until Nemphis had come along and it seemed he had finally found bliss.
Finally he’d plucked up his courage, and, fumbling and blushing and miserable (like some fucking kid, he thought) he shuffled up to his oldest friend and stuttered out a few sentences:
C’mon, Sunday. I gotta have someone. Best mate, Sunday, you’re my best mate and you’ve helped me a lot, do this one thing for me? Please?
The least he expected was a punch across a face, a kick, or some insult and the casual toss of his worthless body into the near wall. But the older demon just looked down at him silently (Mephisto wished he could see past those reflector lenses) and cocked his head.
“I guess it’s going hard for you, huh?” the Deep Lord finally replied, scratching his neck lazily. “What the hell. Ok.”
Mephisto almost choked. Seriously? Oh God and shit and Lucifer, he used to dream of this sort of thing happening…
In fact, it was nothing like his dreams. It was something different altogether.
---
“Won’t Samael be, ya know, jealous?” Mephisto asked nervously, surveying the shadowed apartment where Sunday occasionally bunked whenever he was in the area. He kept twitching as if he expected the hybrid to come attacking at him from all sides.
“Yeah, probably,” Sunday replied in a tone that indicated he could care less. “Damn fairy’ll get over it. It’s not like we’re official or anything. S’not like ‘m gay.”
Mephisto snorted. “Uh, hello? You’re banging him, man.”
“The whole thing is just sportfuck,” the Deep Lord replied. “And anyway, I’m not attracted to other guys. Just him.”
“That’s a weird kind of gay.”
“Shut up or you won’t be getting’ any gay at all.” The Deep Lord headed toward a bedroom, silhouetted by afternoon light. He stripped his shirt off in a casual motion, letting it drop to the floor. Mephisto followed him eagerly.
Sunday was pawing through a drawer when he entered the room. Mephisto stopped in the doorway, admiring his friend’s lean, scarred shoulders and tapering back. He remembered his earlier fantasies: how he wanted to kiss that scar that ran down between the shoulder-blades, nuzzle that chiselled, masculine jaw, tangle his fingers in that wildcat hair. The front of his trousers was now uncomfortably tight.
“I can smell the horny comin’ off you from here,” Sunday remarked, waking him from his daze. “God knows what you were like with…hn.”
Mephisto grinned lopsidedly, hearing the demon catch himself. “’S ok. And I was gentle,” he argued. “Well…when he wanted me to be.”
“I ain’t as kind as you then,” Sunday answered, turning around and stretching a strip of cloth between his hands. “I know you’re in a fragile place right now, but I don’t really know how to be gentle, Mephisto. Though Samael says I’m getting better at it. Trying to get me to be fuckin’ romantic and all…I think he’s reading a little too deep into us.”
“Don’t be gentle with me, then,” the younger demon countered. “I’m tired of bein’ fuckin’ coddled. Do as you want.”
“Then you’ll put this on.” Sunday waved the cloth at him. He snickered at his friend’s blank face. “A blindfold, Mephisto. Kinky guy like you should know. You don’t think I wear my shades during sex, do you?”
“Uh…no.” Mephisto reddened. “Not that I’d mind if you did.”
“Well, kissing’s awkward when I do. Here.” Sunday stepped behind him and tied the blindfold. Mephisto grinned. Lack of sight made things more interesting.
There was a whisper of air and then a hard click. Mephisto realised that it was the sound of a pair of sunglasses being set down. He licked dry lips: this was fucking dangerous. If his blindfold slipped at the wrong moment, everything could be over.
He was probably being paranoid, but he swore he could feel a strange heat on the back of his head. My imagination, Mephisto argued valiantly.
Strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, and he was pressed against a taut, muscled chest. His forehead rubbed against a collarbone. Sunday whispered hotly in his ear: “Heh, it ain’t like you to be so shy, Mephisto.”
“I’ll show you fuckin’ shy.” Mephisto nipped at the collarbone and set to work fumbling at the other’s belt. The smell of that hot, tan skin was driving him crazy.
“My generosity only holds out for so long,” Sunday drawled, watching in amusement. “So does my gag reflex. You have twenty minutes, starting now.”
“I always knew you were a jerk,” the younger demon muttered, tearing off his shirt. He stretched up on tip-toe, hoping, and was rewarded with smooth dry lips against his own. Mephisto sucked hungrily, relishing the taste and touch of another’s mouth. It had been too long.
He trailed his hands over the demon’s unseen face, feeling the contours and ghost of a stubble. “You’re too tall,” he whined. “Come down here.”
“Bitch, you’re the one who’s going down,” Sunday growled and the young demon squeaked as he was picked up bodily and thrown through air and onto a bed. He lay there gasping until he was straddled and his mouth claimed again. A hand was kneading the bulge in his jeans and he moaned wantonly.
“Shit…” Mephisto drew Sunday’s head down and licked at a certain spot under the ear and behind the jaw. He was surprised when this drew a growling purr.
“Ooh…did I find your weak spot? Hmm?” He licked it again and the Deep Lord tried to pull his head away. “Oh I did. Interesting…mmmm…I wanna hear that again…”
“Fucker,” Sunday hissed but growled in pleasure as Mephisto lent his experienced tongue to his skin. He let Mephisto pull him down fully on top and let the smaller hands bite into his shoulders.
It’s a strange feeling for both of them when they finally fuck, when they growl and moan and move against each other. Some wall has been broken down, some privacy breached and it’s almost frightening. Mephisto is grateful though, grateful that his aloof friend has willingly torn down his barriers, even if only for an instant. He wants this, needs this and Sunday knows that too. Even after his orgasm leaves him limp and shaking, after tears start gathering in his eyes, the older demon does not move away when Mephisto starts sobbing lowly into his shoulder. It was the Deep Lord’s one redeemable quality: he took things as they were.
“Ok, so that was more like forty minutes,” was the first thing Sunday said to him after he’d stopped sniffling, “But since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let it slide.”
Mephisto started laughing, and Sunday joined in.
---end