Okay. Let's try this again.(My Internet's being stupid, so I've been having difficultly posting anything.)
So, here it is, as promised: the follow-up oneshot to "Adversity Makes the Heart Grow Stronger." I wrote it all while I was obscenely tired, but I think I've corrected most of the errors. Needless to say, my fatigue may still be evident in the fic...lol.
Disclaimer: Aqualad, Speedy, and the Teen Titans belong to DC Comics andWarner Bros. Cassius, however, is mine.
He stood outside his lover's bedroom door, unsure if he should bother waking him at the obscene hour of four AM. After a minute's hesitation he finally decided against it, but instead of returning to his own chamber he retreated to the common room and took a seat at his usual chair around the briefing table. With a mental sigh—since he technically doesn't breathe above water, he doesn't physically sigh—he set his elbows on the tabletop and rested his face in his hands.
Even in his haggard, insomnia-induced state he was undeniably handsome. Aside from the dark circles beneath his eyes and his uncharacteristic slump, he emanated an aristocratic character; his lips were always pressed tightly together, his jaw always squarely set, his shoulders held up and back. Standing, his posture was impeccable, with his hands always at his sides and his feet perpetually at shoulder-width.
This was, of course, what was expected of him as royalty—albeit that of Atlantis. In the public eye, he was, as his teammate Speedy had once said, the "royal tightass."
But then, only said teammate ever saw him as anything but an ocean prince.
His palms slid up to his forehead, allowing his fingers to tangle into his ebony hair, wishing it was the fiery red mane of his lover. The thought of the man he loved branched into thoughts of a man who had a demented vision of what love was.
With an involuntary shudder, Garth recounted the events of that night in his mind's eye, remembering every bleeding wound that marred the body of his love.
The screams that, for the first few nights, woke him from his dreams…that prevented him from sleeping at all now.
And he recalled how he had simply swum away, his concern for Roy—his best friend, teammate, and lover—overpowering his rage toward his maniacal childhood rival.
Even a month and a half later, Garth wanted the man responsible for Roy's pain dead—and he wanted to be the one to deal the final blow. Of course, he hadn't told anyone, including Roy; his hatred was great, but his sense of propriety was even greater. He couldn't let his companions know that he lusted for the blood of the man whose actions haunted his dreams.
In an attempt to leave the memories of Cassius behind, Garth turned his attention back to Roy but was soon drawn further into his melancholy as he reminisced on just the other day.
He smiled as the archer tended to his prized feature—his hair—using the wall-sized computer monitor in the common room as a mirror. With all the stealth he could muster, Garth slid around the table until he was directly behind Roy and wrapped his arms around the preoccupied red-head's waist.
He was then quickly taken aback when Roy stiffened from his touch, drawing a surprised but defensive breath through his teeth.
"Sorry," choked Garth, pulling away from his lover. He wasn't one to cry, but Garth felt his throat constricting—partly in sadness and partly in hurt, but mostly in hate.
"May Neptune damn you to the depths of Hell," Garth murmured.
Behind him came a tired and half-hearted chuckle. "Still hung up on that, huh?"
Garth sat up and turned to see Roy, who was dressed in nothing when a pair of red plaid boxers. Even in the dim light of the waning half-moon and meager stars that shone through the Plexiglas wall, Garth could clearly see the still-fading scars that were etched across Roy's chest even though the hair that added a few years to his appearance hid them well.
"I thought you were sleeping," stated Garth. He wasn't sure where he meant to go with that, but it didn't matter; Roy hefted himself onto the table directly in front of Garth, who finally managed a smile.
"That's my man." Roy slid back off the table and onto Garth's lap, straddling him so they could face each other.
Garth wrapped his arms possessively around Roy's waist and inwardly cheered when he didn't tense; he was further rewarded by Roy's arms snaking around his neck, his strong and calloused fingers stroking the hair that fell almost tothe ocean prince's shoulders.
Roy shifted his weight back so that he was closer to eye-level with Garth; of course, Garth couldn't help but spread his legs a little, and his body reacted to the intimate contact between with a prickling sensation at the base of his spine, causing him to squirm slightly. Noticing the movement, Roy smiled and said, "I'm sorry I've been so touchy lately." He paused, then corrected himself, "Or lack thereof."
With a quiet chuckle, Garth pressed his forehead against Roy's. Roy shut his eyes, allowing Garth to notice the bags under them.
"You look like you haven't sleep in a month," Garth whispered, fully anticipating Roy's response.
"I haven't."
Garth's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry."
Roy opened his eyes. Despite the sagging signs of sleep-deprivation, Garth was grateful Roy hadn't bothered donning his mask before coming to the common room; he was intoxicated by Roy's hazel eyes, and especially by the gold ring around his pupil and iris. It was a color and design unseen in Atlantians.
"Don't be. It's not—"
"Yes, it is," Garth interrupted. "Not even an hour after you finally got the guts to flirt with me—" Roy couldn't help but smile at that, "—some childhood phantom of mine stole you away from me—"
"No, he didn't," Roy interjected. "I don't love him, and I know you don't love him. And yes, it still keeps me up at night, thinking about what he did, but I know it'll eventually fade into another bad memory. It'll eventually become just another case file."
The two fell into silence before Garth stood. Instinctively, Roy wrapped his legs around Garth's waist so he wouldn't fall, and Garth carried him away from the table and toward Roy's room.
With another tired chuckle Roy chided, "You know, warning would have been nice."
Garth smiled but said nothing until he had reached his destination: Roy's bed.
Still holding Roy, Garth climbed onto the bed with the utmost tenderness. He then gently laid Roy on his back, and the archer released his hold around the Atlantian's waist. With an elbow propped on either side of Roy, Garth slid on top of him, leaving only mere inches between their bodies. Both lovers quivered excitedly but hoped the other couldn't perceive it—they feared their machismo would be damaged if one knew how nervous the other was.
"Uh-oh," murmured Roy, but the joke was left unfinished as Garth's lips pressed against his own in a slow, sweet, sensual kiss. His hands, with minds of their own, ran forcefully up Garth's back to his shoulders, coming to rest under the sheet of ebony hair that shielded the royal's neck; mild frustration then caused Roy to sigh into Garth's mouth.
Garth, suddenly struck with the fear that Roy was uncomfortable with intimacy, pulled himself far enough away from Roy to ask, "What's wrong?"
"How do I get this thing off?" grunted Roy, suddenly impatient. While he was already barely dressed, Garth still donned his mysterious jumpsuit of a costume, the mechanics of which baffled everyone on the team. "And how the heck do you get a unitard with a turtleneck collar on, anyway?"
Garth laughed, overwhelmingly relieved. Shifting his weight to one elbow, he reached over his head and wrapped his fingers around one of Roy's wrists.
"Slide your finger under my collar," he instructed quietly, and Roy followed his direction without delay, "and just run it down my back."
As simply as running a knife through butter, Roy's finger split the fabric as it traced his lover's spine. Garth shivered, unaccustomed to baring his flesh to dry air.
Once the back of the article was sufficiently open, Roy pulled the Atlantian cloth from Garth's body, exposing smooth neck, shoulders, and chest. Leaving the costume bunched around Garth's waist, Roy returned his hold to his beloved's neck and pulling Garth close enough to him so the tips of their noses touched lightly.
"You're so sexy," he murmured, and Garth smiled both at his lover's words and the sensation of Roy's breath, hot and sweet, as it puffed against his own lips.
"As are you."
Their passionate kissing steadily became more and more feverish as Roy pulled Garth closer to him, his calloused fingertips tracing the musculature of his aquatic lover. The desperate need to give himself wholly to Garth bubbled up within him. He wasn't going to allow the memory of Cassius interfere with his relationship with the man he had loved for so long; he craved Garth, both physically and emotionally, and wouldn't rest until Garth knew it and believed it and trusted it.
Roy unexpectedly rolled over, forcing Garth onto his back, and tugged the Atlantian wetsuit away from the raven-haired prince's body. Without delay, Roy trailed hot, wet kisses from Garth's jaw down his throat, across his collar bone, and then straight down his torso to his navel.
Despite himself, Garth bit on his lower lip as he arched toward Roy; white-hot desire forced his hands to ball into fists, his toes to curl, his knees to bend in an attempt to pull Roy closer to him. Roy's breath on his body was maddening, as he had never known such a sensation, and he found himself rising almost painfully.
Suddenly embarrassed, Garth released his hold on the mattress cover and cupped a hand under Roy's chin to coax him back up to eye-level before he noticed Garth's arousal. Roy obliged, smiling slyly.
"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Roy breathed; even as he spoke he was removing his own clothing with characteristic grace, and he seemed to already know that Garth was having no such thoughts at all but that he was simply uncomfortable with getting aroused without knowing whether Roy was as well.
Of course, before Garth could even think of answering, Roy laid himself on top of him, pressing his manhood against Garth's and procuring an erotic moan from both lovers.
"If you want me to stop," Roy whispered breathlessly, "just say so."
Garth shook his head, his hands desperately sliding over Roy's neck, shoulders, back, and sides. With some force, Garth finally groaned, "Please…don't stop."
Without delay, Roy resumed their passionate embrace, slowly and cautiously grinding his arousal against Garth's. Their hips seemed to fit together perfectly—even as the archer's gyrations increased in intensity, even as Garth arched into Roy's movement, even as their hands wandered across each other's body with the intention of learning every detail of the other's physique.
Garth could feel Roy moaning into his lips as they kissed, and that in turn excited Garth as Roy's voice rose in volume. Within minutes Roy finally had to pull away from their frantic kissing for breathing's sake, but he kept his face pressed against Garth's neck as his movements became deeper and stronger. His breath came in fierce, ragged bursts against Garth's neck; his throaty vocalizations reverberated through the Atlantian; and the short, coarse hair on his face contrasted with the smooth, almost liquid pumping of his body against that of the aquatic teen.
Finally, their passion, love, and desire climaxed—the lovers simultaneously released their seed as they were wracked with powerful orgasm, pressed as close to the other as they possibly could, with a symphony of moans and hisses as they became tangled in each other.
As the throbbing in his groin subsided, Roy framed Garth's face in his hands and mouthed, "I love you," still too breathless to speak.
Garth carefully returned Roy to his former position on his back, then slid down and laid his head on his lover's chest. He smiled as he listened to the archer's racing heart, as the fine red hair of Roy's chest tickled his cheek, as he rose and fell with Roy's breathing, and as a rough but loving hand wove its fingers through his ebony locks.
"I love you, too, Roy," he answered, his voice cracking audibly as his vision blurred.
He closed his eyes, and the tear that ran down his cheek dripped onto Roy's breast—a tear that represented not only the eradication of the uncertainties instilled by Cassius and his horrific attempt at wooing Garth but his unwavering faith in Roy and the future they were inevitably destined to share.
Sorry the ending's so schmalty...I'm not very good at wrapping things up..lol. The mechanics of Aqualad's costume are probably kinda hokey, too, but it was the best I could think of while keeping with the "unitard" line of reasoning.
Anyway, an actual fic with an actual plot is on its way, I promise :o)