Desperate Solitude

Toyin woke an hour or so after the day-moons rose, still wrapped in Mazin’s sheets, and alone. His captain’s body was cold, and he knew they’d been gone a while because the sheets were warm. He kept his eyes closed even after he realized he was awake, trying to stay as long as possible in this world of darkness and sea-salt. His body was delightfully sore, from the fighting and fucking of the day before. His mind was a bit hazy and covered a pleasant fog of contentment, which he had learned was an aftereffect of letting a nyx feast on your soul. It was a prize he would gladly pay even if it wasn’t so pleasant.

Longing welled up in his chest. Mazin had gone without waking him, as usual. No doubt they thought it a kindness, letting him have his rest, but he wanted nothing more than to wake up pressed against them, arms around their waist, lips against their black skin. Then again…perhaps it was for the best that they left him. If he did wake up in such a manner, he wasn’t sure anything in the world could stop him from sitting up and kissing them until he was breathless.

Would they let him? He knew they tolerated the sex, the flirting, the declarations of love. But how much of it was just that: toleration? He didn’t delude himself…Mazin’s position in society was such that a romance with them was doomed. They were Untouchable, teetering on the edge of exile for the crime of existing and being an inconvenience to the Admiral’s family.

But despite all though…would they let him kiss them?

He knew where Mazin was now, directing their crew as they prepared for an early return home. They would need to prove that this was a worthy diversion, or the Admiral would impose some sanction or impossible mission on them to “prove their loyalty.” He doubted the man would ever actually exile them. He would just hold the threat of it over their head as long as he could, torturing them with the possibility of being cut off from their only living family if they dared oppose him.

The knowledge that Mazin could never break free was a damper on the frequent daydreams Toyin had of convincing them to run away with him. They could steal a boat and make the short trip to the coast, and settle down somewhere on the beach. No one on the Continent would know their romance was technically unlawful. But he knew Mazin would never abandon their father, their true father, even though for all intents and purposes he had abandoned them.

Toyin’s lip curled and he tried to turn his mind away from those unpleasant thoughts. He could spiral for hours down this path if he let himself, and he’d done so many times. He tried to focus on happier thoughts, simpler thoughts: thoughts of the night before, of being so thoroughly wrapped around and filled with Mazin that nothing else in the world mattered or even existed. If he tried, he could pretend that the world didn’t exist outside of this room, that his only obligation was to keep Mazin fed and happy, and that their only obligation was to return to him. What a delightful life that would be…no expectations except to be waiting and ready in this bed for them to use and hold and love…

He turned his face down into the pillow. Mazin wasn’t in this bed often, but they were in it just enough that he could smell them, salt water and paper and something vaguely sweet like those pastries they rarely got to indulge in. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself and pressed himself against the untidy pillows, trying to pretend the soft mass was his lover lingering with him. He pretended they’d chosen to delay their duty just a little while to stay in this bed with him, skin to skin.

He wasn’t surprised that his cock began to stir at the thought. He was an adult now, but he still sometimes felt like a lovesick adolescent when it came to Mazin. Sometimes just being in their presence got his blood pounding, beyond the usual adoration he felt for them. He'd long since stopped being ashamed of it.

He didn’t hesitate before reaching down and taking himself in hand. He’d been half-hard on waking up, and was now fully erect as his thoughts had turned back to his captain. He knew what to do to really make it feel good. Slow, hard strokes just like Mazin would give him when they were in the mood to go a little bit slower, to tease him and draw out the foreplay. Even when he was desperate and begging for more, they kept up the same steady rhythm, and he tried to emulate their patience. His hips twitched with the need to thrust forward, to chase bliss and pleasure in his captain’s name.

It wasn’t enough. He turned on his side, towards the mass of pillows that smelled of Mazin and were cold like Mazin. There would be time for embarrassment later, but for now he moaned at the slide of his cock against the silky material. He wrapped his legs around it and began to grind in earnest, eyes squeezed shut as he imagined Mazin above him, letting him get himself off with just the shape of their body.

He bit his lip, trying to keep quiet. He didn’t mind being loud when they were actually together, but for some reason the thought of someone hearing him alone in Mazin’s room was mortifying. Well, not someone. The thought of Mazin hearing him was mortifying.

It was hard to stay quiet when it felt so good. The soft pressure on his cock, his balls, the meat of his thighs, was familiar and so close to what he needed. He rolled over a little more, basically straddling it now, thrusting into the fabric. He buried his face in the soft material, in the scent of them. He thought of them underneath him, dark eyes just watching as he took pleasure from the scraps they threw to him. They would give him what he needed at the end of it all, he knew they would. They always did.

When he reached for the vial of oil, it was at the behest of his imagined lover. He imagined the way their eyes might darken and sparkle at the sight of him reaching back and circling his sore hole with gentle fingers. They were always gentle with him during the second and third rounds, when they happened. He added a finger, then another far too quickly. He groaned at the stretch, but heard Mazin's voice in his ears, encouraging him, praising him. With their encouragement, he took a third finger and sank deeper, rocking his hips back and forth.

He knew he was making a mess of the bed, cock weeping and mouth drooling all over the fabric, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. It felt so good and he needed it so badly. He’d had them only last night, but it wasn’t enough. He never wanted them just once, just for one night at a time. He needed them, not just now, not just once, but alwasy.

“M…Mazin…” he couldn’t help their name falling from his lips, muffled by fabric and darkness. “I love…I love you…”

Here, in the solitude and dark, he dared to say what he kept inside. He flirted, he declared, he fucked, but he never said those three words that would fling him past the point of no return. He kept them inside, drowned by alcohol and muffled by Mazin’s mouth. Here, with no one around to foist him with the consequences, he said it recklessly, breathlessly, and probably a bit too loudly.

Saying it aloud was almost too much to bear. His vision went white even behind his eyelids, and he came with a barely muffled cry into the pillow. He kept thrusting through it, chasing that sweet pain that came from far too much. His hips began to stutter and his limbs began to shake, and if he kept his eyes closed tight, he could imagine that it was Mazin underneath and around him, holding him through the sweetest pleasure.

Eventually he stopped, trembling and sighing. He was getting sticky, and he had definitely made a mess of the bed that couldn’t be explained away. He was sure Mazin would be away from home for days, giving him plenty of time to launder.

It was that knowledge that kept him from leaving the bed even after it started to become uncomfortable. He could pretend it was a hangover, or exhaustion. In truth, the darkness, the cold, the sea salt smell of Mazin was hard to leave.