notapaladin

Acatl has taught Teomitl many things--patience, selflessness, the magic of living blood. He's never taught Teomitl how to row. One hot summer day, they set out to rectify this gap in his education, and Teomitl does indeed learn something new.

-

They were curled together lazily in the shade of Acatl’s courtyard like two lizards, arms around each other despite the heat, when Teomitl had what was in retrospect one of his better ideas.

It started out as a half-drowsy murmur as he nestled further against Acatl’s chest. It was really too hot for a position like that to be comfortable, but he was perfectly willing to bear discomfort if it meant feeling as well as hearing Acatl’s heartbeat in his ear. I might never have had this, he thought, but what actually came out of his mouth before he could sink too deep into introspection was, “You were the best teacher I could ever have had, you know.”

Acatl made a small noise; belatedly, Teomitl wondered if he might have been falling asleep. “Oh?” Then his words must have penetrated the haze, because the arm around Teomitl’s waist tightened as he nuzzled at his hair. “Mm. You give me undue credit.”

Well, now, that couldn’t be borne. “I do not,” he huffed, and twisted around—the angle was awkward and his neck wasn’t happy with him, but if Acatl was going to go about doubting his own obvious excellence in all things, then Teomitl had to kiss him until he saw sense. They’d only been together for a scant matter of days, and sometimes he caught Acatl flushed and staring at him as though it hadn’t sunk in yet. I love you, ridiculous man. Let me show you.

Acatl, it turned out, was very willing to be shown. He slid a hand up into Teomitl’s hair as they kissed, pulling him closer, and hummed in pleasure when Teomitl ventured to coax his mouth open. Pressed together as they were, he thrilled to the feeling of Acatl’s heart beating faster under his fingertips. “Mmm...” It was a barely audible hum, but it was enough to drive Teomitl a little wild; he writhed in Acatl’s arms until he could worm his way onto his lap, tangle his fingers in the rippling fall of his hair, and kiss him until they both had to pull away panting for breath.

His lover was beautiful at all times, but none moreso than now—face flushed, lips red, eyes with that hazy look in them that said he was very much enjoying himself. Teomitl had to suck in a breath before he could manage words, fighting the urge to wriggle pointedly in Acatl’s lap. No matter how much he wanted him, things between them were still so new. Acatl, he suspected, would have to be lured like a skittish deer. “The best of teachers,” he whispered. “The best of men.”

And now Acatl was blushing. It was adorable. “Teomitl,” he murmured, and ducked his head.

“It’s true.” It was. Only the very best of men would have saved the world so many times and accepted no recognition; only the very best of men would have met his eyes on that day and told him there was no need for an apology when Teomitl had been prepared to lay his bleeding heart at his feet.

The memory case a shadow through his mind that must have shown on his face, because Acatl smoothed gentle fingers along his cheekbone and smiled softly at him. “Hm. I wouldn’t say the best of teachers.”

“Why not?” But he thought he knew what Acatl was going to say; there was still that gap in Teomitl’s education they’d never been able to rectify, and he could admit it nagged at him.

Sure enough, he wasn’t disappointed. Acatl’s smile turned teasing as he continued, “I never could teach you to row.”

And that was when it occurred to him, even as he flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not too late.”

Acatl sat back, tilting his head as he considered this. “You want to learn?”

He was the Master of the House of Darts, one day to be Revered Speaker. She of the Jade Skirt was his patron. If he felt like it, he could have a legion of slaves or a herd of ahuitzotls to take him anywhere on the water he wished to go. But in his mind’s eye he saw Acatl rowing, the steady ripple of strong muscles as he propelled a boat through muddy water with ease. It was something any man in Tenochtitlan ought to know how to do, and he’d always been awful at it. But no matter how terrible at it he was, he knew Acatl would never mock his failures. He never had.

Besides, even if he wound up learning nothing at all, it would be pleasant to be out on the water where it was cooler. And where he probably wouldn’t spend all his time pondering the myriad temptations of Acatl’s home, particularly the parts involving a closed entrance curtain and a convenient mat. Or floor. Or wall.

“Yes,” he said, and slid off Acatl’s lap before he could get distracted again.

Of course, they couldn’t simply set out. A boat had to be found and a secluded place to practice had to be arranged; the latter was more difficult than the former, but if Teomitl was going to flail around with an oar he wasn’t going to do it with an audience if he could help it. Fortunately, there were plenty of secluded little spots around the edges of the Floating Gardens if you knew where to look—and with Jade Skirt’s magic, he would always know where to look.

Acatl took them out there, letting him relax for the moment and ensuring they wouldn’t crash the boat before he’d even had a chance at the oar. It really was better on the lake, with a breeze stirring their hair and the spray from the water cooling their skin. Not to mention that Acatl had shed his cloak in deference to the sun’s heat, leaving Teomitl with an excellent view of bare shoulders and a lean, strong back. Acatl was no warrior—his muscles were on the wiry side where they showed at all, unlike Neutemoc who was built like a tree—but that didn’t make him weak. Teomitl allowed himself to imagine standing up, sliding his hands over those shoulders and down his arms, telling Acatl that really, they’d gone far enough—

Then he shook his head, grimacing at himself. No matter how much I want him—no matter how much he loves me—I have better self-control than that. I don’t want to lure him into something he might regret. They’d been together a week. He’d courted Mihmatini for a year. He could wait. At the very least, when he got Acatl onto his mat he wanted there to be a mat.

“Will this suit?”

Teomitl gave a start; he’d stopped paying as close attention to his surroundings, but when he lifted his head he saw they’d reached a place where calm water lapped at the edges of a small island. The water was too clear for tlilcoatls to lurk, and the mud of the bottom wasn’t deep enough for the oar to get stuck too badly if he dropped it. Most importantly, it was utterly deserted. “It should.”

“Good.”

Then Acatl turned, holding out the oar, and flashed Teomitl one of those thin, soft smiles that transformed his face from merely decently attractive into something that took Teomitl’s breath away. “Shall we?”

Here was his first test: standing up in the boat without falling over. He grabbed the edge of the boat and braced himself, ignoring Acatl’s outstretched hand; he could at least manage this unassisted, even if the rocking of the craft under him made his stomach clench until he was steady on his feet again. “Let’s.”

Shortly after they switched positions and he took up the oar—still warm from Acatl’s hands, gods—he realized he’d miscalculated. Badly.

He hadn’t realized Acatl teaching him to row would involve so much of Acatl touching him. Of course, it made sense—he had to ensure he was holding the oar properly, after all—and he wasn’t doing anything forward, but that didn’t seem to matter at all to his libido. Now that he was no longer halfway to melting in the sun, it turned out his body had very strong opinions on the quick, sure way Acatl’s hands brushed along his shoulders or forearms or wrists. He tried to think of unappealing things. The main autopsy rooms of Acatl’s temple. Quenami’s fucking smirk. Tizoc.

It didn’t work. Acatl stood behind him, close enough that he could feel the heat from his skin, and when long fingers came to rest on the backs of his hands he had to bite back a sound that wanted to be a whine. “Nnh.”

“Here, you’re still not holding it right—” The worst part was that Acatl didn’t appear to even notice; he bit his lip lightly in concentration as he adjusted Teomitl’s hold on the oar, but that was all the expression he showed.

Teomitl exhaled. Right. He’s always taken lessons seriously. I’d be a poor student if I couldn’t do the same. Focusing on the smooth wood under his palms and not his lover’s scarred fingers, he shifted his grip and found himself automatically adjusting his stance to keep his balance. “Like this?”

“Mm. Now try pushing off.”

He did. The boat lurched, weaving from side to side like a drunkard, and they both swayed on their feet. Acatl was steadier; the arm he put around Teomitl’s waist to keep him upright didn’t so much as shiver. Teomitl turned automatically to look at him, acutely aware of how they were touching—Acatl’s hand just grazing his stomach, his side against Acatl’s chest. They were nearly close enough to kiss. He saw the way Acatl’s gaze flicked down to his lips and thought, just for a moment, that they might.

Then Acatl released him and stepped back, all business again. “You’re too abrupt. Here—like this.” Hands over his own again, he poled the boat forward. Teomitl tried not to think about how easy it was to let himself relax into that touch. “It’s more important to have your movements smooth. You can worry about speed later.”

Smooth, he thought. He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of the lake. On the edge of his hearing, he could almost catch a faint snatch of chattering song from his ahuitzotls. That’s right. I have Chalchiuhtlicue’s protection. I can do this. Remembering the way Acatl had moved him, he did it again. Their boat hadn’t quite come to a halt yet, but as it drifted forward he felt the water part at the stroke of his oar. He exhaled. “Ah.”

“See?” A smile tugged at the corners of Acatl’s lips. Teomitl wanted to kiss it. “You’re doing well, love.”

His face burned, and he had to drop his gaze to the water. You’re doing well. His heart gave a lurch in his chest. Every time Acatl praised him, whether it was for his magic or his quick thinking or something as simple as rowing a boat, it set a swarm of butterflies rioting through his insides and a pulse of heat through his veins. It was far too easy to imagine that low voice saying the same things against his hair, or with his lips moving against the pulse in his throat—to imagine it rough with need and growling Good boy, Teomitl, you’re so good for me—and gods, for Acatl he’d be perfect. He swallowed hard. “...Praise me when I’ve managed to get this thing moving.”

Acatl’s expression said he’d expected a reaction like that. “Go on, then.” Then he sat down, elbows on his bent knees, to watch how Teomitl did on his own. The pose reminded Teomitl so sharply of his lessons in magic that the morning’s devotional scabs on his earlobes started to itch. “Slow and steady, like I showed you.”

He rolled his shoulders, took in another deep lake-scented breath, and started to row. It was easier now than it had been; the boat still lurched and he knew trying to turn too fast would send him over the side, but he was starting to understand why Acatl had told him to move slowly. Mud and water didn’t care if you were in a hurry; it would drag you down all the same. Careful, he thought. Shoulders like this, back like this—no, I’m doing the thing with my hands again, that’s better...

He wouldn’t be winning any races, but the boat was moving forward more or less in a straight line. Eventually he’d have to figure out how to turn without crashing the boat, but he was sure Acatl would be happy to show him that, too. For now, this was...

Well, it was exhilarating, honestly. He was rowing a boat and it was actually obeying him! He wouldn’t need to summon slaves or ahuitzotls to carry him over the water anymore! Elated, he turned back to his lover. “How am I doing, Acatl-tzin?” He hadn’t called Acatl tzin in a while, but the honorific slipped out anyway; something about it seemed instinctual when the man was teaching him something new.

Acatl seemed to have been preoccupied; he twitched when Teomitl addressed him, head coming up to meet his gaze like a startled hound. There was a faint flush across his cheeks that Teomitl was sure he couldn’t blame on the sun. “Ngh.” He swallowed visibly. “You—you’re doing very well. But your feet should be—space them a bit wider apart—“

He nodded, shifting his stance. “Like—”

Oh, no.

There was a split second of vertigo, a terrible awareness that he’d leaned over too far, and then he hit the water and the lake was rushing in his ears. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move; it took a heartstopping moment for him to remember how to work his limbs and right himself, realizing that he’d gone to his knees in the muck. When he opened his eyes, the world he saw was made of dark jade. His ears were filled with that foggy not-silence of the water, but the song of the ahuitzotls rang clearer than it ever had.

In Tlalocan...

The water wasn’t so deep here, maybe to his chest if he was standing. His lungs burned. If he stood up, he’d be able to breathe. But he was on his knees and he couldn’t—

It felt like forever, but it had to have only been a few seconds. Even muffled by the water, he could hear Acatl’s cry. “Teo—!”

Then there was a surge of water that could only come from quite a large boat suddenly tipping over, followed by a second, louder splash and a flurry of very energetic cursing. It seemed to unfreeze whatever had taken hold of his muscles, and he shot to his feet with a surge of panic.

Air was a relief. He shook water and his own wet hair out of his eyes, looking around for Acatl through the droplets still clinging to his eyelashes.“Acatl-tzin!”

“Ack—ugh. I’m alright!” Acatl was an arms’ length away from him in water up to the middle of his chest, spitting out wet strands of hair with a grimace, but most importantly, he didn’t look hurt. Teomitl could breathe a little easier.

Not, admittedly, much easier. The last time he’d seen Acatl like this—soaking wet, with the coils of his dark hair plastered to his skin and streaming off into the water like ink—had been when Tlaloc had sent His agent into the Fifth World. Then he’d been freshly filled with Jade Skirt’s power and they’d been fighting for their lives, and there hadn’t been time to admire the view. Now that there was, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Acatl’s skin gleamed, water sluicing down the curve of his shoulders and clinging along the ragged lines of old scars. Sunlight turned the sparkling droplets to fire, and Teomitl wanted to catch every one of them on his tongue. When Acatl threw his head back and raked his hair away from his face, he swallowed a whimper. Fuck. Fuck me.

It took real effort for him to remember how words worked. “You’re sure?” He waded closer for a better look. They were close enough to touch now, if he dared.

Acatl huffed, shaking his head. “Never mind me, what about the boat?”

Right. The boat. The boat which was now floating perfectly upside-down on the water a few feet away from them. He eyed it, frowning. Acatl’s strength was in his magic, not in his muscles; he was stronger, but not enough to get their craft flipped upright with only the traction provided by slippery lake mud under his feet. There was only one other option. “...I can call the ahuitzotls to help us right it?”

“...In a moment.” Acatl’s distaste for that idea was clear; Teomitl honestly couldn’t blame him. They were pretty creepy. But then their eyes met, and Acatl’s expression shifted to concern. “What was all that about?”

He swallowed. Acatl’s gaze didn’t seem to know where to settle—it slid from his face down to his collarbone and back up to rest somewhere around his mouth. He was suddenly very, very aware of the way Acatl was looking at his mouth. Without really meaning to, he took a few steps forward. The water between them was suddenly too much. “...You were...” Heat rose in his face. “...Distracting,” he finished lamely.

Acatl made a soft noise, and his hands flexed as though he’d like to reach for him; Teomitl wasn’t expecting him to, and so calloused fingers cupping his cheek made him gasp. A faint smile curved Acatl’s lips at his reaction. “Oh?”

He’d thought he would have to coax Acatl onto his mat like a hunter luring a deer. He’d thought Acatl would be shy. But the way his lover was looking at him now, all heat and hope, made him think again. Emboldened by the light in Acatl’s eyes, Teomitl reached for his waist and pulled him in. Even in the cool water, his lover’s skin was deliciously warm under his hands. “Mmm. Let me show you.”

Their mouths met, hot and wet and perfect. Again Teomitl realized how wrong he’d been; it was impossible to imagine how he could have thought Acatl shy when there was a hand in his hair and another sliding down his back, pressing them together; he stumbled a little in the mud, but Acatl only held him tighter. They broke apart only to kiss again, and when he dug his nails into the meat of Acatl’s back he was rewarded with a hum of pleasure. “Mmm...”

“Acatl,” he panted. He wanted to fix their boat. He wanted to get to that island, wanted to peel off their sodden loincloths and—but he couldn’t say any of that, because when he’d broken the kiss Acatl had moved his attention to his throat, and the feeling of his mouth there drove all the words from his mind except one. “Fuck.” Acatl hummed—gods, he could feel the vibrations of that sound—and did it again, tugging his head back, and Teomitl clawed at his back with a shuddering groan.

And Acatl didn’t stop. He kept going, mouthing a trail up Teomitl’s throat, and when he got to his ear he breathed, “Enjoying yourself?”

He’d never liked rhetorical questions. In lieu of an answer, he pressed closer, stomach to stomach; the heat of Acatl’s skin against his own was intoxicating. There was no room in his head anymore for thoughts of care or circumspection; he rolled his hips in a rough and inexpert grind, and the answering press of very hard flesh against his own made him gasp. “Oh.”

Acatl’s hands slid down to his hips, all but anchoring him in place. His voice was as rough as Teomitl had dreamed as he murmured, “You aren’t the only one who’s been distracted. You don’t know what it’s like, watching you move.”

He licked his lips. “Acatl-tzin.” That got a reaction too; Acatl’s head lifted, eyes locked on his own, and though his lover’s face was flushed all the way to his ears it was so clearly not a blush of shame that it gave him the ability to breathe, “I want...” But he wanted so many things they all clamored to leave his mouth first, and so he was temporarily struck dumb.

“What?” Acatl’s self-control had always been impressive; now, though he didn’t move, his fingers tightened on Teomitl’s hips.

Teomitl’s heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his fingertips. Desperate for something more to hold onto, he sank them into the wet, heavy fall of Acatl’s hair and watched him tremble at the contact. “You.” Just you. In any way you want, any way we can dream of. Their loincloths were entirely too much fabric.

Acatl sucked in a harsh breath. “Let’s set the boat to rights, and then you can have me.” His hips rocked lightly, giving Teomitl absolutely no doubt as to what he had in mind.

“Ngh.” He’d never been harder in his life. He didn’t think he’d even wanted the crown this badly. But his lover had been chaste and devoted only to his god for years, and so something made him pause and mutter, “Acatl-tzin. I thought—”

The way his gaze fell must have told Acatl more than his words could, because he found himself quite effectively shut up by a brief, sizzling kiss. “You’ve been driving me mad for months. Did you think I didn’t want you?”

Months, he says. Months. He breathed in, tasting the lake and the shadow of Acatl’s mouth on his own. “...I thought it was something you’d want to consider first.”

Acatl’s eyes gleamed; the spark in them made him look as young and vibrant as he really was in those moments when the burden of his office fell away, and Teomitl somehow fell even more in love. “I have.” His voice lowered to a near growl. “In great detail.”

Teomitl wasted no time summoning his ahuitzotls after that, only barely remembering to haul up the boat when they reached dry land.

It was, after all, a very secluded little island.