"Drinking From a Broken Cup" (DDS, Roland/Argilla), "The Space Between" (Persona 3, Akihiko/Junpei)
porn_battle reposting time.
I ended up doing five pieces total, and I'm reasonably happy with all of them, I think. I wanted to do more -- I had a River/Simon and an Aziraphale/Crowley half-finished, and maybe I'll finish those up just for fun. They might not be comment-length, though. ehe.
These two ficlets don't have director's cut versions. (They did originally, but I like the concise versions better.) I'll repost the other three later on tonight, and they'll have special added bonus material, because I kind of got carried away while writing them. Which is not surprising for at least two of the three pairings in question, I think. *cough*
"Drinking From a Broken Cup." Digital Devil Saga, Argilla/Roland, "and I'm stepping on the devil's tail." 770 words, seriously not worksafe for m/f sex and xenokink like whoa.
He quit drinking. And he hasn’t touched a drop since then, since Indra’s lightning first burned in his veins, burned hotter and brighter than the booze ever could. And the hunger-the shakes are worse than the DTs when Indra starts roaring, roaring for blood and meat.
Roland drank to fill up the hole before. Now he devours. But the hole doesn’t go away, it keeps yawning deep inside him. The absence of-he doesn’t even know. He’s been living like this for so long, he just grabs whatever he can and holds on until his knuckles turn white but even then he feels himself slipping. His palms get sweaty, he trembles, he knows he’s going to fall, but the world slips between his fingers and he’s scrabbling, scrambling to dig his nails in-
Dig his nails into Argilla’s skin; the only imperfections on her body now are those red crescent marks welling up from where he’s touched her, clawed her. Her hands are rock-solid on his jaw, clamping around his face, dragging him closer until their lips crush together and her breath makes him dizzy, makes him spin. He drinks her in, bites the corner of her mouth and sucks on it until she keens; the sound is half-Prithvi, half-her, and his Atma pulses, throbs, sends bolts trailing down his spine. He feels the Seismic Wave rumbling against his chest, so he lowers his head and licks that, too. His tongue tingles as he traces the pink lines spreading out from it. There’s earth in his mouth now, earth and musk. He feels Argilla shiver when the change finally ripples through her, when her smooth slick skin turns rough and ridged. He kisses the mouths forming on her breasts. Her teeth batter his lips, soft and weak and human, but he keeps kissing her there, keeps rocking against her and moaning even when the sound coming from him stops being entirely human.
Roland anchors himself in her, in the mother of the Earth, lets her whips coil around his wrists. She holds him tight and he gasps “Tighter” and she hears him, pins his arms behind his back. His shoulders scream in protest but Indra drowns all that out, Indra’s voice and Prithvi’s scent make his mind cloud up and stagger around like-he can’t even think of what and he’s too drunk on Prithvi to care, too caught up in her.
“Fuck,” he breathes. Naked before the goddess. His mouth rests on her skin, in the hollow between her breasts and he’s whispering, his lips are moving against her, he doesn’t know if he’s praying or if he’s just babbling but something in his head just came loose, something-something makes the lightning surge in him when Prithvi releases his wrists and pushes him between her legs.
She has teeth there too, of course. Ridges of them. He feels the heat rising from her, rolling over him.
“I’m hungry,” he says. The words sound slurred to him, rushed and indistinct. “God. I need-”
“Then take it,” her mouths growl. Her voice is the voice of the earth. Rumbling. Raw. He’s so hard now that it hurts. Even the friction of his cock against the cement on the floor is-maybe it should hurt, maybe it does, but the agony’s different. Lingering. Can’t think straight, the electricity and the heat and Prithvi. God. Prithvi.
He licks her once to try it out, tentative and slow at first. She’s warm, molten, and the enamel on her teeth rubs against his tongue. Some of the ridges nick him. There’s copper in his mouth when he does it again, when he goes over every inch of her cunt. He’s careful, somehow; he manages to avoid ripping his mouth to shreds on her teeth even when he kisses their points hungrily. He speeds up, makes the strokes of his tongue little and quick, lets his teeth press down on her skin for just a second before he starts licking again. Her thighs tremble and she rumbles, he thinks her mouths are saying something but he can’t hear, he’s too busy tasting her and smelling her and touching her everywhere he can, everywhere she’ll let him. She doesn’t get softer around him, exactly, but he can feel it when she comes, feel it in his bones, and he trembles right along with her.
Prithvi fades away and leaves Argilla behind, Argilla panting and damp, her hair plastered to her skin. He can’t stand up; his head roars when he starts to think about it and he collapses right back down to the ground.
"The Space Between." Persona 3, Akihiko/Junpei, muffled. 770 words, not worksafe for m/m touching. Junpei has the biggest sempai-crush ever, d'aww.
Junpei’s not sure when the-well, when just the thinking about Akihiko-sempai started, exactly. Just little stuff at first, like when he looked up at Akihiko at the convenience store, saw him kneel down and stretch out his hand to him. Junpei thought about how the rough calluses on his fingers were solid and real. And then the thoughts kept creeping into his head, thoughts about the drops of sweat rolling down Akihiko’s neck when he practiced and then images of him walking over and licking the sweat away, tasting his skin. Yukari caught him zoning out one day when he’d been watching Akihiko shadow-box and it was really bad after that because of how fast sempai was, how fast he’d be if he ever decided to grap Junpei with his beaten-up hands and pinned him up against the wall and-
Or when he listens to Akihiko talk about tactics and he kind of forgets all about the words because he’s trying really hard not to stare at Akihiko’s lips.
Yeah. It’s so bad. It’s really bad. He has to shove his fist in his mouth sometimes when he’s alone in his room and he thinks about Akihiko-sempai all flushed and breathing hard after a long night in Tartarus. He bites down on his knuckle as his other hand goes right for his cock, and it almost hurts to jerk off because he’s so hard just thinking about it, so balls-clenchingly hard. His toes curl up, his legs shake, everything inside him shakes and twists around, and he just grinds hard against his hand for a while, imagines Akihiko’s hand there instead and almost bashes his head against the wall because his whole body jumps thinking about it. He bites down again when he starts stroking in earnest because he feels the sounds and the whimpers building up in the back of his throat and he doesn’t want Yukari or someone hearing and walking in and-
Knock on the door. Shit. He yanks the blanket over his lap and says “Who is it?” but his voice sounds all strangled and high and funny, kind of muffled, like his hand’s still in his mouth.
“Minato wanted to know if you were up for Tartarus tonight.” Shit it’s Akihiko oh shit. He rocks back and forth on the bed a little even though doing it doesn’t give him any friction, he just has to move, he has to move so bad and he has to pray that the bed doesn’t creak or something. His hand inches back towards his cock and he can’t stop it and he doesn’t want to.
“Are you all right?” Akihiko asks him through the door. “You sound kind of-”
The doorknob rattles and turns-he forgot to lock it, shit-and then Akihiko-sempai’s standing right in the doorway, frozen in place; his hand slips off the doorknob and he just kind of leaves it hanging there. Junpei freezes too, but he’s still probably red-faced and sweating and, well, just look where his hand is.
“I’ll just-” he says, but he doesn’t move.
“Shut the door,” Junpei says. “One way or the other.”
Akihiko closes it behind him and Junpei almost falls out of his bed. His legs definitely twitch. “Is this about-” His voice catches, shakes just as bad as Junpei’s shaking.
Junpei jerks his head up and down. Yes. He fists his hands in the bedsheets. Doesn’t even breathe, not until Akihiko-sempai walks over and kneels on the bed and-
“Yukari’s nearby. In the lobby.” He looks down and presses his lips together. His tongue pokes out from between them. Junpei pinches his leg hard. It hurts.
Junpei doesn’t talk, doesn’t trust himself to, so he just grips Akihiko’s wrist and pulls it slowly towards his mouth, presses Akihiko’s palm over his lips. He tastes the sweat beading there. Sempai’s hands smell like soap and leather. Junpei puts his hand on Akihiko’s-where do you do this with a guy, anyway? He decides on Akihiko’s hip, because that’s less girly than the waist-and pulls him in closer until their knees touch.
Then Akihiko’s other hand brushes against Junpei’s chest and trails down until he gets to the blanket wadded up around Junpei’s cock. And it’s probably good that he only feels Akihiko through the fabric, good that there’s something to pad the space between Akihiko’s fingers and his skin, because his breathing’s close enough to moaning as it is, low and quiet, and Akihiko’s hand over his mouth can’t muffle how loud he’d shout if he got touched full on. No way.
I ended up doing five pieces total, and I'm reasonably happy with all of them, I think. I wanted to do more -- I had a River/Simon and an Aziraphale/Crowley half-finished, and maybe I'll finish those up just for fun. They might not be comment-length, though. ehe.
These two ficlets don't have director's cut versions. (They did originally, but I like the concise versions better.) I'll repost the other three later on tonight, and they'll have special added bonus material, because I kind of got carried away while writing them. Which is not surprising for at least two of the three pairings in question, I think. *cough*
"Drinking From a Broken Cup." Digital Devil Saga, Argilla/Roland, "and I'm stepping on the devil's tail." 770 words, seriously not worksafe for m/f sex and xenokink like whoa.
He quit drinking. And he hasn’t touched a drop since then, since Indra’s lightning first burned in his veins, burned hotter and brighter than the booze ever could. And the hunger-the shakes are worse than the DTs when Indra starts roaring, roaring for blood and meat.
Roland drank to fill up the hole before. Now he devours. But the hole doesn’t go away, it keeps yawning deep inside him. The absence of-he doesn’t even know. He’s been living like this for so long, he just grabs whatever he can and holds on until his knuckles turn white but even then he feels himself slipping. His palms get sweaty, he trembles, he knows he’s going to fall, but the world slips between his fingers and he’s scrabbling, scrambling to dig his nails in-
Dig his nails into Argilla’s skin; the only imperfections on her body now are those red crescent marks welling up from where he’s touched her, clawed her. Her hands are rock-solid on his jaw, clamping around his face, dragging him closer until their lips crush together and her breath makes him dizzy, makes him spin. He drinks her in, bites the corner of her mouth and sucks on it until she keens; the sound is half-Prithvi, half-her, and his Atma pulses, throbs, sends bolts trailing down his spine. He feels the Seismic Wave rumbling against his chest, so he lowers his head and licks that, too. His tongue tingles as he traces the pink lines spreading out from it. There’s earth in his mouth now, earth and musk. He feels Argilla shiver when the change finally ripples through her, when her smooth slick skin turns rough and ridged. He kisses the mouths forming on her breasts. Her teeth batter his lips, soft and weak and human, but he keeps kissing her there, keeps rocking against her and moaning even when the sound coming from him stops being entirely human.
Roland anchors himself in her, in the mother of the Earth, lets her whips coil around his wrists. She holds him tight and he gasps “Tighter” and she hears him, pins his arms behind his back. His shoulders scream in protest but Indra drowns all that out, Indra’s voice and Prithvi’s scent make his mind cloud up and stagger around like-he can’t even think of what and he’s too drunk on Prithvi to care, too caught up in her.
“Fuck,” he breathes. Naked before the goddess. His mouth rests on her skin, in the hollow between her breasts and he’s whispering, his lips are moving against her, he doesn’t know if he’s praying or if he’s just babbling but something in his head just came loose, something-something makes the lightning surge in him when Prithvi releases his wrists and pushes him between her legs.
She has teeth there too, of course. Ridges of them. He feels the heat rising from her, rolling over him.
“I’m hungry,” he says. The words sound slurred to him, rushed and indistinct. “God. I need-”
“Then take it,” her mouths growl. Her voice is the voice of the earth. Rumbling. Raw. He’s so hard now that it hurts. Even the friction of his cock against the cement on the floor is-maybe it should hurt, maybe it does, but the agony’s different. Lingering. Can’t think straight, the electricity and the heat and Prithvi. God. Prithvi.
He licks her once to try it out, tentative and slow at first. She’s warm, molten, and the enamel on her teeth rubs against his tongue. Some of the ridges nick him. There’s copper in his mouth when he does it again, when he goes over every inch of her cunt. He’s careful, somehow; he manages to avoid ripping his mouth to shreds on her teeth even when he kisses their points hungrily. He speeds up, makes the strokes of his tongue little and quick, lets his teeth press down on her skin for just a second before he starts licking again. Her thighs tremble and she rumbles, he thinks her mouths are saying something but he can’t hear, he’s too busy tasting her and smelling her and touching her everywhere he can, everywhere she’ll let him. She doesn’t get softer around him, exactly, but he can feel it when she comes, feel it in his bones, and he trembles right along with her.
Prithvi fades away and leaves Argilla behind, Argilla panting and damp, her hair plastered to her skin. He can’t stand up; his head roars when he starts to think about it and he collapses right back down to the ground.
"The Space Between." Persona 3, Akihiko/Junpei, muffled. 770 words, not worksafe for m/m touching. Junpei has the biggest sempai-crush ever, d'aww.
Junpei’s not sure when the-well, when just the thinking about Akihiko-sempai started, exactly. Just little stuff at first, like when he looked up at Akihiko at the convenience store, saw him kneel down and stretch out his hand to him. Junpei thought about how the rough calluses on his fingers were solid and real. And then the thoughts kept creeping into his head, thoughts about the drops of sweat rolling down Akihiko’s neck when he practiced and then images of him walking over and licking the sweat away, tasting his skin. Yukari caught him zoning out one day when he’d been watching Akihiko shadow-box and it was really bad after that because of how fast sempai was, how fast he’d be if he ever decided to grap Junpei with his beaten-up hands and pinned him up against the wall and-
Or when he listens to Akihiko talk about tactics and he kind of forgets all about the words because he’s trying really hard not to stare at Akihiko’s lips.
Yeah. It’s so bad. It’s really bad. He has to shove his fist in his mouth sometimes when he’s alone in his room and he thinks about Akihiko-sempai all flushed and breathing hard after a long night in Tartarus. He bites down on his knuckle as his other hand goes right for his cock, and it almost hurts to jerk off because he’s so hard just thinking about it, so balls-clenchingly hard. His toes curl up, his legs shake, everything inside him shakes and twists around, and he just grinds hard against his hand for a while, imagines Akihiko’s hand there instead and almost bashes his head against the wall because his whole body jumps thinking about it. He bites down again when he starts stroking in earnest because he feels the sounds and the whimpers building up in the back of his throat and he doesn’t want Yukari or someone hearing and walking in and-
Knock on the door. Shit. He yanks the blanket over his lap and says “Who is it?” but his voice sounds all strangled and high and funny, kind of muffled, like his hand’s still in his mouth.
“Minato wanted to know if you were up for Tartarus tonight.” Shit it’s Akihiko oh shit. He rocks back and forth on the bed a little even though doing it doesn’t give him any friction, he just has to move, he has to move so bad and he has to pray that the bed doesn’t creak or something. His hand inches back towards his cock and he can’t stop it and he doesn’t want to.
“Are you all right?” Akihiko asks him through the door. “You sound kind of-”
The doorknob rattles and turns-he forgot to lock it, shit-and then Akihiko-sempai’s standing right in the doorway, frozen in place; his hand slips off the doorknob and he just kind of leaves it hanging there. Junpei freezes too, but he’s still probably red-faced and sweating and, well, just look where his hand is.
“I’ll just-” he says, but he doesn’t move.
“Shut the door,” Junpei says. “One way or the other.”
Akihiko closes it behind him and Junpei almost falls out of his bed. His legs definitely twitch. “Is this about-” His voice catches, shakes just as bad as Junpei’s shaking.
Junpei jerks his head up and down. Yes. He fists his hands in the bedsheets. Doesn’t even breathe, not until Akihiko-sempai walks over and kneels on the bed and-
“Yukari’s nearby. In the lobby.” He looks down and presses his lips together. His tongue pokes out from between them. Junpei pinches his leg hard. It hurts.
Junpei doesn’t talk, doesn’t trust himself to, so he just grips Akihiko’s wrist and pulls it slowly towards his mouth, presses Akihiko’s palm over his lips. He tastes the sweat beading there. Sempai’s hands smell like soap and leather. Junpei puts his hand on Akihiko’s-where do you do this with a guy, anyway? He decides on Akihiko’s hip, because that’s less girly than the waist-and pulls him in closer until their knees touch.
Then Akihiko’s other hand brushes against Junpei’s chest and trails down until he gets to the blanket wadded up around Junpei’s cock. And it’s probably good that he only feels Akihiko through the fabric, good that there’s something to pad the space between Akihiko’s fingers and his skin, because his breathing’s close enough to moaning as it is, low and quiet, and Akihiko’s hand over his mouth can’t muffle how loud he’d shout if he got touched full on. No way.