Keeper of the Crypt (Dragon Quest VIII, Angelo/Marcello, R)
Title: Keeper of the Crypt
Author/Artist: queenoftheskies
Rating: R
Warnings: m/m, oral sex
Word count: 2,396
Prompt: - Dragon Quest VIII, Angelo/Marcello: trapped together - "If we aren't going to kill one another, we might as well make the best of this."
A/N: None
"This is all your fault," Marcello growled, throwing his brother to the ground.
Angelo pushed Marcello off him, throwing a punch as he rolled free. "You're the one who insisted on closing the door behind us."
"I didn't want you to escape." The first hint of doubt crept across the Templar Captain's face.
"Right." Angelo brushed off his uniform as he stood. "That sounds about as good a reason to lock us inside a haunted crypt as any I've heard."
"Shut up."
Angelo righted the ribbon holding his hair, then brushed back a stray strand that had fallen into his face and tucked it behind his ear until there was time to bind it. Their first priority had to be getting out of the ruined burial plot in one piece and, for that, they probably needed to work together. After that, he'd worry about parting company with his wretched sibling.
"First things first." Always mindful of a double cross, Angelo refused to turn his back on his brother. "We've got to get out of here." He retrieved his sword and sheathed it. "And, for that, I'm afraid we're going to have to work together."
Marcello grumbled something under his breath. Angelo couldn't tell whether it was reluctant agreement or whether he'd been a fool to stow his weapon. But, when his brother sheathed his own and brushed the dirt from his uniform, he knew he'd struck a tenuous bargain.
#
"What are they?" Marcello growled as the skeletal horse pawed the ground.
They'd made their way through the first level of the crypt with difficulty, but somehow, they'd managed to seal the doors behind them and escape with their lives. The big problem, as Angelo saw it, was that, instead of rising, the stairs led them lower, into the bowels of the accursed place.
"Bone barons," he replied in a low voice.
Without a map to the burial chamber, there was no way to know whether or not they were headed the right direction, how many levels the crumbling building held, and whether or not they'd find a way out if they continued on their current course.
Angelo studied the lay of the land, the narrow, crumbling hall that led from the broad room in which they were stranded. If they could get past the skeleton warrior and behind him, there was a chance of holding the creatures off with magic.
"Well?" Marcelo demanded, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice. "What do we do now?"
"I'll distract him." Bad plan. Bad. Bad. Bad. "You sneak around behind him and hit him with a fire blast. Once we reach the hallway, we have a sheltered place to fight from."
Marcello's mouth quirked down in a half-grin. His eyes scoured the hall behind the bone baron while the skeletal horse snorted anxiously.
Angelo found himself shifting nervously, too. He'd seen it, the door at the edge of the decayed hall. At least, it looked like a door from this distance. He could only imagine Marcello calculating how quickly he could get to the door after he'd made his way around the monster.
"I like it."
"I rather figured you would." The words left a sour taste in Angelo's mouth, but there really was no other option. They could take a chance on both dying at the hands of the bone baron, or they could take a chance that at least one of them would live to fight another level down. Why does it have to be Marcello?
#
As it was, the plan didn't work out quite the way Angelo had envisioned it. He'd distracted the bone baron, all right, but Marcello hadn't been honest with him and, halfway across the bone-littered chamber, his leg gave out. Blood stained his left pants leg and, with a curse, Angelo had taken off the horse's head and dashed to aid his brother.
"You fool," Marcello sneered as Angelo tried to get a shoulder under his arm and ease him to his feet. "Why didn't you run while you had the chance?"
Acutely aware of the crackling, crunching sounds behind them, Angelo urged his brother forward.
"It's putting itself back together," the Templar Captain hissed. "Hurry, Angelo." Marcello's eyes widened. With a cry, he threw himself forward and around Angelo, casting a burst of flames the monster's direction before he went down with a thud.
Magic flames swirled around the creature. The horse reared on its back legs, throwing its rider, who exploded in a burst of dust once separated from its mount. Unable to escape the spell, it went down with a scream that curdled Angelo's blood.
It wasn't until the flames evaporated, leaving no sign of horse or rider, that the Templar recognized the sounds clattering in the near darkness around him. A quick check of the room revealed hundreds of half-decayed corpses--their eyes ablaze--dragging themselves across the remnants of stone and bones, toward them.
"We've got to get out of here," he said, rushing to Marcello's side.
The Templar Captain remained face down, a pool of blood growing on the ground beneath him.
"Come on, come on," Angelo muttered. Marcello should have been up by now.
When a quick heal failed to yield the desired results and the zombie creatures grew close enough for him to see the drool dripping from their open mouths, he scooped Marcello up from the floor and dragged him toward the elusive doorway at the end of the half-collapsed hall.
#
It had taken three heal spells to cure Marcello of his injuries. By the time he was finished, Angelo wanted a week's sleep almost as much as he wanted to get out of the haunted crypt and part company with his brother.
"Get up," Marcello grumbled. "We've got to get out of here."
"Go!" Angelo didn't care any more. If it wasn't for his brother, he might have been out and back with his friends already. "You'd have left me anyway if you hadn't collapsed."
Silence fell between them and Angelo yawned, thankful Marcello had listened to him for once. Maybe when he woke, he wouldn't be as happy to be alone, but for now, he wanted nothing more than sleep.
"I wouldn't have left you."
The words jarred Angelo from his half-sleep. "What?"
"I said I wouldn't have left you." Marcello paused. "Though I'm not quite sure why you stopped to rescue me after...everything that's happened between us."
"You're still my brother." It sounded like a good reason, even if there was no lost love between them.
"There are other ways to restore your power."
While that was true, Angelo had seen no sign of any magic springs, and the bag with all the items he'd carried had been outside when they'd been trapped. Food would help, but unless Marcello had a stash he was hiding somewhere not visible, sleep was still the best option.
Marcello dropped to the ground beside him, brushed his fallen hair from his face. "Angelo?" he whispered.
"Go away." Opening one eye, he offered Marcello the most vicious look he could muster. And, even though he knew it wasn't very vicious, he shoved at his brother's knee, hoping the older man would take the hint and leave.
With a smirk, Marcello purred, "If we aren't going to kill one another, we might as well make the best of this."
Angelo wasn't quite sure he liked the strange gleam in his brother's eye. "What...what do you mean?" Suddenly uneasy, he pushed himself up on one elbow to listen.
"As much as it repulses me to have to admit this, I seem to find myself in your debt for saving my life."
Now that he thought about it, the thought troubled him as much as it seemed to trouble the older Templar. "Think nothing of it. You'd have done..." No he wouldn't have. Angelo felt a twinge of pain. His brother would be dancing on his grave now if he'd been the one to die.
"What's wrong?" Marcello's voice held a sharp note. "Weak in the knees, are you?"
"No." The chill grew between them and Angelo rose, more than eager to be out of the confines of the crypt.
Something scraped off stone in the distance and the young Templar tensed.
"We'd better get out of here," Marcello whispered, grabbing his brother's arm. The captain led him deeper into the half-collapsed, crumbling hall.
Doors lined the corridor, barely visible in the faint light of the flame Marcello had lit. It carried little power, making it easy for Angelo to tell that his brother was still far weaker than he was willing to admit. The scraping grew louder behind them and Angelo could imagine the types of dark creatures chasing them.
Against his brother's protests, he tried each door they happened upon until one fell open to reveal a room far more shadowy than the corridor they'd left. Draped in cobwebs and pockmarked with acid-filled pools, the chamber looked less inviting in person than it had from the doorway. Still, no sooner had the heavy door swung shut behind them than a clamor arose in the hall.
"Get away from the door!" Marcello growled, shoving him forward.
It flew open, smashed against the wall, and before Angelo could scramble backwards, the monster was on him, all teeth and nails. He never got a good look at it, but it got a good bite out of him.
His body flashed with pain and then burned hotter than he'd believed possible. Poison. Fast acting. Already his vision had clouded. His body hadn't the strength to fight it off.
He was only faintly aware of Marcello separating the monster's head from its body. Then, his brother was pulling him free, dragging him across the floor, around the acid pools until the world faded around him and Angelo lost conscious.
#
Angelo opened his eyes to darkness, but the fact that he opened his eyes gave him hope...as did the pain, which flared and flickered all over his body. The burn was gone, which bode well for his recovery, but the pain did not, and he wondered whether the damage was a result of the powerful poison, or any number of other injuries he could have sustained.
"How do you feel?" Marcello's voice was close,
But, it was impossible to see anything in the inky darkness.
"It's quiet," Angelo whispered. "We could escape now while..."
Light flared between them, candle soft, but it enabled Angelo to see that he and his brother were tucked into an indention in the wall. He shuddered, fearful that if he looked out, he'd find a coffin on the floor at the foot of their hiding place.
"And go where?" Marcelo cracked one eye, but the glare was as effective as if both had peered into him.
"We can't stay hidden away in here forever. We have no food and very little water. We're both weak..." Folding his arms over his chest, he tensed, resisting the urge to pout. His brother always seemed to bring out that urge in him and he resented it, just like he resented everything else the damn fool stood for.
"We should rest. At least, for now." Marcello exhaled slowly. "You're still weak."
"The antidote didn't work, did it?" Angelo straightened, turned to study his brother in the dim light.
"You aren't dead, are you?"
"Then, the pain..."
"Those buggers pack a powerful bite." Marcello raised his left arm for Angelo to see.
Through the torn uniform, the Templar caught sight of an angry red welt and, at the heart of the wound, black puncture marks that oozed a foul-smelling liquid.
"Infected?"
"Healing." Marcello grinned. "Apparently, you do have your uses. The magic you used on me earlier still packs a bit of a punch."
#
They'd tried to sleep, maybe even managed an hour or two, but the discomfort he felt never allowed Angelo to sleep longer than an hour at a time. He'd wake in a sweat, with a scream on his lips, foul dreams slipping away like creatures of the night.
"You've got to relax, Angelo, or you're never going to recover."
Marcelo's breath was warm against his ear and sent an unexpected shudder through his body. "What do you care if I recover?" he challenged, unnerved by the older man's proximity.
"I have a better chance of getting out of here alive," he whispered, "if you stay alive, too. Think about it, brother. Our magics complement on another. Without me, you'll never make it. With you, I have a better chance."
"I'm touched."
He moved to turn away, but Marcello's stronger grip restrained him. Before he could protest, his brother's lips pressed against his, insistent, but strangely gentle. Angelo's first instinct was to resist, but his body responded before he had the chance to fight.
Marcello's hands were at his belt and in his pants, questing, exploring until his fingers settled around Angelo's hard cock. The Templar gasped at the unexpected pleasure; his brother's tongue darted into his mouth at the invitation.
They grappled in the darkness until Marcello managed to turn himself head down and crouch atop his brother. Unable to ignore the temptation, Angelo unfastened his brother's pants, freed him, worked him until he grew hard.
At the first touch of Marcello's lips on his cock, Angelo moaned against the pleasure that burned in his groin. His brother's erection leaked in anticipation and the younger man found himself taking the soft hardness into his mouth, tracing the throbbing tissue with his lips and tongue.
Marcello unloaded in his mouth, across his face, about the same time he spasmed with release of his own. Tremors ran the length of his body, intensifying with each suck on his cock.
When he finally cried out enough, Marcello slumped to the side of him, limp against him. They lay still in the darkness until their breathing eased and Marcello snored softly.
Angelo couldn't resist a smile as he tucked himself back into his pants. It wasn't until he rolled onto his side to sleep that he realized his strength was returning.
There was nothing between them. There never had been, never would be.
Still...
The last spark of orgasm twitched at the tip of Angelo's cock. With a satisfied smile, he drifted to sleep.
Author/Artist: queenoftheskies
Rating: R
Warnings: m/m, oral sex
Word count: 2,396
Prompt: - Dragon Quest VIII, Angelo/Marcello: trapped together - "If we aren't going to kill one another, we might as well make the best of this."
A/N: None
"This is all your fault," Marcello growled, throwing his brother to the ground.
Angelo pushed Marcello off him, throwing a punch as he rolled free. "You're the one who insisted on closing the door behind us."
"I didn't want you to escape." The first hint of doubt crept across the Templar Captain's face.
"Right." Angelo brushed off his uniform as he stood. "That sounds about as good a reason to lock us inside a haunted crypt as any I've heard."
"Shut up."
Angelo righted the ribbon holding his hair, then brushed back a stray strand that had fallen into his face and tucked it behind his ear until there was time to bind it. Their first priority had to be getting out of the ruined burial plot in one piece and, for that, they probably needed to work together. After that, he'd worry about parting company with his wretched sibling.
"First things first." Always mindful of a double cross, Angelo refused to turn his back on his brother. "We've got to get out of here." He retrieved his sword and sheathed it. "And, for that, I'm afraid we're going to have to work together."
Marcello grumbled something under his breath. Angelo couldn't tell whether it was reluctant agreement or whether he'd been a fool to stow his weapon. But, when his brother sheathed his own and brushed the dirt from his uniform, he knew he'd struck a tenuous bargain.
#
"What are they?" Marcello growled as the skeletal horse pawed the ground.
They'd made their way through the first level of the crypt with difficulty, but somehow, they'd managed to seal the doors behind them and escape with their lives. The big problem, as Angelo saw it, was that, instead of rising, the stairs led them lower, into the bowels of the accursed place.
"Bone barons," he replied in a low voice.
Without a map to the burial chamber, there was no way to know whether or not they were headed the right direction, how many levels the crumbling building held, and whether or not they'd find a way out if they continued on their current course.
Angelo studied the lay of the land, the narrow, crumbling hall that led from the broad room in which they were stranded. If they could get past the skeleton warrior and behind him, there was a chance of holding the creatures off with magic.
"Well?" Marcelo demanded, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice. "What do we do now?"
"I'll distract him." Bad plan. Bad. Bad. Bad. "You sneak around behind him and hit him with a fire blast. Once we reach the hallway, we have a sheltered place to fight from."
Marcello's mouth quirked down in a half-grin. His eyes scoured the hall behind the bone baron while the skeletal horse snorted anxiously.
Angelo found himself shifting nervously, too. He'd seen it, the door at the edge of the decayed hall. At least, it looked like a door from this distance. He could only imagine Marcello calculating how quickly he could get to the door after he'd made his way around the monster.
"I like it."
"I rather figured you would." The words left a sour taste in Angelo's mouth, but there really was no other option. They could take a chance on both dying at the hands of the bone baron, or they could take a chance that at least one of them would live to fight another level down. Why does it have to be Marcello?
#
As it was, the plan didn't work out quite the way Angelo had envisioned it. He'd distracted the bone baron, all right, but Marcello hadn't been honest with him and, halfway across the bone-littered chamber, his leg gave out. Blood stained his left pants leg and, with a curse, Angelo had taken off the horse's head and dashed to aid his brother.
"You fool," Marcello sneered as Angelo tried to get a shoulder under his arm and ease him to his feet. "Why didn't you run while you had the chance?"
Acutely aware of the crackling, crunching sounds behind them, Angelo urged his brother forward.
"It's putting itself back together," the Templar Captain hissed. "Hurry, Angelo." Marcello's eyes widened. With a cry, he threw himself forward and around Angelo, casting a burst of flames the monster's direction before he went down with a thud.
Magic flames swirled around the creature. The horse reared on its back legs, throwing its rider, who exploded in a burst of dust once separated from its mount. Unable to escape the spell, it went down with a scream that curdled Angelo's blood.
It wasn't until the flames evaporated, leaving no sign of horse or rider, that the Templar recognized the sounds clattering in the near darkness around him. A quick check of the room revealed hundreds of half-decayed corpses--their eyes ablaze--dragging themselves across the remnants of stone and bones, toward them.
"We've got to get out of here," he said, rushing to Marcello's side.
The Templar Captain remained face down, a pool of blood growing on the ground beneath him.
"Come on, come on," Angelo muttered. Marcello should have been up by now.
When a quick heal failed to yield the desired results and the zombie creatures grew close enough for him to see the drool dripping from their open mouths, he scooped Marcello up from the floor and dragged him toward the elusive doorway at the end of the half-collapsed hall.
#
It had taken three heal spells to cure Marcello of his injuries. By the time he was finished, Angelo wanted a week's sleep almost as much as he wanted to get out of the haunted crypt and part company with his brother.
"Get up," Marcello grumbled. "We've got to get out of here."
"Go!" Angelo didn't care any more. If it wasn't for his brother, he might have been out and back with his friends already. "You'd have left me anyway if you hadn't collapsed."
Silence fell between them and Angelo yawned, thankful Marcello had listened to him for once. Maybe when he woke, he wouldn't be as happy to be alone, but for now, he wanted nothing more than sleep.
"I wouldn't have left you."
The words jarred Angelo from his half-sleep. "What?"
"I said I wouldn't have left you." Marcello paused. "Though I'm not quite sure why you stopped to rescue me after...everything that's happened between us."
"You're still my brother." It sounded like a good reason, even if there was no lost love between them.
"There are other ways to restore your power."
While that was true, Angelo had seen no sign of any magic springs, and the bag with all the items he'd carried had been outside when they'd been trapped. Food would help, but unless Marcello had a stash he was hiding somewhere not visible, sleep was still the best option.
Marcello dropped to the ground beside him, brushed his fallen hair from his face. "Angelo?" he whispered.
"Go away." Opening one eye, he offered Marcello the most vicious look he could muster. And, even though he knew it wasn't very vicious, he shoved at his brother's knee, hoping the older man would take the hint and leave.
With a smirk, Marcello purred, "If we aren't going to kill one another, we might as well make the best of this."
Angelo wasn't quite sure he liked the strange gleam in his brother's eye. "What...what do you mean?" Suddenly uneasy, he pushed himself up on one elbow to listen.
"As much as it repulses me to have to admit this, I seem to find myself in your debt for saving my life."
Now that he thought about it, the thought troubled him as much as it seemed to trouble the older Templar. "Think nothing of it. You'd have done..." No he wouldn't have. Angelo felt a twinge of pain. His brother would be dancing on his grave now if he'd been the one to die.
"What's wrong?" Marcello's voice held a sharp note. "Weak in the knees, are you?"
"No." The chill grew between them and Angelo rose, more than eager to be out of the confines of the crypt.
Something scraped off stone in the distance and the young Templar tensed.
"We'd better get out of here," Marcello whispered, grabbing his brother's arm. The captain led him deeper into the half-collapsed, crumbling hall.
Doors lined the corridor, barely visible in the faint light of the flame Marcello had lit. It carried little power, making it easy for Angelo to tell that his brother was still far weaker than he was willing to admit. The scraping grew louder behind them and Angelo could imagine the types of dark creatures chasing them.
Against his brother's protests, he tried each door they happened upon until one fell open to reveal a room far more shadowy than the corridor they'd left. Draped in cobwebs and pockmarked with acid-filled pools, the chamber looked less inviting in person than it had from the doorway. Still, no sooner had the heavy door swung shut behind them than a clamor arose in the hall.
"Get away from the door!" Marcello growled, shoving him forward.
It flew open, smashed against the wall, and before Angelo could scramble backwards, the monster was on him, all teeth and nails. He never got a good look at it, but it got a good bite out of him.
His body flashed with pain and then burned hotter than he'd believed possible. Poison. Fast acting. Already his vision had clouded. His body hadn't the strength to fight it off.
He was only faintly aware of Marcello separating the monster's head from its body. Then, his brother was pulling him free, dragging him across the floor, around the acid pools until the world faded around him and Angelo lost conscious.
#
Angelo opened his eyes to darkness, but the fact that he opened his eyes gave him hope...as did the pain, which flared and flickered all over his body. The burn was gone, which bode well for his recovery, but the pain did not, and he wondered whether the damage was a result of the powerful poison, or any number of other injuries he could have sustained.
"How do you feel?" Marcello's voice was close,
But, it was impossible to see anything in the inky darkness.
"It's quiet," Angelo whispered. "We could escape now while..."
Light flared between them, candle soft, but it enabled Angelo to see that he and his brother were tucked into an indention in the wall. He shuddered, fearful that if he looked out, he'd find a coffin on the floor at the foot of their hiding place.
"And go where?" Marcelo cracked one eye, but the glare was as effective as if both had peered into him.
"We can't stay hidden away in here forever. We have no food and very little water. We're both weak..." Folding his arms over his chest, he tensed, resisting the urge to pout. His brother always seemed to bring out that urge in him and he resented it, just like he resented everything else the damn fool stood for.
"We should rest. At least, for now." Marcello exhaled slowly. "You're still weak."
"The antidote didn't work, did it?" Angelo straightened, turned to study his brother in the dim light.
"You aren't dead, are you?"
"Then, the pain..."
"Those buggers pack a powerful bite." Marcello raised his left arm for Angelo to see.
Through the torn uniform, the Templar caught sight of an angry red welt and, at the heart of the wound, black puncture marks that oozed a foul-smelling liquid.
"Infected?"
"Healing." Marcello grinned. "Apparently, you do have your uses. The magic you used on me earlier still packs a bit of a punch."
#
They'd tried to sleep, maybe even managed an hour or two, but the discomfort he felt never allowed Angelo to sleep longer than an hour at a time. He'd wake in a sweat, with a scream on his lips, foul dreams slipping away like creatures of the night.
"You've got to relax, Angelo, or you're never going to recover."
Marcelo's breath was warm against his ear and sent an unexpected shudder through his body. "What do you care if I recover?" he challenged, unnerved by the older man's proximity.
"I have a better chance of getting out of here alive," he whispered, "if you stay alive, too. Think about it, brother. Our magics complement on another. Without me, you'll never make it. With you, I have a better chance."
"I'm touched."
He moved to turn away, but Marcello's stronger grip restrained him. Before he could protest, his brother's lips pressed against his, insistent, but strangely gentle. Angelo's first instinct was to resist, but his body responded before he had the chance to fight.
Marcello's hands were at his belt and in his pants, questing, exploring until his fingers settled around Angelo's hard cock. The Templar gasped at the unexpected pleasure; his brother's tongue darted into his mouth at the invitation.
They grappled in the darkness until Marcello managed to turn himself head down and crouch atop his brother. Unable to ignore the temptation, Angelo unfastened his brother's pants, freed him, worked him until he grew hard.
At the first touch of Marcello's lips on his cock, Angelo moaned against the pleasure that burned in his groin. His brother's erection leaked in anticipation and the younger man found himself taking the soft hardness into his mouth, tracing the throbbing tissue with his lips and tongue.
Marcello unloaded in his mouth, across his face, about the same time he spasmed with release of his own. Tremors ran the length of his body, intensifying with each suck on his cock.
When he finally cried out enough, Marcello slumped to the side of him, limp against him. They lay still in the darkness until their breathing eased and Marcello snored softly.
Angelo couldn't resist a smile as he tucked himself back into his pants. It wasn't until he rolled onto his side to sleep that he realized his strength was returning.
There was nothing between them. There never had been, never would be.
Still...
The last spark of orgasm twitched at the tip of Angelo's cock. With a satisfied smile, he drifted to sleep.