(Untitled)
Day 11, late morning
[After speaking with Aki, he wanted nothing more than to follow his double and work to smash the armies that threaten his people. It is hard to accept that he cannot do as he wishes, because he does not know what effect his interference would have on the natural balance of Shin Makoku ( Read more... )
[After speaking with Aki, he wanted nothing more than to follow his double and work to smash the armies that threaten his people. It is hard to accept that he cannot do as he wishes, because he does not know what effect his interference would have on the natural balance of Shin Makoku ( Read more... )
Right, news, he had some of that, didn't he? "Mmm, news, yes. I've heard that the Maou and Sir von Bielefeld have had a bit of a fight. I might go visit Shibuya tomorrow and see if I can find out what's going on. As for the...what are you doing?" He asks suddenly as the hand on his knee slips higher. Fingers trace light, indistinct patters over his inner thigh and his abdomen tenses in anticipation. The innocent lilt of a blond eyebrow encourages him to continue.
"Ah, um.... As for the war, I asked my double to accompany the negotiation team and help with 'faking' the reaction of a box if Belal decides to test it. I thought he also needed some time away from the castle, something here seems to be affecting him. I have also received communication from Khrennikov. The first, to say that Anissina and Aki have arrived safely, Anissina has taken charge of the resistance and will be sending back lists of the dead. Rumours of Aki's involvement seem to be lifting the Mazoku's spirits and the mystery Maryoku user is apparently female. The seco-ooo..." His voice rises on the word, feeling the hand on his back move to cup and massage over one of his butt-cheeks.
"Do you want me...to finish or not?" He queries, voice a little unsteady, and face trying to look stern, but failing miserably from the distractions. Alarik just smirks at him and leans forward to nuzzle at his neck. Murata swallows and attempts to finish off the last of what he has to say, while he still can. "In the second, Anissina reported that the countermeasures and ambushes were going well against the Dai Shimaron troops...and she alerted us that Alford Markina has been kidnapped."
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[He lets the question die unfinished as he thinks on what Aki had earlier told him, that there was no Shinou present, but the power seems to have much the same source, as would that of a Great Sage or Original Maiden. And now this double of Edwyn's is showing signs of being affected by events in the castle and has been sent out, trusted, into the lands of the enemy. It is, he notes to himself, a situation that bears watching. His hands move without thought as Edwyn adds the information that the Maryoku user is female, a familiar gesture as he thinks.]
Do you want me...to finish or not?
[The shaky question makes him smirk, and he moves to nip lightly at the side of Edwyn's throat, eyes half closed as he listened to the remainder of what he was being told. The quickly hissed breath his beloved let out made him realize he'd bitten a little too hard when Edwyn had reported that last, and he made his apology with a quick stroke of his tongue over the lightly marked skin.]
Kidnapped? [He pulled back to look at Edwyn while he spoke, eyes going hard. He only had the vaguest notion of who, exactly, Alford Markina was, but Edwyn would not have mentioned it if the man were not one of their own.] Has there been a demand for his ransom? What do they wish to exchange?
[These details should really be in the hands of his double now, yet he cannot help but ask after them. Mind racing over the advantage the enemy has by having three of their people hostage, his hand slides around to rub small circles just under Edwyn's navel, concern evident in the way his eyes seem to focus on a point just beyond Edwyn's shoulder as he worries over their increasingly weakening position in this fight.]
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Alarik's eyes go distant, and Murata knows the blond is worrying about the war and their relative uselessness in it. He reaches up to stroke damp fingers down one of the man's cheeks, and leans forward to capture his mouth in a kiss. "Do not worry so hard for what you cannot change, beloved. This war is far from lost. Things will happen as they do, as they always have...it is Fate and we are all slave to it." His hips roll languidly against the absent, circling touches over his lower abdomen and Murata tips his head a little to deepen the kiss. He cannot help the inevitable reaction his teenage body has to the situation, but his ancient mind is content enough, for now, to revel in a comfortable nearness he had sorely missed.
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{Fate or no, I cannot, nor will I, sit idly by while the enemy strives to make fools of us all.}
[He draws slowly back from the kiss, pulling Edwyn's lower lip for a moment with his teeth before letting it go in order to busy his mouth on a point just behind Edwyn's ear.]
{Over all these years, have I ever just let Fate do as she wills? I have ever had a hand in shaping it, and I will not let this change in circumstance bring that guidance to an end.}
[He does not continue the thought, hot breath now skimming over the slightly damp skin of Edwyn's shoulder. His teeth close at random, tiny bites not hard enough to mark but enough to sting faintly. He can feel his beloved shiver slightly under his touch, and knows, from the languid way the other moves, that he is content to take each step of this in slow, soft comfort.
He is not averse to the thought, yet he cannot help but take a chance to taunt Edwyn. Slowly, with light, gentle brushes of skin against skin, he pulls away until the only point of contact between them is one of his hands pressed against his lover's chest.]
Don't move. [The words are both spoken and thought; the verbal a low whisper, the mental coming heavy with the feel of desire. Deliberate, easy, he shifts through the water until they are standing and he is behind Edwyn, not moving his hand as he goes, so that his arm is wrapped around his beloved's body.]
There are ways to shape Fate. [This time, there is only the whisper, sifting hot through the hair at the nape of Edwyn's neck to tremble against skin. As he speaks, the water in front of Edwyn ripples upward, then splits into two thin strands that wrap over Edwyn's hips, then cross in the small of his back, returning to the front of his body at the base of his ribcage. The filaments of water cross again over Edwyn's chest, snaking under the arm that still holds his beloved still, then curling to cover his shoulders and twine up his arms. At his wrists they coil tight, then pressure grows to pull Edwyn's arms above his head, movements of his body constricted by the spiral of water that surrounds him.]
{There are ways to shape everything.} [There's a hint of mischief in the thought, and his tongue curves hot around Edwyn's earlobe, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth at the same time as he slides his hand down to cup the firmness of Edwyn's arousal and then sends a tingling surge of chill through the water that cradles Edwyn. The gasp that escapes his lover's lips is hoarse and startled, and he smirks sharply as he lowers his head to trace one of Edwyn's shoulder blades with hot, wet kisses.
Slowly, the pressure from the water fades, allowing his beloved the ability to move his arms on his own again, though rather than receding, the water twists and trails over Edwyn's skin like a living thing.]
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Alarik's mouth on his ear,however, is doing very well towards making him surrender, damn the man for knowing all his weak spots! He gasps suddenly, body straining against its watery cage as the sudden swirl of cold over his aroused flesh burns white hot. He pants for air as the water recedes, dropping his freed arms. He lets one hand fall behind his shoulder grasping a handful of damp blond hair and lifting his lover's head far enough that he can pull Alarik into a rough, messy over-the-shoulder kiss.
Water still sluices over him, caressing his skin as though he had multiple lovers rather than one extremely cheeky one. Well, two could play that game. Breaking the kiss with a swipe of his tongue over Alarik's deliciously parted lips, he turns in a twirling swish of water to face his lover. With his hand still tangled in Alarik's hair he flashes the blond a wide mischievous grin and promptly dunks him.
"I wonder if Fate planned that one, or not, love..." He teased, maintaining his grin as Alarik resurfaces spluttering and indignant.
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It is that which he blames for the distraction that leaves him vulnerable to Edwyn's dunking. Rising, his spluttering indignation lasts only a moment before his eyes narrow dangerously and the water sluices from his hair and body to splash around his hips.
His advance should be hampered by the liquid that he walks through, but the element parts just enough to allow him to stalk forward with barely a ripple. He stops, just short of touching, blue-violet glare turning from angry to wicked. Slowly, he tilts his head to one side, a corner of his mouth quirking up in a smug little curl. He doesn't speak to answer Edwyn's teasing, nor does he move at all for a long moment. Just when it seems that Edwyn may do something to break the impasse between them, he acts.
Still motionless, he uses the water to his advantage once more. This time, Edwyn's arms are not raised, but his wrists are bound tight together in the small of his back, and his spine is pushed into a slight curve. A small tendril breaks away from Edwyn's shoulder and creeps up the side of his neck, skating over his jaw and tracing the edges of his lips with a warm, damp touch. At the same time, the water which had covered Edwyn to his hips pushes away, leaving him bare from just below his knees upward. The displaced fluid curls up, half a dozen strands wrapping around each leg, teasing along the backs of Edwyn's knees, the insides of his lover's thighs.
A twist delves into Edwyn's navel, another makes a lazy curl around a nipple, then goes chill before warming again. The faint hollow at the base of his throat is teased by cool water, while almost hot liquid courses over where neck meets shoulder, then slips in an achingly slow slide down Edwyn's spine. The crease at the tops of his thighs is beset by small, swirling splashes that recede and return with no discernable pattern.
Through all of this, he does not move except to let a languid gaze drift down the front of his lover's body, fixing for a long moment on the one place where the water never touches before raising his eyes to again meet the dark stare of his beloved. Silent, he waits for his lover's reaction to the provocation provided by the liquid caresses.]
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Murata smirks, his expression easily as wicked as his lover's, as the breeze trickles from Alarik's hair and down his back. It curls across the broad expanse of skin, pressing lightly, then retreating, over and over, until his whole back is writhing with the living air. Alarik's eyebrow arches at him, and he strikes. He pulls hard on the strands of air, and the blond stumbles over him. Tendrils quickly wrap around Alarik's chest to stabilise him, even as strands tangle in thick blond hair to pull his head down to barely a fingerspan from Murata's. His smirk widens and he almost purrs against Alarik's lips. "Did you forget that, I too, am skilled in elemental magic, beloved?" He pulls just a little bit harder on the magic and crushes Alarik's lips onto his own before the man can protest aloud.
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His hands come to rest on Edwyn's shoulders when he finds himself in need of more equilibrium than the supporting air can provide, and he is recalled to himself a little as cool water rushes over the backs of his fingers. Suddenly, he smiles against his lover's mouth, then pushes against the advance of Edwyn's tongue with long, rough strokes of his own.
He knows, that if he truly wished it, he could break himself free of the air that holds him captive, just as Edwyn could escape the writhing grip of the water that clothes him, and yet he does not even try. His hands slide up, one resting on each side of his beloved's neck, the feel of Edwyn's pulse strong against the base of each palm.
Another low, demanding sound slides from his mouth and into Edwyn's along the twisting road that is their tangled tongues. At the same moment, all the water but for that binding his lover's wrists loses cohesion and cascades down Edwyn's skin. Another strand rises, wider than those previous, and wraps quickly around Edwyn's arousal. It flexes and shifts, slightly warmer and more deft than a living hand, tracing each ridge of the flesh it encloses. Edwyn's head goes back, a harshly gasped breath inhaled through his open mouth.
The strands of air that bind him loosen, and he tips his chin up once more, smirking and staring at Edwyn through heavily lidded eyes as he undoes the water that holds his lover's wrists captive.]
Did you forget, beloved, that I have always been the one more likely to take advantage in ways most devious?
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As soon as his wrists are free, Murata's hands are on Alarik's body. Fingers roaming softly, aimlessly, one minute, then clenching tight, nails digging into pale flash as a particularly sensitive spot is discovered by the thick cocoon of water about his arousal.
"I could never...oh Gods...forget such a, mmm thing," the Sage manages to gasp, his voice wavering and breaking. His hips buck again, and he groans, a low desperate sound. His voice turns pleading as the sheath tightens suddenly, "Alarik..."
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He leans down, lips following the contour of Edwyn's ear. His hands slide over Edwyn's chest, fingers tracing over stiff, rough nipples. Teeth catch, drag over the point just behind Edwyn's ear, tongue following in a teasing, light sweep. He moves while his mouth explores the dips and rises of the skin down the side of Edwyn's neck, backing his beloved toward the edge of the bath.
Once there, he grins against warm flesh, and again water rises to his internal command. This time it does not entrap his beloved, but instead makes a wide path up Edwyn's back, then flexes. The curves press his beloved's spine, making his torso arch in a quivering bow.
His lips take advantage the new lines, following the stretch of Edwyn's side, where each quick, deep inhale brings ribs into sharper relief against the skin that covers them. His tongue traces the line of each before he trails nipping kisses up the broader plane of his lover's breastbone.
One hand curls hard around Edwyn's hip as the water continues to flex and ripple over the Sage's arousal. The other hand slides lower, water pressure pushing Edwyn's legs further apart, causing him to slide and his hips to thrust blindly forward. Seeking fingers trip across his lover's inner thigh, avoiding the area where the water swirls and carefully gathering up the heavy, soft weight behind that point. His touch is careful, yet firm, and as his fingers play over silken skin, he lifts his face again, mouth hovering over his beloved's lips.]
Edwyn. [The name is thick on his tongue, and he chases the sound with kiss, tongue pushing roughly, almost desperately into his lover's mouth, this power play having driven him to an edge that he is anxious to fall over. The hand on Edwyn's hip tightens, and he shudders with his own need while the fingers of his other hand press and tease his beloved toward release.]
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"Alarik..." he warns, the word a high, thin whisper when they part for breath. But the blond ignores him, and, if anything increases the pace of the torturous touches. It is too much. The muscles in Murata's spine flex and tighten against the press of water that arches him, his hips jerking towards the tightening watery cocoon. His moan is swallowed by Alarik as rough lips take possession of his once more, hot and demanding and quickly stealing away his regained breath.
A shiver starting at his hips spreads to engulf his entire body, and he's soon shaking violently as white-hot pleasure rips through him. He clings to Alarik's shoulders as the strength drains from him. His feet, barely balancing on tip-toe, slide out from under him and Alarik is there to steady his stance. As awareness creeps slowly back over his mind, Murata listens to their harsh breaths echoing down from the high ceiling. His own is panting, yet slowing rapidly, but Alarik's is strained and hitching in the heavy air, the blond's eyes still dark with arousal.
"You...you still..." Murata reaches for Alarik, but his hand is batted away with a possesive growl and a look that just about makes him hard all over again. He swallows, locking gazes with his lover and letting his fingers dance lightly over the taut, glistening skin of Alarik's chest, instead.
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He steps forward, and all the water that has surrounded his beloved falls away in a rippling, heavy cascade. His hands quickly take the place of the water that had bowed his lover's back, one pressing into the base of Edwyn's spine, the other cupped around the back of Edwyn's neck, fingers tangling in damp hair.
His head dips, tongue drawing lazy curls up the side of Edwyn's throat as he pulls them closer together. His arousal is hot against Edwyn's stomach, and his hips twitch as he growls, choked with want.
Moving carefully, he guides Edwyn without letting their skin part more than necessary. At the very edge of the pool he turns, releasing his lover long enough to push himself up onto the stone, slick and warm from the steam that hangs heavy in the room. Easing back until only his feet are in the water, he then beckons.]
Come, Edwyn. [His eyes are narrowed, burning as they rake over the slender, pale body of his beloved. As Edwyn moves close, he reaches down, helps to pull his lover from the water and settles the Sage's knees on each side of his thighs.
His mouth immediately begins to explore the surface of Edwyn's chest, sucking bites raising blushing marks across the skin. His tongue finds a nipple, teasing until it is a crinkled point beneath his mouth. Reaching carefully, his fingers find the neck of a bottle of bath oil, and he opens it. His arms go around Edwyn's back, and he pours the oil into his palm before carelessly dropping the bottle into the water.
The thick fragrance rises into the air, heady and faintly sweet as he slides his hands together, coating each finger. His lips move upward, skimming across Edwyn's cheek and then hovering just over his ear. One hand slides careful, slick, to tease puckered skin with light touch; the other shifting between them to gather recently spent flesh into his palm.]
I want you beneath me. [The whisper is rough, raw, and his teeth punctuate the statement in a quick bite just behind Edwyn's earlobe.] I want to watch as I slide into you; take what has always been mine.
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["I want you beneath me...I want to watch as I slide into you; take what has always been mine."]
The rough whisper and accompanying clamp of teeth travel straight to his groin, his arousal twitching insistently back to life in Alarik's hand. "Ye-esss." The word is a desperate hiss of breath across Alarik's ear and his grip tightens in the man's hair. He rocks back against teasing slicked fingers, letting out a gasping moan when one of the digits presses inside. His spine arches, hips driving back against the invasion and breath shuddering from his lungs.
The strong, sweet scent of the oil curling through the air makes him feel lightheaded, and if he cared to look, the room would probably be twisting and tilting out of focus. Instead, he locks his gaze onto Alarik's steadier one; fighting the urge to slide his eyes shut and throw his head back...to surrender.
"I...have always...been yours." He manages with panting breath and short, ragged gasps when the finger inside him shifts and twists. His tongue darts out over kiss-bruised flesh, gathering the droplets of moisture that might be bath water or sweat, and watching the hungry gleam flicker in his lover's eyes.
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In spite of his earlier words, he finds now that he cannot wait long enough to lower his beloved to lay on the warm, wet tile beside the bath. Instead, his hands grip hard on Edwyn's hips and he pulls, angling Edwyn's body back while urging his lover down onto him.
Edwyn's gasp and his own groan echo across the surface of the water, and for a moment he can do nothing but pull in one breath after another as the heat of Edwyn's body clenches around him. Slowly, with a faint shiver running across sweat-slick skin, he feels the tightness that fills them both ease.]
Even our bodies have not forgotten. [One hand slides around, settling in the curve of Edwyn's lower back, the other shifting to brace against the floor behind himself. He rocks his hips forward and back, only capable of a small motion, but that enough to make him sigh.] Here, we are equals.
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