Fic a day - Night
I owe three. Eff.
ONE.
(Shortened to be easier, dohoho!)
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At night, the Smash manor would become very different.
The general hum of worker R.O.B.s would die down into nothingness, mingling along with the diminishing Game & Watch beeps. The buzz of spectators, whether from parallel Nintendo games or outside of that, would subside to the echoing crickets lining both the stadium and manor's grasslands. Even the fighters themselves would revert from talkative and active (dependant upon the fighter, of course) to calm and quiet, replacing usual cheery hellos with silent nods.
At night, the Smash Manor was at peace. It was the only time they were allowed peace. Away from fights, away from crowds and away from general demands.
It was their down-time, a period to gather their thoughts and composure.
However true this may have been, Marth would tell any person close enough to him that this was not the case.
Always... Always would he promise himself the opportunity to thank Mila for his good fortune in that day of hard work and training, giving pure respects as a royal would.
Always... Always would this promise with himself be broken upon the arrival of Ike to his room, smirk ever-evident on that sculpted face of his.
It never occurred to Marth that he should do this praying elsewhere in the manor where he could not be found or at an earlier time... No... Rather... he enjoyed the crude interruptions consisting of a brash grasp of the cheeks making his bottom.
He would attempt to push at the young mercenary's torso with a grunt of 'Not now ' but never amount to anything. Always, a quiet 'Yes, now~' would be returned with a light clench of each hand, reducing the huffy monarch into a whining mess.
His sensitivity was beyond anything seen by the soldier. A light brush here, a slight hiss. A gentle squeeze there, a mumbled plea.
Eventually, when Ike would push himself into the warding cavern, that is when the cries would start. From certain angles, each thrust could deliver a scream loud enough to top anything said by the prince during the entire day, but not pass the thick, stone walls. The sheer desperation received; fingers clawing at muscled biceps, yelps of pleas in his native tongue, toes curling around either the air or bedsheets...
If this is what could be earned during the only down-time available in the day, neither ever wanted to rest.
ONE.
(Shortened to be easier, dohoho!)
-----
At night, the Smash manor would become very different.
The general hum of worker R.O.B.s would die down into nothingness, mingling along with the diminishing Game & Watch beeps. The buzz of spectators, whether from parallel Nintendo games or outside of that, would subside to the echoing crickets lining both the stadium and manor's grasslands. Even the fighters themselves would revert from talkative and active (dependant upon the fighter, of course) to calm and quiet, replacing usual cheery hellos with silent nods.
At night, the Smash Manor was at peace. It was the only time they were allowed peace. Away from fights, away from crowds and away from general demands.
It was their down-time, a period to gather their thoughts and composure.
However true this may have been, Marth would tell any person close enough to him that this was not the case.
Always... Always would he promise himself the opportunity to thank Mila for his good fortune in that day of hard work and training, giving pure respects as a royal would.
Always... Always would this promise with himself be broken upon the arrival of Ike to his room, smirk ever-evident on that sculpted face of his.
It never occurred to Marth that he should do this praying elsewhere in the manor where he could not be found or at an earlier time... No... Rather... he enjoyed the crude interruptions consisting of a brash grasp of the cheeks making his bottom.
He would attempt to push at the young mercenary's torso with a grunt of 'Not now ' but never amount to anything. Always, a quiet 'Yes, now~' would be returned with a light clench of each hand, reducing the huffy monarch into a whining mess.
His sensitivity was beyond anything seen by the soldier. A light brush here, a slight hiss. A gentle squeeze there, a mumbled plea.
Eventually, when Ike would push himself into the warding cavern, that is when the cries would start. From certain angles, each thrust could deliver a scream loud enough to top anything said by the prince during the entire day, but not pass the thick, stone walls. The sheer desperation received; fingers clawing at muscled biceps, yelps of pleas in his native tongue, toes curling around either the air or bedsheets...
If this is what could be earned during the only down-time available in the day, neither ever wanted to rest.