turning saints into the sea
May. 21st, 2021 11:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notapaladinHe's wrong.
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Three young noblemen lounged around a single palace courtyard, dressed in far too much finery for the half-hearted ball game they’d just been playing. That game was over now; the sun had risen high in the sky, and it was far too hot to exert themselves in such a way. It was almost too hot to move; even their conversation had a lazy, drowsy drawl to it.
Finally, one of them—Ocelocueitl was his name, the third son of one of Huitzilxochtin’s noble brothers—broke the latest spell of silence. “Guess who I saw yesterday?”
“...Who?” Mopouhqui lifted his head. He’d been spinning the ball between his palms, idly tracing the designs incised in the surface, but this was much more interesting.
“Teomitl’s priest, the one that’s supposed to be tutoring him in the magic of living blood.” They were allowed to address him familiarly; they were his cousins, after all. Ocelocueitl had never gotten along with him, but there was a distinct tinge of smugness in his voice now. It suggested he’d come into valuable gossip, and the other two were intrigued.
“...Teomitl has a priest?” That was Xohueyac, who rarely bothered to pay attention to anything that wasn’t the ball game or a pretty girl.
Ocelocueitl nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
Mopouhqui, not to be left out, added, “Acatl, High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli.” And if he sounded a little wistful, his cousins weren’t surprised. Mopouhqui was not known for great discernment, and it had been some time since there had been a High Priest notable for more than magical prowess or political connections.
Xohueyac muttered, “What a shame.” And then, bright red, he stammered, “I mean—that’s what my sister says...”
Mopouhqui reached over to pat him nearly sympathetically on the shoulder. It was ruined by his lascivious grin. “That’s what we all say. He’s a pretty man!”
“Do you think him and Teo are...“ Ocelocueitl trailed off with a few hand gestures that would probably make a priest of Xochipilli blush. It definitely made Xohueyac blush, and he hunkered down in his seat before it could be remarked upon.
Mopouhqui smirked. “Well, if he’s not, I will!...or hell, even if he is.” He shrugged, careless of the blasphemy he was suggesting. “Man like that breaks his vows once, he might do it again.”
Xohueyac spluttered, “He’s a priest!”
“...And he’s far too attractive for it to be at all fair.” Mopouhqui nodded sagely. Of course he was right, but that didn’t make it a good idea to say. The gods were always listening, and even if they weren’t, there was their cousin to consider.
“Teomitl got to him first.” At least someone there was displaying basic self-preservation skills, though Ocelocueitl was still wearing a smirk that would get him punched in the teeth by the man in question.
Mopouhqui raised an eyebrow. “So?”
Xohueyac shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t want to get the chance to die in battle.” He might not have known until this afternoon that the handsome High Priest for the Dead was Teomitl’s tutor, but now that he did...well. He wasn’t stupid. Teomitl had never been inclined to share.
Mopouhqui scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ocelocueitl’s smirk only grew. “Means Teomitl is—“
Xohueyac saw movement, froze, and waved a frantic hand. Maybe if they were all very, very quiet, the man wouldn’t notice them or their conversation. “Coming this way! Shut up!”
Mopouhqui did not shut up. In fact, he raised his hand in a jaunty, cheerful wave. “Hey, Teomitl!”
Xohueyac groaned. This was going to be painful.
&
Teomitl was going to have a good day. He’d already decided on it, and nothing would rattle his mood. Nothing. After all, it was one of the days of the week set aside for his lessons with Acatl. The man was always honest and never flattering, at least not without good cause; it made the occasional words of sincere praise lodge ever deeper in Teomitl’s heart. You’ve done well, he’d said at their last lesson, and that had been enough to make Teomitl blush all on his own, but then he’d smiled. Smiled! At him! It had turned Acatl from merely handsome to radiant, and Teomitl had had to make an excuse to leave just so he wouldn’t say or do anything stupid. Mihmatini had seen through the real reason for his visit in a heartbeat. She’d gone so far as to giggle at him, which hadn’t helped.
He sighed at the memory. At least I can see him. Talk to him. Maybe I can get more of those smiles, even if...even if I can’t... He shook his head to clear it. Gods, he was a fool.
Someone called his name. He swiveled around to see a trio of his most indolent cousins waving at him and grimaced as he checked himself midstride. He should have pretended he didn’t hear them. Ah, well, too late now. “...What do you want?”
Ocelocueitl was grinning in a way that made him long to erase the look from his face. Preferably with a fist. “What’s with the glare? We just want to talk to our favorite cousin.”
Teomitl’s eyes narrowed. Ocelocueitl never wanted to talk to him. They hadn’t been friends since a childhood sparring match had ended with sprained limbs on both sides. “I don’t really have time—“
If his cousin been a hound, his ears would have pricked up. “Where are you off to?”
“...Lessons,” he said stiffly. “In the magic of living blood.” His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He ignored it. In front of his family members, he couldn’t afford be distracted or to show weakness; they’d pounce on it like jaguars, and their idea of teasing too often hid knives.
Mopouhqui muttered, “Lucky you.”
Against his better judgement, he frowned at his cousin. “Hm?” He’s never displayed an interest in magic before.
Ocelocueitl buffed his nails on his tunic and shot him a sideways glance. “I was just telling them I saw your priest yesterday.”
His ears went hot. He prayed desperately he wasn’t blushing, but he knew the gods weren’t listening. “Acatl-tzin’s not my—“
“Suuure. But you’ve been holding out on us!” Ocelocueitl actually had the nerve to smack Teomitl’s shoulder, as though they were friends.
Ah, now he was on firmer mental ground. Fury. He wrenched himself away, glaring at all three of them—even Xohueyac, who was clearly trying to blend into the ground lest he become a target. “I beg your pardon?”
Mopouhqui, not so easily deterred, came up on his other side and knuckled companionably at his arm. “You told everyone all about his magic and how smart he was, but you didn’t tell us he looked like that.”
Now he knew he was blushing. “I don’t see how his looks are any of your concern,” he snapped, even as the part of him not plotting how best to dispose of the bodies piped up with Well, at least someone in Tenochtitlan has working eyes and excellent taste. He snarled at that mental voice until it retreated; it was one thing to have a cousin who was properly appreciative of Acatl’s looks, and another for the man to be appreciating it in that tone of voice. Nobody was allowed to use that tone about his Acatl.
Mopouhqui grinned at him. “But he’s so handsome, don’t you think? Even at his age? Bet he made all the girls in his calpulli swoon when he was younger!”
The images marched through his mind—Acatl younger, less careworn, not yet sworn to the gods, surrounded by laughing peasant girls and smiling at their flirtations. Acatl flirting back. He sucked in a hard breath. “It’s hardly—“
Ocelocueitl snickered. “Oh, definitely not just the girls.” Teomitl froze, but he was safe—his cousin had apparently meant Mopouhqui, who didn’t look in the least fazed by it. Bastard. Teomitl hoped he came down with boils.
The worst part was that now he was picturing it, and it was too easy. Acatl had studied in the boys’ calmecac, after all, and Teomitl knew perfectly well what happened there out of sight of the teachers. Acatl was beautiful now and couldn’t possibly have been less so in his school days; it was impossible that he hadn’t had admirers. Impossible to think that there hadn’t been flustered boys trying to impress him, trying to press gifts and favors upon him. He felt his face go warm at the certain knowledge that he would have been one of those flustered boys. That he was one of those boys now, far past the point where Acatl might have been free to look back at him the same way—if it had ever even been a possibility in the first place.
He turned to go. This conversation was too dangerous. “I can’t listen to this; I’ll be late.”
Mopouhqui hummed thoughtfully. “For your magic lessons. With Acatl-tzin.”
“...Yes.”
“And that’s all you’re learning from him?”
The insinuation made his teeth grind, and for a moment all he could do was draw in a long breath. “What else are you suggesting I learn from the High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli?” The man sworn to Lord Death. The man who wears Mictlan’s power like a cloak. The man who would never in a thousand years do what I know you’re thinking about.
Mopouhqui started smirking again. “I’d love for him to teach me something else—“
No, came the white-hot flash of rage through his mind. He’s mine.
At least those words settled it. Teomitl was definitely going to kill his cousin. He lunged with the intention of getting him in a headlock, but he’d already taken too many steps out of arm’s reach and Mopouhqui was faster than he looked; it was annoyingly difficult to grab him. He’d almost managed it—Mopouhqui had made the mistake of dodging in a direction that put him near Xohueyac, who’d obligingly stuck a foot out to trip him—when a voice stopped him.
He loved that voice. He desperately did not want to hear it now.
“Teomitl?”
Acatl was gazing at the tableau in front of him with an expression that said, quite clearly, that he was not going to ask for answers because he did not want to know. When Teomitl backed away from Mopouhqui and slowly unclenched his fists, it changed into the faintest of faint smiles. He wanted to collapse with relief.
Then Acatl said, “There you are,” as though nothing was out of the ordinary, and he felt himself flush hot all over.
“Acatl-tzin...” he began, unsure of how to end it. I was defending your honor. They were disrespecting you. They were saying that you—that we—
“I was looking everywhere for you.” There was a crease between Acatl’s brows, but—thank the gods—he didn’t sound annoyed. Teomitl felt himself start to relax.
And then Mopouhqui scrambled to his feet, dusted himself off, and strode over to Acatl beaming like an old friend. “Oh, so you’re Teomitl’s priest! I’m his cousin Mopouhqui; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Acatl-tzin!”
Though Acatl crossed his arms defensively and looked visibly taken aback as the man stepped into his personal space without so much as a by-your-leave, he didn’t back down. “Is it?”
“Mmm. Teomitl’s told us so much about you.” There was more than a suggestion of a leer in Mopouhqui’s tone. Teomitl’s fists clenched hard enough for his nails to bite into his palms; when his cousin’s gaze flicked back towards him, it took all his willpower not to lunge for his throat.
“He—he has?” Acatl sounded like he wasn’t sure whether this pleased him or not.
Mopouhqui made a nauseatingly self-satisfied humming sound and swept his gaze slowly and pointedly over Acatl’s form. “But he left something out.”
And then he set a hand on Acatl’s forearm, and Acatl blinked at him. “Gnh.”
Teomitl saw red. How dare you. How dare you, you don’t touch him—he is mine—
“We weren’t expecting the new High Priest for the Dead to be so young and vigorous, you see.” There was another quick glance at Teomitl, but then those fingers slowly trailed up Acatl’s arm to the crook of his elbow; Acatl twitched in surprise but didn’t pull away, even when Mopouhqui leaned in to murmur, “Our previous one was ancient when the Empire was born. But you, my lord...”
Enough. Acatl was clearly flustered, clearly unsure of himself, and—just as clearly—wasn’t about to risk starting a fight in the palace in front of his student. Teomitl had no such compunctions. His idiot cousin was too preoccupied with gazing into Acatl’s eyes and so didn’t notice his approach, but he definitely noticed when Teomitl lashed out, grabbed one of his dangling earrings, and twisted. Hard. “He is busy.”
Mopouhqui yelped. Ocelocueitl and Xohueyac started cackling. Acatl was staring at him—he could feel the weight of his gaze—but he refused to look. His attention was on Mopouhqui, whose single working thought had finally settled on the realization that he’d made a dangerous enemy. Teomitl channeled all his rage into his eyes; he could feel them itching, feel the slow rising tide of the ahuitzotls’ song in his mind, feel how easy it would be to reach out and end it—
It was almost a relief when Mopouhqui dropped his gaze and he had to step back. Good. Go, and know that you’ve been beaten.
He wiped his hand pointedly on his cloak and turned to Acatl, who was watching him with the most carefully blank expression he’d ever seen. It made his heart sink like a stone, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax anyway. “Come on, Acatl-tzin. I’ve been looking forward to today.” And I’m not going to let this pup ruin it, he thought viciously.
Even if I’m afraid he might already have.
They didn’t talk until they reached his courtyard. Teomitl didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry about my cousin didn’t cover the scope of it; besides, it would be ridiculous of him to make a big deal out of it if Acatl wasn’t. I didn’t mean to rise to his bait would be an outright lie; if Acatl hadn’t been there, he would cheerfully have made Mopouhqui bleed for his insolence. And yet to tell the truth—I’m not sorry, you’re mine, he should never have touched you—was unthinkable.
When they stopped by the shade of the pool, Acatl broke the silence. “Teomitl...”
He couldn’t look at him. His face was already warm; if he looked at him, it would surely burst into flames. “What?” he snapped, and regretted his tone immediately.
His wonderful, rational, level-headed teacher only sighed, shaking his head. “What has that tree ever done to deserve a look like that?”
Teomitl swallowed and turned to look at him; at the very least, if he could maintain eye contact it would show his sincerity. For a split second he even managed it. “Nothing. I’m fine.” Drop it. Gods, drop it. Please.
Acatl did not drop it. Acatl, in fact, met his gaze with a searching one of his own that said he knew damn well there was a problem here. “No, you’re not. You looked as though you were about to murder that cousin of yours—”
“He was flirting with you,” he ground out, and clamped his mouth shut before he could say anything else incriminating.
Acatl flushed, but he didn’t look upset. At least, not at that. “I...I realized that. What I can’t figure out is why. I mean, look at me—“
As if I ever stop. “I do. I look at you all the time.” He made himself smile, made himself sound careless, because the alternative was to start screaming. “Mopouhqui is a fool with no sense of boundaries, but he has eyes. You’re not an unattractive man, Acatl-tzin.” Understatement of the age.
Now Acatl looked even more flustered, and Teomitl cursed himself. He’d revealed too much. “I—if you say so. But he...hmm.” He trailed off, dropping his gaze to the ground thoughtfully.
The smart thing would be to change the topic; he really had been looking forward to his lesson, and he ought to go and bring out his worship-thorns and grass balls and writing implements. But that pensive, worried look on Acatl’s face pinched his heart, so instead he took a step closer and asked, “...What?”
Acatl was quiet for a long moment. “He kept looking back at you,” he said finally. “Checking your reaction. He was flirting with me, but he was trying to provoke you.”
He growled at the memory. Oh yes, he’d noticed those looks. Mopouhqui had no doubt thought he was being sly. “He thought I was—“ Learning what I want from you, which is far more than I should be. Panting after you like a dog in heat. Trying to lay a claim to you, as though I have the right.
Acatl’s head came up like a hunting hound. “Hm?”
He swallowed back his words. “...Nothing.” It sounded steady enough, but he couldn’t—couldn’t—lie and maintain eye contact, not to Acatl, so he dropped his gaze to the water and hoped Acatl only thought he was embarrassed over having been so easily angered in public. He could feel his ears burning.
“You looked like you wanted to break his hand when he touched me.” Acatl did not sound fooled, but instead of his usual dry, unimpressed tone it was almost...soft. Gentle.
It made something in Teomitl’s chest twinge hard, and he lifted his head automatically to meet warm brown eyes. Ah yes, that twinge was definitely his heart skipping a beat. “You noticed that?”
“I notice everything you do.” It was said simply enough, but there was a faint tinge of color in Acatl’s cheeks, and the little frown that was his constant companion was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t a smile—which was probably a good thing, Teomitl didn’t think he could survive a smile right now—but Teomitl had quite clearly threatened a man over him and he was looking at him in a way that suggested he actually approved. And as he watched, those eyes softened further.
Oh gods. Teomitl felt sure that, in defiance of all biological laws, his heart had flown up into his throat and stuck there. Don’t say that, he thought frantically. Don’t say that you notice me, don’t ask me if I’m fine, and for the Duality’s sake don’t look at me like that. If you do, I swear I’ll— “It really wasn’t like that,” he blurted out. “Or—I mean—it was just—he put his hand on you and I...” His fists clenched until he forced them open, knowing there were no battles to fight here. Air. He needed air. He took a breath and let it out, feeling his still-stuck heart hammer against the walls of its cage.
And then, of course, it got worse. Acatl’s brows knit as he frowned at him, as though he was a puzzle that couldn’t be solved. Or as though it had been, but the answer wasn’t something he was prepared to believe. “...Were you—were you jealous?”
He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. There was nothing he could say, no speech he could mount in his defense. I am. I am. He was bold enough to touch you, to smile at you, and I wanted to tear him limb from limb for it.
No, he wanted to tear himself limb from limb; he’d spent so long trying to keep his feelings hidden, and here they were written on his traitorous face and proclaimed in his every reckless action. When Acatl drew in a long breath, he had to close his eyes, sure in the knowledge that he could not face the disgust in his teacher’s gaze—or worse, the distance. The disappointment. The polite rejection that said I’m sorry, Teomitl, but you know I don’t feel the same way.
Acatl let out a sigh. Teomitl, still afraid to move, froze even further at the first touch of his hand on his arm. “Teomitl. Look at me, please.”
He opened his eyes and looked. He could do nothing else, not when the fingertips resting gently on his skin sent lightning racing through his chest. Not when the man had said please.
Acatl kissed him.
The first brush of lips against his own was sweet, tentative, as though he was afraid Teomitl would be scared away, but then Teomitl’s lips parted and Acatl grew bolder, the hand on his arm sliding in to his elbow and the curve of his waist to pull him in closer. There was a noise—from him or Acatl, he couldn’t tell—but it didn’t matter when all it took was a half-turn to press their bodies together, to let his hands rest at Acatl’s shoulders and to melt in pleasure when Acatl’s arms went around him. He’d been kissed before—a fumbling, awkward encounter with a distant cousin—but it couldn’t compare to this. He felt like melted wax, like melted rubber, and all he could do was sigh when they pulled away.
“Acatl-tzin,” he murmured through his smile. I love you.
Acatl was smiling too. One hand came up to trace the line of his jaw, so gently that it almost tickled. “Teomitl.” His voice was the softest thing Teomitl had ever heard. “You never need to be jealous of me with anyone. Who else could I care for but you? Who else would I allow into my life, into my heart?”
Teomitl drew in a breath, heart racing. “I...”
He was too slow. The hand at his jaw fell; as Acatl averted his eyes, his words took on a bitter edge. “But gods, I was so determined never to tell you...”
A thin sliver of ice seemed to have lodged itself in his chest. “...Why not?”
Acatl bit his lip; he seemed to be hunting for the right words, but they were slow in coming. Finally he huffed, “I—you’re my student. I’m responsible for you in some way; to take advantage of that...I...”
Really? Really?! He leaned in and kissed Acatl again, brief and hard; when he broke away, they were both breathing raggedly. But Acatl still looked shaken, and it nettled him. Glowering, he took a deliberate step backwards out of his loose hold. “I’ve been to war,” he snapped. “I’m no green boy.”
“I know.” Acatl grimaced and looked away again, even as he traced his own lips with a shaking hand. “But I thought you’d be—you’d reject me—and you’re my sister’s age—“ He cut himself off, turning red. “Gods. Mihmatini is going to kill me.”
He made a face. Right. Of course he’d have to tell her, and even the knowledge that she’d probably be happy for them wasn’t enough to make the idea less than cripplingly awkward on his end. He had no illusions that she’d go any easier on her older brother; in his admittedly limited experience, family never did. Maybe he could convince Acatl to wait until his wedding night to share the details, where with any luck she’d be in too good a mood to tease them about it.
Acatl was still talking, and unfortunately seemed to have settled on a much faster timetable. “I know you’ll say I’m a fool, but...but I can’t keep this secret from her. Especially not if you’re still planning to court her!” He hesitated. “I don’t mind if you are. But I really think she should know.”
Even knowing the reaction was stupid didn’t stop his face from growing hot as he muttered, “She does. Or suspects, at least. There were...hand gestures.” He waved a hand in a rough approximation. The actual ones used had been explicit enough to make him choke, and he was morbidly curious to know how she’d learned them. It was another thing best saved for his wedding night.
This clearly took a moment to sink in; when it did, Acatl turned slowly red. “...I don’t want details, do I.”
He met Acatl’s gaze steadily, voice lowering. “You do not.” This time, he was the one moving slowly and carefully; as he set his hands at Acatl’s waist, Acatl was trembling. It tore at his heart. I have to reassure him. I have to make him see. “The important thing is that you wouldn’t be upsetting her. She’ll be more than glad to know that you’re mine.”
Acatl sucked in a breath. “Yours?”
“Yes,” Teomitl closed the distance between them. Their mouths met in a biting kiss, one that made Acatl gasp and return it with equal fervor. There was a moment where Acatl didn’t seem sure of what to do with his hands, but then sharp nails were digging into Teomitl’s shoulderblades and he moaned into Acatl’s mouth. Acatl nearly growled, nails raking down his back and catching in the folds of his cloak; when Teomitl dug his fingers into his hips, it got a bone-deep shudder in response. But it wasn’t enough; he needed more, needed to see Acatl fall apart in his arms.
And so he pulled away and scraped his teeth over Acatl’s pulse, reveling at the man’s helpless gasp. “This is what I wanted to do in front of him,” he breathed. “This, over and over—I wanted to mark you as mine.”
“Oh, gods,” Acatl panted; his fingers were digging into the back of Teomitl’s neck hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make him wonder what would happen if he grew his hair out—would Acatl pull it instead? Gods, he hoped so. But now there was only flesh and muscle, and when he muffled himself by mouthing down Acatl’s throat to his collarbone the man’s whole body trembled.
He hummed into the thin skin. Yes. This is what I want. “Mmm...”
Pressed together as close as they were, it was impossible to miss how much they were both enjoying it. Acatl was hot and hard and absolutely perfect in his arms; when he pulled away, Teomitl made a sound he would never admit was a whine. Acatl’s eyes were hazy with desire, though, and the breathless pleasure in his voice made him shiver. “...I don’t think either of us can be expected to focus on lessons today.”
Teomitl’s breath hitched at the sheer possibility of it all. I could...gods, I could...
He could. His room was right there. He gave Acatl’s ass a lingering squeeze, smirking when the man gasped. “Come inside,” he whispered. “Let’s learn something else instead. Together.”
For a moment there was silence, and he prayed he hadn’t overstepped—but then Acatl breathed, “Gods, yes.”
They went inside.
It was a very, very thorough lesson indeed.
