Warm

Yet another fic written for a kink meme. I seem to be getting good at those, right? The prompt was:

Symphonia - Mithos/Lloyd - Aphrodisiacs and bondage

As soon as I saw that I got hit upside the head, hard. Ow. Anyway, this was the result. Hope people like :3

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Lloyd awoke feeling warm. Not “curled next to a nicely banked fire with a blanket and a solid piece of wood to carve” warm. It also wasn’t a “baking in the sun why can’t it go down and cool off” kind of warm either. He knew both of those sorts of warmth, even if the latter wasn’t entirely comfortable.

No, this warmth seemed to be bubbling up from the very core of his being. It was a warmth that had sweat trickling over his bare skin and his breaths coming in gasps, though for the life of him he couldn’t remember why. He’d been training, certainly – that would explain the sweat and the shortness of breath. But warm? Training usually left him damp and drained, not warm.

He could have been bathing. That would explain the moisture on his skin, and the warmth that seemed to cling to him. It would also explain his lack of clothing; he didn’t realize he wasn’t wearing so much as boxers until he tried to shift and… well, something flopped. How would that leave him out of breath? He didn’t think he’d almost drowned… Then again, he could hardly even think right now, what was he supposed to be doing?

He managed to open his eyes, finally, though there was some sort of weight behind his eyes that wanted to drag them shut. The sight that greeted him should have immediately snapped him to full wakefulness; metal walls decorated with tubes ferrying bubbling liquid and larger cylinders that had ominous shapes… all of those were certainly not the quiet forest clearing he and his group had last been in.

He should have been jumping up to escape. He should have been scared and reaching for the swords he knew wouldn’t be on his hips. But he was unbearably warm, his breath gasping out of him in shallow puffs, and the small twitches he’d managed to wring from his muscles only served to show that he was bound. His hands were right above his head, his elbows strapped down so he couldn’t so much as rotate his shoulders or bend his elbows. His knees were resting in some sort of contraptions, holding them up and apart, and his ankles were secured to the table holding him. This left him horribly exposed, though for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to feel much more than dull shock. That warmth, it was sapping the strength out of him and drawing his attention inwards. He knew he should be writhing and shouting and trying to escape, but all he could do was twitch and groan.

Footsteps. He craned his head to try and track them, though his confinement meant that he couldn’t see beyond the top of his arm. “Who’s there?” he tried to shout; it came out more like a pained whisper. He still felt out of breath and drained; what was going on?

There was no warning, nothing to prepare him. On the opposite side of where he was looking, a finger traced the lines of muscle in his arm. It was electrifying and wrested a gasp from his throat. His entire body shivered at the touch, which really shouldn’t happen. He knew that, and yet he couldn’t control himself, why-

Another touch, a full hand gripping his upper arm. He had to close his eyes, it was too much, it felt so good. And he still didn’t know who was in there with him, he couldn’t open his eyes to see, because another hand was touching him now. Fingers traced his abdomen, dipping into his navel, and he couldn’t help his moan.

This was beyond anything he could have imagined. He was tied up so tight he couldn’t even squirm, didn’t even know who was touching him… and he was still getting turned on. Even with his body brimming with warmth and every touch sending fire down his spine, he could still feel that telltale heat growing between his legs.

It shouldn’t make him even more turned on. Some part of him, deep down, knew that this was wrong, knew that he should be fighting all of this and trying to escape. The part of him that was, at heart, a teenaged boy in all its hormonal glory was in full control, freed by that selfsame warmth that stole his breath and chased fire through his veins.

He lost track of what was going on, pleasure hazing his mind. He knew he was being touched, but he didn’t know where or how or why, just that it intensified the hardness in his cock and left him writhing and needing.

And just when he thought he’d explode from touches alone… they stopped. He struggled to find them again, his body attempting to twist and seek, but he couldn’t even wiggle his arms and legs.

“Please,” whispered out of him before he could stop it.

A snicker from above his head. He craned his head back as far as it could, but he only caught a wisp of blonde hair. He let out a frustrated noise or several; why wasn’t he being touched, who was tormenting him like this, what was going on?

“Who?” he wanted to demand. The word ghosted out of his lips instead.

“Who, indeed,” the unseen figured mused. “Do you really want to know?”

He wanted to know, he had to. He couldn’t stand it, being chained like this and unable to do anything. He just had to know, it would make this just a bit more bearable. “Yes, please,” he begged. The tone was piteous; had it really just come out of him?

“As you wish.”

He felt the table he was tied to shift, ever so slightly, tilting him just a few degrees upright. His body weight shifted down, but the change wasn’t so significant that it was uncomfortable. Rather, he now had a greater field of view in front of him.

“Mithos!” he wanted to shout. He wanted to break out of his bonds and strangle the blonde idiot that was trying to destroy the world. He wanted…

The angel reached out and traced a pattern on his calf, and his whole body jerked. Curses got jammed in the depths of his throat as a gasp wormed its way out.

“What… what are you…” Lloyd couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, his whole body feeling tingly and warm and like he was about to spontaneously combust. He was still aroused, and the throbbing between his legs wasn’t about to let him forget it.

Mithos smirked. “I’d think what I was doing was obvious. But the why… now, that’s trickier.” The blonde stepped away from the console that obviously controlled the table Lloyd was strapped to, but not before lifting it back so that it was fully level with the ground again. He didn’t seem to mind that he, also, was lacking any sort of clothes.

Lloyd could do nothing as Mithos climbed on top of him, each brush of skin against skin sending fire through him. He whimpered with the touches, suddenly not minding that it was his deadliest enemy making him feel like he was about to die from pleasure overload.

Mithos was touching, fingers seeming to be everywhere at once, and all Lloyd could do was writhe and moan and he didn’t even seem to mind when there were fingers someplace that fingers had no business to be.

There were no tender words shared, no kisses. Mithos was silent but efficient, the only sounds those Lloyd himself made. It wasn’t until the blonde had entered Lloyd, when the brunette at his hands was gasping and moaning and wishing so desperately that he could move, that he spoke.

“Genis wants you,” Mithos hissed, each word punctuated by a thrust and a moan from Lloyd. “He looks up to you, he wants you, and he’s supposed to be mine. He’s my friend, I should be the one he wants, and what does he say? ‘Lloyd’s the one I want. Sorry, Mithos.’ He’ll be sorry!”

Lloyd tried to shape a question, but he could hardly focus on Mithos’ voice. There was only a new pleasure that he’d never, in his wildest dreams, could have imagined, filling him and driving him absolutely insane.

“When they find you here, he won’t want you. No one will! And then he’ll come to me, he’ll need me, want me to do this to him because you won’t be able to!” Mithos gripped Lloyd’s arms hard enough to bruise, speeding up his motions to near-painful. It should have hurt, but all Lloyd could feel was that warmth that twisted him up and around and he didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

He had no warning. He was writhing and moaning and wishing, wishing for it to be Colette on top of him, wishing she would make him feel this way just once. Then the world whited out; he might have shouted, he didn’t, couldn’t know. His entire body seized and all of the warmth inside him rushed out of the one throbbing outlet it could find.

Mithos was grinning above him when the world faded back into focus; he’d finished while Lloyd had been lost to what he now realized was the best. Orgasm. Ever. “Feel better?” he purred, sliding from the table and pulling a cloth from somewhere by the control console. He used it on himself and tossed it aside, leaving Lloyd sticky and sweaty and feeling ten shades of gross.

Besides that, did he ever. His muscles were pleasantly relaxed and he could properly feel again; the overbearing warmth had faded. He could feel the tremors in muscles that had been confined too long, feel the bruises forming on his wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles.

And the knowledge of what had happened was finally crashing down, leaving him feeling sick and weak all at once. Mithos didn’t seem to care; once he was cleaned up he dressed and made his way to the door.

“Tell Genis I said hello,” he smirked.