i want the storm inside you awoken now
May. 22nd, 2021 12:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notapaladin-
The army was home, and they were celebrating a rare victory. Acatl almost didn’t care. Yes, they would maintain their hold on whichever province they’d been sent to, and yes, this was no doubt a fine deed by Tizoc’s standards, but he stared across the plaza in the bright sunshine and he only saw Teomitl.
Teomitl, whose feather suit was ruffled and torn in places, who’d walked miles that day and the day before on aching feet in a mass of his equally tired and worn-down comrades. Teomitl, who stood straight as an arrow despite all that. Teomitl, who had locked eyes with him and was smiling brighter than the sun above, as though none of it mattered except the sight of Acatl’s face.
He inhaled, feeling his chest expand with it. I missed you. I love you. Even if he’d been able to take him in his arms right then and there—even if by some miracle they could be allowed to embrace, in public, as other warriors did their wives and mistresses—they were too far away. He cursed every fingers’ breadth of distance.
“So I won’t be expecting Teomitl home tonight...?”
“Mihmatini,” he hissed. A furtive glance around revealed that nobody seemed to have noticed her comment, but he elbowed her in the ribs anyway.
She grinned up at him, unrepentant. “I only want to know if I’ll get an extended reprieve from his snoring.”
Teomitl’s snoring wasn’t honestly that bad, at least if you asked Acatl. The way that he talked in his sleep was worse; it was distracting at the best of times, but when he had nightmares it was heartwrenching. And then there was the way he was seemingly incapable of lying still, tossing and turning until he woke tangled in their cloaks or Acatl’s hair. Still, given the choice between putting up with all of that and going to bed alone...well, there really was only one option. He’d missed the security of his lover’s arms.
“Hm,” he said, and settled in to wait for the interminable speeches to be over.
Because of course there were speeches. There were dances. And at the end of all that, there was a royal banquet that he didn’t dare to skip out on or sneak out early from. Tizoc would be sure to notice his absence, and if his men came looking for Acatl and found him in Teomitl’s arms...the consequences really didn’t bear thinking about. So he sat on his mat in between Acamapichtli and Quenami and tried very, very hard to pretend he was sitting alone.
It didn’t work. Quenami shot him a sidelong glance and commented in a tone of viciously calculated innocence, “Those are new.”
He turned, feeling the unaccustomed weight of his silver earflares. They’d been a gift from Teomitl before he’d left on campaign—“so you have something to remember me by,” he’d said, and Acatl’s heart had melted before he could even mount the slimmest defense against materialism. And in his defense, they were nice earflares; a spider had been worked onto each as though it was sitting in its web, and the spaces between the web’s silver strands were inlaid with dark jade. He’d put them on with pride earlier.
Acamapichtli spared him from having to answer, leaning around him with a smirk to indicate Quenami’s own finery. “So is that necklace you’ve got on. Are we not all wearing our best to welcome our victorious warriors home?”
Quenami looked like he’d eaten something sour, but he nodded and, mercifully, shut up before Acatl gave in to the urge to strangle him. Acatl reapplied himself to his dish of turkey in rich, dark mole and let the delicious food restore his equilibrium, if not his good mood. That was something he knew would be out of his reach as long as Teomitl was halfway across the banquet hall.
He could feel his lover’s eyes on him. He looked up.
Teomitl was radiant. There was jade and gold at his ears and on his fingers, and his cloak had been trimmed with jade beads that gleamed where they caught the light. Tizoc might have been the one behind the gilded screen, but he was the one who looked imperial. He needed only turquoise to complete the look. One day, Acatl thought. I’ll see you crowned in glory.
Of course, the man didn’t need a crown to take his breath away. Though the faint shadows under his eyes pinched at Acatl’s heart, he quirked up a tiny, devastating smile when their gazes met. Then he noticed the earflares, and his gaze went from merely warm to simmering as it swept slowly down Acatl’s form; he must have liked what he saw, because his smile widened. Acatl felt his blood stir in response, and for once he was glad of the flickering torchlight and his fellow priests’ self-absorption.
Sometimes, they didn’t need words. Least among the High Priests he might be, the son of a peasant family of no great renown, but Teomitl was devouring him with a single glance.
Soon, he told him with his eyes. Soon.
&
After the bright gold and incense of the banquet, the cool quiet of his little house was almost a relief. Almost. It had been cool and quiet for much too long.
Four months, three days, and ten hours. Teomitl had left at the start of the dry season, kissing Mihmatini goodbye and clasping Acatl’s arm with a smile. They’d said their proper farewells earlier that morning, and he’d been briefly jealous of how easily Teomitl’s regalia hid the marks. Then his lover had marched off to war, and he hadn’t been jealous at all. He was used to being alone, and it was hardly as though he’d had much free time in which to indulge in the ache of missing him—but then at unexpected moments it had risen up like a fist around his heart, choking the life from him, and he’d remembered that feelings didn’t care whether you had time or not. He’d found himself avoiding their favorite tamale stall, suffering unexpected pangs when he visited Neutemoc’s children; Teomitl was always so good with them that the memories had points like thorns. His lover had made a space for himself in Acatl’s life, and the empty hollow had echoed.
He took a breath, remembering the way Teomitl had looked at the banquet. Going unfulfilled certainly won’t be a problem for me now.
He’d barely finished washing himself in the basin when he heard the brisk, familiar footsteps that resounded with his soul, and something in his chest went loose and open. “Come in.”
The entrance-curtain jingled softly, and Teomitl stepped inside. He’d shed his gold and jewels in favor of a plain cloak, but that was secondary to the soft, relieved smile on his face. “Acatl.”
They fell into each other’s arms. Acatl’s hands settled at Teomitl’s waist, marveling at how well they just seemed to fit together as Teomitl’s fingers slid up into his hair. The first long, slow kiss felt like coming home, and his blood sang with it. I love you, he thought as the hot line of Teomitl’s body pressed against his. I love you, I love you.
Even when they drew apart to breathe, they were so close that their noses brushed. Teomitl’s voice was soft and serious, trembling a little with emotion. “I was so lonely without you.”
He’d heard poets call war the flowery death, the place where blood was spilled with honor. He’d heard warriors describe it, less poetically but more accurately, as weeks of marching and bad food punctuated by a day or so of screaming chaos. No matter how much of a consummate warrior Teomitl was, the thought of his lover going through all that and missing him made his chest ache all over again. “I know. I know. I’m here now.”
And to prove it, he pulled him in for another kiss. This one had Teomitl melting against him, humming in pleasure as his lips parted for Acatl’s tongue. “Mmm...” His body was a glory against Acatl’s, all lean hard muscle and a warrior’s scars, and Acatl wanted him closer. He pulled him in, feeling Teomitl tremble, and just as he was wishing fervently that they’d shed their cloaks his lover arched, pressing them stomach to stomach with a moan. “Mm—nngh.”
That had been a pained sound. He broke the kiss, feeling suddenly chilled. “What is it?”
“...It’s nothing.” Teomitl looked flushed in the torchlight, both from pleasure and—if Acatl was any judge—embarrassment. “I’m fine.”
He held Teomitl’s gaze. “You didn’t sound fine. Have you been injured?” There hadn’t seemed to be any new scars on his lover’s limbs, but he hadn’t been looking as closely as he should have, and a long cloak could hide much.
Teomitl huffed, but under Acatl’s searching gaze he moved his cloak aside. “It’s really not that bad. It just pulls a little when I move.”
Not that bad wasn’t how Acatl would’ve described the long, glancing cut that had left an angry red scar over Teomitl’s shoulder and down his chest. It looked like someone had made a weak attempt at removing the arm entirely, though the shallowness of the scar tissue suggested they’d found Teomitl’s armor very tough going indeed. If it had gone a bit deeper, it would have been disabling. If it had gone much deeper...
If it had gone much deeper, Teomitl would have died.
Slowly, Acatl raised his hand to trace the scar. He kept his touch light as butterfly wings, and Teomitl trembled with it. “Oh, my love.” I could have lost you. And he’d known it, hadn’t he, when he first set out to love the Master of the House of Darts—but knowing something was very different from seeing it in front of his eyes. The scar under his fingertips was rough and raised; with time, it would go pale before fading into the background tapestry of his lover’s skin, but he would always know it was there.
Teomitl smiled, covering his hand with his own. Whatever he saw in Acatl’s face softened his voice, though the underlying conviction was as firm as the foundations of the Great Temple. “Always yours.”
That’s right. He drew in a long breath. “Is this the only souvenir you’ve brought back from this campaign?” Mihmatini no doubt would have made a quip about preferring the time he’d shown up carrying a rock with a water-scoured hole in it, but he found he didn’t quite have the heart to bring it up. The simmering desire that had coiled through his gut was building back up into something tinged with desperation. I need to touch him. I need to know he’s truly alive.
“...No,” Teomitl breathed. “Let’s lay down, and I’ll show you.”
They tumbled to the mat together, Acatl winding up on top for once while Teomitl sprawled out on the woven reeds and quickly-shed cloaks like a feast. As he sat back between Teomitl’s spread legs, he was fiercely glad for the torch. Before they’d shared the truth of their hearts, when all he’d had were his own terribly guilty desires, he’d thought they would only have this under cover of darkness; now, he looked back and shook his head at his own stupidity.
Teomitl deserved to be seen. He was even lovelier naked, all that bare skin exposed for Acatl’s eyes—but oh, he’d been telling the truth about the scars. There was another one high on his right thigh; from the angle, Acatl suspected a spear had got under his guard. He trailed his fingers over it, feeling skin twitch under his touch. Teomitl’s breath hitched. “Ah...”
“This looks like it must have hurt,” he murmured. It clearly didn’t hurt anymore; Teomitl was quivering, but his lover’s quick breaths and the way he hardened under his gaze showed only pleasure. And even if it had...well. The man liked that sometimes. He dug his nails in experimentally, watched the way Teomitl’s eyes went dark, and wondered how their night would go.
No matter which way it went, Teomitl’s fierce grin suggested they’d both be pleased by the end of it. “I killed the man that gave it to me.”
“Of course you did.” His lover was fierce as a jaguar when he fought, all hard edges and fury. He couldn’t imagine him showing mercy to an opponent foolish enough to actually think to harm him. He barely showed mercy on the mat, at least when Acatl asked him not to—and there was a thought, wasn’t it? His warrior, claiming him.
His breath caught on an inhale. Oh, that was definitely an option. “Hmm...” He drew his nails over the scar and down the sensitive skin of his lover’s inner thigh. Teomitl’s cock twitched. “Does it bother you?” Not waiting for an answer, he kept going. Slow. Slow and steady and...
“I’ll show you how much it bothers me—” Teomitl surged up and grabbed him, pulling him in for a ferocious kiss. Acatl went eagerly; this was what he’d missed, what he’d wanted—strong arms around him, the toe-curling heat of a hungry mouth on his mouth, his jaw, his throat. When teeth scraped over his jugular, he groaned out loud.
Then they rolled, Teomitl pinning him flat on his back, and he was left panting at the hunger in his lover’s face. Oh, he thought dizzily. Yes. Claim me. Caged in Teomitl’s arms like this, more than half-hard already just from the way their bodies had slid against each other, all he could think was that he needed more; he’d barely realized the desire before Teomitl was giving it to him, hands sliding down over his ribs as he licked into his mouth in the exact manner that always made him shudder. “Mmph!”
Teomitl drew back only to nip at his collarbone, the sweet sting making him jolt. Then he rolled his hips, pressing their cocks together, and the friction had him bucking in response. “Missed this,” his lover breathed. “Gods, you feel so good—I missed you so much—”
“Me too,” he gasped, but his mind wasn’t on the words. He was a being of pure sensation—the solid heat of Teomitl on top of him, the way his thigh muscles flexed as he wrapped them around his lover’s waist, the feeling of Teomitl’s skin under his palms as he dragged them down his back. There was so much power there. You could destroy me. You could wreck me, and I’d love it. The thought sent fire through his veins, and he rolled his hips in a deliberate grind against his lover’s thick cock.
Teomitl bit at his neck in response, mouthing a bruise into the thin skin. Then he did it again a little lower down, and again, until Acatl was clawing at his back and letting out desperate little gasps. When he finally lifted his head, his voice was a growl. “Gods, I want you.”
His heart was hammering against his ribs, arousal sharpening the edges of his world. It had been months since they’d seen each other, and every time he’d taken himself in hand he’d known too well what he was missing. What he might have—he grabbed at the fresh scar on Teomitl’s shoulder, digging his nails in hard. What I might have lost out there. “Then take me,” he breathed. “My victorious warrior. You’ve still got something else to conquer, don’t you?” You’ve come back to me alive, against all the odds. Prove to me you’re going to stay that way.
Teomitl’s eyes blazed. “Oh, I do.”
There was no question of this being a leisurely, gentle bout of lovemaking. That certainly had its place, but not here. Not now, after so long apart. Teomitl wrenched the lid off the jar of oil, spilling it across the mat and Acatl’s thighs as he slicked himself up; when he slid two fingers in at once, Acatl keened at the stretch and the burn of it. His body needed time to adjust to being filled again, but it didn’t look as though he was going to get it—not that he minded, really. Teomitl worked him open roughly, making him buck his hips in a vain attempt to establish some sort of rhythm; when a particular curl of his fingers made Acatl cry out, his lover’s grin turned feral. “Good. I want to hear you.”
“Teomitl—!” Acatl cried. Don’t make me wait. Please.
He didn’t. Another vicious thrust against that spot and he pulled his fingers out to replace them with his cock, shoving himself in to the hilt in one rough thrust. Acatl nearly screamed. “Teomitl!” It was almost—almost—on the edge of too much; he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to be fucked so damn full.
“Fuck.” Teomitl sucked in a hard breath and held himself still for one heartbeat, two; the part of Acatl’s mind still capable of any thought at all wondered if he was feeling as overwhelmed as Acatl was.
And then his lover started to move, and even that tiny part ceased to exist. Teomitl was merciless, and all Acatl could do was hang on. His own fingers couldn’t compare to the way Teomitl sank into him, hips snapping fast and hard as though he couldn’t get deep enough. It sent fire down his spine and along his every extremity; he clawed at Teomitl’s shoulders, not even bothering to muffle his cries, and managed somehow to gasp, “Gods—more.”
Teomitl bared his teeth in a sharp grin. “Like this?” He shifted his weight, bracing himself on his knees with one hand buried in the loose mass of Acatl’s hair, and pulled almost entirely out only to slam back in, harder and somehow impossibly deeper. Acatl keened and arched into it; the angle was a little different this time, enough to fan the flames into a conflagration, and he knew he wouldn’t last long at all if Teomitl kept it up. And he would keep it up, of that he had no doubt. His lover was relentless in the pursuit of their pleasure.
Relentless and brutal. Teomitl dug his fingers into Acatl’s hip, bit bruises into his throat, and each fast, steady thrust fucked a gasp or a sob or a moan out of him. He tried to match his rhythm as best he could, but Teomitl was claiming him as thoroughly as he’d dreamed and all he could do was take it. So close. Gods, I’m so—Teomitl, please— His blood felt like liquid lightning. When Teomitl’s mouth found a yet-unmarked spot where his throat met his shoulder, he made a desperate noise. “Ah—!”
And then he was coming, his world lighting up in sparks as sheer ecstasy scorched through him and left him a shaking wreck. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even think. He could only rake his nails roughly down Teomitl’s back, mouth falling open in a hoarse cry. Teomitl’s cock pulsed within him as he followed him over the edge with a snarl.
For a long time after, neither of them could speak. Teomitl slowly lowered himself until he could rest his head on Acatl’s shoulder; Acatl caught his breath against his lover’s hair and slowly regained something that felt like brainpower. Even when he managed words, they felt like they were coming from a long way away. “Gods,” he panted, “that was...” Intense. Incredible. The best way possible to welcome you home.
Teomitl pulled out with a hitch of his hips that made them both shudder, but he didn’t go far; knowing how much Acatl hated lingering messes, he was soon back with a towel and much gentler hands. “I missed you,” he said simply.
Acatl shivered in pleasure. He’d feel the evidence of Teomitl missing him for a week, and he didn’t doubt his lover would be happy to refresh his memory whenever he asked. “Certain parts of me especially.”
“...Yes.” It was soft. Then Teomitl leaned over, cupped his face in his hands, and kissed him. This time it was sweet and gentle, and when he drew back he was smiling. “Like this one,” he breathed. One hand left Acatl’s face, slipping lightly down over the fresh marks on his neck and stopping just over his heart, where the fingers splayed as though he wanted to capture his heartbeat in his palm. “And right here. That’s what I missed, Acatl-tzin.”
They were so close that their noses brushed, and when Teomitl nuzzled at him teasingly he found himself grinning like a fool. His chest seemed to be filled with warm honey dripping through his ribcage. “Ridiculous man.”
“Your ridiculous man,” Teomitl murmured fondly. He rolled lazily so that he curled against Acatl’s side, that one hand still resting over his heart. “I’m staying tonight. I have to make up for all the nights I wasn’t sleeping beside you.”
“Mmm. Yes.” He stroked Teomitl’s back, feeling his heart beating steadily in his chest. That’s right. Mine. And he’ll be mine forever, no matter how far he goes.
Thus reassured, he drifted off to sleep.
...And was promptly woken three hours later by a thoroughly-unconscious Teomitl kicking him in the shins as he rolled over, but that was a small price to pay.
