My Sweet Prince
Title: My Sweet Prince
Author: kianaaaaa
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Fakir/Mytho
Warnings: Explicit yaoi.
Disclaimer: Princess Tutu is owned by its creator, not me.
Summary: Mytho is like a doll.
Author's Note: Oneshot.
“Fakir...!”
Fingers dig into his back as his thrusts lose their rhythm. Desperate, hungry. He’s almost there.
“Ah...!”
One heartbeat bangs in his chest and sweat trickles down his naked body. As his body slams inside, he feels the much smaller body under him squirm and shudder. And, suddenly, there is white-hot pleasure in his body and in his eyes, blinding him.
“Ah... Fakir!”
“Mytho!”
Two echoing screams mark the end of the climax, and his body collapses onto the small one. There is a moment where all that is heard is hard gulps of air. Their chests heave, sweat still glistening on their bodies. The pale-haired boy can feel his partner’s essence within him, and can see his own on the other boy’s chest and stomach. They’ve both been marked, and now there is no need to be so desperate, so hungry.
The boy with emerald eyes feels a wave of relief wash over him. This is the only moment where his love can be exhausted, where he is not controlled and tortured by it. He won’t have to wake in the middle of the night today to gaze at the other boy, which only fuels the hunger inside him. He is satisfied.
The moment passes, and the emerald-eyed boy raises his head to smile at the being beneath him.
“You okay?” he asks in that loving voice that he rarely shows.
The pale-haired boy opens his eyes, exposing amber orbs, and smiles tiredly. He doesn’t need words.
“I’m sorry for coming inside you...” Fakir says guiltily, pulling himself out of Mytho, watching his self drip out of the other boy.
The Prince is now dirty and soiled, even when he smiles and hugs the guilty one.
“It’s okay...” he whispers. He watches the emerald eyes grow relaxed and loving once again. He leans down to the amber-eyed boy and kisses him deeply. When he blinks those large eyes at him, still perfectly innocent even after what they had done, the dark-haired boy needs to be held. He is not a perfect human being like Mytho. His emotions overwhelm him, blind him, for he has a steady, beating heart.
“No, I have to make it up. I’ll bathe you,” he says seriously, sliding his body off of Mytho’s. He helps the other boy stand, legs still wobbly from his release, and leads him to the bathroom. A moment later, the water is running and Fakir is kneeling before Mytho, washing him.
He runs the washcloth over Mytho’s belly, washing away the sweat and sex. His other hand holds Mytho’s back gently, making sure he doesn’t slip. Mytho’s delicate hands run through Fakir’s dark strands, coaxing more gentle movements from him. Fakir sighs and hugs Mytho’s waist, face pressed against his stomach. The skin is warm and calming, and Fakir runs his hands over the rest of Mytho’s skin.
You are like a doll...
“I’ll wash your hair now,” he says, standing up and reaching for the shampoo.
Just an innocent doll...
... my sweet, little Prince...
Author: kianaaaaa
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Fakir/Mytho
Warnings: Explicit yaoi.
Disclaimer: Princess Tutu is owned by its creator, not me.
Summary: Mytho is like a doll.
Author's Note: Oneshot.
“Fakir...!”
Fingers dig into his back as his thrusts lose their rhythm. Desperate, hungry. He’s almost there.
“Ah...!”
One heartbeat bangs in his chest and sweat trickles down his naked body. As his body slams inside, he feels the much smaller body under him squirm and shudder. And, suddenly, there is white-hot pleasure in his body and in his eyes, blinding him.
“Ah... Fakir!”
“Mytho!”
Two echoing screams mark the end of the climax, and his body collapses onto the small one. There is a moment where all that is heard is hard gulps of air. Their chests heave, sweat still glistening on their bodies. The pale-haired boy can feel his partner’s essence within him, and can see his own on the other boy’s chest and stomach. They’ve both been marked, and now there is no need to be so desperate, so hungry.
The boy with emerald eyes feels a wave of relief wash over him. This is the only moment where his love can be exhausted, where he is not controlled and tortured by it. He won’t have to wake in the middle of the night today to gaze at the other boy, which only fuels the hunger inside him. He is satisfied.
The moment passes, and the emerald-eyed boy raises his head to smile at the being beneath him.
“You okay?” he asks in that loving voice that he rarely shows.
The pale-haired boy opens his eyes, exposing amber orbs, and smiles tiredly. He doesn’t need words.
“I’m sorry for coming inside you...” Fakir says guiltily, pulling himself out of Mytho, watching his self drip out of the other boy.
The Prince is now dirty and soiled, even when he smiles and hugs the guilty one.
“It’s okay...” he whispers. He watches the emerald eyes grow relaxed and loving once again. He leans down to the amber-eyed boy and kisses him deeply. When he blinks those large eyes at him, still perfectly innocent even after what they had done, the dark-haired boy needs to be held. He is not a perfect human being like Mytho. His emotions overwhelm him, blind him, for he has a steady, beating heart.
“No, I have to make it up. I’ll bathe you,” he says seriously, sliding his body off of Mytho’s. He helps the other boy stand, legs still wobbly from his release, and leads him to the bathroom. A moment later, the water is running and Fakir is kneeling before Mytho, washing him.
He runs the washcloth over Mytho’s belly, washing away the sweat and sex. His other hand holds Mytho’s back gently, making sure he doesn’t slip. Mytho’s delicate hands run through Fakir’s dark strands, coaxing more gentle movements from him. Fakir sighs and hugs Mytho’s waist, face pressed against his stomach. The skin is warm and calming, and Fakir runs his hands over the rest of Mytho’s skin.
You are like a doll...
“I’ll wash your hair now,” he says, standing up and reaching for the shampoo.
Just an innocent doll...
... my sweet, little Prince...