A simple kind of love: Oh love

It had been no little bit of a surprise when Zanarin had offered Malic
to come to a pub with him one evening. How unlikely that the Commander
would ever ask his young lover to go anywhere in public together,
especially to a pub, and yet the commander asked him casual as could
be. They had left together, into the chilly air of evening and down
the twisting paths of Death's City, darkness shrouding them until they
reached a favored pub of Zanarin's. Many a Jin angel and the rowdiest
of Shadowshifters and such folk went to the small out of the way pub
and spent their evenings merry making.


   Malic was excited, even though alcohol had never really been
something he favored. Just the notion that he would be beside his
Commander, enjoying his company in public, made this exciting. As soon
as they entered the tavern, they had to duck in order to avoid a man
flying out the doors. A brawl was already going on and several men
were involved. Ale was being poured into large wooden mugs, mutton and
beef stews bubbling over the fire and served to hungry bellies.
Swearing and singing were mingled together in a strange sort of music.
Ahh, this was what Zanarin was missing, spending all his time playing
the stern, prim, and proper Commander. He planned to cut loose tonight
with his little lover in tow.


   Immediately Zanarin was recognized by the bar tender and the gruff
man grinned and got right to serving him and his young charge a
tankard of ale. The finest stuff this, Zanarin insisted. Grinning
slightly the Commander sat himself down on one of the stools at the
bar, waiting for Malic to settle himself. It was not often that they
saw a Starc in here, let alone one with  Zanarin. Yet hadn't the Starc
lad been following Zanarin around since he first came here? Zanarin
almost seemed to have taken him on as a sort of apprentice.
   "Here lad, drink up."

   "This is much larger than the allowable ale ration, Sir," Malic
notes as he stares at the golden, frothy liquid before him with a
blank face. Zanarin has already begun to down his, having finished
half of it before Malic ends his sentence. He puts it down on the
counter with a heavy bam! Zanarin's lips are covered in moist foam and
he licks it off with glee, exhaling with that sort of joy that can
only come from fresh, delicious beer. Malic doesn't seem as convinced
and stares at his large mug without drinking it.

   Zanarin's good eye flicked to the untouched tankard and it rolled
skyward. "I order you to drink up, boy." He drawled. His money, his
rules. Zanarin was treating his young assistant tonight and Malic damn
well better be appreciative. This was as close to a proper date Malic
might ever get out of his Commander and he would either relish it, or
not. The ale rests bitter-sweet upon his tongue and Zanarin can't help
but lick his lips as clean as they can be of the delicate foam that
crowns the good brew. It is a good taste; one that he has come to love
throughout the years.


"Yes, Sir." The order is taken very seriously as Malic grasps the mug
firmly in his hand and downs the entire contents in a matter of
minutes. He is left coughing and gasping as the tingle in the back of
his throat is quite powerful. Though Starcs are naturally born with a
high tolerance for spirits and ales, there's a certain warmth that
does pervade Malic soon after drinking. His cheeks flush a little and
he coughs a couple more times, causing the bartender to laugh
uproariously. "It was....ghk....good, Sir."




   Zanarin in turn was left laughing at the expression that crossed
his younger lover's face. To think that a simple tankard of ale could
so fluster his charge! Taking more time than Malic to finish the rest
of his first tankard, his eye glittered cheekily at the young man at
his side. "Don't drink so fast, boy, you've got to take the time to
relish it." The commander replied lightly, his lips curling up into a
warm smile.

   "Yes, Sir," Malic replied, not wishing in the least to look
foolish in front of the man he loved so deeply. He sipped at the booze
as carefully as he could, being sure to "savor" the flavor of it.
Honestly, He liked Zanarin's kisses much better to this ale. They were
a bit rougher, a lot headier, and actually gave him something of a
high. Of course, he would never admit to that unless asked. He didn't
wish to seem to lovesick, though he was truly very desperate. He
wanted only to have Zanarin return these affections, though he knew
pressing the issue was pointless. As one of the other soldiers had
mentioned, an Akuma-something-or-other, "pressing the Commander into
anything was impossible. He was the horse that you would lead to
water, who wouldn't drink unless he was dying of thirst.'' Zanarin
looked fully fortified with a tankard of ale. He wasn't thirsty.




   Zanarin watched his young charge out of the corner of his eye,
idly pondering to himself just what the youth was thinking. To be
allowed to go out with his commander like this must have made him feel
good. Their trysting had always been in private and Zanarin had been
all business while Malic had assisted him in the drills and the
training of the younger soldiers. He was even harder on Malic when it
was his turn to participate in drills and showed absolutely no
favoritism or mercy. But how often did the Commander bring any of his
soldiers out drinking with him personally?
   "That's a good lad..." He chuckled softly.

"....Sir, why are you out with me today?" Malic asked nervously as he
watched Zanarin sip his ale. His lips were fantastic, the way they
gripped the edge of the wooden mug and savored the golden liquid.
Malic wanted to taste those lips more than ever. He still had such a
curiosity as to his Commander's intentions. One moment the man was
barking at him angrily, the next he was being soft and sweet - never
with any indication as to what their relationship was beyond superior
and subordinate. It left Malic confused, even if he was happy. He
wanted to know...he needed to know...where he stood with this God of a
man who held so much of his heart. Just a word from Zanarin and Malic
would end his own life to bring more comfort to his Commander.

The Commander glanced at him, plush lips still hovering inches away
from the tankard's rim. This pause was silent; the man's mind churning
and processing the question. Did he rightly know himself why he had
brought the youth out? He'd been around him so much lately that his
presence had become a comforting familiarity. Had he drug him along
because of that or was it because he desired the soldier's attention?
"Do I need a reason for wanting a companion while I drink?" He asked
in reply, not exactly answering the young Starc's question. A dark red
brow arched up, blue eye cutting into Malic intently and without
another word he took a heavy swig of ale, foam clinging to his lips.

"You do not need a reason, Sir, but it is beneficial," Malic replies
with as much indifference as he could muster. The expression on his
beloved Commander's face made his stomach flop in excitement, aware of
the way that ale moistened his mouth and made it all the more
kissable. Malic might have done something truly obscene to his
superior if he didn't have his wits about him. The alcohol was rather
strong, after all. It could make him less inclined to control his
urges to hold this beautiful man before him. "I merely ask because it
might appear that you are showing favoritism towards me. I do not
think the other soldiers would appreciate it."

Zanarin choked on a laugh and it took every bit of will power not to
fall off of his stool. Did the lad really just say that? Still
sputtering into his ale, the grizzled old commander turned his gaze
wryly onto his charge and arched both brows high. "I think you're the
ONLY student of mine who'd even be willing to come with me, I think
the others would consider you brave for 'taking one for the team' so
to speak." Zanarin replied with a snort and a chuckle. His charges
were afraid of him. Having to spend extra time with your teacher/drill
instructor/ weapons-master did not sit well for any of his charges.
They probably thought Malic dedicated since he seemed to take such
extremes to stay around the Commander. Zanarin took another swig of
his ale, listening idly to the rowdy Jins and shadowshifters playing a
game of pool behind him. Everyone was having fun tonight.

"Then perhaps I should consider myself lucky that they do not know you
as I do, Commander....if they did, they would never want to be apart
from you," Malic returned in a quieter voice, his eyes flicking
nervously to the bar tender out of hearing. A blush painted his
cheeks, so clearly filled with love for this tangerine-haired devil.
Most would consider it folly to be so open about their feelings with a
man like Zanarin, but Malic saw no reason to deny how deeply he loved.
And he did love deeply - more than he could ever express with words or
actions. Malic hoped to night perhaps he might be able to express them
with a bit of both, knowing that there were rooms upstairs. He
remembered the first time he made love to Zanarin. It was in a tavern
much like this one.

"Perhaps you should." Zanarin mused, peering at him with vague
amusement glittering in that intense blue eye.  It still boggled him,
these feelings the young man harbored for him. Had it been love at
first sight for Malic? He could remember how the youth's eyes had
followed him the whole time they had been tracking Cyneric's little
posse. How the youth had always seemed to linger at the edge of his
vision, watching him with somber dark eyes. In all his years he had
never met anyone that had desired him the way that Malic did. Zanarin
finished his ale, those thoughts swimming about in his mind before he
turned his attention back to the youth at his side. "Do you enjoy your
ale, boy?" The question had a strange tone to it. The man's eyes
judging in the way they flicked over him. "I do expect some sort of
reimbursement. This is expensive stuff." That was a bullshit lie, but
who ever said Zanarin didn't like to take advantage of a situation?

"You need only ask, Commander, and I would give you my life in
return," Malic replied with the same steadfastness as always. The
barkeep, who was rubbing down the counter nearby, let out a sharp
chuckle. Zanarin waved him off, not wishing for the rest of his
conversation to be overheard by some cackling hen pecker. No, he
wanted to let Malic hear his proposition in private, or at least as
much could be managed in a busy tavern like this. The Jins began to
sing another robust drinking song to the jovial laughter of some of
the Death Angel soldiers and the claps of their Shadowshifter
comrades. As the noise rose, it made it possible to whisper one's
intentions secretly, which was a welcome opportunity for Zanarin. He
had much to request of his soldier lover. Much indeed.

It was a perfect moment to make whatever requests he wanted. Leaning
in, Zanarin pressed his lips to the other man's ear, his lips moving
slowly as he asked a question he had been wanting to ask for most of
the day. "Once we finish our drinks, would you like to go upstairs and
share a room for a while?" His lips moved slowly, breath fanning over
the other man's ear, making him shiver. Zanarin liked to make Malic
shiver. Loved to see how his young lover reacted to him. Such a simple
thing as whisper in his ear could  make him flush. How delightful! His
hand lingered on his lover's thigh, hidden underneath the counter and
from prying eyes. Up it slid, lingering so close to Malic's groin that
the soldier was sure he would pass out from arousal.

"...C...Commander, they will see...." Malic begs softly when that wide
palm finds purchase against his crotch, caressing a mounting arousal
with eager fingertips. The poor Starc was gripping the counter hard,
his knuckles white from the tension. Oh, it was delightful to behold
such parted lips and fluttering lashes. It took so little to turn his
soldier boy into a twitching, taut beast with a sole driving force -
lust. Malic had a passion in him that could drown the whole of his
House. It was perhaps for that reason that he was so unsuited to Starc
life. Zanarin could testify first hand to his deep interest in more
carnal delights than should be welcome in the frigid House of Starc.
All the better for it, as Zanarin couldn't imagine taking a lover
whose cock wouldn't rise at his command.


 "P-lease....c...commander, i-it's going to...hn...." Malic's voice
was so soft, breathy and almost sweet. He was helpless to Zanarin's
delicious attentions, trying very hard to duck his head over his ale
to hide the fact he was extremely aroused. Just knowing there were
eyes that could see them like this added some level of danger to this.
When Zanarin's hand began to move in the opposite revolution, rubbing
his head perfectly against the fabric of his pants, Malic almost
groaned into his cup. So cruel, so beautiful, so wonderful, so
painful...His Commander was everyting Malic could ask for.
"C-Commander, please...I...I'll burst...."

 The wicked hand retreated finally, leaving him wanting so
desperately. Without a word Zanarin downed his ale and flicked Malic a
expectant glance before heading for the stairs to the upper levels of
the tavern. Rooms for rent by the hour. Just what was needed. Malic's
view was the Commander's well toned ass swaying as he walked away. A
beautiful, devious beast. Who could not want that lovely creature?


 It was rather hard to try to walk up said stairs, however, to
follow the lovely creatuer into the designated bedroom. Malic's cock
was still throbbing between his thighs. It was like a test of his
ability to shut of sensory impulses, for all Starcs were gifted with
such a skill. However, with Zanarin's beautiful hips swaying just
before him, there was no way he could forget the aching in his loins.
He whined pathetically as he waited for his Commander to open the door
to the little room. No sooner had he gotten it open, Malic pounced and
wrapped his arms tightly around Zanarin - kicking the door shut with
his foot and pulling his commander in for a kiss. He simply couldn't
control it!

 It always shocked him how quick Malic could move when he really
wanted to. No sooner had he entered the room did Malic have his arms
around his torso, drawing him in so that he might feast upon his
Commander's smirking lips. The man groaned, his hands finding purchase
in Malic's soft hair, where they tugged roughly, crushing their bodies
together so that he might easier taste of his younger soldier's mouth.
Lucky old bastard he was, getting this spry, eager youth. Malic's
erection rested hot and heavy between them, pulsing with desire for
him.


 "S...Sorry, sir....sorry..." Malic breathes between needy kisses,
knowing that he's overstepped his bounds by kissing his commander
without permission. Oh, but those lips - so plump and warm against his
own! That body grinds against his and leaves him even more wanting.
Malic thinks he'll go mad from it when Zanarin suddenly hooks his foot
around Malic's, thereby tripping him right onto the bed. The young
Starc has time enough to cry out before he's laying on his stomach. He
watches Zanarin calmly walk over to the door and lock it tightly. His
beautiful Commander then turns back to look at him with a wickedly
beautiful smirk on his lips. Malic visibly shudders with desire.


 The Commander is in a interesting mood tonight. With kiss swollen
lips curled in that smirk of his, Zanarin makes sure there will be no
disturbences that evening. With Malic flopped on the bed, his fine,
firm buttocks upthrust in his view, Zanarin felt a surge of lust. Such
a handsome specimen Malic was. With a smirk still firmly settled on
his lips, the man walked back over to his fallen lover and slid his
hands up his back. "Your enthusiasm is most appreciated, boy, but
you're not in control here." He breathed, giving his buttocks a firm
squeeze.


 Malic can only whimper and nod as Zanarin's fingers glide over his
ass through the fabric of his breeches. He wants to undress and beg
for sex, but he knows that he's already pushed the limits of his
Commander with those forceful kisses. No, he mustn't give into his
desires until his Commander allows it. Thus, Malic obediently waits
for the next order, his eyes all the while hungrily following the
cat-like movements of Zanarin's body and the sway of his hips. He's so
alluring...Malic just wants to drown Zanarin in kisses.


 A sharp slap resounded through the room, causing Malic to jerk
under his Commander's hand. Zanarin just hit him! Right square on the
ass! His smirk only grew wider, blue eye glimmering with delight while
hungry fingers latched onto his pants and drew them down over the firm
ass he so enjoyed. "In fact, I think such insubordination deserves
punishment." The man drawled, sliding calloused digits over the soft
globes before bringing his hand down again upon the pale cheeks.


 Malic couldn't help but gasp out in shock, his eyes wide as he
jerked forward from the impact. HIs buttocks stung, the plump globes
slowly blushing red from such harsh attentions. The redness was
mirrored in Malic's cheeks as he gripped to the sheets and whimpered.
It was incredible! Malic couldn't believe what he was feeling as that
hand came down again to leave another stinging mark. His cock was
throbbing all the harder! It was final proof of Malic's masochistic
tendencies as Zanarin's rough palm punishing his perky butt cheeks and
left him writhing in desire. "I...I..I'm s-SOrry!" he squeaked out,
the beginning of sorry emphasized with another slap of palm to flesh
and a yelp.


 "I can't hear you over the sound of my hand on your reddened ass."
Zanarin drawled, hitting him harder still. The color that those cheeks
went was quite gratifying. Knowing what it did to Malic made it even
more appealing to the hard-assed Commander. His free hand took hold of
the young man's dark hair, holding to it tightly and forcing Malic to
bend back and look Zanarin square in the eye. " Tell me exactly what
you want, boy or you get nothing."


 "I....I want you....I want your....your hot cunt...." Malic
whimpers out as his cock pulses all the more for this treatment. He
finds at least the shame to blush from his words, but he can't deny
that they're the truth. Malic wants to be burried deep inside his
Commander - to be ridden like the man's war horse. He loves the abuse
as well as the incredible priviledge of being inside Zanarin. No one
else could know the depths of pleasure as he could. It was the one
thing that proved to Malic that Zanarin thought of him as something of
a lover, as someone special. After all, Zanarin never let the other
men do this sort of thing to him. Malic was blessed like that. Blessed
by his wonderful Commander.


 "How bad do you want it?" Zanarin breathed, giving a sharp tug on
his lover's dark hair, all the while his other hand pinched and
smacked the poor man's already reddened ass. Malic would be walking
funny by tomorrow, Zanarin would see to that. Without a word a tendril
of shadow slipped up out of Malic's line of sight, carefully allowing
its master to dab his fingers in lubricant. What came next was not a
smack, but a finger, cold and wet, sliding along the pink ring between
firm, reddened globes. Around it went, caressing the delicate ring
before finding its way slyly inside.


 "I....I want it so bad...I...I need it! A-ah...ah...I
w...want...y-you...m-more than...than
a-anything...p-please...
please...oh, oh God!" Malic gasps, his voice
cutting off when his finger spreads him a little wider. It's not as
though he hasn't done this before with Zanarin, but the soreness of
his cheeks make it sting pleasurably. The poor Starc is so near to
cumming all over the sheets. All he can do is whine and cling to the
bed as his hips quiver from Zanarin's attentions. "..C-cu -cumming!!!"
Hot semen splatters between Malic's thighs, staining the rough woolen
blanket.


 Zanarin rocked his fingers into Malic, smirking as the soldier
begged for him, begged for what only Zanarin could offer. Twin digits
found the dark haired lad's prostate and he rubbed against it
ruthlessly; taking great delight in how he could manipulate Malic with
ease. Once he had wrung an orgasm from Malic's trembling frame, he
forced the Starc to roll over onto his back by his hand in his hair,
his other leaving his lover's trembling insides to undo his trousers.
 "What a good lad... I think you deserve your reward."


 "Oh....Oh, Com-commander Zanarin....!" Malic breathes with
elation, taking one look at Zanarin's glistening puss and beginning to
get hard again. He wants to reach out and touch it, to spread the
folds and suck the beautiful pink pearl. He waits impatiently for
Zanarin's next move, knowing that any chance he gets to give his
beloved Commander pleasure will be well worth that spanking. He'd
endure much more than that just for a kiss, a glance, a kind word.
Zanarin is his everything. His obsession. His one true love.


 "What Malic? Do you see something you desire?" The gruff man barks
a laugh, stepping from his trousers and shucking off his shirt. With a
blooming smile the handsome man slunk onto the bed, eye locking with
Malic's and refusing to let him look away. Naked now, vulnerable and
yet so far from it, Zanarin caught his lips again and straddled his
hips. Warmth, such warmth. Zanarin was the very light in his life. His
sun, his moon, the air he breathed. Malic could write any amount of
sappy poetry for the man and it would simply not be enough to express
it.

  "I...I do..." Malic gasped as he tried not to stare too openly. He
wanted to feel Zanarin's body against his, the way that scarred flesh
melted against his own in heat and ecstasy. The hot, wet, sweet
stickiness of it all was a force that Malic couldn't fight. He opened
his arms as he sat up, a pleading position with palms upward and
facing his god of war. "I desire all of you, Commander....Please.
Please..." His voice was soft, breathy, but filled with so much love
that the air was pregnant with it. It even made a flush flutter over
Zanarin's cheeks, for he had not expected such a pious lover.


  "Good answer." Zanarin breathed, catching the Starc's lips against
his own and burrowed his hand into the lad's dark hair. A slow grind
of hips brought their sexes together. Pulsing cock to wet, soft pussy;
kissing lightly. Just enough to tease Malic, and make him strain up
into his Commander's warm, yielding body. "You can have it, Malic."
Zanarin murmured against trembling, eager lips while a free hand slid
down to help guide Malic's length into his warmth.


  "C...C-commander !" Malic choked as his hands went up and gripped
Zanarin's hips while the dripping folds of Zanarin's sex enveloped
him. He was in ecstasy, tasting heaven bodily while his mind drifted
between exhalations of his lover and the pure, white essence of the
sensation. Whoever said sex damned you to hell clearly never
experienced it. "C..Commander...! Ah...C-commander, I love you! I love
you!"

  "Do you, boy?" Zanarin groaned down at him as his body sank onto
the turgid girth. Would he ever get tired of hearing Malic proclaim
his love for him? Or how the youth would hold to him with such
desperation while his hips would minutely jerk into the heat of his
body. The man smirked, leaning down over Malic with their bodies
completely connected and his body taking the member clear to the root.
How it throbbed for him.


  "I....I n...need you, C-Commander -!" Malic groans as he tries not
to pull out without permission and shove back inside. He knows that
Zanarin would not approve of him losing it now, with the fun just
beginning. Oh, but how much he wants to just plow inside that tight
puss, to feel it constrict around him in orgasm, and to know he is
near to the same pinnacle of pleasure which only his Commander can
provide. He whimpers and clutches at Zanarin's thighs, digging his
nails in a little while he tries to keep his hips from jerking upward
in need. "P...Please...l...let me move...oh, God, let me move...!"


  "You may." Zanarin rumbled down at him, his lips turning up in a
smug smirk. His body was a tight constriction around Malic's needy
girth and every time he shifted his weight it would cause the young
man under him to shake and try desperately not to move for fear of his
disapproval. Zanarin was a strict bed partner, but Malic would have
nothing but him. Likewise, Zanarin's perfect lover now trembled under
him, wanting so desperately for him.  "Fuck me properly boy."

There is no other command needed as Malic sits up and grips
Zanarin's hips, lifting his Commander with rather unexpected strength
and then pulling him down with equal force. He wraps his arms around
Zanarin and holds him there while his lower half ruts hard up into his
Commander's wet puss. The slippery sounds they make echo off the thin
walls and no doubt startle whomever might be listening outside. Such
sounds are mingled with groans of ecstasy from both men as Malic
drives himself deeper and deeper into Zanarin's core.


  Work worn hands find themselves tangled harshly in his lover's
hair; using them like reins to hold Malic close. Zanarin pressed his
flushed cheek to the top of the youth's head and the heat of his
breath washed across the man's scalp. Pressed so close that their
bodies were flush. With breathy, excited moans the Commander rolls his
hips down into the youth's enthused thrusts and feels that cock rub
him from root to tip. Who would not relish such enthusiasm?  A slight
smirk touches his lips, for he knows that their coupling is not going
to go unnoticed by those in their own rooms. Not that it matters. There
are enough rumors about him that another won't change anything.
 "Gods, fuck yes...!" Zanarin hisses, nails digging into Malic's
unprotected scalp.


  Malic shivered and only throbbed harder for the pain, wrapping his
arms around Zanarin and holding him close. He could feel his
Commander's chest expanding to take in deep breaths that ended up as
shallow, heated moans from his lips. It felt good. It felt good to
know that he was doing this to so powerful and beautiful a man. Malic
can't believe he is able to feel so close to someone who keeps almost
all others more than an arm's length away. What is his Commander
thinking? What is he feeling? Malic wants to feast on the mutual
affection that their bodies seem to express. He wants to know that
Zanarin is his and only his. Of course, his Commander is something of
a tease. He enjoys watching Malic chase after him blindly. One would
think it would get tiresome after a while.

  The chase never got tiresome. Zanarin relished each futile grasp
and the desperation that would take hold in the dark pools of Malic's
eyes. Every time there would be more of an eagerness to please him and
to outshine the last attempt. To keep Zanarin's gaze only on him. To
make him remember him and yearn for him as he did for the stern
commander. The undulations of Zanarin's hips worked wonders. Malic
could feast upon the sight of his commander, head tossed back and body
trembling minutely. He would grind down and the pleasure written in
his strained expression was all that Malic would ever need to survive.

  The boy was finding it hard to keep himself from coming, already
so near to his release that he could feel it burning at the tip of his
cock. He wanted to keep going in order for his Commander to feel his
full pleasure. Malic would not stop until he was given the word.
Still, it was getting harder and harder - no pun intended - with each
passing thrust. He clutched to Zanarin's buttocks and tried to spread
them a little to get better hold, deeper and faster. Anything to make
this feel more intense for his beloved. Otherwise, Malic was certain
he'd go first without permission. That simply wouldn't do.
"C..C-clo...close...!"

  "Harder boy!" Zanarin snarled, grinding down hard enough he felt
he would grind his g-spot to pulp. The burning ache in his loins grew
with each rough slap of their hips together, Malic's hands riding the
sway of Zanarin's muscular ass. It fueled his lust, urging him to
greater speeds; till the slap of their flesh meeting echoed rapidly in
the confines of the hotel room. The commander leaned down, catching
his soldier's hair in one hand and dragged his head up. Their lips met
and his claimed the panting, needy youth's. Zanarin ravaged his mouth
without mercy, tongue and teeth teasing his lover cruelly.


  "...C...c-command...der..." Malic was really finding this to be
painful, fighting the urge to simply give into his body's commands. He
had more important orders to follow, his hands spreading Zanarin
further and his cock ramming up inside. He didn't know if he could
keep up this frantic pace for much longer, wanting only to see
Zanarin's orgasm. Only then could Malic truly find his pleasure. Until
then, he endured cruel kisses and that even crueler squeezing of a
tight puss. Malic's eyes rolled back into his head a few times, hardly
able to keep up with the sensations.


  Almost there... Zanarin pulled back, his teeth dragging along
Malic's captured bottom lip. Only then did the man begin to rock
himself with renewed vigor onto the pulsing cock trapped in his aching
cunt. Along the tender patch of nerves it ground, the ruddy head
jutting against it with every inward stroke. His grip tightened,
fingernails digging into the tight skin of Malic's pecs. Red lashes
fluttered closed, shielding that intense blue eye as the dams broke
and the whole of his body tensed in bliss. Lean hips stuttered,
working Malic's cock until the young soldier thought he might pass out
from pleasure.


  Malic couldn't hold it. Already impossibly on the edge of his
orgasm, Zanarin just pushed him into oblivion with a full roundhouse
kick to the balls. He shuddered and gave out a garbled mix of "oh God"
and "Commander" - a probably more accurate representation of how he
viewed Zanarin. His balls tightened and his cock twitched as hot semen
spread inside Zanarin's impossibly tight cunt. Malic was shaking all
over, muscles twitching until he finally went taut with the last
release. His mind went. White, pure, unending heaven. And when he woke
from it, he was laying back on the sheets with an equally heavenly
sensation of Zanarin's weight upon his chest. Malic would have
whimpered, but he didn't have the breath. His chest heaving, sweat
dripping off his skin, he could only lay there and come down off the
thigh.


  Warm lips ghosted over the expanse of his chest. Hot breath
washing over his exposed skin till he shivered and stretched out
slightly under the other man's body. Opening his eyes he saw before
him his Commander's flush face, the man's single blue eye regarding
him affectionately. There was not an ounce of displeasure in his eye,
Malic had done wonderfully. "Mnn... good lad." He breathed, pressing
another kiss and then another to Malic's upturned face. "Very good
indeed."


  "...T..thank you, C-Commander," Malic replied in a trembling
voice. Oh, he wasn't sure if he was getting aroused all over again
just from a single look. That's the power his beloved Commander had
over him. Still, he did enjoy the snuggles that ensued in the
afterglow. The way Zanarin's hands would be gentle on his skin, the
kissing, the warm whispers of hoarse voices...Oh, if only he could
have this every day. It was sad to think they'd ever have to leave. "I
love you."


  There was silence for a short while before the man chuckled
huskily and leaned in. The next thing that Malic heard stunned him. "I
love you too." The Commander murmured, his words like the finest wine.
He had said it. Zanarin had finally said it. The way it tasted on his
tongue was strange, but pleasant. The reaction he would get from it,
would be even better. He had no idea what those words would do to the
man.


  Zanarin was rather surprised by it, to say the least, as he looked
away for a moment to pull the blankets around them and returned to the
sight of Malic's eyes overflowing with tears. His wide dark eyes were
 sparklingwith fallen droplets of what Zanarin feared was sorrow. He
was about to reprimand the boy, half out of his own nervousness and
half out of the fact Zanarin didn't like to see this man cry - this
man he loved. Before he could get a word out, however, Malic crushed
him in a hug tight enough to make even the hardened warrior wince.
Malic was shaking and crying and clinging. "...thank you...oh, thank
you...oh, Commander...Zanarin...Z...
Zanarin, thank you..." There was
relief and deep gratitude in that voice choked by tears.


  Was this what it truly felt like to be loved? To love? The
overwhelming affection and need for acceptance from the one you loved.
Zanarin was not sure how to feel about his charge's response, it was
strange to the stern commander. Yet he wrapped his arms about the
man's shoulders and buried his face in the overwhelmed youth's dark
mane; hugging him close. A smile curled up his normally scowling lips.
This strange, repressed young man had won him over. Zanarin did not
know what he would do without him.
  "You are an odd one, Malic." He whispered.


  "Y-yes, Sir...s-sorry, Sir...I..I love you, S-sir..." Malic
simpered, his strong arms holding so tightly. Zanarin was warmed by
the way he clung, child-like and in such desperate need of him.
Zanarin was fairly convinced that Malic would not exist if he did not
exist as well. The boy wouldn't be able to sustain himself. That kind
of powerful sensation was almost as frightening as it was elating.
Zanarin pushed away the parts of him that were doubting the validity
of these feelings with the simple notion. Malic could not be without
him, would not be - it was nothing so sentimental as True Love, of
course. Rather, just the fact of existence. A set pair, two pieces
that fit well, as if the God of Fate had plucked them from two
opposite molds that ensured one had what the other needed and vice
versa. Zanarin was rarely one to believe in destiny, but in this case
he would make a minor exception. The coincidences of their meeting,
the way in which the small things linked together to form this feeling
- what other - way could it be explained?


  There was chance of course, but Zanarin wasn't going to bother
rationalizing this. No, he wanted Malic and Malic wanted him. He had
never met a more worthy man to share his bed with. He pressed his
cheek to the man's shoulder, smiling into the soft, pale skin. There
were still some small issues he would need to work through, his own
feelings stunted in ways, but he had plenty of time. "I know, lad." He
husked, pressing another kiss to his attractively curved jaw. They lay
like that, tangled together with the scent of sex and sweat lingering
in the air, a faint hint of steel and woodsmoke mingling. They were
warm, comfortable in the tangled sheets.
  There was no better moment.