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One-Night Stand	By : KuraiD Category: +S through Z > Tales of Symphonia Views: 2276 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One-Night Stand
- 1
A/N: A personal challenge I gave myself one week to complete. Heads up, guys; this one-shot is nearly 13k words long.
Kratos/Zelos veterans/people who, for some weird reason, like to read ridiculously long angst/hatefest disguised as a sophisticatedly drawn-out plot (I’d like to meet the person who can pull off a PWP THIS long), I hope that you will read all. People who just came for the mansex, please Ctrl+F “kinks” and start on that paragraph.
My eternal thanks goes to Articulate Darkness, my beta who looked after me like a kind tachi when I was dead on ideas/panicking on the deadline. This might as well have been a collab. Love you for all the help, not that I don’t to start with.
Warning: As much as it looks like it, this does NOT happen after you get the doctor. Rather, it happens on your first visit to Flanoir, right before the pact with Celsius. Obvious spoilers, a lot of presuming, references to the past, the like.
Hopefully no one gets bored. Have a nice read.
It was around midnight when he quickly cloaked himself and stepped furtively out of the inn’s backdoor.
It wasn’t a particularly cold night in Flanoir, so the knee-long, sleeveless but hooded fur cape was enough to keep him warm. It was, however, hard for Zelos to concentrate on anything in particular as he deftly made his way from the Olive Village to the shadier parts of the White city, with the ominously low whispers of the flake-ridden wind in his ear and the crunching of fresh snow beneath his feet.
He never really liked snow. But that inconvenience, however, came in very low on his current list of worries. There were also occasional, haunting shadows that hovered on the edge of his vision, but one strategic tilt towards the nearest source of light was enough to reveal the three-foot long hilt at his hip, and by extension, ward off any unnecessary trouble.
Flanoir was a nice place. If one could stand the weather, it had much to offer: decent food (especially meat), luxurious fur, precious gems (another thing that Celsius Temple was known for), beautiful landscape, majestic Cathedral, exciting sports (Zelos would never understand why surfing on snow would be appealing to anyone, but that’s just him) skilled doctor and friendly people… And the list goes on. But like all prosperous cities in the kinds of Altamira and Meltokio, it had its share of underground dealing: illicit substance trading (Flanoir Potion sure was popular), cargo smuggling and obligatory whorehouses only came up on the top of the list, and of course, everyone minded their own business when a blood-curling scream sounds from the areas where such business were common – who cares if it came from the nearest motel or a particularly sinister-looking dark alley.
Didn’t change the fact that the currently incognito Chosen of Tethe’Alla had no one else to blame but himself for his current predicament.
The motel was called “The Passing”. It looked rather respectable from the outside: somewhat small, yes, but the three store-high building was in good maintenance. Business with ordinary folk would probably have been way better were it to be located somewhere less involved, though the occasional, suspicious-looking character that loitered around and the place’s somewhat formal but shady entrance certainly didn’t help.
Then again, The Passing wasn’t exactly a vacation resort. Most clients came in hooded, and left hooded. One look at the guest logs would reveal nothing but untraceable IDs and unreadable initials – who cares, the manager figured, as long as they coughed up the dough. And if one took a closer look from the outside, it would be rare to see a window with unobstructed view.
It was all exactly just as it was supposed to be. After all, it was a place of business where common folk had no business nosing about: the starting place of many contracts and deals, the final destination of exceeded loans and due payments, and the unsurprising crossroad for countless one-night stands.
Zelos wouldn’t exactly brag about knowing the place, nor would he be interested to proclaim how he came across somewhere as such to begin with – all he knew was that he kinda liked the motel’s name. It just fit.
He lightly shrugged his hood and took a thorough breath before entering the somewhat dim reception hall.
The flimsily dressed woman at the front desk seemed to be preoccupied by a leather-bound notebook. She glanced up at him once before burying her nose back into work.
Hood still in place, the redhead approached her with his head lowered. Wordlessly, he drew a reservation from his inner pocket and handed it to her.
She finally looked up, closing her work with a soft thump as she accepted the paper. There was no need for asking any questions as to why his face was hidden, save for a few red strands that escaped from the rim of his hood and made it impossible to acutely determine her customer’s gender.
“Room 212, prepaid. Reservation made yesterday evening?” She asked.
She got a small nod.
“Please sign here,” she opened the logbook on the desk, tapped the designated space with the dry end of the fountain pen before presenting it to him.
He left a clean “W.” before giving the worn pen back to her.
“Here are your keys. Enjoy your soirée,” the woman nodded, fishing up a key from a cupboard behind her and placed it on the desk.
Another nod – a silent type, huh? Well, as long as they paid…
To her surprise, the person spoke when they got to the stairway.
“Has anyone else come for the room tonight?”
She raised an eyebrow. “No, not at all… sir.”
“Thank you.”
Without another word, the man was gone. The lady frowned; have they met before? That voice was male, and lightly familiar…
She shook her head; no matter. As long as she did her job and got her pay, there was little else to think too hard about.
The room was a nice place, and would have probably looked better was it more illuminated. A dresser surmounted by a mirror was to his left, and a round table accompanied by three chairs sat in the middle. A queen-sized bed was placed horizontally against the wall to his right, and next to it, right ahead of him, was the only window in the room. Its curtains were slightly parted, allowing in a few weak rays of moonlight. Apart from that, the only source of light came from two candles: one from the table, and the other from the nightstand next to the bed.
Zelos wasn’t particularly shocked to find it already occupied. The fact that it felt as warm as if a healthy blaze was going in the place when only two candles were lit, however, might raise more questions. Especially when the fireplace was spotless and devoid of a spec of ash.
He shrugged off his coat and dropped it on the hanger behind the door.
“If you wanted a fire, you could have went down and asked the receptionist,” he began, warily throwing a glance towards the figure standing near the slightly parted curtains. The opening let in a soft stream of light, amplified and then reflected by the snow outside. Zelos might have even been able to catch a clear glimpse of his visitor’s face were his back not turned.
Hm, strange. He was dressed like an ordinary Flanoir citizen spending their evening on the inside; a pair of dark trousers topped with a clean, buttoned shirt, covered by a black, sleeveless doublet. What’s with the sudden need to look normal, for a change?
“It was less of a hassle. Besides, you would be the one bothered by the cold,” came the reply before the question could be asked.
It was still a neat mana trick – Zelos would have asked more if it was anyone else. Besides, it wasn’t the time to look for distractions anymore, for after all, he was the one who made the call.
“Ha, ha. Yes. Excuse me for being human; we kinda feel things more keenly than you lot of insensible Angels and whatn-”
“Zelos.”
The redhead froze.
Kratos turned around.
“You didn’t call me for small talk, and surely there are other places to be at the moment that you would prefer,” the Seraph tonelessly cut without batting an eyelash, looking more than a tad sinister under the pale ghostly glow of the snow light despite the warm flickering of the candle blazes. “Get to it.”
“A little birdie told me that you were loitering around Flanoir two days ago,” Zelos began, feeling once again the familiar clenching of his gut facing the wall of ice.
Kratos waited.
Zelos sat down on a nearby chair, staring at the small flame on the tip of the candle placed on the table. The other one flicked unnoticeably on the nightstand next to the bed, a few steps were the window was and were his interlocutor stood.
“So, what’s this “There may be those close to you who are malicious” crap?” The redhead nearly spat.
“Yggdrasil, of course.”
“…Excuse me?” Zelos forced himself to not blink.
“Mithos. He’s planning to pay you all a visit very soon,” Kratos smoothly replied. As smooth as a polished rock from Celsius Temple could get, at any rate.
“Cut the BS, will you? It doesn’t matter how Mithos plans his grand entrance to further supervise our little band of rag-tag world saviour wannabes, or how much he would be accepted – which in itself is something I highly doubt will happen-”
“He will succeed. He has orchestrated quite the performance – at the entire village of Ozette’s expenses.” Kratos didn’t skip a beat
Zelos looked up, frowning. “You mean, he’s planning to-”
“Annihilate the village and winding up as a victim of the incident, being a lone half-elf who lived in the vicinity and just happened to pass by?” the Seraph completed. “Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“After you exit Celsius Temple tomorrow,” Kratos finished, turning back to face the window.
Zelos sank back into his chair. “…Well geez, thanks for telling me useless information that I can’t pass onto anyone, especially when I’m the supposed messenger,” he said in deadpan sarcasm. “Any particular reason why you told me th-”
That’s when it hit him. He brutally stood back up, bringing a fist harshly onto the wooden table.
“Don’t try to change the subject. There was no Mithos anywhere near this continent’s vicinity two days ago; exactly what do you hope to accomplish by warning that idiot of me, when I’m supposed to pass onto YOU lot all the information?!” He snarled.
“Stop grasping on cold air, Zelos,” Kratos tilted his head sideways, sharply cutting the Chosen with a one-eye glance. “First off, why don’t you answer your own question: what would I gain indeed, for rattling you out. Second, do tell me exactly how our idealistic idiot would suspect you under any light after all the help you and your status provided,” the man continued, throwing a particular emphasis on your status as if nothing else really mattered.
Zelos scoffed. Sarcastic and loud.
“Oh, Iunno. You’d rattle me out because you’d feel like it? Because you’re bored and wanted to see some more Chosen-berating action? And don’t try to use flimsy paperwork as an excuse; if you were that much under Yggdrasil’s watch, you wouldn’t even be here right now. Which I’ll admit: only one day within my call?” He gave out a bitter grin. “I think we’ve got ourselves a new record.”
“Don’t be stupid. I informed Yggdrasil of your request; he was interested to hear your report.” Kratos blandly replied.
“Stupid? That’s like, the middle name I never had,” the redhead forcefully laughed again. “They call me ‘Idiot Chosen’; you must have heard of that title, with all the stalking you do on us even if it’s MY job. Well guess what, the joke’s on you, too. Like he REALLY needed you to relay my messages. Did you actually believe that?” He looked up, fist still on the table, though his shoulders have slumped. “He probably took both our versions before comparing the fact.”
“Don’t be so naïve,” Kratos growled, facing Zelos again with a gaze that could have induced venom. “And did you honestly expect him to take you for your word and entrust the entire watch to you?” None of them needed any additional hints that Kratos was just beginning on his list of counters.
Zelos had to cut in. “Bullshit. Are you trying to convince me that he would trust our said idiot’s father more than a third party?” He snarled, for a reply that he would otherwise have congratulated himself for.
The glare that came probably could have killed. “And you would think to know Lord Yggdrasil after a mere few months of contact? Would you expect him to trust a useless Chosen whose life holds no impact whatsoever in his ultimate scheme?” The older man intoned, pressing onto each syllable with an increasingly low tone. “I would have thought you to be better learned.” The final whisper was as subtle and dangerous as an assassin’s dagger.
Zelos by then already crossed more than half the distance that separated the table and the window, and it would probably have been more was it not for the stiletto, now pointed an inch away from his neck.
“Do I not speak the truth?” Kratos finished, his pupils tainted with an eerie crimson by the blaze of wavering candlelights.
Zelos violently flinched as he chanced a step back.
“You crazy bastard,” he muttered under his breath, honestly shocked to see the deadly glimmer of silver so close to his throat.
“Enough sidetracking. So, what should I report back to Yggdrasil?” The Seraph went on tonelessly, eyes narrowed and ready to act at the smallest of movements.
Zelos had little choice but play along. …Then again, that was exactly it; it was just another sick game that they would always trigger when they were alone. He straightened himself and regained a more relaxed posture.
“Oh, the usual,” he replied tonelessly, now perfectly calm. “As you can see, we’ll be making the pact with Celsius tomorrow. The objective of the party has not changed; they plan to pact with every Summon Spirit in both worlds.”
“You’ve obtained Celsius’ Tear?” The older man questioned.
“Yeah. They spent the whole day restocking and getting new equipment, getting ready and the like. Apparently there won’t be a snowstorm until the day after tomorrow, so they’re trying to make this fast,” the Chosen replied.
“How will you return to Sylvarant?” Kratos pressed.
“Not sure,” Zelos shrugged. “There has been talk of this ‘Otherwordly Gate’ that Altessa mentioned upon our last visit. Raine seemed interested but she didn’t get a chance to press further; she probably will once we’re done with Celsius.”
Kratos gave a small nod. “What do you intend to do with Shadow?”
Zelos knew exactly what he meant. “They’ll probably think of asking the researchers back in Meltokio the moment they find out,” he said, passively holding back the older man’s unwavering stare. “I’ll let them discover its darkness on their own.”
“What of Colette?”
“Oh, she’s fine. A bit shaken after the party rescued her from Rodyle’s recreational man-eating dragon park, but she’s been better ever since we entered Gnome Temple. Everyone’s taking gooooood care of their precious and cute little Chosen, don’t your Lord Yggdrasil fret,” he grinned.
His insinuation was not missed, though Kratos did chose to remain quiet. “Very well,” the Seraph concluded, and finally lowered the dagger before sliding it back into the sleeve of his shirt. He briefly closed his eyes as he turned back to face the window; at least now they were done with the technical part.
He barely sidestepped the assault when it came, parrying off the offending three-foot long steel with his own as he left loose a hushed curse. The fact that the candle on the table was now extinguished might have been a warning, but it was already far too late. Frowning openly, he easily forced the sword away before giving it a precise and forceful swing, fully intent on sending the blade – and perhaps the suddenly bloodthirsty Chosen as well – sprawling on the floor.
Kratos then had to acknowledge the fact that Zelos has indeed improved again in the last few weeks, ever since they last sparred. None of them expected him to best his ex-mentor, but the deathly arcs the spinning blades performed, and the loud clank that resounded after both were sent crashing onto the floor were definite announcements of a fair tie, if nothing else.
Never mind the fact that he fell on his back and onto the bed from the force of the impact, even less now that he had a not-so-joyous Chosen inches away from his face.
“The hell, don’t fuck with me. Since when were you that easy to parry?” Zelos immediately began with narrowed eyes, cutting in before his ex-mentor could squeeze in a word of congratulation.
“I didn’t think being that much on guard would be necessary,” Kratos replied, shifting into a more comfortable position while keeping his stony stare.
“Have you forgotten who you’re dealing with?! I could have killed you,” the redhead threatened.
“No, you wouldn’t. I could ask you the same thing: you did not attempt to seize my wrists to limit my movements when we fell, and I still have a dagger whereas you are now unarmed. Not to mention you wouldn’t have had the strength to pin me down even if you tried,” he continued, no different than if he was explaining the basis of how to use a sword.
Zelos’ eyes were now slits. “And what are you trying to imply, exactly?” he asked, though he made no attempt to move his arms, only there for idle support.
“You’re unusually slow tonight,” Kratos scoffed. “It’s not like me? It’s not like you to be so rash. If anything, you usually act as if you tread on ice during our rendezvous.”
He tilted his head sideways and sighed in annoyance. “Get off me. Before I do it myself.”
“Not until you explain just what the heck you were doing near Flanoir two nights ago,” Zelos pressed, gritting his teeth.
Kratos sighed. “Would you like me to tell you what I told Lloyd? “I am scheming to get rid of those that stand in Lord Yggdrasil’s way. Now are you satisfied?””
Very reluctantly, the redhead backed away to let the older man raise – just enough so that he now sat with his back to the headboard, however, and no more.
“…”
“Heh. He said the exact same thing. Would you like for us to re-enact that entire conversation?” The Seraph asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.
Zelos scoffed. “You’re going to ask me if I’ve been well, I’d take it?”
Kratos, ever so lightly, frowned.
“I heard it when we first came to the inn, Olive Village. Your precious idiot was asking what ‘judicious’ means,” Zelos allowed himself to snort. Kratos just opted to briefly close his eyes.
The older man sighed. This was honestly getting dull. “So basically, you are just as quick to jump to conclusions as you were a decade ago. Have you learned nothing? And to think you calmly left after losing a sparring match last month, in Garroacchia Forest. Allow me to remind you that I will not hesitate to move if you don’t get off soon,” he finished as Zelos felt the sheets shift.
The redhead hid a frown. He didn’t doubt the words, but getting blown like dust definitely wouldn’t do well for his ego. If there was anything to stop the douchebag from kicking him off…
“Now wait a sec, aren’t YOU the one who kept saying, “overconfidence leads to carelessness”?” He countered, putting on his best poker face.
“Are you saying that you can hold me down?” Kratos retorted, his voice now bearing the slightest hint of an edge. “You are at an undeniable disadvantage, Zelos. With what do you plan to stop me?” He asked, mirroring the younger man’s usual expression of boredom and annoyance when no one’s watching him in Meltokio castle.
After a short silence, Zelos finally drew himself back up, giving Kratos a ‘this isn’t over’ glare as he watched the other get up with unhidden distaste. Only when he sat up straight against the headboard, ready to give Zelos another mouthful of presumably crap lecture did the redhead finally grin his cat-got-milk smile.
“This, why not?” He replied, watching the older man fumble to get off, knowing that there was no way that the other could retaliate this time around.
Kratos looked up with annoyance. “This isn’t the time for b-!” he stopped in mid-sentence, finally looking back up to see just what his ex-pupil was so boastful about.
Slowly, Zelos fished the small item out of his pocket with masterful leisure, and only then did Kratos finally understood why he was so smug.
He barely had the time to raise an arm before the redhead smashed the small, crystalline object above the headboard, shattering it in an instant as its particles turned to something finer that dust. By then it was no surprise to him that he lost complete power over his own body before the last of the broken Hourglass’ fragment touched the floor, though he was still surprised to see something like that in Zelos’ position.
The redhead gave him a smile dripped in malice before getting himself to work; it was an item of unparalleled magic, but it certainly didn’t last forever.
“Why do you have that?” Kratos managed, while the rest of his body remained numb.
“I got bored and decided to walk around town carrying a couple of Rabbit’s Foot one day. Awfully nice hunnies, they were. Lady Luck loves me after all,” he gloated, deftly unbuckling the older man’s belt before using it to bind his wrists onto the headboard.
There was no use struggling now. “…Looks like there are lessons you still remembered,” Kratos stated, feeling the solid tug of the belt despite his paralysed state.
“Admittedly when you opened your mouth to teach you always knew what the hell you were talking about,” Zelos sneered, getting back up just as the effects of the Hourglass expired.
Kratos didn’t bother giving his new restrictions a test tug, and instead pulled himself up to adopt a better sitting position. “Hmph.”
“Clever, isn’t it?” The redhead smiled, and for a second he looked like a kid who just managed to please his teacher.
“I suppose. It still doesn’t excuse the fact that your insecurity outbursts are starting to get old, Zelos,” Kratos coolly continued, implanting his gaze solidly into Zelos’.
“Cruxis is different from gossiping Meltokio castle courtiers; the only person whom you want to step carefully around is Lord Yggdrasil. If we have something in mind, we will either inform you directly or not say it at all. Rest assured that if someone doesn’t like you, they would let you know.”
Zelos’ scowl only deepened as Kratos’ list went on, but he kept quiet… for now.
“It was understandable when you were a child; you might as well have been a high-class orphan with no guidance. How old are you this year? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? This isn’t very becoming for someone of your age and status, regardless of whether your title is actually useless or n-”
None of their expression changed as the sharp noise of skin on skin resounded through the small, quiet room. Zelos looked perfectly composed, and Kratos barely flinched.
“…I would have expected a punch,” he casually conceded, lips curled up in the faintest of grins as the Chosen did his best to not allow his right arm to shake. His palm felt a little sore, and his ex-mentor’s cheek looked a little red.
“You always said I would have made a better daughter than son,” Zelos replied on the same tone, after having managed to lower his arm without any sudden movements. “So I thought maybe I’d try it the girly way; there isn’t enough space to spar here anyway. …Besides, you wouldn’t have tried to dodge it even if I punched you with my full strength,” he added, as an afterthought.
“True. Hmm. Did you slap me with your full force?” Kratos questioned, lightly bemused.
“I’m not answering that. There’s only so much humouring a guy can take in one night,” the redhead replied with a perfectly straight face.
“Would you think your mother would have liked that?” The Seraph continued, looking ever so slightly curious.
“You’re getting annoying, yanno?” Zelos scoffed after a short pause, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Hey, that scar I gave you a coupla weeks back is gone,” he casually stated, idly tracing down a finger on the older man’s ribs.
Kratos passively watched the finger snake down his abdomen. “You got lucky; a hit that weak wasn’t supposed to cause a gash that long. It was barely deep enough to draw blood; you can’t expect it to be still here even without healing magic.”
“Yeah? Let’s try something else this time around. Maybe then you’ll trash-talk me less when there’s no one around,” the redhead said, pursing his lips as he took a brief glance around.
“Trash talking? Me?” And somehow, that made Zelos wonder for a split second if Kratos ever dared play innocent in front of Yggdrasil.
“I’ve never really liked the meditation lessons you more or less shoved down my throat. Of course, now, about over half a decade later, I learn just why it would be useful,” the redhead continued, finally deciding to ignore the subject of insolence for now. It didn’t take much to see that he had an idea, either, judging by how his expression was lighting up and how his fingers picked at the buttons of the Seraph’s doublet.
“Remember that time you threatened to burn off my shirt without touching my skin?” He smiled sweetly as he leaned closer, and before long any buttons that Kratos’ shirt might sport were undone. Laying one satisfied glance at the not unfamiliar and naked torso, he rested one hand on his ex-mentor’s stomach as the other made its way to the night table.
“…”
“I’ve been practising. Watch,” he murmured as he raised his head and bought forth the candle between them, the small blaze getting increasingly bigger as it came closer.
Kratos merely cocked an eyebrow, though that only made him look a tiny bit less passive than he’s been ever since the beginning of the evening. It did, however, become much more clear when he felt the redhead gather heated mana in small quantities, his eyes stoned in concentration as he tipped the candle forward and allowed a lone drop of wax fall, a mere few inches above his exposed torso.
It did not solidify upon contact. The substance landed near his heart before sliding down with unnatural smoothness, leaving a pale trail of red in its wake, all the while remaining in a state liquid enough to continuously run down until it reached the bed sheets.
If Kratos reacted, Zelos didn’t see for there was no sound. He only blinked lazily, watching the light change of pace on how the older man’s chest raised and fell.
“…N-not bad,” the Seraph finally muttered, meeting the other’s eyes with a strange glance.
“’Not bad’? I think a fancier term would do it better justice, don’t you? How about revolutionary? Or maybe invigorating?” Zelos grinned, candle still wavering dubiously in his hand. “I don’t expect you to call me a genius no matter how much of one I’d turn out to be, but you COULD at least cut the compliment quota when I perform this well.”
“Hn-mm,” the older man responded, briefly closing his eyes in a similar matter that the Chosen himself would, faced with old men giving out boring lectures.
“What’s wrong? Chosen got your tongue?” The redhead coyly pressed on.
“… Ugh. I could ask you the same question. What has been getting you stressed lately?” Kratos replied, looking up with that gaze that’s gotten the Chosen speechless on many, previous occasions.
“…Excuse me?” Zelos frowned, managing to not lose his cool all at once at the sudden turn the conversation took.
“You’re performing very poorly tonight for a usually slick liar. Any particularly agonizing thoughts you’d like to disclose?” Kratos kept on, as if nothing too outstanding had happened.
“That’s none of your business,” the redhead retorted, lightly tipping the candle once again, this time in warning.
Kratos’ deadpan stare did not waver. “It often ends up being it. Lord Yggdrasil also places me under the charge of keeping an eye on his lackeys, excluding the Seraphim.”
Zelos remained silent. He probably really SHOULD let some more of that wax roll freely, but one of his failing had always been morbid curiosity.
“Is it the weather?” The older man sardonically began.
He was rewarded with a narrow-eyed glare.
“The past?”
“Stop trying to fuck with my head; we’ve gotten over that one ages ago,” Zelos gave out a loud snort, amazed at himself that he actually relaxed at that.
“Childhood trauma can still haunt people,” Kratos replied evenly.
Zelos merely rolled his eyes.
“Very well. Is it us, then?”
“And you have the nerve to ask?” The redhead scowled, now looking down at him in faked amazement. “Haven’t you sensed any of my ultra mana waves of righteous fury when some mindless lady we randomly meet on this journey starts spewing your name? Of COURSE everything is you guys’ fault. If Mithos would die we’d all be happy; I must be a GENIUS to have figured that one out myself.”
“Happy?” Kratos looked up in light amusement, the ever-so-threatening candle all but forgotten.
“Have a shitload off our shoulders. Is that better?” The redhead sighed in heavy sarcasm, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again.
“Very unlikely of you to be so optimistic,” Kratos leisurely pointed out.
“Very unlikely of you to for once NOT be snobbish. Shouldn’t you be licking his boot these days instead of risking your neck in a shabby motel slash whore house?” Zelos snorted as he casually toyed with the candle, letting some melted wax run down the stick before raising it at the last moment.
“He doesn’t wear boots. Besides, you called,” the Seraph blinked. “Would you seriously like for me to comment on your latest statement?” He added, after a short pause.
Zelos got a low but utterly satisfying hiss out of his ex-mentor as he suddenly allowed a stream of molten wax to fall – only this time they probably rolled down even slicker than water normally would. He then replaced the candle back on the nightstand, before reaching out for the Seraph’s tied wrists.
“I’ll ask this nicely. Will you please cut the bullshit before I get more creative and go test out that shiny and sharp object tucked in your sleeve?” He finally said, peering at the man beneath him with slit-like eyes.
For a few seconds, only the soft hush of the wind hurling itself against the window can be heard.
“…Heh,” Kratos finally spoke again, closing his eyes before letting his head drop back and lean onto the headboard.
“What’s so funny?” Zelos replied, all amusement gone from his voice.
“Would you actually have the guts to do this?” The older man challenged, shifting lightly in a lazy attempt to shrug off the now solid wax. The burns were still quite sore, but they weren’t exactly huge inconveniences.
“Why would I need to kill you while I could practise my calligraphy?” The redhead snorted, bending over to undo the buttons at the man’s wrist.
“I don’t recall you excelling in wooden carvings,” Kratos replied, somewhat amused.
“I’ve never had any remarkable tutor when it came to arts. This has nothing do to with it,” Zelos scoffed, for the umpteenth time that evening.
Zelos paused as Kratos briefly glanced upwards, and the redhead thanked the goddess he did not believe in that the man didn’t ‘apologize’ for his lacking in teaching the aesthetic. Or made a comment that might very well generate a(nother) quarrel on just what the word ‘remarkable’ meant, for that matter.
“It’ll be quite messy,” he simply commented instead.
Zelos snorted. He’ll thank sensei for staying quiet once they’re both dead. “The maids can clean it up. They get that all the time here,” he explained, now fiddling with the hidden hilt of the small blade.
“What about you? It might stain your shirt. Or well, your pants,” Kratos rectified, before Zelos could retort with a witty reply (‘my shirt is black’).
“I’ll just be careful,” the redhead frowned, totally having noticed what he just did there. “…Would you like for me to take them off?” He added, a light and sardonic grin on his lips.
“That’s up to you,” Kratos replied, just like a douche would. Zelos opted to ignore that. For now.
“Speaking of clothing, why ARE you dressed properly, for once? What’s the big occasion?” The redhead continued, carefully pulling the stiletto out before finally leaning back. He curiously twirled the sword around, noting down the details as he observed it under what little light they’ve got.
“I had other errands to run. Don’t pay much heed,” Kratos answered, more or less aware of the fact that he might as well had been fishing, with a lure of that size.
“Now you’re just asking for it. What is it?” Zelos pressed.
“You’ll find out. Eventually,” Kratos answered, now directing his glance sideways. He looked bored.
“Yeah? I’ll die eventually, too,” the redhead retorted.
Kratos sighed. “I’m gathering materials for an art project. It’ll most likely be more complex than yours, though,” he replied with heavy sarcasm.
“Fascinating. I can’t wait to see the end result,” the Chosen replied, in the same flat tone.
“You might be required to participate,” the Seraph added, wondering how annoyed Zelos would be by now, of all his afterthought statements.
“I can’t wait,” the redhead muttered as he pressed the edge of the blade against his own finger, testing out it sharpness.
“Is it Lloyd?”
Zelos flinched, and would have cut himself had he been less dextrous. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asked, his voice louder than usual.
Kratos didn’t need to ask to see that he struck a nerve. Zelos’ responding expression only reinforced it, being one of disgust with himself for having been so easily caught.
“This is what I’ve been asking you all along, is it not? What’s on your mind?” He mildly pressed – this is where real business began.
Zelos frowned. Asshole. Did he put up all that precious show on purpose, just to catch him off-guard?
“Why the hell would it be that idiot?” He shot back, feeling his grip tighten on the hilt of the sword.
“Because he is everything you would aspire but never dare to be?” Kratos countered. It was very nice of him to have actually made it a question; a statement probably would have killed. “Or perhaps Colette?”
“I take pride in my vocabulary and the fact that I’ve yet to trip on thin air, thank you very much,” Zelos spat, now fully back on guard.
“They are willing to do everything to protect the ones they love AND restore the world back to its former self,” the Seraph explained, feeling slightly odd for repeating things that should be uttered by a pastor to a small child.
“And what part of all that crap is my problem?! I can’t believe you of all people are letting them do this,” Zelos snarled. “Colette? I’d understand. But Lloyd? Yggdrasil has the Eternal Sword. He could crush them at any moment. I’m just a spectator that passes on all the information,” he went on, hating the fact that he was so cornered into the defense.
“Why don’t you just say ‘spy’ or ‘traitor’? It sounds so much simpler,” the Seraph corrected, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, I would NEVER DREAM of stealing YOUR title,” Zelos retorted with a nasty snort. “You’re a fool to think they can win,” he said, ignoring the odd feeling, for once, of sounding like the voice of reason.
“If that makes me a fool, then what are you? Hopeless romantic? Dreamer of Despair?” Kratos countered as he intensified the grip in his gaze.
It was the only warning Zelos got.
“Or maybe, would that make you a hypocrite? Do you really think that they are all pitching their lives away for nothing? Would you have me believe that you never, for a split instant, believed in their vision and caught a glimpse of the future devoid of Cruxis, and by extension the Chosen system? Would you honestly have yourself believe that you wouldn’t like to take a shot, ONE shot, at a project that might truly return you the freedom you so desire?” The Seraph went on, low and lethal, and Zelos would have sworn his eyes were glowing a crimson red.
“W-what are you…” He stuttered, trying to look away and yet unable to. “This makes no-”
“Doubtful, Chosen? After all this time? You were so full of yourself when you were first approached and asked to stand watch over the travelers from Sylvarant. Are you actually changing your mind?” Kratos relentlessly pursued, thought perhaps he should give the child some room.
Zelos was quick to jump onto the one opening he was given. “Don’t confuse me with yourself,” he replied, giving his all to stabilize his voice and expression. “I don’t have some sappy long-lost relative that’s out there on the stage, trying to save the world by acting like a clown. Neither do I have any particularly attachment to this rotting world with its corruption and stagnation. Just what makes you think I’d care if it-”
And he was just getting back his self-confidence, too.
“What of your sister?”
“…!”
Damn him DAMN HIM.
“If you let it go now you’ll never know what it’s like to be free in Meltokio. Free in the world. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” Kratos continued, and as much as Zelos knew it to be a venom-coated coax, he still couldn’t stop himself from slipping. Couldn’t stop himself from falling, from ever-so-slightly believing.
“Fuck off. And exactly what made you so idealistic all of a sudden?” He lashed out, raising the dagger. “Weren’t YOU suicidal just not so long ago? Who are YOU to talk?!” he gritted his teeth and replied, mustering every single last ounce of self-control as he tried to prevent himself from losing his grip, crossing the one thin line between reality and imagination. By then, he clutched the hilt so tightly that he could feel his nails digging into his own palm.
“Times change, people change, and people change people,” the Seraph calmly continued, not even bothering to waste a glance at the poised weapon. “Nihilist as you’ve grown up to be, do you think that you can, and would like to, keep your current lifestyle? Do you think that you can truly remain neutral and stick by this supposed logic that is steadily losing grounds, in lights of recent events?”
“Then what the HELL am I supposed to do?!” Zelos spat back in a strange tone, feeling like a lost kid all over again. That just happened way too often when he was around.
“Do what you think should be done. I won’t ask you to believe in them, not on my behalf, not on theirs. Do what you think would be good for you, what would be beneficial to your own causes.“
Zelos tried to laugh. It came out weak and bitter. “Are you asking me to be selfish?”
“What else should I ask, to Tethe’Alla’s Narcissist? Would you prefer for me to take advantage of your current state and make you close another deal in which you will serve, once again, as nothing more but a mere instrument, a disposable tool in a grander design in which you would otherwise have no part of?”
Every single word fell onto his ears and his mind, dropping like bricks into his very conscience. These are all things that he knew, but hated to be reminded of.
“Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to escape ever since you became fully conscious of just who you are? Or rather, who you are supposed to be? You aren’t one to change under normal circumstances, but you can’t be fooling any of us in stating that the recent events left you indifferent.”
“Be quiet. Just…”
The redhead briefly closed his eyes and heavily sighed before leaning backward, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position on the older man’s lap.
The Seraph’s gaze was strangely luminous when he opened them again. Zelos would have liked to believe that it was a trap, but the state of utter inner calm he had reached after conversing with these eyes was a past experience that he actually liked.
“… “You act like there’s nothing wrong even when there is.” Ever heard that one?” Zelos murmured, his voice barely audible.
Kratos lightly frowned. He seemed to have calmed down, but chances are something he learned long ago to not take with the Chosen of Tethe’Alla. And that line… He did recall saying something of the sort many times before to Zelos in the past, but what’s its current relevance?
“…Lloyd said that to me this morning,” Zelos continued, gazing back with eyes as clear and calm as the lake water in Heimdall.
“…!”
“Heh. As much as you two are on the completely opposite sides of the scale, I guess that you guys do have more things in common than any of you would have thought,” Zelos quietly smirked, his hands pressed against the mattress on both sides in casual support.
Kratos chose to remain quiet. Besides, Zelos wasn’t done.
“It’s a bloody damn good thing that he says all those things by accident; he never notices the change in anyone’s behaviour when something significant comes out of his mouth,” Zelos continued with a light, almost dreamlike smile. “You, however, are nowhere near as forgiving.”
Kratos blinked.
“You know what you’re saying, know exactly when your words will create an opening, and just precisely what to do to make others cave in the moment the barrier’s been breached. Clever bastard. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother,” Zelos chuckled, honestly amused.
Kratos sighed. “You can’t pretend to not be difficult to work with,” he conceded.
“I know. That’s where all the fun lies, now isn’t it?” He replied, getting on his knees as he picked up the stiletto that he left on the side of the bed. The steel blade easily tore through the leather bonds, and within seconds, they lost their hold onto the Seraph’s hands.
The older man lowered his arms and glanced at his wrists. The red marks were quite evident, and they did feel somewhat sore; nothing that wouldn’t be gone by tomorrow, though.
“Does it hurt?” Zelos asked, putting the knife on the night desk as he curiously leaned in closer.
“Not really. Unlike you to be concerned, though,” Kratos replied, raising an eyebrow.
“You had to put up with me going psycho a few coupla times now; I figured it was the least I could do?” Zelos replied, taking hold of his ex-mentor’s left wrist as he gently ran his fingers over the imprints.
Kratos offered no resistance. He simply dropped his right arm to his side and leaned backwards. “I suppose. Though it is… sad, that we keep this going when we are perfectly aware of the fact that it will happen again,” he commented, looking ridiculously contemplative.
“Patience, Temperance and Charity have their sins? By charity I mean of your time and energy,” Zelos suggested lightly.
“Are you proposing that Envy, Wrath, Vanity and Lust are virtues?” Kratos replied.
“Pssht. Stop twisting things around, that’s my job. And what’s it to do with Lust and Vanity?” The redhead asked, frowning openly.
“They define you too, do they not?” Kratos countered, bemused.
Zelos gave him a lazy glare. Here they go again.
“Oh, and by the way, you owe me a new belt,” the old(er) man added as he took a dejected glance at his fingernails.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Kratos probably would have said some bullshit that Zelos would more than gladly further hate him for, but this time, the Chosen wasn’t going to give him a chance. He quickly straightened himself, tilting his head downward as he effectively muted the older man with a kiss.
Breaking away would be instinctive, but for this once, the Seraph opted to simply go along and humour the younger boy. After all, they’ve both been through enough crap for the past few days. He did, however, made a point to moderate, and gently pulled away as the redhead’s tongue persistently poked at his teeth, reminding him once more of a demanding child.
Zelos cracked open his eye as he treated the older man with his best, and most likely not unfamiliar, mock pout. “That was quick,” he frowned, draping one arm over Kratos’ shoulder as the other now rested on his lap.
“Ah, you will have to forgive me,” he countered with mock regret. “I am aware of your nocturnal practises as being your usual way of relieving stress, but I must point out that doing it with someone whom you wanted to kill mere moments ago most likely would not be a wise decision.”
“People change, or isn’t that what my sensei told me himself moments ago?” Zelos retorted, leaning into the other man’s neck. “Besides, weren’t you the one promoting me to make my own decisions regardless of the odds?” He murmured, now nuzzling at Kratos’ collarbone. The fact that his shirt was already open only made it that much easier.
The Seraph squeezed the younger man’s shoulder as he lightly attempted to push the redhead away. “Leave it to you to twist words around, indeed… You shouldn’t do things you have good odds of regretting later on. Kindly remove yourself before I do it myself,” he frowned. The redhead’s tactics were all but too legendary, and prior experience or not, it still didn’t take four thousand years of experience to see that it would probably be in his best interest to terminate this as soon as possible.
“Don’t be a prick; you’re in no way too old for this. Or would you like for me to give you a refresher course on just how honed are the Chosen’s skills of persuasion?” Zelos breathed. “I seriously don’t care right now on how much you kick my ass at everything else, but you should know better than to leave your chest exposed within my reach,” he smirked, sliding one hand under the white fabric on Kratos’ shoulder, tugging it off as the other now groped experimentally at his torso.
A hand firming enclosed on his wrist, squeezing almost hard enough to hurt. Zelos looked up to meet a discouraging glare that a kindergarten teacher might give to a faulty kid, which only served to spur him further. “Zelos, this isn’t a game. You know you will regret this later,” Kratos snarled, his other hand now firmly placed under the younger man’s chin as he tugged his head upward, forcing him to meet his stone-cold gaze.
Zelos closed his eyes, removing his hands and allowing the other man to let go before he got up to a more proper distance. He also took note of how the Seraph actually bothered to not jerk him too suddenly to avoid possible harm.
“…Heh. Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. Does the idea disturb you that much? I don’t recall you that much of a prude,” he answered, slipping into his serene self that only a few knew of its actual existence.
It automatically got Kratos back on guard.
“…5 years ago. You’re referring to back then, aren’t you?” The redhead closed his eyes and allowed a soft smile to grace his lips. “It left a bad taste in my mouth, I’ll give you that much,” he conceded, and for the first time a potential innuendo was left unexploited. “But the circumstances weren’t exactly the same either, were they?”
“You were a mere child. Barely legal. And yet you insisted in ways I would’ve never th-”
“Shhh,” Zelos whispered as he placed one finger on the older man’s lips. “You know we both hate excuses despite the fact that we make them all the time,” he smiled.
Kratos shook his head and let out a low grunt in acknowledgment.
“So you don’t have to make any now. Still, I suppose I’ll say this: if you really despise the idea, you’re free to go,” he continued, his voice clear and soft.
That somehow immediately caused Kratos to scowl. A Zelos that was no longer demanding? Did he actually miss something?
“Haha~ You’re cute like that, sensei~” the redhead quietly laughed, and Kratos had to admit that when they are not strained at forced, the boy’s laughter was a beautiful sound.
“And once again you manage to fulfill your bargain that I was certain you cannot. I can go back to hitting on all the girls in both worlds tomorrow, and maybe even Lloyd to piss you off,” he gave Kratos a teasing glance, and got rewarded with a stare lightly tainted by annoyance. “I can bitch behind your back tomorrow too, once I get back to the mood, and I suppose I most definitively will be quite pissed and angry the next time I have to file you a report,” he confessed, and by then Kratos was certain that if anyone from the Meltkio Church saw him now, they would label him as nothing less of an Angel.
He still, however, waited.
“But after I see you in private, you WILL leave me perfectly serene and calm. This is why no matter how much I’ll tear myself up later, knowing that I’ve slept again with a man I should despise, I’d go on. And by the way, you should know that some of your philosophical preaches and life lessons do stay with me, even though you have this annoying habit of being unable to apply your own teaching on yourself,” he finished, positively glowing in the dimming darkness, for the one remaining candle was starting to burn out.
For the first time in quite a while, Kratos inwardly groaned. Since when did Zelos of all people became so eloquent? If anything, he would be the LAST person Kratos would expect to successfully send him on a guilt trip with actual words…
And only when these thoughts crossed his mind did he realize that the Chosen of Tethe’Alla had influenced him as well, and far more than he would have first expected possible.
“I’m not your drug, Zelos. This isn’t going to solve your problem in the long run,” he replied in a voice far too soft. He allowed himself to slide down a bit on the bed as he reached out, carefully brushing his pupil’s cheek with one hand.
The redhead closed his eyes and raised his own, taking his mentor’s as he pressed it harder against his own cheek. “I know. But that’s what a one-night stand is supposed to be… You live the moment and forget about it all tomorrow.”
The calloused fingers slid down to cup his chin before gently pulling him forward, and Zelos had to snap his eyes open in light surprise as Kratos placed a light kiss on his forehead. He did, however, breathe in audibly as he felt a hand snake under his shirt, and sighed quietly as it began to rub his back.
“Stop treating me like a child,” he mumbled into the older man’s neck, earning a low chuckle from the other.
“You’ll have to extensively explain to me all of your strange kinks one of these days,” Kratos jokingly murmured in his ear as he pulled Zelos up, his left hand now sliding into the redhead’s red curls and gently massaging his scalp. The younger man didn’t respond, or rather, couldn’t, currently far too busy trying to stifle a moan as the Seraph gently nibbled his earlobe, his other hand busy in scraping his fingernails down his spine.
“Hnn…” his throat leaked – he could berate himself for it some other time. For now, some parts of him were definitely awakening, after having been denied of activity for the past few weeks. Admittedly Zelos didn’t exactly get to work it off much with anyone beside himself, with all the jumping around they did in Tethe’Alla and all the exhausting pacts they forged.
“Y’know… there’s always been this issue with you…” He grumbled, allowing the other to trail soft kisses down his jaw as he slid both hands between Kratos’ shoulders and the cotton fabric of his shirt.
“You always started things off much too slow,” Zelos finished on a surprisingly sharp note, pinning down the hem of the shirt’s collar with his thumbs before deftly felling it in one quick swoop.
Kratos barely had the chance to blink before Zelos firmly pulled away, only to then sink his teeth down into the other’s neck, fervently biting, sucking and licking every inch of the fully exposed skin. His hands, in the meanwhile, made quick work of whatever button or zipper that was left to hold the Seraph’s pants in one piece.
The quick and painful jab he felt on his back and the loud snarl, tinted with surprise, made an oddly satisfying mix. It was also good to note that the older man was complying enough to get his ass off the bed so that Zelos could tear his pants off. He did, however, raise his arms and let go of his hold for a second when Kratos gave a powerful jerk upward to his shirt, and gasped harshly when his nipples were mercilessly pinched just as the temperature of the room suddenly dropped a few good degrees.
“Tired of playing the heater?” He taunted between gasps, tilting his head backward as he was given a good, hard squeeze down on his privates – the pants were definitely becoming a serious nuisance.
“As much as you are of playing nice,” Kratos growled – he had no idea how ridiculously enticing that low baritone of his sounded, with the right mix of irritation, challenge, warning and heck yes – even that venomous hint of contempt that Zelos despised so much usually.
The redhead would have clawed at his own belt if Kratos hadn’t beat him to it, and he was more than happy to kick them off and finish the job in the older man’s stead once they fell to his knee level. He also would have dove straight for a nipple had a steely grip not pulled him up to meet the Seraph – no, his Seraph, if not just for this one night –, and somehow neither were particularly surprised to see the predatory desire for dominance and need, shadowed by the lightest hint of conscience, mirrored in their eyes.
“Promise me ONE thing,” Zelos breathed, low and deadly, an imitation pretty damn close to his mentor’s tone a few years back, and Kratos only used that tone once when he pitilessly scolded him on a particularly fatal accident that resulted from his own lack of care.
The gravity of the usually laid-back sky blue was a definite first. Attempting to regain his breath, the Seraph returned the strangely ice-clear gaze as he fought back to control his own flaring mana.
“Don’t hesitate when the time comes. I know you will, and that’s why I’m saying this now. THIS is what a one-night stand is supposed to be, so don’t you dare hold back for me if you ever held anything remotely resembling respect for me,” Zelos whispered, the remaining flame of the small candle dancing in his eyes, the supposedly chilly feel of the room utterly lost on him.
“…You know more than you let on,” Kratos replied evenly.
“I learn,” Zelos’ eyes momentarily cleared, shining with every virtue he never displayed in public.
At that point it was useless to question his will.
“Very well.”
A sudden gust of wind blew the flame out and pulled the curtains close as both exchanged one final glance of acknowledgement, taking the briefest of moment in the utter darkness to seal off their silent deal. All reason and common sense were cast aside when that time passed, and both let themselves loose back into their previous confront, their mana flailing wildly, lashing out at the other’s as they locked eyes, bathed in renewed tension.
The glance only lasted for a split second – it might as well have been an eternity – before they trapped each other in an ardent kiss, and at that moment it didn’t matter who physically topped, for the chances of seizing power in that particular contest were equal. Tongues licked sensuously enough to feel the other shudder, and teeth bit down hard enough to draw blood, though it only served to further the onslaught of sensations as hands strayed over ever inch of skin available and finger hunted down every possibly sensitive spot. The notion to not make any noise to prevent embarrassment was completely lost as both shamelessly groaned into the other’s throat, hopelessly lost in lustful violence.
None could deny being utterly breathless when they finally pulled apart.
“You’ve… grown violent,” Kratos remarked with narrowed eyes as he pondered over the taste of their mixed blood. Zelos had to reply with a modest smirk as both ignored the ghostly white trails left in the air by their laboured huffs.
“Can’t… do stuff like… that to chicks,” he groaned, earning himself a derogatory stare form the other. All chances of Kratos being seriously disapproving, however, vanished when he was drawn close, and the redhead allowed himself the leisure of letting out an obscenely loud groan as a hand snuck into his boxers, fondling his balls with unrestrained force while making sure to not touch his hardness as a slick and moist tongue toyed with his nipple.
“A-ah… you b-bastard…” he hissed, ignoring the abrupt weakness that permeated into his knees – he still needed the leverage, and was desperate for more contact. The redhead arched his body against the older man’s steely frame, rolling back his eyes as one hand snaked into Kratos’ hair and the other clawed at the man’s back.
“You sound so depraved,” the Seraph mockingly snorted against his ribcage, mercilessly sucking on the hard nub as he shed the redhead’s boxers without losing contact.
“Y-you’re talking ‘bout- hnngh… yourself,” he moaned, tugging at the strands of auburn hard enough to hurt as Kratos ran one teasing finger down his throbbing erection, the other one now busy kneading his naked rear.
“Oh?” He smirked, giving the younger man’s rod a light squeeze as he watched the redhead squirm and shudder with blatant amusement.
Tired of getting so completely owned, the redhead violently hauled himself away before roughly grinding down his hips on the other’s, his hands having already pulled off the older man’s boxers. He was rewarded with a choked inhale, followed by a shamelessly unsavory but oh-so-provocatively drawn-out grunt.
Biting down onto his Seraph’s lower lip before caging him into another savage lip lock, the redhead brashly pinned his sweat-dampened torso onto Kratos’, both hands roughly stroking their quavering arousals as he dismissed the solid grip attached to his curls. It was much harder, however, to blot out their exceedingly lewd and throaty groans of pleasure, muddled between a demand for more and actual gratification.
He was forced to let go when Kratos abruptly seized him by the wrist, and only when he felt the other’s sweaty palm wipe his own hand clean did he realize how coated his own were of precum. Jerking his head away from a particularly vicious bite on his tongue, he was about to extensively complain when a calloused finger was shoved, surprisingly less rough than he would have expected, into his mouth.
Kratos gritted his teeth as the redhead proceeded to mercilessly bite on his middle finger, though the sudden changes from sensuous licks to harsh gnaws were pretty much what he would have expected. Just… maybe with less fervor, that would have been appreciated.
Zelos was just getting done with his index when he pulled away, the digits now soaked with an additional mix of saliva. Flushed and panting, he looked up to meet a strangely stern gaze clouded with lust, and he would have mocked the older man for it were he in any better position to think straight.
The message, however, was still clear. It was the final call of confirmation.
“If y-…you remember… anything I said,” he snarled between heavy gasps, and neither could hide a twitch when Zelos shifted his hips.
Ugh, now of all times… How hard did he have to insist, if not scream, to get one message through?!
His worries, however, revealed to be far unnecessary as he felt something wet slide down the bottom part of his spine and into the crack between his butt cheeks. He jerked up to his knees in surprise, letting loose a startled cry as it proceeded to teasingly circle his entrance, once, before worming its way in.
Zelos found himself sharply gripping onto Kratos’ shoulders for support. He flung his head backward, sending a cascade of crimson draping over the other man’s knees and letting out a purely lust-driven cry as the finger twitched – or rather, twisted, turned and curled inside of him, and for a moment his knees nearly gave out on him.
It was impossible to remain indifferent to such a gaudy display, and Kratos did not hesitate to lean forward and mildly bite down into the younger man’s offering neck as he rubbed both their arousals with his free hand. Carefully, he inserted another digit, thoroughly amused to feel the wildly contracting muscles of the youth’s flaring hot canal twitch ardently against the lightest brush of his fingers. He patiently slid in deeper, making sure to not miss any spot as he mapped out the redhead’s insides, parting his fingers increasingly wider as he drove the boy progressively crazier with the unpredictable changes between feather-light touches and rapid, hard rubs.
By then Zelos didn’t even try to be coherent, deeming that his whimpers, moans, cries and whines were probably enough to get the message through. It didn’t help that tender lips and a highly skilled tongue were now catering his ear, gliding sensually down his jaw line and dipping into the moist and overly-sensitive curve of his neck before stopping at the Exsphere, attached between his collarbone. By then, even nips that normally should hurt only heightened the onslaught of sensations.
He had to stifle himself from screaming out too loud when the teasing fingers roughly pushed up against his prostrate. The redhead instinctively latched out one hand behind, tightly snatching onto the older man’s wrist as his whole body shuddered violently from the contact. Mustering any last ounce of self-control he had left, he tried – and failed – to detach himself from the hand.
“Too much?” Kratos playfully murmured against his neck, strategically curling his digits as Zelos was forced to buck up and loudly moan out, writhing uncontrollably as he tried his best to resist the urge of riding the damned fingers.
Zelos didn’t bother to answer; he just knew that this couldn’t go on. In an instant of miraculous strength and will, the redhead managed to successfully haul himself away. He was panting heavily when he roughly shoved Kratos back against the headboard, giving himself less of a split second to aim before bringing his rear down onto the Seraph’s girth.
Kratos shut his eyes and sucked breath in through clenched teeth in surprise, the reason far from having just received a considerable concussion on the back of his head. A cry of shocked pain, however, snapped him out of his absent-minded awing over how insanely hot and tight the younger boy was; the redhead most likely wasn’t prepared for such a swift and unexpected stretch.
The older man quietly swore as the redhead whimpered into his neck and clung onto his shoulders like his very life depended on it – it wouldn’t surprise Kratos the least bit if they now bled.
“Can you… move?” He asked, a cross between a groan and a whisper, repressing the urge to thrust up into the remarkably narrow heat.
Eyes shut, Zelos shook his head and bit down on his lip to quieten his own cries.
Sighing, the older man gently picked the younger man up as he placed a hand on his back. He silently murmured a healing spell and slowly leaned over, keeping the redhead straddled to himself as he got to his knees and carefully dropped Zelos onto the other side of the bed.
Only when his head landed onto the soft mattress with a light ‘thud’ did the redhead open his eyes, realizing that the pain was gone. He was given a mere instant to dwell on that before his whole being brusquely arched upwards, his body succumbing to the sudden, overwhelming surge of pleasure a split second before his mind caught on.
Bucking up his hip as he trashed his head sideways against the bed, a muffled moan escaped his throat as Zelos clung his legs against Kratos’ back and curled his toes.
Desperately clinging onto the last few strands of his conscience, the older man slowly pulled out, eliciting a long, guttural groan that would have drove him mad were his resistance any less strong. Working quickly before it let him completely, he unlatched the redhead’s legs around his waist and hustled the shaking limbs over his shoulders, pressing his upper arms against Zelos’ thighs and gradually pushing back in before setting up a rhythm. It proved to be insanely difficult to moderate his speed.
The Chosen wasted no time to clamp his legs over the older man’s neck, but he barely had time to try catching his breath before it was taken away by a kiss. Digging deeper marks into Kratos’ shoulders as he was impaled again, the redhead abandoned any remaining will to control his vocal cords as he abruptly clenched his inner muscles against every single stroke, joining in the Seraph’s low groans with his own choked and heated moans.
“…H-har…der…”, he all but pleaded when his lips were finally freed, rocking his hips against the increasingly powerful thrusts. He cried out in inordinate pleasure and as Kratos shifted his angle and struck his hidden spot, fully swept away by the blazing passion of the moment as he allowed sheer, carnal gratification spread through his veins like fiery venom.
It was with a muted scream that Zelos rode out his orgasm, with the Seraph’s name echoing hard in every inch of his skull. He tried to finally let go the older man’s shoulders, though his fingers were damp from something that was too musky to be only sweat. It was, however, probably still nothing compared to the white liquid that now covered both their torsos.
After a few more thrusts that still managed to make Zelos loudly whimper, Kratos came with a growl that was absolutely feral before slumping over his elbow, dropping his forehead above the redhead’s shoulder and onto the bed as he let out an airless gasp.
They stayed still, breathing hard for a good minute before Kratos finally rolled off of him and pulled out, and Zelos made a mental note to slap himself as he squirmed from the feeling of something thick leaking down his thighs, resisting the unexplainable urge to scoop some up and taste it for himself.
Far too exhausted to speak, the younger man simply looked up as Kratos sat up and grabbed that fancy shirt of his from the floor. He then used it to wiped his chest clean before tossing it to Zelos.
The redhead chuckled; he didn’t need to say anything to get the message through. His Seraph answered with a mock-annoyed glare, now working on to pull out the heavy, cotton-based covers under Zelos without moving the younger man too much as the redhead cleaned himself.
“You’re being awfully nice,” Zelos faintly murmured as Kratos tossed the heavy sheet onto his naked body. He was starting to feel cold, now that they were done with all the stuff that could get one’s blood boiling.
“You’re not going to remember this no matter how hard you’ll try,” the Seraph replied, not unkindly as he picked up his pants.
“…True. But if that’s the case, would it kill you to stay?” He closed his eyes as he weakly latched his hand onto the older man’s wrist.
“…You’re insanely unstable once you’ve crashed, you know that?” Kratos blurted out with a frown.
“Yeah, but you’re the one who made it happen the first place,” Zelos countered with a smile.
He heard the older man snort, but the additional warmth was still more than welcome, and Zelos barely had the time to curl himself up into a ball in the older man’s arms before losing himself into the peaceful oblivion of a dreamless slumber.
…
He was definitely going to hate himself for this the second morning.
Kratos Aurion heavily sighed as he walked away from the Olive Village. Why did Zelos insist on doing these things? Why did they talk in Meltokio? Why did he spar him in Garroachia? And why, in Martel’s sweet and most likely false name, did he just fuck him again?!
…Actually, that was the problem. Exactly why did he give in every single time when he could have simply walked away to let the redhead fume by himself? It’s not exactly as if he had anything to gain…
But perhaps that was the very reason: neither did he have had anything to lose, too. And besides…
Maybe he did feel bad for partially screwing up the kid’s non-existent childhood, even if all he did was give a few pointers and teach him how to wave a sword.
…
Zelos was right. It really WAS annoying on how he wasn’t able to exert to his own life the very values and norms he taught to others with uncanny ease.
Zelos Wilder awoke with a start, jumping out of his covers only to find himself in the bedroom that he was supposed to have slept in last night but did not.
The sudden chill, however, sent him recoiling back, which is when he noticed himself to be stark naked, even though his clothes revealed themselves to be nicely folded under the covers he just woke up under.
Bringing his hand to his forehead as he ran his fingers through his messy hair, the redhead was then hit by a heart lurching headache as he recalled, more or less vaguely, just what happened last night.
Well, fuck.
Figuring that his headache will only worsen if he thought about it any more, Zelos sat back up, making sure to be under the covers this time as he got dressed before getting out of bed for good.
Whistling to himself, he retrieved his comb from his bag and began to work on his hair in front of the dresser’s mirror when he noticed something on the tip of his fingers. Frowning, he sat back down onto the bed as he stretched out his palm, curling his fingers into a fist as the redhead threw a detached glance at the burgundy stains under his nails.
Dried blood, huh…
Tilting his head with a somewhat curious expression, Zelos bought his index to his lips and gently sucked the tip.
He briefly paused, as if the flavour was something to hesitate upon, before proceeding to do the same with his remaining fingers.
His blood…
Zelos still had his pinkie in his mouth when he finally snapped out of his strange daze. It was with a frown of disgust that he finally pulled his hand away and got up.
Serves the jackass right, he immaturely thought, as if an injury of that sort couldn’t be dealt with thanks to the simplest of healing spells. After all, scratches like these should be puny as hell, regardless of whether or not they actually drew blood (that’s just a bonus, though) – barely noticeable, it’ll probably completely disappear before you can say “First Aid” once out loud.
Well, at least HE was the inflictor. Some comfort that provided.
…Wait.
The redhead frowned.
Wasn’t there a faint line on his stomach? Zelos dismissed it back then because really, they were barely noticeable to start with, but he was sure to have seen a dark mark, not exactly a muscle curve, a bare few inches long, above his abdomen when they… well. Not to mention Kratos himself told him that the cut he managed to land was gone…
Did he actually KEEP them?!
The idea shocked him. He wasn’t even sure why. Surely Kratos had better war scars to show off other than the girly scratches one pathetic Chosen would make out of an accidental cut. Surely he would.
…
Wouldn’t he?
A sudden, loud knock on the door made him jump.
“ZELOS!”
The redhead cracked a sardonic smile. Enter his favourite pair of violent, talking tits.
“Hurry UP, will you?! We’re leaving in ten minutes TOPS, and let me tell you we’d have been long gone by now if it wasn’t for Colette and Lloyd!” Sheena yelled from behind the door – geez, someone must be going through their PMS.
Well, that wasn’t sure. But “pissed Sheena behind door”? Definitely something Zelos would bet Yggdrasil’s gay, shiny spandex on.
The door unexpectedly flew open in her face, revealing a narrow-eyed Chosen leaning against the doorframe in an otherwise would-be interesting position.
“Mornin’, violent but dreadfully sexy banshee~ Yanno, if you wanted me THAT badly – and don’t worry, NO one can EVER blame you for that – , you could have just came in; I’m quite free and disposed in the morning,” he lied, all shiny teeth and suggestive smiles as he masterfully ignored the throbbing soreness in his back. It surprisingly didn’t hurt that much, though.
The slap that followed would have shocked no one – it was just as good that he caught the door before it mercilessly made contact with his precious face.
“Sigh. Women in their PMS would be women in their PMS…” Zelos muttered to himself with a small smile of amusement. Hm, that slap DID hurt more than normal. Maybe it really WAS her PMS? Or maybe it was the weather?
Oh, the things he could pull under the pretext that they were cold. You’re a genius indeed, my man~
It was with sporting his trademark smile and an even cheerier attitude that he left the inn with the whole party, and Genis pretty much spoke for everyone when the brat irritably asked just why the heck was he so happy, all of a sudden. After all, everyone would agree that the Chosen was kinda quiet yesterday, if anyone actually bothered to say that out loud in the first place. Zelos, on his side, was just glad that for once he didn’t share a room with anyone, or else… Well, he was fairly confident that if it ever became necessary, he could come up with a believable and good excuse
The answer to the brat’s question, however, was simple – one-night stands are just that: one-night stands. You go crazy for the night, all nice and fluffy and warm and happy and shit, and shut everything away as if nothing’s ever happened the moment the second day rolls around.
Except that of course, something DID happen. Zelos probably knew, but if he did, it was something that he always chose to ignore.
Kratos was right again, like always. He was his drug; his alcohol. And like all alcohol, it was a temporary cure, of sort. Though of course in this case it didn’t make him forget…
It made him remember. It made him realize crap about himself that he would have preferred to ignore.
It also took away all anger, hatred and resentment whose various sources would otherwise know no bound. It took away the side of him that he would do every and anything to never show the world, and even if it would return to haunt him again later… At least it always wiped the slate clean, for now.
But like all alcohol, it was easy to develop an insidious addiction – wishing that Kratos would suddenly appear so he could vent every time life became unbearable (because really, sword duels, verbal bickering and sex all ultimately amount to the same damned thing) can’t be a healthy thing (alcohol probably wasn’t all that healthy either, if you really thought about it), yet the redhead couldn’t deny that it’s already happened before.
And yet again, like all alcohol… Finishing the entire bottle still gave him that despairingly inescapable headache in the morning – only that in this case, Zelos himself would sometime wonder if such things existed as a “hangover of the soul”.
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One-Night Stand