The Sweetest Downfall

He had only a faint impression of location. A wide, soft bed and fluttering curtains on the edge of his vision, sheets so soft beneath him they poured like water. It was dark outside, evidenced by night-time shadows, but multiple torches provided enough illumination. The heat they generated kept the chill at bay, curling from their sweat-soaked skin.

A rough tongue scraped across his collarbone. A body much larger and broader than his hovered over him, driving him deeper into the mattress and Janus couldn’t do anything except shudder and pant for more. Fingers tangled through his hair, tugging his head back and revealing the pale column of his throat. Teeth and lips devoured the exposed skin, marking Janus in the most primitive way.

The smell of sex hung thick in the air, a heavy and consuming musk that he hungrily sucked in through his nostrils. A thigh worked between his legs, pushing them insistently aside as another thigh joined. Janus hadn’t even realized his eyes had closed until he opened them, staring directly into the most intense crimson shade he had ever seen. Familiar eyes darkened with lust before a wet and warm tongue slid across over-sensitized flesh.

Janus gasped, lips falling open as he arched his back, hips restlessly searching for something more than the fleeting brush against a solid abdomen above him. It was a dream; he should not have been so conscious of every little detail. He knew his lover’s name but not why the guard should have the audacity to sneak into Janus’ subconscious.

Strong fingers reached between their heaving bodies, wrapping around Janus and stroking him firmly. Janus murmured, chewing his bottom lip as warmth pooled in his belly, trickling through his body to gather in his groin. He had never reached such a high plateau of need with any other partner. It nearly frightened him.

But Janus did need. Terribly and desperately needed this touch as if it could save him.

Smooth tones murmured in his ear, words that made little sense to his lust-driven mind. The syllables didn't matter. Not when the words stopped and the tongue started, curling around his ear and making him shudder. Janus reached up, as if suddenly realizing that his hands had a function. They clung to the tanned body above him, fingernails digging into a broad and muscular back as he writhed, silently begging for more.

Time shifted and stopped, rearranged itself and started again and Janus gasped. He gasped and moaned as he clutched at sheets, head tossed back and hair sprawled behind his head. Pleasure blossomed in his groin, stars bursting behind eyelids he hadn’t even realized were closed as that man – Alcaeus, he admitted to himself -- thrust into him, deep and so damn good.

He held ecstasy in the palm of his hand, white-hot desire coursing through his body with all the subtlety of a hammer. He didn’t care that he sounded like a common whore, panting and moaning and demanding ‘more’ and ‘harder’. He whined and whimpered, the salty flavor of sweat blossoming over his tongue as he bit down on Alcaeus’ shoulder. Hands clamped around Janus’ buttocks, pushing so deeply inside he thought he might never be able to remove Alcaeus, that he would always be marked in some way for the rest of his life.

He ached with a pain that wasn’t quite hurt but more like a need that desperately sought to be quenched. His heart ached, his soul ached, his body ached and he sought release, something to liberate all of the hardness inside of him that he had bottled. All the fears and the pity and the nasty little truths of his true nature beneath the impassive mask.

Alcaeus murmured his name against Janus' own skin as the guard's hand wrapped around Janus, stroking him to the same rhythm of the steady thrusting. He tossed his head back, the pressure building up as it dissolved into a steady stream of ecstasy that he could no longer withhold. He came, Alcaeus’ name on his lips, and Alcaeus followed soon after, the warmth effusing his lower region.

In the distance, thunder crashed and lightning struck...

... with enough volume to jerk Janus awake, a name still on his lips and his body restless beneath the covers. He sat up, chest heaving and heartbeat rapid as his eyes flickered around the dimly lit room. His quarters. In the temple. His blood throbbed in his veins and the dream shifted about in his head.

Thunder crashed once again outside his bedroom window, followed by a flash of hot-white lightning. Magick coiled restlessly in his belly, responding to his emotions and sending the cast out of control. It tenaciously sifted away pieces of his soul. The main problem rose between his legs, throbbing with every remembered cry of pleasure.

Why did he continuously think of the guard? The man whose name he knew by informant only and whose voice he had yet to hear? And why, dammit, wouldn’t his arousal fade?

With teeth clenched and sweat clinging to his body, Janus threw back the covers, reluctantly wrapping his fingers around his straining arousal. He fell back, sprawling against the cool silk of his sheets. His body hovered on the precipice, taut with the need for release.

Ashamedly, it took only a minute for him to crest, body desperate for stimulation. Janus made a mess of his bed, partly disgusted with himself. He moved to cleaner blankets, idly contemplating a bath.

One incident with one man on a random occasion and everything refused to remain the same. His curiosity would not be dissuaded nor his libido denied.

Release by his hand remained unsatisfying. And though Janus knew half a dozen names of selas or aides who would be happy to accommodate him – especially Niord if Janus sent for him – Janus could not fool himself for the sake of saving face. None would do but Alcaeus.