Glacial Spirits

style='font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'>Glacial Spirits

By
Shaded Mazoku

Disclaimer: Not mine, won’t ever be. They
belong to Squaresoft. I just play with them…

Rating: NC-17.

Pairing: Magus x Flea.

Warning: Yaoi, some blood-play, lemon,
Magus being odd, Flea being odd.

Summary: Magus gets a late night visitor.
Stuff happens.

Written under the influence of Malice Mizer’s “Shiroi Hada ni Kuruu Ai to
Kanashimi no Rondo”… …Or in other words, blame Mana for this ^_~…

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Cold. Everywhere, it was ice-cold, like
wading through ice water on an early winter morning. Shivering, he struggled
towards the faint light in the horizon. There was something not right about the
light, but he couldn’t tell what. He waded forwards, and he could tell that
there really was an icy liquid around his feet now. When he moved, he made
little splashing sounds, and there was a hauntingly familiar smell in the air.
He knew what he would see if he looked down. He didn’t. Looking up, he realized
that he was nearly there. The light twinkled ahead of him, teasingly, a
swirling mass of black and magenta. He reached out, nearly touching the source
of that light, but something held him back. Something was creeping up his legs.
He looked down, and watched the crimson tendrils twine upwards, from the ocean
of ice-cold blood he’d been wading in. More tendrils joined the first two, and
twined and twisted themselves upwards, restraining him. It was tempting to just
give up and let the crimson liquid consume him, but he couldn’t. Not yet. There
was still so much he had to do. The blood was forcing itself into his mouth
now, drowning him in its coppery taste. He was weakening. The blood had nearly
won. Using the last of his power, he reached out for the light.

And woke up.

The air in the bedroom was warm, in scarp
contrast to the ice-cold blood in his dream had been. It was still night, out
side the windows, he could spot a few bats doing their nocturnal midair
acrobatics. Magus groaned and sat up, shaking his head. His body was soaked in
sweat after the dream. The nightmare, rather, he thought and dragged a
hand through his hair. The dream had come as a total surprise, though. He
hadn’t had a nightmare in years. In fact, he hadn’t had any kind of dream in
years. Not since he’d taken control of the Mystics. But this dream had been
vivid. More like a memory than an actual dream. He could still smell the blood,
could still taste it.

“Bad dream, Magus?” Someone asked from the corner of the room. “I
thought you didn’t dream anymore.” Magus turned quickly, preparing to attack
the intruder. “Honestly, Magus,” the hidden stranger said, soft voice dripping
with cynicism. “Are you going to attack me without any clothing on? Not very
becoming of a lost prince, is it?” Magus growled and stood up, clothes or no
clothes. His heritage was not something he allowed people to trifle with. A
lost prince he might be, but that didn’t matter. He was still a prince, even if
he hardly ever thought of himself as one.

In the shadows, the stranger laughed, a soft, silvery sound that seemed familiar.
“Such a nice view. You could almost make me forget why I’m here,” the stranger
teased. Magus growled, startling himself more than the intruder. The sound
started deep in his chest and rumbled upwards. A soft sigh, of what seemed to
be wistfulness, came from the shadows. “Still very much the Alpha male, I see,”
came the lilting voice. Glaring at the shadows, Magus slowly started an
incantation, prepg tog to annihilate whoever dared sneak into his house like
that. The familiar energy of Dark Bomb filled his body. “No need for that,
Magus. Believe it or not, I’m not here to kill you.”

“Why are you here, then?” Magus retorted, not letting go of the energy
yet. “And while we’re at it, who are you, and how did you get in?” Some soft
giggles came from the corner. “That’s more like the Sir Magus I used to know.”
Another wistful sigh. “ I’m here because someone told me that you needed help
and that I was the best for the job. And I came in through the wall. It’s not
that hard.” The intruder snickered. Magus snorted. “I don’t need anybody’s
help. And you still haven’t told me who you are.”

“That, Sir Magus, is because I had hoped you’d recognize me,” the
stranger said, and stepped into the light. The moonlight reflected of a long
white dress, pale skin and long pink h but but the large magenta eyes staring
at him reflected no light at all. They were dark and filled with sadness and
despair. The owner of those disturbing eyes was a creature of incredible
beauty, but right now, the emotion in his eyes drowned it all. “Silly of me to
expect that, of course,” Flea said, softly, not taking his eyes of Magus.

“This is impossible,” Magus said, sitting down at the bed. His spell had
sizzled away in the instant he’d recognized the Mystic. Flea smiled sadly at
him. “Nothing is impossible, Magus. Just highly improbable.” He looked as
though he wanted to cry. His eyes were watery, which made them shine with more
brilliance than ever. Magus had never seen Flea look more appealing. Not that
the Magician wasn’t always beautiful, but he usually acted like a complete
flirt, and like he was a ditz. Right now, he could see right through all those
acts, and see the real Flea. Flea wasn’t exactly scared, but he was sad for
some reason.

“Come closer,” Magus said, looking
at Flea. The Mystic was too far away to properly a c a conversation at this
time of night. “I don’t think so,” the Mystic replied, stepping even further
away. Magus growled again and grabbed Flea’s wrist quickly, pulling him closer.
The Mystic tried to pull away and Magus could feel his muscles move under his
skin, straining against the touch and pushing the veins closer to the surface.
And suddenly he realized just what was so odd about Flea being there, now,
feeling warm and velvety under his fingers. “Oh,” was all he said, all he could
say. Still, he didn’t let go of Flea.

The Mystic smiled bitterly. “Oh, indeed. You would have thought that if
they could bring me here, they could fix that little detail, huh?” He sat down
on the bed next to Magus, dangling his legs. Slowly, his fingers traced over
Magus’ hand. “You’ve got big hands,” he said. “Big and strong. For a moment
there, I thought you were going to break my wrist.” He slipped his wrist out of
Magus’ grip and replaced it with his hand. “You could break me in two if you
wanted to, couldn’t you?” Flea’s soft words caused a reaction in him unlike
anything he’d ever felt. On one hand, he was appalled that he could do that to
Flea, and that he could all too easily imagine what it would be like, to break
the doll-like Mystic beyond repair. On the other hand, the idea of having so
much power over another being wasilliilling. It was beyond thrilling, actually.

Shaking his head, he realized that he was sitting stark naked on his
bed, in the middle of the night, holding Flea’s hand, yet he had no idea how
the Mystic had come to be there, apart from the fact that someone, someone
powerful, had sent him to help. It struck him as ridiculous, but he didn’t
move, or yell at Flea. “You know,” Flea said, “when you’re not being rude or
anti-social, you’re actually very good company.” Elegant fingers tracing the
veins on his hand accompanied those soft words. It was oddly comforting. Magus
lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Flea nodded and leaned against his arm. He was
oddly warm, everything considered. “Of course,” he said, smiling, “If you had
walked around dressed like that, I don’t think we had been nearly as afraid of
you.” Magus chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Flea grinned. “Naked men aren’t very
intimidating,” he said.

Magus smiled softly, and looked down at Flea, who was still tracing
patterns on his skin. The sadness in Flea’s eyes was still there, and now that
he knew what caused it, it made him feel really terrible. He was the cause of it,
in a way, and there was nothing he could do about it. “This seems surreal,” he
said. Flea craned his neck to look up at him, and smiled sadly. “Yes.” Magus
shivered again, trying to ignore the memories that seemed to flood his mind
every time he looked at Flea. “Don’t worry. I forgave you a long time ago,” the
Mystic said, closing his eyes. “I’m no good at hating you. I like you too
much.”

Magus chocked at that. “You like me? You did nothing but make my life
miserable for years.” Flea smiled slightly. “Well, I do like you. Most of the
time I do, at least. Sometimes you’re just such a pain in the ass that I had to
make you miserable.” He pulled his legs up into the bed and sat on his knees.
“But you always made my life miserable in return,” he whispered. “How?” Magus
demanded, suddenly very aware of Flea’s closeness. “Because you always drove me
crazy, being so damn handsome. I didn’t know whether I should hit you or kissu,” u,” the Magician said, utterly soft. “When you were a child, you were a total
menace with a snotty attitude. I didn’t know who you were then, and I never
understood why you had that superior attitude.” He smiled again, tilting his
head. “Then you grew into a very handsome young man, and suddenly, I had no
idea what to do with you. I was sure I was going to go insane.”

Magus closed his eyes, trying not to look at Flea. Still, he could feel
the Mystic’s hand touch his face, resting along his jaw. “If you had any idea
how much I wanted you back then,” Flea sighed, “but you always loathed me, and
I felt like I’d explode.” Magus snapped his eyes open and found himself staring
into Flea’s magenta ones. Growling, he stopped thinking and pressed his lips
against Flea’s, in a forceful, rough kiss. The Magician blinked at first, but
shortly afterwards, he closed his eyes and responded eagerly to the kiss. Magus
pushed them both down into the mattress, enjoying the feeling of Flea’s skilled
tongue slipping into his mouth. Pulling away to breathe, he bent down and
brushed Flea’s earlobe with his lips as he spoke. “I’ve never loathed you,
Flea. I just never understood you.” He nipped at the earlobe and was rewarded
by the feeling of the Mystic’s body arching up against him. “Ooh. That feels so
good, Magus,” Flea moaned, clawing at Magus’ back. “Sensitive ears?”

Flea made a sound between a purr and a hiss as the blue-haired mage’s
tongue snaked around the tip of his ear. “Mm, yessss. Don’t stop.” Magus wasn’t
planning to. Flea looked absolutely exquisite like this, and it had to be the most
arousing sight Magus had ever seen. The Mystic’ss wes were half closed, and
they were gleaming slightly, as if Flea was preparing a spell of some sort. “Do
you always draw on your magic in situations like this?” Magus asked, beforoingoing back to sucking gently on the tips of Flea’s ear. “Mm, no… …Only when I’m
not paying attention to anything but my partner.” The magician’s words were
followed by a soft moan, as Flea arched up against him again. Magus bit down at
Flea’s ear to keep from moaning, wanting to show the Mystic that he was in
control.

Not that Flea made any attempts to change that. He seemed perfectly
content with being controlled, as long as he got something out of it. He ran
his nails up Magus’ back before burying them in his shoulder. Magus growled and
pinned both of Flea’s arms to the bed, using a bit more force than absolutely
needed, just to see if Flea would twitch. The Mystic moaned again, lookinge
fe
feral now than earlier. “You liked that, didn’t you?” Magus asked, looking down
at Flea. The magician had bit his lips and blood was dripping from the wound.
“Yessss.” The reply was sibilant, and Magus was suddenly reminded of how little
he knew about Flea.

Sometime after the defeat of Lavos, he had found a book about Mystics in
a shop dealing in ancient books, and what he’d learned had been a surprise, but
at the same time, it had made him feel stupid for not realizing it sooner. The
Mystic race was demonic in origin. Many years before the fall of Zeal, an
entire city of Enlightened had been thrown out from Zeal because they had used
forbidden magic. They had opened a gate leading to the realm of the Shion, a
race of non-violent demons. The Shion, happy to be free from their own realm,
had offered to stay and help the ones that woulter ter be known as the Banished
Ones. By the time Magus had been born, the two groups, Shion and Banished Ones,
had merged into one. The Mystics. A race of demonic origin and great magical
power.

And now, he has one of those creatures pinned underneath him, writhing
in pleasure as he was hurt, and he had no idea what to do. He wanted to just
take Flea, and forget evhinghing else, forget all the bad things that had
happened between them. He just wasn’t sure he could. Flea hissed slightly and
pressed his knee up against Magus’ groin, effectively bringing the other man’s
attention back to what they were doing. “Stop thinking so much,” was the
Mystic’s advice as he easily slipped out of Magus grip and wrapped his arms
around the man’s neck. Magus was about to reply, but Flea kissed him before he
could make a sound, hard enough to make him rea tha that perhaps he had
underestimated the small man’s strength and endurance. Then again, he should
have guessed that he had. Flea was a demon, after all, or at least descended
from demons. But the Mystic’s lips where on his collarbone now, hot and eager,
and it made it impossible for Magus to think. Flea was biting softly along the
bone, careful about his sharp fangs. Magus groaned and tried to withstand the urge
to just drop down into the soft mattress. Flea was han aro around his neck,
though, and if Magus let go, he’d trap the small man underneath him.

He carefully lowered them both down, instead, so that he had his hands
free. Slowly, he started undressing Flea, growing increasingly annoyed with the
fabric separating them. Flea smiled and showed Magus how to undo the lace along
the sides so the garment could be peeled off. Magus smiled. The dress was very
much a typ Fle Flea garment, managing somehow to be both pretty and practical.
Flea giggled softly and grabbed Magus’ hair to pull him close for another long
kiss. Magus didn’t even try to resist, and occupied his hands with exploring
Flea’s body now that the dress was out of the way. The Mystic was nearly naked
now, dressed only in a pair of lacy panties that would have looked ridiculous
on anyone else, but they looked very sexy and alluring on Flea. He growled and
leaned over to bite at Flea’s neck. The bite was gentle at first, but when the
pink-haired man made a little sound that was halfway between a moan and a
whimper and pushed himself up against his teeth, he bit harder.

an>Han>He bent his head down again and kissed Flea deeply, before tracing a
line down the other man’s chest with his tongue, making sure to lavish special
attention to the nipples. Not surprisingly, they hardened quickly under his
tough, but that didn’t keep him from paying every bit as much attention to them
as he had to the neck. He quite enjoyed feeling Flea unravel underneath him. It
made him feel powerful, and it was one of the most arousing experiences he’d
ever hThouThough the sounds Flea was making now wasn’t really whimpers anymore.
They were nearly inaudible words in the strangely melodic language of the
Mystics, and Magus was too far-gone to translate. Finding out just how many
spots on Flea’s body that would make the Mystic writhe when he touched them
seemed much more interesting. So far he’d found twenty-seven. Flea was just too
damned sensitive for his own good.

However, the pink-haired magician had other ideas. Easily slipping from
Magus’ grasp, he pounced on the taller man, spending some time playing with his
nipples. Magus realized, as he bit his lip to keep from moaning, that he was
nearly as sensitive as Flea was, he just didn’t know because he had very little
experience with sex. Flea giggled and bit down at the sensitive nub of flesh
between his teeth. Magus moaned. Not even biting his lip could stop it. Another
soft giggle came from Flea, before he let his lead slip down to Magus’ groins.
His tongue, which was surprisingly long and agile, flickered out against the
tip, lapping gently at the drop of pre-cum that had formed there. When Magus
made a sound that was obviously encouraging, Flea smiled softly and took the
head into his mouth.

The warmth and moisture of Flea’s mouth was nearly too much for Magus,
and the Mystic was very aware of this. Flea was skilled with his mouth and knew
exactly how to drive Magus crazy using it. He smiled and ran his tongue up the
underside of Magus’ erection, drawing another moan from his former employer. He nnednned and swirled his tongue around the tip, before sowinowing the entire
hardness, his throat easily letting it slide down. Magus half moaned, half
growled and tore a large rift in the sheets. “Stop it,” he hissed between
clenched teeth. Flea pulled away, leaving a glistening trail of saliva on
Magus’ erection. He lapped lazily at the top before sitting back. “Not enjoying
it?” he asked. Magus looked at him, red eyes shining with something Flea
couldn’t quite identify. “Enjoying it too much,” he finally said. Flea smiled
and tangled a hand in the blue strands that framed Magus’ face. “Don’t worry,”
he said. “I’ve got all the time in the world, and nothing else to do with it.”
Magus smiled, but the smile was a sad one, which was fitting. Happy smiles had
no place on his face. “I don’t,” he said, and pushed at Flea, who easily sank
back into the mattress. “And I want this to last.” Flea smiled up at him, eyes
hazy with lust, but also with another emotion, hidden deeply in his eyes. Magus
shook his head slightly and growled again, feeling the sound rise up through
his throat. “Touch yourself,” he commanded the Mystic.

Flea gave him another smile, a smile that seemed to tell volumes about
exactly how much the small magician understood. His slender, long-fingered
hands slid slowly but firmly over his body, in a way that showed that this was
a familiar action. His fingers traced patterns over his skin, leaving red
trails of swollen skin where the nails graced the skin. Giving a small moan,
more to entice his audience than because he needed to, he moved one hand up his his nipples, teasing the already hard nubs into stiffening even further. Magus
watched Flea’s display wordlessly, trying not to pounce on the Mystic. The
Mystic was putting on a show for his sake, and Magus knew it. He enjoyed it, as
well. Flea was skilled when it came to sexual matters, that much were obvious,
and he knew exactly how to capture someone’s attention. Flea was raking his
nails lazily over his chest now, leaving more swollen tracks, and the sight was
absolutely one of the most erotic things Magus had ever witnessed. Flea looked
up at him, and smiled once he confirmed that Magus’ attention was on him,
before letting his eyes slide half-shut and using his free hand to remove his
lacy underwear. Magus smirked faintly as he watched Flea get rid of the last
article of his clothing. Even stark naked, it was difficult to imagine that
Flea was really male, and that is wasn’t just an illusion. Flea smirked too,
knowing approximately what Magus was thinking, and wrapped his free hand
loosely around his own erection, moaning slightly as he did.

Magus really wanted to touch Flea, but he also wanted this to last, and
he doubted it would if he was in contact with his beautiful companion. The
Mystic had proved again and again that he could drive even the most repressed
stubstubbornly straight man to ecstasy in no time, and Magus was not nearly
that repressed. And he was not denying that he was attracted to Flea. How could
he, when he had the magician lying on his back, caressing himself on Magus’
command? It was a rush unlike anything else. And so, he didn’t touch. He
watched and hoped that time would stop right there, so that it would never end.

Flea moaned again, in earnest this time, as even his supernatural
endurance was wearing thin, more because of his partner than of the sensations
he ca to to himself. It felt amazingly good, of course, he knew his body
perfectly by now, and to drive himself over the edge like this would be easy,
but he wanted more than just this. He wanted share it with Magus, to let the
other man feel what he felt. Mentally surveying the room, he tried to find
anything that couerveerve as a lubricant. While a little pain could increase
the sensation, the amount of pain being taken without lubricant would cause was
not good. And he wanted nothing else in the world quite as much as he wanted
Magus to take him right now. He suddenly remembered a pot of liniment for
strained muscles standing in the shelf by the door, and smiled. He wasn’t about
to move, and to ask Magus to get it was out of the question. Luckily, Flea was
a far more skilled magician that people usually gave him credit for, and to
teleport a pot of liniment was child’s play, even with his mind mostly occupied
as it was now.

Magus blinked as the pot suddenly appeared and Flea stopped touching
himself to dip his fingers into the liniment. Part of him wondered why he’d
never noticed that Flea was left-handed before, but that part was mostly
ignored by the part that was watching inicipicipation. Flea smiled at him and
let his fingers tease over his entrance before slowly slipping in, easily
widening the ring of muscle. The pink-haired man gave another moan and let
another finger join the first two inside, obviously as impatient as Magus was
by now. His other had had stopped teasing his nipples now, and was digging into
the sheets, the nails leaving deep rifts. Magus growled and crawled halfway on
top of Flea, crushing his lips to the Mystic’s. Flea responded eagerly,
refusing to be inactive just because he was submissive. He uncurled his hand
from the sheets and placed it around Magus’ neck, before removing the other
hand from his opening and using it to smear a generous amount of the slippery
liniment onto Magus’ erection. Finally, he tore his mouth away from Magus’ long
enough to hiss “now!” into the blue-haired man’s ear. Magus needed no further
encouragement and entered Flea with one single thrust. Flea gave a sound
halfway between a sob and a hiss and reclaimed Magus’ mouth, kissing him with
strength that amazed them both.

Flea was warm and hot, and impossibly tight, and Magus couldn’t hold
back now. It was too much, and too good. Flea made no protests as Magus took
him without waiting for signal to move. He was too far gone, too caught up in
his own pleasure for any such actions. Magus growled again, and managed somehow
to maneuver them both into a better position, with Flea’s hips raised to allow
deeper thrusts. The Mystic mewled and clawed at Magus’ back, and the
blue-haired man could feel blood seeping out through the broken skin. He gave
another growl, this one originating deeper in his throat than the earlier ones
had, and increased the speed and force of his thrusts slightly, trying not to
loose control soon. But Flea was so warm, and so tight, and the muscles
clenched perfectly around Magus erection. Before long, the pressure that seemed
to push at the seams of his being exploded and he came, biting viciously down
at Flea shoulder as he climaxed. Flea moaned and came as well, unable to hold
on anymore.

They remained still for a while, no sounds coming from either of them
but soft pants. Finally, Magus managed to muster enough strength to pull out of
Flea, but he didn’t move further away than absolutely necessary, his mouth
still latched onto the Mystic’s shoulder. Slowly, he pulled his teeth out of
the flesh, lapping at the blood that welled up into his mouth. Flea made a
small whimpering sound and ran a hand through the sticky mess on his stomach.
Magus heard him mutter something, but he wasn’t coherent enough to hear what.
It caused the mess to go away, though, so he classified it as a cleaning spell
and went back to lapping at the rapidly coagulating wounds. Flea made another
small sound and snuggled closer, one hand still tan in in Magus’ hair. Magus
pulled away long enough to locate a blanket that had been kicked onto the floor
and pull it back into bed and on top of them. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather
deal with this in the morning,” he said, his voice sounding a little shaky.
Flea said nothing, just curled closer, so he could rest his head on Magus’
chest and, fell asleep. Magus wrapped his arms around Flea, even though he
wasn’t really the snuggly type. He just wasn’t sure if he could bear to let go
of the small Mystic right now. He closed his eyes, wanting to just lie there
and enjoy the feeling for a while.

When he opened his eyes again, it was
morning, and small rays of sun peeked in through the window. He could see
particles of dust dancing in the light. Lucca had given him some kind of watch
to keep by the bed as a present once, but it was nowhere to be seen. It
probably got knocked of the nightstand last night, the thought. The
nightstand was a rickety old thing. Magus didn’t need a clock to tell that it
was early, though. A small body was pressed against his, having slipped of his
chest ng tng the night, but Flea wasn’t warm anymore. He wasn’t cold, either,
but seemed to hold about the same temperature as the rest of the room. Magus
looked down at him and shivered. He could see straight through Flea. The Mystic
was transparent now, and he wasn’t breathing. Magus remembered how the last
time he’d met Flea had ended, now. He, Lucca and Crono had been in Ozzie’s
fortress, and the three Mystics had attacked them together. Of course, the trio
hadn’t stood a chance, but they’d still attacked, needing to keep their pride.
Magus had been the one that had finally killed Flea, using Dark Matter on him.
Yet last night, Flea had seemed more alive than ever, and Magus had nearly
forgot that he wasn’t alive anymore. He would get to the bottom of this mystery
and discover how the magician got there, but right now, he wanted to just lie
there and grieve over what could have been if circumstances had been different.

“Why couldn’t you say something when we worked together, Flea?” He
asked, and looked down at the sleeping Mystic. He could see the torn mattress
through his body. “Why did you have to die for me to realize that I desire
you?” But there was no answer from Flea. The magician was as silent as a
corpse. He didn’t move, not even when Magus poked him in the rib. But on one
shoulder, he had a trail of coagulated blood seeping from a pair of small
wounds. Magus wished he could cry, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even cry for
Schala, much less for a Mystic. He
really wished he could. Just one tear. But his eyes remained dry and Flea
remained dead, and nothing could be done about it.

Magus growled.

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Author’s note: Well, that was long. And
painful. This is the first lemon I’ve written in years, although I’ve though up
many a plot for them.

The song that inspired this goes something like this in English:

"The
rondo of sadness and love driven crazy by the white skin.

Music
& Lyrics: Mana

on this
night, the downpouring rain and wind pass through the forest

now,
engulfed in the bell's melody, time....

the
gently obscured moon.. tonight, together with the mist

I offer
up my prayers with this aria

a kiss to
the red roses that revolve about the white skin

t'>the thorn
of fate pierced my chest, splitting open my heart

The life
breathing in the pitch-black darkness

The limbs
seized by the transient sleep

And,
these shadows are overlapping each other

Tonight,
the peal of thunder invites you to the new encounter

gracefully
merged together with the darkness i fall into..

the aria
that signals the dawn

a kiss to
the red roses that revolve about the white skin

the thorn
of fate pierced my chest, and my heart...

the rondo
of sadness and love driven crazy by the white skin

the thorn
of fate, the time sealed away in my heart, now..

the rondo
of sadness and love driven crazy by the white skin

the thorn
of fate pierced my chest, splitting open my heart."

Thank you, Mana, I couldn’t have done this without
you…

A sequel is in the works.style='mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>