Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Lithium ❯ Lithium ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: This work is a product of the authoress' imagination. Any resemblance to real or fictitious existing characters is purely coincidental. It is rude to steal.

 

Title: Lithium

Pairing: AlcaeusxJanus

Universe: Canon

This is based off my original novel, The Requiem of Janus, available on my original site for reading. It is incomplete but I wanted readers to get a taste of the main pairings relationship. All mistakes are mine and mine alone as my beta hasn't edited it yet. Also, this is a ONESHOT.

Pairing: NC-17

Warnings: Anal, Oral, Language, Angst

Desc: He couldn't hide the emptiness, or the want, or the need. But in the end, Alcaeus didn't belong to him and Janus was left fallen among the ashes of what he once had.

 

Lithium

 

Breaths echoing in an empty room. Sweat slicked skin gliding one over the other. Bronzed flesh over pale, pale legs and gasping for air. Lips sliding along his spine, fingers pressed into his hips and he gripped onto the sheets, pressing his face into the pillow as fiery heat spread up his spine. His back arched as the blunt head of Alcaeus' cock shoved into his entrance, taking no time for stretching, only lubrication easing the not-so gentle taking.

 

But that was how he wanted it. How he craved it. He couldn't get enough of him. Around him, above him, surrounding every inch of him.

 

Alcaeus slid deep inside, filling up every inch of his orifice until white curly hair pressed against his ass. A manly grunt echoed around them, the heat from the fire making it blazing hot inside the room. The bed creaked beneath their forms as his body tensed, forcing the muscles of his anus to clench tightly on the invasion. Alcaeus hissed, fingers tightening even more on Janus' hips, enough to leave marks for later.

 

“Harder,” Janus gasped out. “By Sybaris, Alcaeus! Fuck me harder!” he begged, shoving his hips backwards, pleading with both his body and his words.

 

The white-haired male growled, pulling out and shoving back in with enough force to rock the bed against the wall, sliding his thick cock against Janus' prostate and causing the priest to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. So good, it was so damn good that he couldn't think of anything else but the blinding need. To be filled, to be fucked, to be dominated by one he had absolute control over.

Because when it was all said and done, Janus would be in control again. He would be the one in charge. Alcaeus was his. His to use and his to own for as long as he saw fit.

 

The slap of flesh on flesh filled the air, thick black strands of hair sprawled against white sheets and a white comforter as Janus allowed Alcaeus to shove him further into the bed with one hand, preventing him from rising. The soldier pounded into him without any mercy, but still he called for more strength, more power. He wanted it so bad.

 

His lover leaned over him, laying his greater weight along Janus' back as teeth and lips raked over his shoulder, a tongue scraping along the side of his neck. He would have marks, not that he minded. Fingernails raked down his back, four long gashes and he gasped, but with pleasure, arching into the touch as he restlessly moved beneath Alcaeus, the guard, sliding deep inside of him, hard and hot.

 

Fire spread along Janus' spine as his blue eyes darkened to mere slits of night, filled with lust. He snarled and panted, wanting and needing more, wanting to soothe the ache that was so deep inside of him. He was dying for a taste, Alcaeus was a drug that he simply could not give up. He was instantly glad that Alcaeus was behind him and could not see his face. In the midst of the sex and the ecstasy, when he gave himself over to every ounce of pleasure, he could no longer hide his emotions, the emptiness and the longing, and they poured from his eyes, showing everything he didn't want Alcaeus to know.

 

His own cock jutted out from his body impatiently, dripping consistently down onto the sheets that the servants would have to clean later. Alcaeus' weight drove him down into the bed and he pumped his hips, desperate for any sort of friction as his lover took him in long, deep penetrating strokes. So deep he could feel them in his throat, filling and filling as he gasped for breath.

 

“Gods,” Alcaeus muttered against his neck, teeth scraping along flesh and drawing up welts. Hot breath sending tingles down his spine, quivers echoing in his belly. “Always so tight....”

 

Their sweat mixed and melded as the heavy musk of sex filtered all around them, already in the sheets from their excursions of earlier. Janus' fingers curled around the sheet, searching for purchase as he took Alcaeus into his body over and over, a fine cresting wave of pleasure building up inside of him. His entrance gripped the older male tightly, almost painfully so but he enjoyed it. Every ounce of it.

 

Janus writhed and bucked beneath him, every nerve of his skin sensitized to touch. He could feel the press of the sweat-dampened cotton fabric beneath him. Alcaeus' skin was hot against his back, the other man's white braided hair tickling along his neck where it flopped over Alcaeus' shoulder. His scalp tingled, his body ached, his cock rubbed insistently into the bed beneath him as Alcaeus continued the maddening yet arousing past.

 

And then suddenly, the weight was gone. Alcaeus pulled out of him and he instantly felt empty before he was unceremoniously flipped onto his back. Tanned hands gripped onto his knees, bending them and pushing them out before Alcaeus plunged in again, stretching over him like some sun-kissed crimson-eyed god. He was bathed in sweat, lip pulled between his slightly canine teeth and he never looked more beautiful, more sensual.

 

Janus moaned, whimpering continuously in his throat as his back arched at the sudden thrust, taking his lover as deep as his body could manage. It was so damn good he wondered how he had ever survived without it before, how he would live without it... him in the future. He squeezed his eyes closed, shutting off all of the worthlessness threatening to pour out as strong soldier fingers wrapped around his knees, squeezing and pushing, opening him up to quick and probing thrusts.

 

The priest panted, breath coming in shallow heaves as he thrashed beneath Alcaeus' ministrations, nearly unintelligible cries for “more” and “harder” emerging from his mouth. Fire raced along his skin and pooled in his belly, his cock jutting neglected from a nest of wiry black hair until he couldn't take it anymore, wrapping one of his own hands around the pale column of flesh and stroking himself vigorously.

 

He lost himself; he lost everything. Until there was nothing but Alcaeus. The scent of Alcaeus: leather and musk, sandalwood all combined with that essential smell that was him alone. Alcaeus' grunts and moans, his pants of exertion and his own low murmurings of encouragement. His mind was consumed by lust-filled crimson eyes and miles and miles of tanned flesh, covering thick and strong muscles that shifted and strained in order to bring him the highest pleasure.

 

His free hand struggled to find something to cling to, finally wrapping itself around the long length of Alcaeus' snowy braid, nearly yanking on it in his attempt to somehow stay grounded as pleasure consumed him. This was how it was, this was how it was meant to be.

 

He belonged to him and there was no other way. Nothing meant anything anymore.

 

Alcaeus played his body like a fine-tuned instrument, probing out every spot of pleasure until there was nothing but the hot-white fire of orgasm. His hips bucked as he frantically fisted himself, seeking that high pinnacle. Blood filled his mouth as he bit his lip, arching his back as he finally came, exploding into a rush of semen that splashed on both their bodies.

 

The rhythmic clenching of his inner muscles, the look of pleasure that splayed out over his face, and Alcaeus couldn't hold back any longer. Eyelids fluttered over crystalline eyes, brief glimpses of emotions always kept carefully hidden and he came, spilling himself deep inside of his lover as Janus climaxed around him, wordless cries of pleasure falling from his mouth and echoing around Janus' bedchamber.

 

Alcaeus collapsed over his younger lover tiredly, but that didn't stop him from kissing Janus as he reluctantly released his iron grip on the priest's legs. They fell around him as Alcaeus perched between them, burying a hand in loose dark strands and plundering Janus' mouth with his own, jabbing his tongue deep inside in a mimicry of what his cock had just done.

 

His lover moaned, moving restlessly beneath him as he swirled his tongue alongside Alcaeus', allowing him to lay siege to his mouth. Janus' hands wrapped around the tanned male, holding him down and close to him. He couldn't get enough of his taste, that perfect mixture of everything he desired and needed. His sated cock twitched as desire began to flow through him again, despite his weariness and the fact that he had just came for the second time that night.

 

Finger scraped through his hair, tilting his head upwards as Alcaeus' lips wandered away, dotting nips along his jaw and heading towards his sensitive neck, doling out licks that made him shiver in response. He began to ache again; ache for something that only Alcaeus could heal as his heart thrummed in his chest.

 

Except, that in the end, Alcaeus didn't belong to him. He could order him to do as he wanted. He could arouse Alcaeus to the point that he could not deny him. But at the end of the day, when Alcaeus crept from his bed or was sent away, he always returned to his home and him. The man who truly owned Alcaeus' heart.

 

It was so very wrong of him to use his power for such selfish gain. It was terribly wrong and evil but he couldn't stop. Not when every time he looked into crimson eyes his body ached with a hunger that couldn't be satisfied with any other. He wouldn't be contented until he made Alcaeus his own. But spells and orders and demands were nothing when faced with the heart.

 

He couldn't force Alcaeus to love him; he couldn't force emotions that weren't there. And always in the end, Janus was left feeling even more cold and empty than before. But for the moment, that one blissful moment when all he knew was pure ecstasy and the rapid pulse of Alcaeus' heartbeat beneath his fingertips, Janus felt truly alive.

 

A sword-calloused hand rubbed along the side of his abdomen as Alcaeus began to nibble his way down Janus' chest, stopping at a peaked pinkish nibble and drawing the nub into his mouth. He slid his tongue along the flesh, eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure from the priest beneath him as Janus arched his back into the touch. His eyelids fluttered, one hand gripping onto Alcaeus' shoulder as the other gripped onto the sheets, his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

 

The tang of sex and sweat filtered through to his nose as their skin rubbed together. His thoughts faded with every pass of that warm, wet tongue over his nipple and arousal began to flood his mind, and all he knew was Alcaeus. His white-haired lover nipped at his abused nipple before moving further downwards, engulfing Janus' reawakened cock in his mouth.

 

He slid his tongue along the underside, tracing the vein before wrapping his lips around the mushroomed head, licking up precum and traces of his prior orgasm as he did so. One hand gently took hold of Janus' scrotum, massaging his testicles with sensual movements as the other settled lightly on a pale hip.

 

Alcaeus swallowed him nearly hungrily, his movements always seeming eager and anxious. But was he pretending? Or was the desire real? Janus couldn't even guess and it hurt, it struck a pang deep inside of him that he couldn't identify. But the feelings that Alcaeus evoked inside him, they were all too real and Janus moaned, bucking up eagerly into the touch, only to be held down by one powerful hand.

 

The fingers on his scrotum dipped deeper, two digits pressing against his gasping entrance and pushing inside, aided by the cum that was leaking out of him. Alcaeus curled his fingers, managing to find that one sweet spot and rubbed on it insistently, causing Janus to gasp and writhe, a new sheen of sweat covering his body. He was tired, so very tired, but his blood thrummed in his veins; his body pulsed with arousal that burned in his belly with every pull of Alcaeus' talented mouth on his cock.

 

A talented mouth that belonged to someone else, a talent that was practiced and used elsewhere when he was done. Jealousy burned deep inside of him, fueling his rage and his pride. Fueling his addiction. He knew he should learn to let go. He knew he couldn't keep him. But damned if he didn't try, damned if he didn't grip onto tanned flesh even harder, pushing his erect cock further down Alcaeus' throat, as if marking him as a possession. Damned if he didn't clench his buttocks around the intruding fingers, pushing them further inside of his body and pressing harder against his prostate.

 

He spread his legs wider, giving Alcaeus even more room, not caring that he looked more like a whore than High Priest of the Lady Sybaris. He didn't care that he was losing himself and his purpose all for one man. All that mattered was the tongue curling around his hardened flesh and the third finger probing his innards.

 

A hot flush spread through his body as he murmured words of encouragement, legs trembling with anticipation. This what he needed, what he harbored and craved. Every inch of him desired this man's touch. His lips, his tongue, his skin, his voice. From the moment their eyes first met across the temple proper, he knew he had to make Alcaeus his.

 

Alcaeus moaned, the reverberation sending an erotic vibration along Janus' cock as his snowy-haired lover pulled him deep into his throat. That was all it took. His back arched as he was swallowed by Alcaeus, a scream of ecstasy torn from Janus' throat. He didn't care that the guards down the hall would have heard him, hand tightened painfully on Alcaeus' shoulders and manicured fingernails leaving halfmoon-shaped circlets of blood in tanned skin.

 

Exhausted, Janus collapsed against the sweat-dampened covers, eyelids shuttered over crystalline eyes. He panted, desperately trying to draw a breath as his entire body trembled. He vaguely registered the sound of Alcaeus jerking himself off, frantically trying to relieve his own aching arousal. Tangled strands of dark hair clung to Janus' face but he was too limp to even move them aside, lying bonelessly on top of dirty sheets and covered in semen, both his and his lover's.

 

Alcaeus' cry of completion as he came over the bedspread was far more muffled and restrained than Janus' own, but it stirred the priest nevertheless. It seemed he was insatiable around the man he had blackmailed into being his lover. Because he knew there was no one else for him. No one else could satisfy.

Cracking open one weary eye, Janus found enough strength in him to sit up, grabbing Alcaeus by the back of his head and dragging him close for a possessive kiss, jabbing his tongue inside the soldier's mouth. He laid claim to the crimson-eyed male, curling fingers in the disheveled snowy braid. Already short on breath, it was the need for air that finally separated them.

 

Their eyes met and Janus was suddenly struck by how bright Alcaeus' gaze was. Scarlet and yet not frightening, full of emotion because he wore his heart on his sleeve unlike Janus' own cruel and unfeeling self. There was so much there that Janus couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of guilt for his own selfishness and the warm feeling that had washed over him was replaced by something cold and lifeless... hollow.

 

He opened his mouth to speak though he wasn't certain what, when Alcaeus interrupted him, voice polite as always. “Did I satisfy, your holiness?” he questioned, slightly raspy from deep-throating Janus.

 

The moment gone, crystalline eyes turned cold and icy as Janus turned his head away, his hand dropping from Alcaeus' hair to curl viciously in the bedspread. He took a deep breath to calm his oscillating emotions, pushing away those that had no business in his life. Foolish thoughts like caring and companionship and just plain being fucking loved, he shoved all those away into the deepest parts of hell because they didn't belong in his heart. That wasn't what he had been born or made for. Janus was High Priest, he could have whatever he wanted or needed; he never lacked for anything.

 

But in many ways he was trapped by his own decisions, living a paradox of lonely lies reflected in crimson eyes, an irony of his own making.

 

“You may leave,” Janus muttered as he shoved himself up from the bed, ruthlessly grabbing a nearby silk robe to wrap it around his lithe pale frame. “Your duties have been filled for the night,” he finished as he stood before the fire, tying the sash around his waist and trying to ignore the hollow feeling inside of him as Alcaeus' cum trickled out of him. Cold blue eyes locked on dancing flame as if they held the answers to all of his many questions.

 

He heard and felt more than saw Alcaeus rise from the bed, moving across the room with that subtle soldier grace to his pile of discarded clothing and armor. Janus knew that he would bathe later, he never stuck around to use Janus' private bath, as if he couldn't wait to be free... as if being around the priest any longer than necessary sickened him. A strange feeling curdled in Janus' stomach at that thought and his knees weakened, an odd urge to fall to his knees attacking him. But he stood firm; he held his ground.

 

The soft swish of clothes being pulled on, the gentle clang of metal as buckles were buckled and buttons were buttoned. Boots were yanked on and tied with a slide of string over string, a scabbard rattled as it was shoved back through a belt. Earrings jangled in one slightly pointed tanned ear. Crimson eyes stared downcast to the floor. Janus knew all of this was occurring, even if he couldn't see it. He didn't have to look with his eyes, his spiritual senses, the aether telling him enough.

 

“Then, if you desire it, I will take my leave,” intoned Alcaeus, standing very near to the door at attention, waiting for his dismissal.

 

Janus was silent for a moment, internally waging a war with himself. For months it had been the same. In the beginning, it hadn't mattered; he had gotten what he wanted. The problem came when it wasn't enough anymore. When the loneliness struck him late at night in his empty bed, when orgasms without emotion became nothing but vacant release, when he suddenly wanted more from Alcaeus than simple obedience.

 

He should have done the right thing. He should have merely released the soldier from his service and allowed Alcaeus to live his life as he pleased. Except that Janus was a selfish, thoughtless man. And something was better than nothing. Pretending and lying to himself was better than the prospect of having naught at all. He simply couldn't live without that touch. And none other would suffice.

 

He was wholly addicted to Alcaeus and him he would not give up. He didn't want to know how it felt to be without Alcaeus, or to forget his touch and his growls of pleasure when he came. Alcaeus had more power over him than the soldier would ever know, that he had ensnared Janus within his hold unknowingly.

 

Closing his eyes against the weariness in his soul, Janus responded. “You are dismissed.”

 

“Will his holiness request my presence tomorrow?”

 

It was the same routine, the same questions. And in the end Alcaeus was not his, not wholly, not in what mattered.

 

Janus nodded. “Yes,” he answered simply, too weary to dish out his usual lengthy and descriptive order. Unconsciously, his hands fisted at his sides as he opened his eyes and watched the endless dance of the flame, almost mesmerizing and always consuming greedily. Like himself, so much like himself.

 

The sound of boots across the floor, a steady clomp, then the turning of the doorknob. Alcaeus paused after he opened the door, leaving one final enigmatic phrase before the door closed quietly behind him, barely even clicking in place.

 

“Pleasant dreams, Janus.”

 

What an idle thought, what a valiant notion. When was the last time he had pleasant dreams? When was the last time his prescient sight hadn't disturbed him with visions of blood-soaked death and betrayal, of broken hearts and broken countries? So long ago that he didn't even remember. So long ago that he knew he had never been comforted. So long ago that he dreaded sleep and sleeping along, but embraced that as his only future every night.

 

Whether Alcaeus meant well or sought to curse him, Janus wasn't sure. He knew that Alcaeus resented him, for what he had done, for what he had forced the soldier into. If he had any hope for redemption, he should let Alcaeus go. But he couldn't. Anything was better than to be alone, even false emotions and sexual desires brought about by compliance and blackmail.

 

Even if it made him the foulest human on the planet, the most despised by the one he wanted to show feeling to most of all. Even if he had to look into the eyes of hatred every day, for that one single moment of bliss, when he tricked himself into believing it was something good and pure, he would become the most tainted individual of all.

 

Janus growled then, angry with himself, angry with Alcaeus, angry with the gods for giving him such gifts when he never asked to be their puppet. But just as quickly as the irrational emotion attacked him, it flooded away. He had made his choice; there was no point in regretting it now.

 

Alcaeus was his for as long as he desired it. No matter what anyone else tried, he would never let him go. He could not and would not. Janus had made his decision and there was no turning back. Not when he was already addicted. Not when he couldn't even get to sleep at night without that much needed release.

 

A memory of breaths echoing in his silent room, the slick glide of sweat-dampened tanned flesh along pale skin, the feel of a warm mouth descending on his aching cock, lust-brimmed crimson eyes looking up at him. Janus shivered, despite himself, feeling arousal thrum weakly in his veins. He always ached for him, always felt empty, cold and alone.

 

That was his fate.

 

- - -

 

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