the holiest thing i know (Obsidian and Blood, teocatl, R)

[notapaladin]

What’s this? It’s MORE TEOCATL. This one is…honestly, just porn. No plot here. Pain is an offering to the gods, and Teomitl decides to get creative with his. He wasn’t expecting Acatl to take to it so well.

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You can also read it on my AO3, not linked here because tumblr’s search function loves to eat those.

“Pain is an offering to the gods.”

It had been his own idea, Teomitl’s memories saw fit to inform him. Still half asleep as dawn broke, with Acatl stirring next to him and threatening to pull away from their cocoon of warmth for their devotions to the gods, he’d been moved to murmur something that he was pretty sure had been I have a better idea. To give early-morning him some credit, it had seemed like an excellent idea at the time.

He just hadn’t expected Acatl to be like this. Gentle. Thorough. Careful. Inexorable. When Teomitl had explained what he wanted to try the man had made a noise like a strangled parrot, and he’d thought he’d have to coax him—but instead, there was this.

The Fifth Sun rising outside, light slowly filtering in through the window.

Acatl’s unbound hair tumbling in night-black waves over his shoulders, over Teomitl’s skin as he trailed kisses over his body.

The offering-thorns, biting deep.

He’d started out praying, but speech had fled almost immediately. Acatl pressed a kiss to the base of his neck, sending heat coiling low in Teomitl’s gut. His cock throbbed, and he was on the verge of finding his words again—more or please or Acatl-tzin—when Acatl slid the point of the thorn down one side of his spine, hard enough to leave a line of fire behind. Hard enough to bleed. What came out of his mouth instead was a needy whine.

“Patience.” He sounded amused. If it hadn’t been Acatl, Teomitl would have said he’d sounded smug.

You bastard, he thought—but he wasn’t able to voice it, because as soon as he he opened his mouth Acatl was doing it again, a matching line on the other side that made him shudder and clamp his mouth shut around a gasp. When Acatl paused for a moment, hair shifting over Teomitl’s skin in a way that suggested he was considering the canvas of red welts he’d made of Teomitl’s back, he squirmed restlessly underneath him and was deeply gratified by the quiet noise that escaped his lover’s throat. He wondered fleetingly what sort of sounds Acatl would make when it was his turn with the thorns.

It didn’t seem likely he would find out anytime soon. Acatl’s free hand clenched into a fist around a corner of their mat, and he breathed out, “You are a menace.”

“And you are a tease.” He was honestly surprised at how coherent he sounded. He certainly didn’t feel coherent; pain and arousal pulsed through him, and all he could think about was Acatl’s warm, scarred hands working him, how it had felt to for once be the one with legs spread, keening as Acatl slid inside. Afterwards, he’d been too shaken by the intensity of it to do more than grunt when Acatl had asked him how he was, and it hadn’t happened again. Past him, he decided, had been a prideful idiot. “Nngh,”—Acatl had dug the thorn into one of the scratches, a sharp stab of pain in his shoulder and an answering throb in his cock—“Acatl, fuck me.”

Acatl paused and set the thorn aside; Teomitl saw it out of the corner of his eye, red with blood. “…You’re sure?”

He closed his eyes. “Please.”

Palm oil was rare and expensive, but there were definite perks to being the Master of the House of Darts. He mourned the loss of Acatl’s warm weight straddling him, but when it returned—accompanied by a hot, slick caress to his inner thigh—he trembled with relief. His whole body felt disjointed with lust, and Acatl had to help him get his knees under him properly, but then it was done and those clever fingers were sliding in and it was all he could do not to spend right then and there. At this rate, he thought, I won’t even last long enough for him to fuck me. “Acatl-tzin, please—“ Acatl’s fingers moved, and he had to sink his teeth into his own forearm to stifle a shriek.

“Is this enough?” Acatl’s voice was hushed, so soft with affection it made his heart melt, but his free hand gripped Teomitl’s hip tightly enough to bruise.

He managed to nod; by the time he opened his mouth to speak Acatl had replaced his fingers with his cock, and the long slow push inwards tore the breath out of him in a shaky cry.

Time and thought went a little hazy after that. The only thing that mattered was Acatl: his fingers bruising Teomitl’s hips, his lips and teeth and tongue leaving marks on his shoulders where a cloak would cover them. Sweat stung his wounds and blood dried itchily on his skin, but the only thing he could focus on was the insistent pounding of Acatl’s cock, each thrust at the right angle to send shockwaves through him. It was too much. It wasn’t enough, he couldn’t—Acatl, please—

A hand wrapped around his cock and stroked once, twice, and he came so hard he almost sobbed. As the aftershocks faded, Acatl followed him over the edge with a groan.

For a long time afterwards, the only sound in the house was their breathing. Teomitl’s legs felt like melted rubber; when Acatl pulled out, he let himself flop bonelessly onto his side. His mind was blank.

Acatl was more efficient than he was, no matter how many orgasms were involved. (The first time Teomitl had sucked him off, he’d taken a moment to catch his breath and then tried to continue the conversation they’d been having beforehand. Teomitl still wasn’t sure whether to be offended by that.) Now he was cleaning them both up carefully, a far cry from his earlier intensity; he looked like he wanted to say something when the damp cloth slid over Teomitl’s hole, only to murmur, “Sorry,” at his instinctive flinch.

“It doesn’t hurt.” And haven’t I just spent all this time showing you I like when you hurt me? He managed to keep that behind his teeth; it wouldn’t help. What actually came out was a quiet, “Feels…too good. I don’t know how you stand it.”

An embarrassed sort of smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’m used to being overwhelmed. I…that is, did you…”

Teomitl pulled him down onto the mat and into a kiss. “I love it. And you.”

Acatl’s embrace rolled them both over; Teomitl’s back throbbed hot as it hit the mat and he knew it would need tending to later, but for the moment all he wanted to do was be kissed breathless. When they finally separated for air, Acatl’s eyes were warm and tender. “As I love you. I can’t say it enough.”

He loves me. It pulsed under his skin like a second heartbeat, and he grinned up at him. “Are you sure? You know, you still have to do your devotions.”

Acatl’s stubborn dignity lasted longer than his own had, but when his prayers were cut off by a gasp of Teomitl’s name he counted it as a minor victory.

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