Cover art by myself : check out lemaskadra on tumlbr !
Warnings : Explicit, sexual content.
One Hundred and Seven
(#64)
Meliodas was helping a group of soldiers under attack from aggressive giants.
In the middle of the fight, he heard a panicked yelp to his right that triggered an automatic reflex as to jump under the giant's foot that was about to stomp on a terrified soldier. The force of the impact propelled them both out of the area, just in time before the colossal feet rammed into the ground and crushed several trees as the giant roared in anger. They rolled, tangled like haystack and down the slope until their race was brutally stopped by a tree trunk, collision knocking them dizzy.
Of course, it took Meliodas barely one minute to recover, the sounds of battle already fading and away from where they landed. He stood up, one hand rubbing at the back of his skull where he'd hit the rough bark and checked for injuries, his attentive eyes traveling up the soldier's frame. He was protected with light armor plates and a sword at his hip, and Meliodas did not see anything bleeding or broken, thank god, humans are so fragile even with an armor, apart from a scrap or two on his chin and a dazed expression on his face, and at that precise moment his gaze landed into her eyes.
He froze.
Wait. Him?
He checked once again, even more attentively: five feet nine, high cheekbones, a strong jaw. Notably, a flat chest. There was no mistake, that was definitely a him. He met the cursed azure eyes once again, and this time on the face of a young man.
One thing was the shock of meeting Elizabeth again. Not knowing where, or even when it would happen. The second thing was the shock of seeing this one so different from the original.
After seeing sixty-three of her reincarnations, Meliodas could spot Elizabeth in every different form she took. In the middle of about any situation. In the crowd, in the dark. It probably had something to do with animal instincts or some shit like that, Meliodas thought, because he just had to have developed a sixth sense to be able to sense his lover kilometers afar, just like the fox would track the rabbit. Or was it the opposite? It actually felt like it was the other way around, as Elizabeth never failed to find him again and again even though she didn't, couldn't even remember him. She always looked so innocent, her angelic face smiling genuinely, not imagining even once the harm she was doing to him, that stranger she accidentally met, at that very moment and for next few years – or decades.
He was trapped. A fish in the net.
Meliodas enlisted in the same troop as Elizab– Isabeau's (and it was Isabeau now, he had to remember), and stayed by his side, watched over him like he always did, and over his safety now and especially since he is living the life of a soldier, full of fights and threats that had his stomach twisting at the mere thought of her – him getting hurt again. He didn't have to put a lot of effort into it, though, because Isabeau was more than capable of defending himself, against humans at least, and also because the boy was glued to him ever since they met.
And Isabeau was infinitely grateful to him, for having saved his life that other time, and also infinitely admirative of his prowess in fighting and really looking up to him (realistically, he had to bend the head to look down to him, but that's just semantics). Inevitably, they grew attached to each other, and Isabeau was falling in love. That, at least, didn't change much from her habits, and Meliodas could just tell it in the way the boy stuttered and blushed whenever he was a bit too close to him, catching him by the shoulders as he cracked some gross soldier joke like they often did in infantry companies, men horny from too much battle and not enough affection.
The fact that they were both men did nothing to help with their… situation. Not that he was bothered by it in the slightest, Meliodas had loved Elizabeth in every form she took, and he loved all of her, no matter the circumstances. For Isabeau, though, things were different, different with his own personality and the manners of his time. At that time homosexuality was tolerated, and happened more often than you'd expect in military, but some things had better stay secret.
Oh, the irony of their situation. Their parents, the Supreme Bitch and the Moron King, must have gotten bored of watching them do the same thing over and over again. They were so bored from their high positions in their respective thrones to watch down, down onto their boring cycle of reincarnation and death, testing their love again and again, that maybe they thought it would be funny to spice things up. So fucking funny.
He should feel bad about this, his life turned into a show, their love into a display for them to watch and see, and yet he couldn't bring himself close to caring. Not anymore, not when he's had enough of their petty little game, and he's decided on living even the smallest bits of respite he had with her to the fullest. And hell, he was going to enjoy it.
Still, Isabeau did not dare to make the first step, so Meliodas did.
He set up the perfect plan, taking Isabeau out for a small training session in the nearest plains, just the two of them, summer town clothes and wooden swords. Meliodas had a better view of his body once the damned armor was out of the way, shamelessly letting his eyes wander there and there and god, was he distracted.
Isabeau was one foot taller than him, body lithe and strong with muscles starting to develop due to his recent initiation to soldiering. Meliodas had never looked at another man's body that way, never even thought about it that way, but then again this was Elizabeth and he couldn't help but feel curious. Isabeau was sharp and toned where she was soft and delicate, he lacked the parts of her he loved so much, but despite that he definitely possessed the grace and beauty of his feminine counterpart.
A more accurate word to describe him would be handsome.
His movements were fluid and decisive with confidence, ear-length silver hair whipping around as he pivoted to parry a blow. Yet, Meliodas was faster than him, and landed the flat of his sword on his ribcage.
The strike sent him stumbling backwards, and then losing his balance he landed on his back. Meliodas used this moment of dizziness to his advantage to step closer, plant his knees on either side of him and bar his legs with his own, stopping all possible movement as he secured his wrists with one hand and supported his weight with the other.
Isabeau panted, heart palpitating with the surge of adrenaline. He was too stunned to even try and struggle, muscles relaxing at once and declaring forfeit. "I give up – you're too fast for me."
"And what do you think is going to happen now?" Surprise.
"Wha– what's supposed to happen? I made a mistake in my combo when evading your strike and I was too slow to –" He avoided his gaze, he was starting to stutter.
Good.
"Isabeau." His eyes shot back to his. "Your mistake here was surrendering to the enemy." He hardened his grip, rested more weight on his legs. "There will always be someone who is stronger, faster, and more skilled than you. Now remember his." His face inched closer. "The fight is never over, not unless you have exhausted all other possibilities to retaliate. A swordsman's talent doesn't solely rely on their skill, but also on their ability to create opportunities." He was whispering now, and Isabeau could feel the warmth of his breath.
The blood rushed to his face. "Wait – w-what are you doing, Meliodas?"
"I am creating an opportunity." A mischievous smile.
Fuck, Meliodas definitely knew what he was doing. Isabeau was trapped, under him, pinned down by his weight and that felt so wrong and so right at the same time and – and his brain reminded him that he had to make for an escape, any escape, and yet, the sight of Meliodas' parted lips was so very tempting. Up, he forcefully dragged his gaze away and up from those full lips to bottle green eyes with a vacillating confidence, breathing erratically.
Meliodas noticed the subtle change in his mood. He always notices things, Meliodas, as if he's known him for years and it's unfair how easily he can read his expressions.
If only you knew.
Swords forgotten on their side, Meliodas released his wrists and brought his index to Isabeau's bottom lip, tracing it, silently indicating his intentions, and Isabeau had to fight back the lewd desire to lick it.
Things are set. Meliodas lowered himself on his forearm and replaced his finger with his mouth. Closing his eyes, he felt the softness of his pink lips and his smooth skin, and he thought that this was no different than kissing Elizabeth.
Their kiss was simple, lips softly massaging each other, Meliodas not daring to push too far, too fast, too early – but then delicate, careful hands found their way into his hair, caressing his scalp and skin at the back of his ears with the sweetness she always had, to coax him back down to another tender kiss. Ah, but this was really good though, and it brought him back to their old peaceful days rolling together and giggling in the meadow, their world reduced to the warmth of each other and loving words whispered on parted lips.
The illusion almost lasted, until he heard a grunt from the aroused man beneath him, hardening flesh poking against his thigh in the roll his hips.
In his entire life, this was the first time Meliodas experienced intimacy with another man. It was startling, and at the same time exciting at the thought of trying something new. He certainly did a whole lot of shit during his long life, so much that there were not many things he hadn't done yet, things like this and even though he theoretically knew how this worked, he couldn't help the apprehension at the fact that this was the first time he did something for the first time in centuries.
Isabeau had settled with him in the cottage, and they had gotten into a daily routine between their occupation as soldiers and domestic life. At night they shared the same bed, explored each other under the covers, through the clothes, without the clothes, without the covers – it was thrilling, and they were both clumsy with anticipation, and Meliodas was brought back to his adolescent self during the second century of his life, back to when he was exploring his sexuality. Isabeau's body was alien to him, the anatomy so different from what he was used to with hers, and yet he, logically, knew it as well as his own.
They were standing by the bed, bodies fresh and clean from the bath they had had in the river after a long day full of events – group training, escorting supplies for the regency, save a neighboring town from earth golems or god knows what that was – and Meliodas had been hinting things of a totally different kind at him all day long, all winks and smirks and whispering pretty, disgusting things into his ear as his hand playfully slid up his thigh under the dinner table, and Isabeau has been distracted the entire time.
Isabeau didn't even bother to dress up again, his sex already jolting hard at the thought of what he was about to do, and he shot straight to their bedroom, straight to Meliodas, grabbing his face with both hands as to tilt pink lips upwards and press against his.
At that, Meliodas released a pleased sigh and smiled against his mouth. That audacity was distinctive of Isabeau's personality, and unusual of hers – despite being young, inexperienced, he knew very well what he wanted and he was determined to get it, assertive and easily taking initiatives. Meliodas liked that variant of her, emboldened, unexpected and refreshing. However, he had to remember that Isabeau was still a virgin (and so was he, on that side), their relationship on its debuts, and he knew better than to rush things with him being so young, without the memories of their past lives and not her.
So, he let Isabeau take the lead, he let him explore at his own pace, undress him with enthusiastic hands, waiting patiently and eager.
Meliodas admired the line of his sharp collar bones, the pale skin of his torso stretched over discrete musculature, his abdominals barely visible above jutting hip bones. His gaze landed to his navel, where started a trail of fine silver hairs that descended down to his pubis; and his manhood was as lovely as the rest of him, proportionate and flushed pink with arousal.
Meliodas was certain that his own body was not as pretty as that. He was burly with hard muscle, and he felt unfinished and rough compared to the elegance of Isabeau.
Within a moment, Meliodas surprised himself with this sudden self-consciousness; he had never really considered his appearance and had always felt comfortable, confident in the body he was born with. Of course, there'd often been remarks and jokes over his height, people mistaking him for a twelve-year-old kid, but jokes are jokes and he never felt it as to take them seriously. It was already rude enough to mistake me for a human being. There had always been a lot of variability in the physical appearance among demons, the lowest ranks of them not even having humanoid-shaped bodies – and you'd just wonder how genetics worked with them – but really, only one thing mattered in their hierarchy, and that was strength. And so Meliodas was brought up never paying attention to such a thing as physical appearance, although living in the world of human beings, meeting and observing other men such as Isabeau now made him realize that his physique was, indeed, quite singular for that of a grown man, especially his height, his round face, his wide bottle green eyes.
Isabeau noticed the expression on his face, one he interpreted as uncertainty. Uncertainty? Meliodas was the incarnation of self-confidence and steadiness. Meliodas never showed uncertainty. And yet now, he did. He'd never hope to fully understand Meliodas' psyche one day, the mysterious man always looking like he had so much more to say, but for some reason didn't, couldn't. Isabeau didn't ask questions; that was fine to him, he devoted a blind trust to him and knew things like this had to come in time. Now if they were going to the full way today, he had to man up and get it together. They had talked about this before, and Meliodas liked to try new things out and explore with a charming enthusiasm; except now being confronted to the reality of this coaxed an unusual reaction from him. Isabeau decided he needed to take things in hand, to be solid for him and to steady him.
Isabeau grabbed his hands in his own, and said the only thing he could think of, with a blush. "Meliodas, I love you. I want you."
Meliodas blinked his torpor away, gazing back into those azure eyes. Those very eyes that had been staring back at him for the past millennials, the same shade of blue, the blue that made him lose his mind – Fuck, Elizabeth was already four inches taller than him, and that was the perfect height to match his, but now with Isabeau those ten inches really made a difference.
"Get down, shit, I can't reach you –" he blurted out, suddenly in need to touch, to connect, to feel.
Instead of that, Isabeau hoisted him up, holding his thighs just a bit too tight and he let out a surprised gasp, instinctively wrapping his legs around thin hips, the line of his quadriceps flexing as he did so to support his own weight.
Now their faces were level. Azure stared into emerald, nose tips brushing as their breaths mingled. Their lips met halfway in a hungry kiss which quickly deepened, impatient with the desire to taste each other, and Isabeau's tongue caressed his own, feeling the soft epithelium on the underside, coaxing him into more with soft moans.
One hand held his bottom, grabbed one firm cheek as the other snaked up his bare back, feeling the sinew of his spine between powerful trapeziuses – and Isabeau shouldn't be so aroused at that, Meliodas' solid weight on him and his flesh rolling in his hands, his thighs contracting in a rocking motion of his hips as he ground his erection against his stomach and moaned with glee into his mouth.
Isabeau moved him to the bed and Meliodas let himself drop onto the mattress, limbs relaxing on the sheets as he set between his legs.
Isabeau took a good, hard look at his naked body. Despite being so small, his frame held an accumulation of condensed raw strength and contrasted beauty that met together in an harmonious whole. Meliodas' almost juvenile face framed by blonde locks rested on the pillow, thorax heaving in time with shallow breathing. His skin was devoid of any scars, and had remained smooth and soft over the contours of his body, the curve of the firm flesh underneath. From the line of his throat down to his feet he adorned virile traits, protruding muscle contracting with tension and patches of darker, coarse hair covering his armpits and pubis where rested his hardened manhood, masculine scent of arousal and utterly alluring. It was surprising, although it really shouldn't have been, to realize that even strong men like him had soft, tender spots on their body, such as the rosy colour of his lips that matched his nipples, the dip of his navel, the whiter, untouched skin on the inside of his thighs where the blue trails of veins showed through.
Meliodas was electric.
Isabeau bent his head to Meliodas' and placed his mouth on his, and Meliodas instantly parted his lips as to take him in his own, slowly sucking on his tongue, encouraging him, the wet sounds and hot sighs so loud in his ears already pounding with blood flow. He paused, "Meliodas."
"Yes," the other whispered against his mouth before urging him down into another damp kiss.
Isabeau moved his hands down his torso, to his waist and then lower, to rest on the juncture between thighs and hips, daring, thumbs rubbing at the base of his erection and then moving to caress the soft skin on the inside of his legs.
He insisted, "Meliodas."
With a grunt Meliodas extended his left arm to the nightstand and retrieved their oil, clumsily poured some onto Isabeau's palm.
He guided him down as he spread his legs, silently giving him permission to go further, please, and he bit into his lower lip trying not to voice out his thoughts – or did he? – and rush him into going faster as he ached for more, wanting to get past the unknown of doing this new thing – for the first time and nervous.
Isabeau spread the oil on both hands, but to his dismay returned to his upper body and started rubbing his shoulders. "Not here, silly!" Meliodas chuckled.
"Relax." It was firm, but sounded reassuring, given the look on his face.
That, again, was surprising.
Meliodas had thought that he was the one guiding the other, and he was definitely calm and composed. Okay, and maybe, he needed to breathe some more, maybe he was a bit anxious at this whole new idea of Elizabeth penetrating him – maybe that was not such a good idea after all, and before he could voice for a change of plans, Isabeau silenced him with a kiss, sealing his lips shut as he kept kneading the tension away.
He oiled his skin as he did so, down to his biceps and then to his chest in gentle warm pressures with the palms of his hands, and then moved the pads of his fingers to Meliodas' nipples.
Okay, now that was maybe a bit too much – "Isabeau, I –" he interrupted, trying to raise from his position, eyes looking around and anywhere but at him for some kind of – for what, he didn't know, for some kind of something else, something he already knew of and to bring him back to solid, predictable grounds – but Isabeau pushed him back into the sheets, gently but firmly.
"Shhh, Meliodas, let me –" he returned to rubbing slowly, rolling the soft bud of one nipple, and then the other between thumb and index. "I want to kiss you here," he went for the soft skin behind the ear with his lips. "And here," he tenderly kissed the rise of his Adam's apple when he swallowed, then moving down the column of his neck, to lick in the dip between the collarbones. "I want to kiss you everywhere –" was the heated whisper before he gently replaced his hand with his mouth, breath washing chill over a slick sensitive nipple.
"Ha – aah…" He was gentle, too gentle, as if Meliodas was a fragile thing when he only deserved rough – he shivered. "No-ohhh –" he tried to object again, but rather shuddered, felt the blood flush his cheeks upon hearing the tremor in his own voice, and with a jerk of his hands he was about to grab at Isabeau in a last attempt to stop him, and he was definitely not used to receive attention there, did not expect it to feel so good, either – the soft suckle sounds as Isabeau kissed his nipple, pulling and nipping and lapping repeatedly at the receptive flesh into hardening.
Meliodas gave up on that, gave up on resisting to him, to everything, and his hands frozen mid-air fell into Isabeau's hair instead, trembling and pulling at the soft strands in rhythm with his suctions as he sighed with abandon.
Isabeau shifted his mouth onto the other nipple, applying his lips and tongue again, and then kissed down his torso to lap at the dip of his navel between swollen abdominals. He continued his ministrations until the other man relaxed completely, and finally drew back to look at one expression of pure bliss, the darkened emerald eyes gazing dazedly back at him with the hint of embarrassment tinting his cheeks rosy, breathing soft moans between parted lips.
"Okay. Okay," Meliodas consented, he got the message. Something had passed between them at that moment, something that didn't need words or an explanation and Meliodas thought that this time, he was asked to lie back and fully give up control, something he had never allowed to happen with her in centuries and reflexively doing so with him this night, now to let him take the lead as he had originally intended. Giving up old habits was easier said than done, but not impossible to him. "Okay." He nodded with a shy smile.
Trust me, for once, Isabeau smiled back at him confidently. He poured more oil on both hands and brought his left one to stroking Meliodas' straining erection from the base to the top, mixing oil with sticky white fluid on the head with his thumb, and ventured two coated fingers of his right one down to Meliodas' perineum. He started rubbing tentatively, waking up his prostate and then timidly made his way to his anus and around, in slow circles, lubricating him as he felt the puckered anatomy jolting at the foreign contact, and inserted his fingers to the knuckles into him in one go.
He felt Meliodas tense at the intrusion, the frown on his face as he began touching his insides, feeling soft, warm, wet flesh all around until he hit the bump of his prostate with his middle finger. Meliodas gasped, "Here. A-again –" and let out jagged exhales as Isabeau slowly prodded at it, and then increased his motions, in and out, but never retreating completely, stroking and rubbing again and everything so slippery.
Meliodas huffed out at the new sensation, intrusive and unnatural to him, but Isabeau was relentless in his strokes until he adjusted and started feeling curious prickling sensations in his lower belly. His pulse quickened, all seven hearts racing in his chest at the pleasure slowly building up in his entire body.
The sight of Meliodas abandoning himself to him was erotic, arousing to the point that his own forgotten, hardened cock ached as his eyes went from the flush of his face, eyes shut and mouth slightly parted, to the abused nipples that he'd sucked wet earlier, to down to where he was stretching him open in time with the glide of his palm on his hardness.
Isabeau continued to stroke inside of him, and god he felt so hot, he was pretty damn sure that his face was red as a tomato and his cock jerked at the thought that Meliodas, beautiful, secret, strong Meliodas allowed him to touch him so intimately.
That was enough, and Isabeau removed his fingers, a sharp inhale from Meliodas at the sudden emptiness. He proceeded to apply oil on his hardness, reaching down a hand to stroke himself slowly. "Meliodas, are you–" he paused as Meliodas wriggled beneath him, slipping a pillow under his hips as to help them into a more practical position.
"Better," Meliodas murmured, and he couldn't wait any longer as he wrapped his legs around Isabeau's waist, crossing his ankles as to bring his hips flush with the back of his thighs. Isabeau's face became even more red, if that was possible, as he felt his cock press against his hole, the bulbous tip resisting slightly before entering and the length of him followed suit.
Meliodas curled on himself and hissed, his forehead to Isabeau's chest as he gripped his biceps harshly, a response to the aching stretch of his body.
He'd seen Isabeau's cock several times, slightly smaller than his own in girth but bigger in length, though the reality of having it inside of him was entirely different from anything he'd imagined until now – and that was not something fingers could have prepared him for, the sensation new and intense. He exhaled longly, needing some time to adjust to the fullness as he held Isabeau still against him, inside of him – and he released his grip, relaxing back into the sheets, and nodded as a cue to keep going.
Isabeau gulped loudly, throat suddenly dry, and withdrew completely before sinking back in one, long thrust – he groaned. "You're so –" tight, god was he tight, and he had to refrain from the need to just pound into the delicious heat of Meliodas that only seemed to suck him in. He kept his eyes fixated on his face, his heated gaze and teeth biting into his bottom lip, and that helped him to control his pace as he grabbed his hips with both hands and started pushing in slow, tentative thrusts, into another angle as to touch that spot again, the one he knew would push him over the edge – and just like that.
"Yes –" Meliodas threw his head back into the pillow, bending his neck for his lips to kiss, as he panted hotly; he pressed his calves to Isabeau's rear to urge him back into him, again, harder, and faster until they settled into a frantic rhythm.
Isabeau grunted as he rocked his hips in time with Meliodas' pulling, pushing, driving into him, poking and rubbing with the head against his prostate on the way in and out and was it summer already? The temperature seemed to rise into a scorching heat as the room was filled with the crude, snapping wet noises of their sex.
Meliodas moaned openly and that was obscene how he became so vocal at the intense, ecstatic pleasure growing in his core and radiating in his entire being, eyeballs rolling back into their sockets as he searched for something, anything to hold onto as he was filled with rigid cock and everything "– Isabeau".
Meliodas was loud, and he clamped down on him and Isabeau choked, as the tight warm flesh only seemed to cramp more on him and he was engulfed again, and again.
It was messy, with the oil smearing between them, between Meliodas' thighs and around, his grip on thin hips becoming too slippery and he paused for just a second, the whine already rising in Meliodas' throat, to place his hands higher to the junction of his waist and get a better grasp on the rise of his hipbone, holding the blond firmly as to slam in back to the hilt.
Meliodas arched his back with a scream, and his legs weakened their hold on his waist, falling uselessly on the sides, and Isabeau snapped. His hold on petite hips was almost bruising as he forced his legs apart with every brutal thrust of his own, and he felt animalistic for that, burying his cock inside with fever as to fuck Meliodas all the more he was asking for.
Meliodas had completely given up, ragged inhales for air, and there was nothing he could do but sag and take it, every tense slide as Isabeau forcefully dragged him back onto his cock again, and again.
His movements became erratic, feeling the elation of being so close to climaxing, "You feel so good, Melioda–as–" and that was all Isabeau could manage before he's lurching in hard, and trying not to shout as he spilled himself inside Meliodas and sliding in as deep as he could go with rough, urgent thrusts.
Meliodas twitched, the feeling of being so, so full of cock and come dripping out and between his soaked thighs, making a face as he wriggled under him, gasping when his erection dragged against a toned stomach and rocking his hips with every last bit of strength he has. Isabeau had the mind to reach down and wrap a hand around him and jerk him, hard, and fast to completion – and Meliodas released a long, ragged moan as he came white between them, the sticky gossamer strands all over and messy.
Isabeau flopped down on the side, trying not to squash the smaller man with his weight, and he started thinking about how his now flaccid penis felt squishy, slipping out of him, and how Meliodas winced at that – he was red and disheveled, coming down from high and breathing for large gulps of air, looking slick with sweat and semen and thoroughly fucked.
Meliodas looked good like that, and Isabeau decided that he liked it.
"Is this what you had in mind today?" he exhaled, completely and utterly spent.
Meliodas turned his head to the side to gaze lidded eyes at him, muffling into the pillow, "I – yes, – it's," not quite, and also unexpected and a lot of other things he was struggling to name, but still "– good," he laid there, not quite able to form coherent thoughts and everything felt weird and shaky, not daring to move as a dull ache set in his lower body.
It was cute, and Isabeau chuckled, rolling on to his side to press a kiss on his cheek, his forehead, his lips and wrapped one leg over him.
A moment later, Meliodas whispered, "I need – another, hah, bath."
"Yes."
"I really need a bath." He felt dirtied in a way that made him stir, the bodily fluids cooling down on his skin. "You'll have to carry me, my legs are –" they did not seem to function properly at the time being.
"You're funny..." came the slow answer, and Isabeau was drowsy from exhaustion. Meliodas needing to be carried? He loved the idea, he was surely starting to dream already, and he hummed his contentment. "I love you, Meliodas."
He was not going to get his bath anytime soon with the sleepy piece of man draped heavily across him, the scent of sex still clinging to them and Meliodas gave up on that, too.