[Fic] Welcome Home | Saint Seiya, Camus/Milo. NC17
Title: Welcome Home
Author: Muzy
Series: Saint Seiya
Pairing: Aquarius Camus/Scorpio Milo
Rating: NC17
Length: 1832 words
Warnings/Notes: Gratuitous use of French endearments, Camus's heretofore unrevealed seme tendencies. Spoilers for Poseidon.
The temple was dark, but it wasn't empty, and Milo paused at the entrance. There were only two people who would enter Scorpio when he wasn't there, Milo thought, and he'd just left one of them. Shaka was undoubtedly exactly where he'd left him, meditating in Virgo.
And Camus was probably exactly where he'd been for the last five years or so, Milo thought as he moved silently through the temple. In Siberia. Milo's lips thinned into a grim line, and his eyes narrowed. Whoever it was, he mused, they were in his private apartment, hidden off to the side of the temple, and that just pissed him off. He hadn't even invited Shaka there, he thought, and they were friends.
He lifted one arm as he turned the corner and stepped into his apartment, and took a deep breath.
"Are you going to attack me?" asked a quiet voice from the corner, a faint French accent softening the words . "Of all the reactions that occurred to me, I can't say that was on the list."
Milo's eyes widened slightly and he let his arm fall. "Camus?" he asked, swiveling around to find the source of the voice. He saw Camus's lips curve faintly in the darkness.
"Yes," he said. "I'm home."
Milo let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and walked forward. "You could have warned me," he said as he stepped towards the chair Camus was sitting in. "I almost hit you with my scarlet needle."
Camus raised his eyebrows. "You wouldn't have gotten that far," he said with confidence, and Milo grinned, leaning one hip on the arm of Camus's chair.
"We won't test that," he said, and then his expression sobered slightly. "I'm surprised you came here," he said. "Instead of Aquarius, I mean."
Camus was quiet for a moment, his expression pensive. "Aquarius is empty," he finally said. "I didn't feel like being alone tonight."
"Scorpio was empty too," Milo pointed out, and Camus smiled.
"Surprisingly, yes," he said. "But I knew it wouldn't be for long. You would be coming back from wherever you've been." But Aquarius, he thought but didn't say, would have remained empty until Milo or one of the others realized he was back, and he didn't want to be alone that long.
Milo was silent for a moment, and then he tipped his head to one side, brushing tangled hair back over his shoulder. "We heard about Isaac," he said. "I'm sorry."
"So am I," Camus said baldly. He tipped his head back against the cushion and let his eyes drift shut. "I don't want to talk about that now," he said. His eyelashes lifted and he gave Milo a sidelong look. "You haven't really said hello to me yet, cher," he pointed out softly, and Milo lifted his eyebrows.
"I haven't?" he asked in a voice that was noticably lower, huskier than the one he'd been speaking in before. He braced one hand on the back of the chair and leaned in. "Well, hell, Camus," he breathed out when he was only inches away from Camus's face, "I'd better fix that, huh?"
He meant the kiss to be slow, lingering, a tease of the things Camus had missed while he'd been gone, but it moved beyond his control fast - it became hard, and desperate, and promised instead of teased, and when he drew back, they were both gasping for air. "Shit," he breathed out. His eyes were bright in the shadows, and his skin was flushed. "I missed you. You stayed away too long."
"You didn't visit enough," Camus corrected. His hands had slipped up Milo's arms to grip his shoulders, and he tugged Milo back for another kiss.
"Did you miss me?" Milo asked before their lips could meet again, and Camus's mouth curved into a tight smile.
"I didn't even go to my own temple to drop off my belongings," he said. "What do you think?"
He wanted the words, Milo thought, and he slid off the arm of the chair and onto Camus's lap. His arms bracketed Camus's head and he leaned in, intent. "Tell me," he said.
Camus was silent for a long moment, his eyes glittering with heat, and then he gave in. "I missed you," he said. "Satisfied?"
Milo's lips curved into a grin that was pure sex. "Hell no," he said. "But don't worry. I will be." He moved to slide off Camus's lap and then stilled as Camus's hands circled his hips. "Camus?" he asked.
"Don't move yet," Camus whispered, and then leaned forward to press his lips against Milo's in a kiss that spoke louder than words would have - it was a little harder, a little more demanding than the way Camus usually kissed him, and Milo smirked as he realized what Camus wanted.
"So it's that way then?" he asked as the kiss ended. He tugged away from Camus, coming to his feet. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as Camus followed him, unfolding himself from the chair and stretching to his full height.
"Yes," Camus said. His hands sifted into Milo's hair and he tilted his head, moving his mouth over Milo's in a brief, nipping kiss. "Is that okay, mon ami?"
Milo pulled Camus closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue licking over Camus's lips before pushing inside. When he pulled back, he skimmed a satisfied look over Camus's flushed face and intense eyes. "It's fine," he said, and his eyes darkened as he backed up, walking until he came up against the bed. He tangled his hands into Camus's hair, tugging as they kissed another time.
"I get my turn later, though," he said, arching as Camus's hands slid under his shirt, skimming over sensitized skin. He leaned back, feeling the mattress against his back, and spread his legs, letting Camus kneel between them. "Right?"
"Yes," Camus said as he leaned over Milo. He tugged Milo's shirt all the way off and let it fall to the floor before returning his hands to the now bare skin, skimming his fingertips across Milo's flat nipples. His mouth curved in a slight grin as Milo gasped and arched beneath him. "Later," he murmured.
Milo groaned and reached up, snagging the hem of Camus's shirt and yanking it upwards. Camus leaned back, letting Camus pull it over his head, and then leaned back in, his hair spilling over his shoulders and brushing against Milo's skin. He kissed Milo again, demanding without words, and his hands slid downwards, circling Milo's waist and then flicking open his pants and slipping inside.
"Camus," Milo hissed as he felt the other boy's hand circle around his cock and squeeze. His eyes squeezed shut and he reached up and raked his nails across Camus's shoulders. Camus jerked, his grip easing as his eyes darkened.
"I thought Aioria was the cat, cheri," he said, his voice low and raspy as he released Milo's cock and pushed his pants over his hips.
Milo's eyes opened into slits that gleamed with desire and intent. "He is," he said in a low voice that could almost be a purr. "A scorpion has claws too, remember," he added as his hands fell away from Camus's shoulders to slide down his back, finally stopping at the waistband of his pants and coasting around to yank down the zipper and push inside. Turnabout was definitely fairplay, he thought as he rubbed his thumb against the head of Camus's cock and watched as the other boy's eyes dilated and narrowed, as his face became a mask of rigid control. His lips curved. And it was fun, too, he thought as he released Camus and tugged them over his hips and off.
"Camus," he said. His hands were sliding up again, gliding over the corded muscles in Camus's arms and then curving over his shoulders before he linked them behind his partner's neck, drawing him close again.
"Milo," Camus returned. His eyebrows lifted in question as licked his tongue over Milo's lower lip, tasting it before he sucked it into his mouth. One of his hands slipped upnder Milo, and he pushed his fingers inside, rubbing and stretching as they kissed. Milo moaned softly, arching his hips as he leaned back from the kiss. His eyes opened, glittering and bright and intense, and his fingers pressed hard into the skin at the nape of Camus's neck.
"Fuck me," Milo said, his eyes closing again. He paused and blinked them open again, and this time his gaze was intent on Camus's. "Now."
Camus's eyes widened and then he laughed, the sound short and rough as he pulled his fingers out and raised Milo's legs up. "As you wish," he said, his voice lowered to a purr. His hands encircled Milo's thighs, pushing them higher, and he leaned over Milo, raising himself up on his knees as he pushed inside.
Milo hissed, arching his hips to meet Camus's thrusts, and his hands slipped from the other saint's neck and into his hair, yanking him forward for a hard, demanding kiss. "So good," he groaned as they kissed. His thighs tightened around Camus's hips, pulling him closer as Camus pulled out and thrust in again. "Harder," he said a groan. "Do it harder."
Camus pressed in again, faster and rougher than before, his hands curling around Milo's hips in a grip that was nearly hard enough to bruise. He tilted his head, his lips brushing against Milo's ear as he thrust in a rhythm that brought both of them closer and closer with every movement. "I missed you," he said for the second time, his voice nothing more than a raspy whisper. His teeth raked across Milo's earlobe, abrading the sensitive skin. "More than I thought I would."
Milo's hands tightened in Camus's hair, the only indication that he'd heard, and he arched up, gasping as Camus drove inside deeper and harder than he had before. Milo threw his head back as he clamped around the other saint. "Camus," he said, his voice rising on the single word. He stiffened and shuddered, his orgasm ripping through him. He leaned up and sank his teeth into Camus's shoulder as the other boy drove into him and was rewarded with a harsh, shuddering cry as Camus spilled inside him.
"Camus," Milo murmured moments later. They were still pressed together, damp skin against damp skin. Milo's lips curved as he slid his hands down Camus's sides, and then up again, brushing Camus's hair away from his face. "Camus," he said again.
Camus's lashes opened, and he eyed Milo with a slumberous, sated expression that sent a shiver of renewed desire down Milo's spine. "Hmm?"
Milo's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Welcome home," he said.
The laugh that tumbled from Camus's throat sounded startled. "Thank you," he returned, and the words were warm and husky as he leaned in to brush his mouth against Milo's in a fleeting kiss.
Author: Muzy
Series: Saint Seiya
Pairing: Aquarius Camus/Scorpio Milo
Rating: NC17
Length: 1832 words
Warnings/Notes: Gratuitous use of French endearments, Camus's heretofore unrevealed seme tendencies. Spoilers for Poseidon.
The temple was dark, but it wasn't empty, and Milo paused at the entrance. There were only two people who would enter Scorpio when he wasn't there, Milo thought, and he'd just left one of them. Shaka was undoubtedly exactly where he'd left him, meditating in Virgo.
And Camus was probably exactly where he'd been for the last five years or so, Milo thought as he moved silently through the temple. In Siberia. Milo's lips thinned into a grim line, and his eyes narrowed. Whoever it was, he mused, they were in his private apartment, hidden off to the side of the temple, and that just pissed him off. He hadn't even invited Shaka there, he thought, and they were friends.
He lifted one arm as he turned the corner and stepped into his apartment, and took a deep breath.
"Are you going to attack me?" asked a quiet voice from the corner, a faint French accent softening the words . "Of all the reactions that occurred to me, I can't say that was on the list."
Milo's eyes widened slightly and he let his arm fall. "Camus?" he asked, swiveling around to find the source of the voice. He saw Camus's lips curve faintly in the darkness.
"Yes," he said. "I'm home."
Milo let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and walked forward. "You could have warned me," he said as he stepped towards the chair Camus was sitting in. "I almost hit you with my scarlet needle."
Camus raised his eyebrows. "You wouldn't have gotten that far," he said with confidence, and Milo grinned, leaning one hip on the arm of Camus's chair.
"We won't test that," he said, and then his expression sobered slightly. "I'm surprised you came here," he said. "Instead of Aquarius, I mean."
Camus was quiet for a moment, his expression pensive. "Aquarius is empty," he finally said. "I didn't feel like being alone tonight."
"Scorpio was empty too," Milo pointed out, and Camus smiled.
"Surprisingly, yes," he said. "But I knew it wouldn't be for long. You would be coming back from wherever you've been." But Aquarius, he thought but didn't say, would have remained empty until Milo or one of the others realized he was back, and he didn't want to be alone that long.
Milo was silent for a moment, and then he tipped his head to one side, brushing tangled hair back over his shoulder. "We heard about Isaac," he said. "I'm sorry."
"So am I," Camus said baldly. He tipped his head back against the cushion and let his eyes drift shut. "I don't want to talk about that now," he said. His eyelashes lifted and he gave Milo a sidelong look. "You haven't really said hello to me yet, cher," he pointed out softly, and Milo lifted his eyebrows.
"I haven't?" he asked in a voice that was noticably lower, huskier than the one he'd been speaking in before. He braced one hand on the back of the chair and leaned in. "Well, hell, Camus," he breathed out when he was only inches away from Camus's face, "I'd better fix that, huh?"
He meant the kiss to be slow, lingering, a tease of the things Camus had missed while he'd been gone, but it moved beyond his control fast - it became hard, and desperate, and promised instead of teased, and when he drew back, they were both gasping for air. "Shit," he breathed out. His eyes were bright in the shadows, and his skin was flushed. "I missed you. You stayed away too long."
"You didn't visit enough," Camus corrected. His hands had slipped up Milo's arms to grip his shoulders, and he tugged Milo back for another kiss.
"Did you miss me?" Milo asked before their lips could meet again, and Camus's mouth curved into a tight smile.
"I didn't even go to my own temple to drop off my belongings," he said. "What do you think?"
He wanted the words, Milo thought, and he slid off the arm of the chair and onto Camus's lap. His arms bracketed Camus's head and he leaned in, intent. "Tell me," he said.
Camus was silent for a long moment, his eyes glittering with heat, and then he gave in. "I missed you," he said. "Satisfied?"
Milo's lips curved into a grin that was pure sex. "Hell no," he said. "But don't worry. I will be." He moved to slide off Camus's lap and then stilled as Camus's hands circled his hips. "Camus?" he asked.
"Don't move yet," Camus whispered, and then leaned forward to press his lips against Milo's in a kiss that spoke louder than words would have - it was a little harder, a little more demanding than the way Camus usually kissed him, and Milo smirked as he realized what Camus wanted.
"So it's that way then?" he asked as the kiss ended. He tugged away from Camus, coming to his feet. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as Camus followed him, unfolding himself from the chair and stretching to his full height.
"Yes," Camus said. His hands sifted into Milo's hair and he tilted his head, moving his mouth over Milo's in a brief, nipping kiss. "Is that okay, mon ami?"
Milo pulled Camus closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue licking over Camus's lips before pushing inside. When he pulled back, he skimmed a satisfied look over Camus's flushed face and intense eyes. "It's fine," he said, and his eyes darkened as he backed up, walking until he came up against the bed. He tangled his hands into Camus's hair, tugging as they kissed another time.
"I get my turn later, though," he said, arching as Camus's hands slid under his shirt, skimming over sensitized skin. He leaned back, feeling the mattress against his back, and spread his legs, letting Camus kneel between them. "Right?"
"Yes," Camus said as he leaned over Milo. He tugged Milo's shirt all the way off and let it fall to the floor before returning his hands to the now bare skin, skimming his fingertips across Milo's flat nipples. His mouth curved in a slight grin as Milo gasped and arched beneath him. "Later," he murmured.
Milo groaned and reached up, snagging the hem of Camus's shirt and yanking it upwards. Camus leaned back, letting Camus pull it over his head, and then leaned back in, his hair spilling over his shoulders and brushing against Milo's skin. He kissed Milo again, demanding without words, and his hands slid downwards, circling Milo's waist and then flicking open his pants and slipping inside.
"Camus," Milo hissed as he felt the other boy's hand circle around his cock and squeeze. His eyes squeezed shut and he reached up and raked his nails across Camus's shoulders. Camus jerked, his grip easing as his eyes darkened.
"I thought Aioria was the cat, cheri," he said, his voice low and raspy as he released Milo's cock and pushed his pants over his hips.
Milo's eyes opened into slits that gleamed with desire and intent. "He is," he said in a low voice that could almost be a purr. "A scorpion has claws too, remember," he added as his hands fell away from Camus's shoulders to slide down his back, finally stopping at the waistband of his pants and coasting around to yank down the zipper and push inside. Turnabout was definitely fairplay, he thought as he rubbed his thumb against the head of Camus's cock and watched as the other boy's eyes dilated and narrowed, as his face became a mask of rigid control. His lips curved. And it was fun, too, he thought as he released Camus and tugged them over his hips and off.
"Camus," he said. His hands were sliding up again, gliding over the corded muscles in Camus's arms and then curving over his shoulders before he linked them behind his partner's neck, drawing him close again.
"Milo," Camus returned. His eyebrows lifted in question as licked his tongue over Milo's lower lip, tasting it before he sucked it into his mouth. One of his hands slipped upnder Milo, and he pushed his fingers inside, rubbing and stretching as they kissed. Milo moaned softly, arching his hips as he leaned back from the kiss. His eyes opened, glittering and bright and intense, and his fingers pressed hard into the skin at the nape of Camus's neck.
"Fuck me," Milo said, his eyes closing again. He paused and blinked them open again, and this time his gaze was intent on Camus's. "Now."
Camus's eyes widened and then he laughed, the sound short and rough as he pulled his fingers out and raised Milo's legs up. "As you wish," he said, his voice lowered to a purr. His hands encircled Milo's thighs, pushing them higher, and he leaned over Milo, raising himself up on his knees as he pushed inside.
Milo hissed, arching his hips to meet Camus's thrusts, and his hands slipped from the other saint's neck and into his hair, yanking him forward for a hard, demanding kiss. "So good," he groaned as they kissed. His thighs tightened around Camus's hips, pulling him closer as Camus pulled out and thrust in again. "Harder," he said a groan. "Do it harder."
Camus pressed in again, faster and rougher than before, his hands curling around Milo's hips in a grip that was nearly hard enough to bruise. He tilted his head, his lips brushing against Milo's ear as he thrust in a rhythm that brought both of them closer and closer with every movement. "I missed you," he said for the second time, his voice nothing more than a raspy whisper. His teeth raked across Milo's earlobe, abrading the sensitive skin. "More than I thought I would."
Milo's hands tightened in Camus's hair, the only indication that he'd heard, and he arched up, gasping as Camus drove inside deeper and harder than he had before. Milo threw his head back as he clamped around the other saint. "Camus," he said, his voice rising on the single word. He stiffened and shuddered, his orgasm ripping through him. He leaned up and sank his teeth into Camus's shoulder as the other boy drove into him and was rewarded with a harsh, shuddering cry as Camus spilled inside him.
"Camus," Milo murmured moments later. They were still pressed together, damp skin against damp skin. Milo's lips curved as he slid his hands down Camus's sides, and then up again, brushing Camus's hair away from his face. "Camus," he said again.
Camus's lashes opened, and he eyed Milo with a slumberous, sated expression that sent a shiver of renewed desire down Milo's spine. "Hmm?"
Milo's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Welcome home," he said.
The laugh that tumbled from Camus's throat sounded startled. "Thank you," he returned, and the words were warm and husky as he leaned in to brush his mouth against Milo's in a fleeting kiss.