Tired and depressed but here is Day 13!
Griffith was certainly… the most graceful and dignified person Guts had ever met. Everything about him was radiating highness and nobility. For someone who had always been accustomed seeing mercenaries, going from a battlefield to another, with the sight before his eyes only consisting in blood and horror, seeing that angel-like being moving around him, that astounding pallid skin that would never get sullied by the mud of the ground, long and curly hair as white as the first snowdrops in winter, and flawless face untroubled, magnificent under the gleaming helmet of his armor, all together with that inhuman strength that so easily overcome his brute force the first time they met – there was no way he could take his eyes off of that man.
Now, it was the night before the Doldrey battle. The air in the castle seemed heavier than usual. As though a terrible storm was on the verge of breaking upon the soldiers' head. What did make that battle feel different from another, anyway? Tudor's armies indeed were strong opponents, but for Guts, they had already had more dangerous battles in the past. Many times before he had been on the brink of losing his life, his head decapitated by some nameless soldier's blade, or his arms torn away by enraged horses. There was nothing new under the sun… At least for him. However, things were different for everyone else, and, much to his surprise, even for Griffith. It's true, their commander had schemed the best tactics against their foe – as usual – yet, something still didn't feel quite right.
After the last reunion with their leader, the band's staff dismissed, everyone gone running the last preparation before the decisive fight. Griffith went back to his apartments. Guts wanted to tell the others about his worrying, but finally preferred keeping it for himself. After all, maybe he was mistaken, perhaps his eyes were only playing tricks on him. Nonetheless… No, it actually was weird. Griffith never looked that distressed before. Never once. The tanned man decided on have a word with the man. This wasn't something he would do for anyone – a priori for no one – but he was their captain after all. They couldn't afford having a worried captain only few hours before an important battle.
Without thinking, his feet had already brought him in front of Griffith's door, in the deepest part of the Windham's castle. Only when he noticed he was arrived did Guts think about the absurdity of his doubts: Griffith was a grown up man; he could at least have one secret or two he didn't want to share with anybody. Turning his back to the door, Guts was about to leave when, suddenly, a barely audible cry resounded from behind the door. Then the sound of something crashing on the ground or the wall. It startled the tall dark man who, just like a thunder, rushed in the room, kicking down the door on his way.
"Griffith! What the hell is happening-" He froze on the doorstep, his eyes widened with shock.
"Haah… Ha… Mnnh!..."
Moaning. Griffith's upper body was leaning on a disordered table; long and silvery, almost white hair, scattered in the middle of books and dusty parchments; and bottom raising high above desk level. His bare legs were shaking weakly under his weight, and his creamy thighs were coated with what was probably juice from his last climax. The white haired man's hands still were gripping at his slowly softening shaft, breathing ragged, face (or what Guts could see of his face, since the man wasn't facing him directly) that was usually pale and a mask of self-control, was now flushed red and covered with sweat. He didn't look like he noticed Guts' presence at all, and the latter wanted to take advantage of that to leave incognito, before Griffith 'd gather his wits…
"You saw me, didn't you?" Griffith panted, his voice startling the tanned man who had already put a foot outside.
"Yeah… well, I didn't mean to see that." Guts mumbled. How strange, he had seen the other man's naked body many times in the past, but never in such an embarrassing situation. At that moment, he really felt like he had just seen something he should have never seen. As Guts kept on talking, his voice was becoming more and more hesitant, so much that he was mumbling more than he was talking to Griffith. "I just wanted to tell you… What was it again? Oh, it must be nothing important if I forgot it. And you look busy, too, and I don't plan on… Ahem. But I'm leaving so go ahead. You're a dude, too. So I guess it's not that strange… For you to do this kind of thing… Anyway, see you tomorrow."
"Guts, wait." Griffith called, his chest rose a little from the desk. "You saw me, didn't you?"
Guts frowned, eyes still avoiding his naked captain's. "I told you yes, I saw you, but I didn't want to-"
"Guts, come here." This wasn't an order. This was more a plead than anything else, and in spite of his embarrassment and the fact that he seriously wanted to leave, Guts complied to the white haired man's request and came back in the room, closing the door after him.
"Now, what?" The tanned man knew it wasn't a good idea. Now he was left alone with an unusually indecent Griffith, Gut's eyes couldn't help but cast quick glances at the clear trails of liquid on the latter's skin. He had to admit the way Griffith was rising his ass up was somehow… alluring. Since long, he knew that the long haired man's body was perfect in all aspects; whether it was the long and vaguely muscular limbs, the well toned back ending with a generous pelvis, or that thin yet athletic waist, and those angular hips… No. Now wasn't the time to think about it… Or was it?
"Closer, come closer."
"Griffith, I swear if it's another one of your jokes, I'm not tagging along with your stupid shit."
"You saw me…" Griffith resumed without listening to him, then suddenly silenced. Now, his light blue eyes were locked with Guts. It was excruciating, somehow, that heavy stare. Still the taller man had to bear it, with all his mental might, he had to. "Guts," The other man said again, his voice more pleading than before, his face more pitiful than ever, "Please, take me. I… My body… I need it now."
"Huh?..." Guts gawked, furious. "Huuuh? No! There's no way I can do that! We're both men, how can I even… Stop! Stop that!"
Griffith had got on his knees and was now working anxiously on the taller man's pants. His long fingers were running fast on the fabric covering his groin, and even though Guts tried to push him and move away (in pure vain, in view of Griffith's endeavoring), he had to still his movement when the white haired man's cold palm made contact with his shaft.
"Stop that, I said! Why are you even doing that? It doesn't look like you at all!" Guts exclaimed. Honestly, he didn't want to hurt the smaller man, but doing this kind of thing with a man…
Griffith huffed. His arms were dangling on his sides, and a bitter smile was stretching his rosy lips. "In the end. It seems my body can't forget it. That is, the touch of a man."
"Tsk." So that's how it was, Guts pondered. And the next day's opponent was on top of everything the old Count's army. Guts had already heard rumors before. It's not like he didn't want to believe them: so far, he had witnessed Griffith's boundless ambition en oeuvre; going as far as selling himself to such an abject scumbag wasn't that surprising from a man like the Hawk's leader. It couldn't be helped, in any case. But thinking that it had left Griffith in such… a state, this, Guts could barely believe it. How could he truly say that the man who had been planning the siege of one of the enemy's biggest forts – thinking that that man and the one who was groveling so pathetically at his feet, so lustful and impious, were the same one? It was incomprehensible. "If you want to do it that much, I'll call someone to take care of you-"
"I don't want anyone else." Griffith cut him off drily. "No one must see me like this."
"But there's-"
"Guts, I'm asking you." He gripped at the taller man's sleeve. Once again, Griffith was casting him those eyes filled with heavy pleading, and already could Guts feel his resolution fading away. "Only this time. Only this night, I'm asking you…Hold me. Use me to your heart's content, and don't stop until you've completely degraded me."
…
"Aa… Ha… Mng-Aan! Guts…" Griffith was whining with each one of the darker man's pounding. The white haired man still was leaning on the same table as before, experiencing the first waves of orgasm as before, with the only difference that now Guts had himself buried deep in him and abusing his most sensitive spots; thrusting, ramming and filling the smaller man as though there would be no tomorrow. Guts' fingernails were digging painfully in the tender flesh of Griffith's waist, even more forcefully whenever the darker man would pull the latter's bottom-half closer to deepen his shoving. Griffith squealed. "G-Guts!... Great…. Do it harder… Harder! Faster!"
"Damn…" Guts hissed between his teeth as he felt Griffith's inner muscles clench tightly around him, hotter and moister than any other woman's cunt he had fucked till now. "Why does it have to feel that good…"
"It does, huh?" Vaguely turning back, Griffith smirked wantonly, then cried at a particular sharp shoving. "Aah! My ass… Guts… Fuck me more!" At some point, the white haired man had placed one foot on the desk. In that position, he had to arch his back even more to take all of the other man inside. However this had been in no way a big deal for him; as a matter of fact, his body was so flexible Guts was pretty sure the guy could easily bend his body more and more than that – which, as a matter of fact, made him even harder.
Crap, did Griffith have to be that good? It was as though the white haired man was doing everything humanly possible in order to make him keep his thoughts clear. For his nerves, everything was but excitation, madness, turmoil and lewdness. Griffith must have prepared his hole for quite some time before he arrived, because when he slid inside, the tight muscles were so moist and slick it took him absolutely no effort to penetrate the smaller man. However, the heat that had welcome after that was… simply disconcerting. It was just like wrapping his fiery length in the most blissful and agreeable fabric ever. Griffith's muscles were sucking on him, squeezing the hard pole of blood. All that time the infuriating warmness was clenching him, Guts kept on caressing the pale velvet skin of Griffith's back. He trailed his calloused fingers on the regular lines of the spine, embracing with his gaze the curves of the white haired man's clavicles, the long and wavy curls that would bounce off the latter's shoulders every time he was shoving himself inside, thus immediately making Griffith thrust back with the eagerness of a being whose body had turned into some kind of machinery to satisfy a man's most obscene desires.
Griffith would scream, writhe, moan and shiver under the taller man's touch. His back was drenched with sweat, his beautiful scattered all over the desk his hands were clutching as though his life depended on it. The ground at his feet was already soiled with cum – Guts couldn't even remember how many times had he made the smaller man come with his ass only – and his legs shaking like a leaf. Guts could tell they soon would give in… but he, he didn't want it to stop yet. He didn't want to see Griffith letting go alone again.
"Griffith… Turn this way…" Guts pulled out. He leaned down and, brushing the rebellious strands of hair off of the other man's face, he murmured.
Slowly, Griffith obeyed and looked at him. At that point, Guts almost regretted his request: Griffith's flushed red face, his teary eyes veiled with clouds of longing; and those lips, those pink, soft and lascivious lips glistening with Griffith's saliva…
"Guts…" Drawing closer to the tanned man, he pressed his lips on Guts'. Unlike everything they had done before, the kiss had been strangely chaste and childlike. All they did was remaining there, motionless, lips pressed against each other's. For once, it was Guts' turn to get things a tad… spicier.
First he lapped Griffith's lower lip, asking for entrance the white haired man willingly gave him. His tongue then began exploring the smaller man's mouth, entwining with the latter's as his teeth were clashing with Griffith's.
"Mmh… Hmnn!" Griffith gasped, his shaft practically springing on his stomach as Guts deepened their embrace. He slightly pushed the taller man away, forcing him to stop. "Guts," He murmured, and as he did, he brought one foot on top of the desk again, in such a way that now, Guts could clearly see Griffith's abused hole dripping with lube and semen. He panted, fingers stretching his entrance wide open. "Come here. Fill me up with your cum. I can't wait anymore…"
With those words only, he had sent the dark haired swordsman in some indescribable frenzy. His arousal still standing proud, the head pointing at the lubricious creature before him, Guts drew closer and, in a single move and with a hand hooking under the white haired man's upper knee, he buried himself in Griffith again.
"Aah… Ah! It… it got bigger…" Griffith whined. He could barely support Gut's weight and had to rest his side on the desk not to lose balance.
"Of course, it did." Guts grunted and brought the smaller man's leg higher. "You're so damn hot I can't even think straight when I'm inside of you."
But Griffith couldn't hear anything anymore. The fast and restless dick moving in and out of him with an uncontrollable passion was making him lose the head. All his lips could mutter was incomprehensible sounds, a mix of panting and moaning and calling Gut's name. Already, his cock was leaking, his precum blending with the liquid staining his groin and abs.
"Guts… Coming… Coming…" He hiccupped and started pumping his aching erection. "Come with me? Iya… Ah!... Guts, come with me?"
Guts didn't answer. His tensed body just began rocking faster against Griffith's. He was close as well. He was about to… "Griffith!"
Finally, in their long-awaited climax, both spurted loads and loads of white and hot liquid, Guts in Griffith's hole, the latter in his own hand. Griffith slipped on the desk, this time lying fully on its surface while the tanned man remained standing above him, two rough hands planted on the wooden surface preventing him from falling on top of the smaller man. They were both breathing deeply, eyelids so heavy it was a wonder how they could still stay awake at the moment.
"Griffith…" Guts said when he, at long last, got his breath back. "Do you need something else?" Griffith didn't reply, nor did he look at Guts. He was already fast asleep (although it was rather impressive how he could fall asleep on the shamble of that desk).
Well, it only meant he had to carry him to his bed, then.
THE END