notapaladin

(yeah i had to rename another fic bc this title was perfect for THIS one.)

After the dust settles, there’s a new Revered Speaker in Tenochtitlan. His High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli loves him very, very much. There’s porn in this! There is a lot of porn in this!

Also on AO3

After everything—after Tizoc’s last attempt at expanding the Great Temple had shattered things best left unshattered, after the stars screamed down from the heavens by day, after all three High Priests and the Guardian and the Master of the House of Darts fought back a malformed manifestation of a furious goddess—there was really no question who would be the next Revered Speaker once the dust settled and the corpses were given funerary rites. He’d stabbed Coyolxauhqui in the eye, after all. (It had been the most terrifying moment of Acatl’s life, seeing the goddess imprisoned in living blood and their combined will, and Teomitl striking the blow that would hold her until they could chain her with sacrifices again. Only later, when he could breathe again, could he admit to himself that it had also been glorious.)

His ascension had taken two full days. There had been the ritual itself, of course, which had been followed by an interminably long banquet during which Acatl had not glared Quenami into silence no matter how tempting it was. Given that the man was now missing an eye and he sat on his blind side, it wouldn’t have worked anyway. He’d barely tasted the delicious food offered to him; despite himself, his gaze had kept drifting to the golden screen at the far end of the room. He had been in bad company, true, but the Revered Speaker had been sitting alone.

He’d just been across the room, but Acatl missed him so much that his heart ached with it.

As soon as we can, he thought, as soon as we can, I’m coming to you.

The Revered Speaker’s chambers were bright with torchlight glinting off gold and sinking into jaguar pelts, turning quetzal feathers into jewels to rival all the imperial finery pouring from carved stone chests. Acatl had a strong suspicion that most of the wealth would be shunted off to other rooms in the palace tomorrow morning, but tonight it made a beautiful backdrop to his lover disrobing.

Teomitl—Ahuizotl, now, to his subjects—tossed his crown heedlessly in the direction of the nearest chest before starting in on the process of removing his lip plug and a few of his heavier rings. Acatl sank down onto a spotted pelt, heart pounding, and drank in the sight of jewels tumbling to the floor. They hadn’t touched yet—hadn’t touched at all since the aftermath of Coyolxauhqui being sealed anew, when he’d risked covering his lover’s hand with his own in a brief moment of silence. Part of him hadn’t believed that he was still allowed to, that they could still have this.

But here they were. And even better yet, Teomitl was smiling at him, that teasing grin that always made him blush. “Do you like what you see, Acatl-tzin?”

Oh, that was unfair. “You know I do.”

Teomitl set one hand at the edge of his own loincloth, eager eyes alight. “It’s yours, then. Come get it.”

He wasn’t sure how he managed to get his arms to obey him, but in the next instant he was reaching up and pulling Teomitl down, and Teomitl (Ahuizotl-tzin, the Revered Speaker of Tenochtitlan) was melting into his arms and kissing him with days of pent-up fervor. Acatl couldn’t think of anything other than Teomitl’s mouth on his, Teomitl’s hands pulling his cloak off, Teomitl’s lean, solidly muscled body on top of him. It was such a relief he almost wanted to cry. When Teomitl tangled his fingers in his hair, the noise he made was something close to a groan.

“Mmmm.” Teomitl pulled just far enough away to look him in the eye, still so close that their noses touched. His smile had turned soft and warm. “Acatl.”

Moored to earth only by his lover’s weight more or less in his lap, conscious only of the way he fit perfectly in his arms, all Acatl could do was breathe his name. “Ahuizotl-tzin.”

Teomitl flinched, smile disappearing as his eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me that. Not here, not when it’s just us. I would far rather be Teomitl to you.”

He slid a hand slowly up Teomitl’s back, breathing a sigh of relief when his lover relaxed into his touch. Annoyed but not angry, thank the gods. “You’ll always be my Teomitl. But...you are now also my Revered Speaker. I feel it deserves commemoration, and I do seem to recall swearing loyalty to you.” His hand reversed its course downwards, letting his nails dig in lightly and drag down his lover’s spine. It made Teomitl shiver just as he knew he would.

Acatl watched as he closed his eyes, drawing a deep, shuddering breath. “What do you have in mind?”

“Only this.” What I wanted since I saw you crowned. He shoved lightly, and Teomitl went sprawling back on the spotted pelts. For a moment Acatl simply looked at him—radiant as the sun, still wearing much of his turquoise and jade, loincloth not doing a thing to hide the beginnings of arousal—and thought Duality, I am not worthy. And then Teomitl smiled at him again, and he found words. “Let me serve my Revered Speaker...and please my beloved.”

Teomitl tugged him down for another long, slow kiss. He closed his eyes and sank into it, moving to straddle him. Of course Teomitl could throw him off in an instant, and had during moments of particular enthusiasm, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to press him down into soft furs, thighs on either side of narrow hips, the hand not currently occupied with holding himself up sliding down the hard muscles of his bare chest, and show him exactly how much he was loved. And so Acatl kissed him hungrily, with more teeth than was strictly warranted, and thought I was afraid I’d never have this again —left his mouth to move to his throat, reveling in the way Teomitl bucked under him and actually growled when he pinched one perfect nipple, and thought But here he is, my Emperor. Here we are. And I’m never letting him go.

“Acatl.” It was a sweet, ragged gasp. “We are both—still wearing—too many clothes.”

They were wearing too many clothes. Any clothing at all, Acatl decided, was entirely too much. He made quick work of their loincloths; Teomitl’s jewelry, on the other hand, could and should stay on. The picture he made when Acatl sat up briefly to consider the view—flushed, aroused, spread out on the rugs like a feast—was too good to spoil. “There. Better, my lord?”

Teomitl’s gaze slid slowly over Acatl’s body, tongue darting out to wet his lips; Acatl’s cock gave a throb at the sight. When he spoke, it was a rough whisper. “Not if you’re going to tease me all night.”

In answer, he made his way down his lover’s chest and over his stomach, trailing kisses. “Mmm. I’m not going to tease you at all.” Still, he found himself bypassing Teomitl’s cock for the moment and mouthing at the soft skin of his inner thigh, feeling muscles twitch as Teomitl shuddered. It was a good reaction, so he kept it up, moving closer to his prize, until Teomitl snarled and buried a hand in his hair.

“Acatl.” He was ragged with lust, interrupting himself with a gasp as Acatl nipped at sensitive skin. “You just said.”

He thought briefly of making Teomitl tell him what to do, but quickly dismissed it. Besides, his lover’s hard flesh was entirely too tempting to ignore for long, so he slid his mouth over his cock, and was rewarded by a tightening of Teomitl’s grip and a throaty groan. It was always deliciously easy to work him up like this, especially once he relaxed his jaw and took him deep, feeling his hips tremble with the effort of staying still and not simply fucking his throat. All for me. All this— he ran his hands over Teomitl’s thighs, pulling a breathless noise out of him —is for me. Even if I have to share him, we have this.

“Nnngh...” It was almost a whine; the hold on his hair spasmed briefly and then went slack as Teomitl breathed, “Wait. Not—not like that.”

He pulled off, swallowing his saliva and watching the way Teomitl’s hazy gaze sharpened at the sight of him wiping his mouth on his arm. “Mmm. How do you want me, then?”

There was an attempt at a commanding tone; as aroused as Teomitl was, it came out more like a plea. “Ride me?”

Oh. That was a very good idea; he was shifting position before he remembered, and closed his eyes at his own stupidity. “Oil.” He might be induced to go without—they’d done it once, in a frantic rush at seeing each other hale and whole after one of Teomitl’s successful campaigns on the battlefield—but given the chance he preferred not to offer up that particular sensation to the gods.

Teomitl huffed out an impatient breath. “The chest behind you.”

Acatl twisted to reach it and pull out the jar; there were a few moments of faintly embarrassing wrestling with the lid, during which Teomitl was entirely unhelpful. He could feel the weight of his gaze on him when he finally looked up, fingers slick, to meet his eyes.

He didn’t have to wait long for a command. “Prepare yourself for me.”

He settled himself into position, watching the way Teomitl’s eyes gleamed like a jaguar. Good. Watch me. This is for you. He half expected Teomitl to reach for him—his beloved had never been a patient man—but when he reached to slide two fingers into himself, savoring the stretch, Teomitl froze. The only movement was his fingers digging, white-knuckled, into the spotted fur under him. Acatl grinned down at him. “And here I thought—haah—you couldn’t wait to get your hands on me—”

“I can be patient.” He did not sound patient. He sounded an inch away from snapping. Teomitl’s eyes had locked to where he was busy working himself open, shuddering with the effort; when he pulled his fingers out, judging himself sufficiently prepared for this, he was immensely gratified to hear a strangled noise escape his lover’s mouth. Truthfully, he wanted to echo it; he felt so empty suddenly.

And then Teomitl’s hands were at his hips and he was lowering himself down, and there was no time for words. There was only the stretch, the slide, the tortuously slow feeling of being filled. His eyes slid shut on a guttural groan, head falling back of its own accord. His mind was blank with pleasure, feeling himself tremble around Teomitl’s hot, hard length. He was dimly aware that he should be moving, but for a small eternity he couldn’t seem to get his legs to work—and then Teomitl’s nails dug into his hips, and he rolled them hard.

Teomitl growled. “Nnnh...fuck, you’re tight.” His hips surged up to meet him, a thrust that made Acatl gasp, and then they were finding a rhythm and it was all Acatl could do to keep moving.

A scrap of thought whirled past—I should have known he’d be this energetic—but it just as quickly flew out of his head when Teomitl shifted under him, finding an angle that made him saw stars. “Gods, I—” Whatever he was going to say was cut short by his cry as his lover did it again, meeting him on the downstroke with a thrust that sent sparks up his spine.

“Gods.” It sounded like it had been punched out of him, and Acatl keened at the feeling of that throbbing cock somehow making itself felt even deeper. “Acatl—I’m—“

“Good, good, please—” He knew he was babbling, but it was impossible not to; he could feel Teomitl’s cock pulse inside him, spilling deep, and he hadn’t come himself yet but that was fine, he could—and then there was Teomitl’s hand on him, stroking him through an orgasm that turned his world white around the edges.

For a long moment afterwards, neither of them could speak. Teomitl was still buried inside him; when Acatl gingerly lifted himself off to at least attempt to clean up the sticky mess on their thighs and stomachs, he made a noise that was very close to a whine, but words seemed to be beyond him. Acatl couldn’t blame him. His muscles felt like they had been replaced by stones; he managed the bare necessary amount of cleanup and flopped gracelessly next to his beloved, who lifted one bejeweled hand to stroke his hair. His eyes slid shut. The night was young, but a brief nap sounded like a very good idea.

Teomitl’s voice woke him; he sounded drowsy himself, but his voice was full of affection and pride. The hand in his hair was gentle. “...I must have pleased the gods very well, I think. To have a man like you.”

He cracked open one eye to see a smile tugging at Teomitl’s lips, which revived him enough to murmur, “I’m sure Xochipilli appreciates whatever you’ve done for him.”

“And what I will do.” Judging from his tone, he had plans in that direction for after the Great Temple was finished.

Acatl wondered idly what he was going to do; a mental image of Xochipilli and Xochiquetzal’s temples sheathed in gold occurred to him as a distinct possibility. He’d threatened to do the same for Mictlantecuhtli’s, which would certainly please Ichtaca but struck Acatl as too gaudy to be borne. Not that a little thing like aesthetics would stop him; now that he was Revered Speaker, there was nothing denied him. Not even this, Acatl thought, tilting his head up to steal a kiss.

This was his favorite side of Teomitl, really—still proud, still strong, but soft and languid in his postcoital haze, curled up next to him and smiling like the sun. Tomorrow, he would arise and dress and make his devotions to the gods. Tomorrow, he would lead the Mexica to glory, spreading his name like smoke across the land. But for tonight, he was simply Acatl’s sated, sleepy, happy lover. Gods, he thought, let it always be like this. Let me kneel before him in the sunlight and hold him in the moonlight until we’re both old and gray. Let me stand by his side—in glory or in pain, I don’t care, as long as we’re together. If he goes to Mictlan, we will be holding hands the entire way.

He laid his head on Teomitl’s chest, feeling his heartbeat thump reassuringly under his ear. “Have I told you I love you?”

“Hmmm. I could hear it again.”

He hid a grin against Teomitl’s skin. “...I love you...Ahuizotl-tzin.”

Teomitl hit him with the edge of the nearest jaguar pelt.

Notes:

--tizoc was ripped apart by coyolxauhqui and there was Much Rejoicing

--because this is my fanfic and i say so, they DO live to a ripe old age together and finally die, together, while serving the invading conquistadores their own asses on a plate. huitzilopochtli and mictlantecuhtli have a slapfight over the direction of acatl's soul. hernan cortez gets eaten by an ahuizotl.

--they also have like, two dozen kids and grandkids (well, teomitl does. acatl has a small swarm calling him "uncle acatl" despite, in most cases, not actually being related)