Something I just had to write as sort of a vent... hahAH. So this fic happens in the fire sanctuary as sort of an expansion of events and thoughts and all that stuff... It's drabble-ish and doesn't really make any sense but enjoy my nonsensical writes I guess?
Warnings: Ghirahim's sadistic thoughts and yaoi/slash stuff.
Forgive typos plz
He fought with infuriating skill, eyes burning with ferocity, blade drawn and poised to attack. The heat was everywhere, boiling, unforgiving, starving the chamber of precious oxygen, yet somehow it barely went noticed by the two so caught up in the heat of battle.
They rush forward, meeting once more. It was fast, violent, a savage struggle for ground over each other.
They break, circling each other along the stone floor, breathing heavy.
It's so fascinating, the demon thinks venomously, that he opposes me though he is going to fail...
His mouth throws taunt after taunt, but they mean nothing to the youth. His icy stare is ready and defiant, blond hair falling over his face in a complete disarray.
So foolish.
Blade seeking flesh, the demon lunges. The youth does not back down, warding off his blows. They are matched evenly, a fact that causes the demon to slip further into blinding frustration.
He summons a slew of daggers, but they are knocked to the floor easily, bouncing off the tile with several loud clatters. But it creates an opening and he moves fast, rapier creating a path through the air and burying into green fabric. The youth staggers, clutching his shoulder, expression that of pain.
Excitement ignited like a fire, he moves in for the kill. But he is repelled by a sudden hit from that sacred blade, and instead of pain, he sees the boy's sapphire eyes blazing with tenacity.
That courage… it was toxic. It intrigued as much as it angered him, driving his mental state to a dangerously unstable level. He was sickened by it; he did not understand it, why would the boy not give in? Did he not see he was being used by that little tart they called the goddess?
Why? Why could he not defeat this brat?
His vexation, he could feel it festering, peeling away the layers of his sanity with the ever persistent question of why?
Eventually, their exchange of blows led him to a position suited much to his liking, the youth cornered and trapped, expression hardened into one of vehement stubbornness. He did not move, the demon's blade pressing to his throat. His own sword hung at his side. They stood at a standstill, though one that could be ended with a mere movement of the lord's wrist…
But he doesn't kill him yet.
Instead he leans in, breath ghosting across his cheek as his mouth moved to his ear. He inhales the scent of the other deeply, a fog settling over his mind.
So enthralling this child of man was… He wanted to know what made him tick, and what would make him break.
The demon's free hand slides up the youth's chest, stopping over his heart. He felt it incessantly pounding against his palm, the hero frozen in apparent fear.
It pleases him. Greatly. White gloved fingers clench in the forest coloured tunic.
He wanted to tear him apart, hear him scream and cry and beg for his miserable excuse of a life to be spared. He wanted to encircle his hands around his throat and choke the air from his lungs, watching that annoying flame of courage die in his eyes. Oh, how positively beautiful the youth would look drenched in his own blood…
But, even still…
His ivory lips part as he draws his tongue over the flesh of the human's neck, feeling his breathing hitch. A low moan arises in the demon's throat, his taste stirring something deep within him.
A more primal desire spoke up, warring with his fantasies of torturing the human to death. He saw himself throwing him to the floor, ripping off his clothing and taking him right there. But he would draw it out… make the human beg for an entirely different reason, watch him moan and writhe and squirm as that endearing naivety of his was stripped away by carnal pleasures. He'd tease his body to the point of breathlessness, of wanting more, and then he'd give him just that, entering him over and over again, shattering his innocence as well as his mind.
His teeth graze over the human's skin, drawing a more pronounced gasp out of him. But he doesn't fight, surprisingly enough. The rapier pressed to his neck is lowered slightly, allowing the demon more access.
And he takes and takes more skin until his lips find the corner of the human's mouth. No resistance is met.
He wonders; is it fear that holds him still…?
A pause, for only a moment, before he finally claimed the other's lips with his own, slowly at first, his hatred blurring with lust for this creature.
Even so, the scared blade remains motionless in the hero's hand. How…
Interesting, he thinks.
But his patience is short and he quickly becomes frenzied, forcing apart his jaws, delving his tongue well beyond the boy's lips. Now the hero fights, muscles tensing and pushing back against him. He raises his troublesome blade but the demon is too fast, catching his wrist and forcing it back against the scalding wall.
The grimace of pain earned isn't enough. It was his voice that he wanted to hear.
Studying his face closely, the demon pushes his hips against the green-clad warrior's with tantalizing pressure, feeling his struggles wither and die. Ah, of course something this inexperienced had never had these sorts of affections bestowed upon him… The demon would have to change that, taint what had never been touched.
Take, his instincts screamed. Take.
A particularly deep rocking motion finally coaxed what he wanted out of his trapped enemy. Lips parting, dirty blond bangs shifting against his forehead, a ragged groan left the youth and disappeared into the dry air. The demon's head tilted as he listened, relishing the sound.
It was mesmerizing watching how easy it was to unravel him. How was it that nothing he could inflict on him in combat had this effect on him?
He lifts his blade to the underside of the boy's face, guiding his chin back up. Their gazes lock once more.
Fire and pain and defiance is what he sees in the warrior's eyes. But there's more than that, just beneath the surface. He could sense it, feel it just beyond those blue depths.
The hero is frozen, fighting a battle of his own inside his own mind.
The demon lord finds it no less than intriguing.
Take.
He leans in, smirk in place, his words hot against the other's mouth.
You have no idea of the things I want to do to you, sky child.
That seemed to break the spell.
A sudden burst of force pushes him back and he staggers, more out of surprise than pain. He looks to the youth, but is too late to stop the next blow.
Blessed metal slices into his side, sending him reeling back further as warmth rushed from the wound and spilled down his attire. He breathes out a growl. It hurts, it hurts but it's so invigorating.
His sights find the youth standing there, trying to recompose himself as something not quite like disgust and not quite like horror took root in his expression. The demon almost wanted to laugh at his confusion, at how, if only for a miniscule moment, the boy had realized he was enjoying that little experience.
Perhaps he'd set in motion something the demon lord wasn't quite sure of himself.
Truly enigmatic.
He smiles almost pleasantly at the hero, the challenger, waiting for him to regain his wits. The youth glares back at him, but there's something else behind it. Fear or anticipation, hidden desire or repulsion, its existence could not be denied no more than the blistering temperatures of the sanctuary that threatened to consume them whole and turn them to ash.
Perhaps the hero was just as conflicted as he.
I love the idea of Ghirahim and Link being sexually attracted to each other but still hating each other's guts sORRY
R&R