"It Could Be Sweet"
Albel Nox was quite sure that he had to have good dreams some of the time. It was impossible to imagine that one could only be plagued with nightmares. Yet Albel had to believe that if anyone could be so cursed, he had certainly been bad enough to deserve such torment. When the night's dreaming began pleasant enough, the barely lucid part of Albel's brain was both intruiged and suspicious. The heady details of the dreamscape swept him away soon enough.
He was in bed with Fayt and they were naked. This was not a new thought for Albel; he'd yet to act upon his desire, but nor had he figured out a way to sublimate the lust that had wormed its ways into his heart. When they kissed and rubbed their bodies together, it felt so right to Albel, as if they'd been doing it for years. Fayt made the most amazing sounds: Hoarse little gasps, ragged moans, sharp cries, and breathless sobs of pleasure. Albel slipped further into the ghostly sensations of intimacy, wishing that he could sleep forever and stay in this lovely dream.
He sucked on Fayt's neck and felt his pulse flutter under his lips. When he bit him, the boy cried out in agonized ecstasy; when Albel tasted blood, he saw red.
Bright crimson exploded behind his eyes. The dream changed and became violent as he ravaged Fayt's body, not with kisses but with pain. Images blurred together into a swirl of vermillion, pale flesh, wide emerald eyes frozen with disbelief and fear, and blue hair streaked black with blood.
He was killing the one person who had broken through his self-imposed emotional prison. His voice was nearly unrecognizable, a mournful cry even as he tore apart Fayt's flesh with the claws of his gauntlet.
"Why? Why? Why? Why?" Albel could have been asking Fayt why he stayed with him or he could have been asking himself why he was ripping Fayt apart with his bare hands. He could have even been sobbing his grievances to his brave, foolish father, wondering why he'd sacrificed his life to save such a failure of a son.
XxXxX
Fayt was jarred into wakefulness by someone moaning, nearly weeping. He panicked for a moment, not quite sure where he was. The walls were unfamiliar and the room was swamped with shadows. Fayt peered into the darkness of the small hotel room. It was a cloudy night, and the moonlight streaming through the window didn't illuminate so much as create pockets of grey in the gloom.
In the bed across the room, Fayt made out the thin, pallid shape of Albel's body writhing under the cheap bed sheets. He was having another nightmare. Fayt was almost sure that he could make out the word 'why' but he couldn't be entirely positive. Anything intelligible was drowned by the nearly guttural sound of Albel's sorrow.
Concerned, Fayt crept out of bed and went to him. Closer now, he could see that Albel was clutching at the sheets with angry fists; his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, perhaps against unwanted tears. Fayt seldom sought to disturb Albel's sleeping, even when he had nightmares. It only seemed to piss him off, and he never talked about the things that made him cry out, scream, weep, or moan. It was only when he was hurting himself, leaving bloody scratches on his flesh, did Fayt try to wake him.
Impulse made him move closer to his companion's bed. Despite his concern and fear for the man, Fayt could feel his cheeks burning with a blush as he sat on the edge of the bed. Albel slept naked unless he was so exhausted from a battle or traveling that he just passed out without removing a stitch of clothing, armour, or even his elaborate gauntlet. (Of course he never slept naked when they camped outside, but then again, he seldom slept on those long, perilous nights anyway.)
The sheets were tangled around his narrow hips, and Fayt was struggling to concentrate on the best way to wake the man up rather than how much he longed to kiss the flat planes of Albel's hips. He sometimes hated how ridiculously horny Albel could make him, no matter if he were dressed or nude. It made Fayt feel as inexperienced as he truly was, fumbling in the dark, bumping into these alien, absurdly titillating new emotions. He'd had crushes before Albel, but his feelings for the handsome Glypian were much larger and more overwhelming than anything he'd ever known.
Just as he was returning to some semblance of being self-controlled and began to reach for Albel's right shoulder, the swordsman's eyes snapped open. Fayt suppressed a gasp; Albel looked terrified. Never in all the time Fayt had known him had he ever seen Albel express fear in any shape or form.
As quickly as the emotion could be recognized, it was replaced with a slightly more familiar heat. He looked at him with that same lustful expression he got when they sparred. Before Fayt could say a single word, Albel was sitting up and reaching for him. Warm, elegant fingers smoothed along one side of his face, and Fayt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from giving into the intense desire to lean into Albel's touch.
It was such a simple, innocuous thing and yet Fayt found himself growing absurdly aroused. He opened his mouth to talk, stumbling stupidly over his words. "I…I'm sorry. You were having another bad dream, I think. I was—I mean, I still am—really concerned."
Albel was studying him intently, almost hungrily. After a long, tense silence, he spoke, low and soft.
"Fayt."
It was the first time Albel had ever called him anything other than 'maggot', 'worm', or 'fool.' He nearly died; he wanted to crawl out of his skin and run away. Something about the way Albel was looking at him absolutely terrified him, and yet the arousal electrifying his body was not going away. If anything it was only growing more intense.
"Fayt," Albel said his name again, almost as if he were tasting it like some people tasted wine. It rolled off his tongue and dripped from his lips.
Fayt couldn't breathe properly; his thoughts were only barely coherent. He licked his suddenly dry lips and was startled to hear Albel make a low, hungry sound. He was suddenly closing the space between them.
Fayt gasped with amazed recognition, was he going to-? He never finished the thought because as soon as Albel's mouth closed over his, Fayt felt as if his brain had imploded. Albel's lips were hot and seemed to brand him. There was little tenderness to the kiss, but Fayt didn't mind. Nimble fingers raked through Fayt's hair as his mouth was greedily devoured. The feel of Albel's tongue cleaving his lips made him feel light-headed as the blood rushed from his head in a decidedly more southern direction.
This was not Fayt's first kiss, but he had never been kissed in such a way before. Albel was kissing him like he was starving for the taste of Fayt's lips.
For a single disorienting moment, Fayt thought that he was falling, only to realize that Albel was pulling him down. His arms wrapped around him and Fayt shivered at the feel of cold metal sliding across his bare back.
Fayt was still a little bit unnerved, but Albel's mouth gliding along his jaw line pumped pure adrenaline through his veins. His lips pressed against Fayt's ear and he heard his voice, smoldering and intimate, "I want you."
Fayt's world spiraled down to little more than the sensation of his skin moving against Albel's. Their bodies were separated only by a few thin bed sheets and the soft cotton of the boxer shorts that Fayt slept in. He didn't know what to say but knew he had to say something, anything to acknowledge Albel's confession of desire.
"Yes," Fayt panted softly, "Yes, please."
XxXxX
Albel has known about Fayt's desires for some time now. At first the knowledge had disgusted him, not for any reason so petty as the vaguely taboo nature of the boy's desire, but because Fayt wanted him. Albel hardly thought that he deserved anyone's affection, much less the affection of someone like Fayt. He had been afraid that the ugly darkness that permeated him would somehow taint Fayt, twist and pervert the boy's oddly charming idealism and innocence.
Even now, as he ran greedy, eager fingers over Fayt's back and kissed those soft, sweet lips, Albel was still a bit scared. But fear was something he did not like giving into, and if he were to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit to being quite the coward when it came to his feelings for Fayt.
That nightmare had loosed something deep within him. Though there had been a time that killing Fayt would have been quite satisfying, those days were gone and very nearly forgotten. The idea of not having the little fool by his side had been sickening and as absurd a notion as cutting off his remaining arm.
When he'd awakened to find Fayt staring at him, alive, well, and with eyes so full of naked concern, Albel had been more than just a little relieved. All too quickly the lust and terror he felt whenever he looked at Fayt had crowded in, but this time something had changed.
He was so sick of the power his nightmares and self-loathing held over him. Albel was tired of feeling like some half-dead thing, a vampire clinging to some semblance of life even as he snubbed all the things that made life worth living.
XxXxX
When Albel rolled Fayt under his body in one smooth, seemingly effortless motion, the bed sheets slipped and fell away from his body. Fayt had been perfectly content with kissing him, enjoying idle touches, but the feel of Albel naked against him made Fayt pause.
He pulled back and drew a deep breath. "Um," he murmured dazedly, "Hang on a minute."
"Hmm?" Albel intoned lazily.
Fayt's heart was racing madly and his breath was coming out in harsh pants. He could barely think straight and wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. Deep in the recesses of his mind, he wondered what had sparked this passion. Why after all this time? For so very long, Albel had seemed almost afraid to touch him, and now he was kissing him and lying atop him quite nude.
"What…what's going on here?" Fayt asked softly.
"It's not obvious?" Albel drawled, his lips curving into a rare, wickedly seductive grin.
"Uh…" Fayt blushed hotly, feeling young, stupid and still dizzy with arousal, "Well…sure…but why?"
A dark scowl passed across Albel's features and he shook his head, "Does it matter?"
Fayt squirmed beneath him, glaring up at his seducer. "Yeah, it does," he replied defiantly, not wanting to play the ravished virgin. "Albel, we've been traveling alone together for three months. We've shared rooms before; we've even shared a few beds without you so much as brushing your legs against mine. What makes this night different from all those other ones?"
Albel was silent, rolled off Fayt's body with a small, sullen sigh. He sat up in bed, shoulders slightly hunched in a defensive gesture. Fayt pressed on carefully, knowing how volatile Albel could be. While he dearly wanted answers, he also didn't want to ruin his chances in continuing what had been started.
"Does it have something to do with what you were dreaming about?" Fayt asked.
"Yes," Albel replied curtly. "I dreamed that I was killing you, Fayt."
The silence was almost deafening as Fayt tried to find the right words to say. From the stricken expression that Albel had worn upon waking up, he knew that the man hadn't been aroused by the idea of killing him.
Before he could speak, Albel whispered into the darkness, "So, you hate me?"
His words were jarring, making Fayt a bit disoriented with the vague sensation of deja vu. It had been another hotel, another night, but the question had been the same.
Fayt sat up as he shook his head and took a chance. He slowly, carefully slid his fingers over the top of Albel's right hand. Beneath his fingertips, Albel's skin jumped and shivered, but he did not pull away.
"No," Fayt told him softly, "I don't hate you. Quite the opposite, actually."
Albel's eyes met Fayt's, widening almost fearfully. "What?" He looked in a daze, as if he couldn't quite grasp Fayt's meaning, or perhaps he just couldn't fathom it.
"Geez," Fayt chuckled lightly, "Do I have to spell it out for you?"
Albel's eyes narrowed. "No, I just want to hear you say it."
Fayt didn't look away. "I'm in love with you."
Despite his bravado, Fayt was shaking on the inside, praying to any god that would listen that he wouldn't be rejected. It seemed pretty absurd to think such a thing when he could still taste Albel's tongue in his mouth, but it plagued him just the same. The man was too unpredictable when it came to his emotions.
Albel looked away, but put his left, artificial hand over Fayt's. The metal was cold to the touch and startled him, but Fayt forced himself not to flinch or pull away.
"You're a fool," Albel whispered.
"I know," Fayt replied.
Albel's gaze was direct, hard and unwavering, almost painfully determined. Fayt watched his throat tighten visibly as he swallowed hard. "Stay," was all that he said.
Fayt gave him a quizzical look, "You know that I will. Why would I leave you now?"
Albel laughed softly, a low, breathy sound, "No, I mean stay with me in this bed, fool."
Fayt blushed, "Oh."
He found himself trembling as he bedded down with Albel. True, they'd slept in close quarters before, but this time was somehow different. Perhaps it was Albel's arms around him, pulling him down, under the covers, and into an intimate, comfortable embrace.
Finis.
Author's notes: This is very old fic and also used to be two parts longer plus an epilogue. I've been going through my old fics and trying to figure out what can be salvaged and what just plain sucks. Anyway, I like the atmosphere of this fic and the first part stands alone gorgeously as a one-shot, so to hell with it. This fic has also been heavily edited for the sake of coherency. Man did I love commas back in the day. Please to be noted, I changed the title. It was called "Undiscovered Flesh" back in the day, a title I've always hated. Originally just a working title, it had eventually just stuck.
Disclaimer: characters do not belong to me. Square owns 'em and a bunch of nice folks at Tri-Ace created them.