Disclaimer: The plot is mine and the characters are borrowed.

Author's note: Bixlow x Freed because I wanted it. I'd call this non-descriptive smut if I had to label it. Bixlow has a habit of teasing Freed but knows better than to not fulfill the promise it offers...mostly because there is nothing better to him than watching the other relax and let go.

Sureties

The door closes and fingers grip the fabric of his cloak. "Was that necessary?" comes the low, breathy demand that has the corners of his lips curving upwards.

"I don't know what ya talkin' 'bout, baby."

"Oh, because your fingers just happened to find the inside of my thigh for the entire meal?!"

"Maybe?" he queries enjoying the flash of annoyance joining the heat in familiar blue eyes.

"Bixlow." It was amazing how much of a threat his name could be when uttered in certain tones.

"Yeah, Freed?"

"Don't make promises you don't follow through on. It won't end well."

"Especially if it's someone who wields a sword with considerable skill? Yeah, kinda figured. But I never said I wasn't gonna make it worth ya while. Shouldn't assume things, baby." The frustrated huff makes him grin before he'd cup the others face and lean down before kissing him hard on the mouth keeping whatever commentary the other would add on from being uttered.

Breaking it would find the other panting slightly and that would grant the older mage the chance to slide off his cloak and headgear before sliding his boots off. Then he'd just reach over and relieve the other of his jacket and sword before blue eyes would blink into focus. "You...shouldn't be allowed to win arguments like that..."

"Heh, it's a talent," he answers before a finger would trail down the buttons on his shirt and adds on, "So, ya wanna stop makin' sure I understand things when I already do and get on with getting your clothes off?"

"Don't blame me for my distracted state!"

Bixlow snorts before finally reaching and lifting him up with ease ignoring the sharp startled sound as he sets him on the edge of the bed and crouches before tugging his boots off. "Fair enough," he says congenially, "I'll just do it for ya then."

Of course it leaves the other flushing clear down his body when he's finally sprawled nude before him and Bixlow grins. "One of these days ya gonna stop lookin' so embarrassed ya know." The others response is to throw a pillow at him. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He tugs his shirt off before working the rest of his clothes off and sliding onto the bed over the other giving a playful grin before pressing his mouth lightly to his lips. "Can't help that ya lovely, ya know," he murmurs.

"You talk entirely too much," Freed retorts.

"And ya entirely too bashful still."

"I..."

"Shush," he murmurs leaning down to lightly kiss along his throat, "'S fine, Freed." The feel of the others skin shivering against his lips never failed to bring a rush of heat which was only increased by the slight squirm of the others body. The soft, ragged exhalation the lower Bixlow travels is absolutely delicious. And he starts going from lightly kissing to licking and sucking at different patches of skin knowing just where and how to touch to make the other flush, pant, and move restlessly beneath him craving more.

There was nothing more erotic than watching Freed let go and give in to his desires. He seemed reluctant to lose his control but when he did there were no words for how utterly enthralling it was to witness. Fingers grip his shoulders tightly once their bodies move in tandem sending a rush of pain that has him groaning in appreciation as he tugs him closer pressing in deeper. The choked groan of his name against his shoulder draws a low, approving sound from between his lips.

But it was the afterglow that was the best; the feel of the other curled against his body and tucked under his chin. Curling his arms around the other and holding him close was absolutely heaven to the Seith Mage. Freed makes a soft sound of contentment before softly whispering, "You know I love you don't you?"

It has him smiling as he'd kiss the top of the others head. "Yeah, baby, I know," he assures him.

"I don't say it a lot and..."

"Shh, Freed. Don't. I know. Ya might not say it but ya don't have to. The rest of ya says it loudly enough." The other shifts slightly before lightly kissing his shoulder making him smile. "I know, baby. I do."

"I just...worry..."

"Well, ya don't need to with me. I know ya better'n anyone. I hear what ya mean and don't vocalize. I promise. I have never and will never doubt ya." The other soon settles and his breathing evens out. Bixlow smiles before chuckling softly. "Ah, baby. You're too cute sometimes." But he loved him all the same. His own eyes would soon grow heavy and he'd slowly follow the other off into reverie the last coherent thought being how damned lucky he was to call Freed 'his'.