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Moonlight shone through the window, propped open to let the cool air in. Still, it was dark enough that Zeke, once sliding the door shut behind them, stepped away from him, long enough for him to start to feel the chill of the night air, and moved to turn on one of the lamps in the room—dim, but a soft warm yellow that reminisced of home. Not home as in the shelter ruins in Navia nor the barren snowfield in Warren, but the home that was Astra, far removed from the metallic, flashy cityscape that was Mirroria.
Zeke turned back to Xerxes, silver hair still damp from the soak in the hot springs and left untied, longer than he remembered it being the last time they saw each other. For a breadth of silence, they stared at each other from across the tatami flooring—something quiet yet raw tugged at Xerxes from deep within, a surge of uncertain warmth filling him. It was both relief—not so strong as when he almost sobbed just yesterday at seeing the shelter leader alive and well amidst the chaos on the beach just beyond the mysterious rift that he, Lin, Tian Lang, and Shirli had been sent to investigate in Vera—and almost a sense of fear, that any moment the illusion could be shattered and he would wake up back in Aesperia, fighting tooth and nail to keep himself whole when the Sage tried to rip him apart and piece him anew for the second time.
Zeke met him halfway across the room before he even realized he was putting one foot in front of the other—so he wrapped his arms tightly around him and buried his face into his shoulder. For a second, he jolted; for once, Zeke felt more human than he was himself. Flesh—that was right. He wasn't the only one who had undergone changes over the last few years. Once, he might have envied him, he thought hollowly in silence. But, just like Frigg, just like Aegis, just like Seele and Valkyrie—sacrificing what humanity he clung onto wasn't something he regretted. At least, he was free from both the Heirs and Hykros District 9 because of the risks he took.
He breathed in the familiar sweet musk, however absent of the metallic afternotes of steel and machine oil, as he nuzzled into him, turning his head until the blank expanse of soft skin of his neck—not the black carbon fiber—was just a breath away from his lips. Too curious, he pressed a kiss to Zeke's pulsepoint—at first chaste before his tongue darted out from between his lips for a taste.
Zeke sighed softly, hands sliding to grip his waist lightly—however, as light of a touch it was and with the thin barrier of the cotton robes between his hand and his waist, it made him burn with want. Xerxes nipped at the soft skin, scraping his teeth over it just enough for it to be felt—Zeke bared more of his neck to allow him more access without a sound, but when he pulled away just long enough to sneak a look at his face, his cheeks were already flushed a tantalizing pink that complemented his lidded golden eyes, already darkened with pupils blown wide in interest.
Xerxes kissed a line up to his jawline—tilting his head up to make up for their height difference, he caught Zeke's warm lips in his. It was slow at first, almost hesitant—but when he felt him reciprocate, he sighed into the kiss and tilted his head to deepen the contact. His hands trailed upwards over Zeke's chest, fingertips tracing over the supple flesh of his pecs where the edges of his robes fell away to reveal the expanse of skin—the edges of his lips curled in a smile when he felt Zeke hum into his lips at a particularly daring circle of his finger over his nipple.
Zeke opened into the kiss first as his hands tightened at Xerxes' waist—his tongue swept over the slight parting of his lips when Xerxes let out a soft gasp at being pulled closer, closer until their fronts were pressed against each other, and the quiet, measured pace they started with grew more heated, quicker yet sloppy.
Xerxes shuddered when Zeke's hands roamed, unable to help himself but to squeeze his buttocks through the thin fabric—he sucked Zeke's tongue into his mouth, caressing the tip of his tongue over the other as he drew a stuttered moan from him, rolling his nipple between a forefinger and thumb in retaliation.
He nipped at Zeke's bottom lip once before pulling away to catch his breath—with a lazy smile, one he hadn't shown in a long time, he admired his handiwork: Zeke's lips were red and bitten, slick with their messy kiss as his eyelids fluttered in tune with his panting breath. He dragged his palm to press lightly against the center of Zeke's chest—he stared in quiet awe at feeling his heartbeat. It was a proper heart palpitation, not the hum of a power core he remembered. Then, lower, he raised an eyebrow at feeling a bulge at Zeke's front—arousal, matching his own.
"The Nine Realms sure know their stuff, huh?" he remarked.
Zeke hummed. "It's really different from Aesperia."
"Yeah. Not even the Sage can just rebuild a whole organic body."
At the mention of the Sage, he felt Zeke's arms tighten around him, tensing as his eyebrows stitched together in a frown—almost angry.
"The Sage..." Zeke whispered, eyes suddenly clearing when he regarded him. One of his hands reached up, stroking over Xerxes' hair and running a damp strand between his fingers—the roots of it were pale enough to be snow white, no longer the soft cherry blossom that he donned in the first two years they knew each other, before Zeke was displaced from Aesperia.
Xerxes missed the old pink, but he didn't have much of a choice in the matter after he bit the bullet and walked back into the Sage's hands. At the very least, the blood scarlet that stained the ends of his hair stayed.
What he didn't like, though, was the pain in Zeke's gaze as he began to deduce what he hadn't shared since their reunion—so, he caught his flesh hand in his cybernetic one, pressing his palm into his cheek before he brushed his lips over it.
"I might be an Angel in name now, but I never lost sight of myself. The Sage could never take you or anyone else away from me again."
"Xer..."
Before Zeke could go on, Xerxes pulled him in for another kiss, drawing a surprised but fuming grunt from him as he licked into his mouth.
Once Zeke was gasping, struggling to catch his breath with the sudden pace, Xerxes pulled away just long enough to whisper, "Let's worry about that later. I missed you. Did you miss me?"
The other shivered with the low, sultry heat behind his words. "I..."
"Stop worrying before I head back to my room," he nipped at his lips once more, hard enough for Zeke to suck in a harsh breath at the mild pain—in apology, he licked over his lip in a soothing stroke.
"Fuck," Zeke pulled away to curse under his breath—Xerxes gasped when he suddenly was knocked off balance when he found himself lifted by strong arms. Scrambling for purchase, his arms latched around his broad shoulders as Zeke's hands settled beneath his thighs—in response, he curled his legs around his waist, and he felt his face grow hot, feeling Zeke's arousal pressed up against him.
He pressed another kiss to his lips, then another. Between hot, biting kisses, he was vaguely aware of Zeke walking—and with a grunt, he landed on his back on the soft mattress of the bed, tresses of snow and blood rippling across the dark blue sheets where they fanned out beneath him.
Zeke joined him shortly after—kneeling on the mattress, he hovered between his spread legs as his arms caged him in. He dove back in for a kiss, domineering and desperate.
Xerxes gasped and panted between kisses as he couldn't do much else but to let him take the lead—he pulled him closer, hands snaking under Zeke's robes to pull at the fabric until it was starting to slide off his shoulder, revealing more of those rippling muscles from tricep to bicep, bigger than his own and better suited for strength over agility.
"Fuck, Zeke, fuck—I need you," he gasped, hooking his steel-jointed ankles around the other and pulling him closer, close enough to feel the grind of his arousal against his own.
Zeke ground down faster against him with a grunt—Xerxes moaned loud, keening as his hand entangled in Zeke's hair and tugged, just hard enough to for it to sting. Zeke breathed against his lips, "Xer..."
Just when he felt the heat pooling below intensify, he pinched Zeke's side, pulling away to worry his earlobe between his teeth—then, with another gasp, his legs tightened around Zeke in a vice grip, preventing him from moving too much. He breathed raggedly into his ear, chest heaving, "W-wait. Not like this."
Zeke obliged—he froze, breathing hard as he fought down the need to chase the passionate heat, and he waited. "...hm?"
"I want you inside me."
Zeke jolted—he pushed himself up until his startled, questioning gaze hovered above his. "You mean...?"
Xerxes trailed his fingertips over his cheek, before cupping it in his palm and running his thumb beneath his eye. They hadn't done it this way before—not that they could have, back then. He had been the one to take to lead, holding Zeke from behind while he kissed his neck, working his fingers over the stimulation apparatus hidden away beneath the steel cover between his legs, until Zeke was shaking and stifling his moans and screams in his arms. Or he'd be laying on top of Zeke, both of their pants down as they chased their release, with him grinding his length against the stimulation apparatus with the ease of slick from his spit or vaseline, until they were panting and moaning into each other's lips, a mess left behind between their torsos that had to be carefully cleaned up with a tissue so none of the fluids could be caught between the metal plates of Zeke's abs.
Suddenly feeling a sense of shyness, Xerxes swallowed thickly. He finally replied, "If you're fine with it. Um, if you have anything for lube, though."
The blush on Zeke's cheeks burned all the way to his ears—he gave one short, stilted nod, silent as though he didn't trust himself to give a verbal reply. He sat up, and Xerxes let out a sigh, almost disappointed by the sudden loss of contact—Zeke leaned over to the dresser beside the bed, pulling the lower drawer open and rummaging around for a second.
A fresh, unopened bottle of lube was deposited on the bed beside him, drawing raised eyebrows from him.
"When did you get that?"
Zeke closed the drawer, climbing back on top of him, before he replied, "Last night."
"..." He was speechless for a long moment, until he let out a soft laugh. Then wriggling his eyebrows at him playfully, he commented, "Wow, so you can be pretty dirty-minded yourself."
"Take it or leave it," Zeke deadpanned in that familiar dry tone, before he leaned back in to kiss him.
After a moment for the fire between them to be rekindled, he pulled away from the kiss to whisper into his ear, "Gege, why don't you show me what you've been thinking-?"
Xerxes' lips were smothered before he could finish—Zeke bit and sucked at his lips until he was panting and lips an angry red from the ferocious intensity Zeke kissed him with.
"Gege—" he gasped again into his lips, before a moan was wrung out of him with the touch of the other's hands hurriedly undoing the belt that fastened his robes shut, one of them sliding under the fabric and dragging itself over his pecs, then lower to his stomach, and lower still—
He stopped just short of his unattended cock. Xerxes frowned, about to ask—but then he felt Zeke's fingers trace back upwards, over the old, star-shaped scar just below his ribcage, the one he had healed from in the year he spent at Astra. Then, those fingertips grazed over fresher scars near it, almost shaking as Zeke frowned again.
"This…"
Xerxes sighed, grasping that hand in his own as he lightly entangled their fingers together. "...it's in the past now. I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"Why?"
"Archon Elric had no intention of letting me leave Aesperia. It was either being imprisoned permanently by Hykros, or having the small chance of escape if I let the Sage think he could control my destiny for as long as it needed to take."
Zeke sucked in a breath, eyes falling shut as he pursed his lips. "...I didn't think…"
"Hey," he frowned up at him. "Don't go blaming yourself again. I knew the risks, and besides, I had some help infiltrating the Heirs."
He still hesitated—so, Xerxes sat up, inching forward until the tips of their noses bumped together and he could rest his hands on his shoulder, one sliding to rub gently over the back of his neck.
"Zeke?"
He finally let out a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against his as golden irises peered out from beneath his lashes at the other. "I shouldn't have left you like that."
"And then what? For some reason, I don't think any of us would still be alive if you hadn't…"
"But what about you?" Zeke shook his head. Sighing, he continued, "I…I just can't bear to think of what kind of suffering I put you through."
Xerxes went quiet, lips parted as something complicated overtook his gaze. Then:
"I...don't think I can lie and say I didn't think you were a jackass. But, I think you did your best with what you had and what you knew—so did I. You're my jackass and I wasn't ever planning on just letting you go."
"Who said I was yours?"
Xerxes narrowed his eyes at him in mock offense at the teasing response, before pouting. "See? Jack. Ass. You want to know why I put up with you? Because sometimes jackasses need, hm, what I remember you called a 'dumbass' once, for moral support. I didn't join the Heirs for a year because of some debt to you, I did it because I care about you and you don't get to have a say in that."
He stared back at him, eyes widening momentarily in shock. "You…?"
"Zeke, you can have me for as long as you want me," he emphasized again—Zeke reached a shaking hand up to brush the fringe away from the other's face, touch lingering as his fingertips swept under his eye, the one augmented with black sclera and lens that were more red than pink. His thumb traced over the metallic hills that made up the tiny radio transmitter and combat lens projector beneath his eye, then over the old, discolored scarring that sliced over it from forehead to cheek.
Zeke didn't need to say anything—he pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss over his eye, then on his cheek where the scar ended. Xerxes sighed into the contact, letting himself be drawn closer, until he swung a leg over Zeke and maneuvered himself even closer to sit on his lap. The new position allowed him easier access to kiss down from his scar to his jaw, then to his neck, lingering to draw breathy sounds from Xerxes as he sucked a path of marks downwards.
Xerxes hummed in appreciation when Zeke nipped at the sensitive skin that met the augmentations along his collarbone, before trailing light kisses further down to his chest. He braced his hands on his shoulder, leaning back to grant him further access—he let out a quiet gasp when Zeke hovered over his scars, running the tip of his tongue along the dips and valleys of the twisted skin.
Below, he could already feel moisture bead at his tip, starting to stream down his length slowly, almost tortuously. His hands tightened on Zeke's shoulders as he continued to fixate on worshiping every inch of his torso, one hand sliding up to lightly grip that silver hair.
"Zeke…" he keened, his voice more a breath than proper whine.
Finally, Zeke paused. Pulling away and straightening, he watched his face with an intense hunger that made his heart flutter—and warm fingers closed around his cock, flushed and veins pulsating with the tip flushed a deep pink. He jolted with the contact, bucking into his hand as Zeke's thumb grazed over his head and caught the precum that started to gather there—biting his lip, he let out a quiet whine and wrapped his arms around him, drawing closer until his lips could meet his again.
Zeke took it slow, working him up until he was starting to rut into his hand, gasping into his lips. Impatient, he tugged at the fastenings of his robe until Zeke was mostly bare too with only the sleeves for the robe to hang from.
"Gege, hurry up," he broke the kiss to complain—Zeke clicked his tongue in disapproval, his lidded eyes glaring at him in that stern way that sent pleasant chills down his spine.
"You're still a brat," Zeke said, voice a touch huskier than his usual—it made his heart flutter, despite his soft whine when Zeke let go of his cock.
He retorted, "Hm? Don't you like it? The idea of having control over me like this—aaaah..."
When he was talking, Zeke had uncapped the bottle, squeezing a generous amount out over his hands before warming it between his fingertips—Xerxes let out a soft groan when he felt the other slide a hand over his ass beneath his robe, a finger tracing across his perineum and circling over his rim. It rubbed over the taut muscle before its tip began to push in, until the first knuckle. Then, he stopped.
"Is that good?"
Xerxes squirmed beneath him, rolling his hips purposely—Zeke stared, transfixed at the other pushing himself further onto his finger. He rolled his hips again, this time worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before he pouted, an annoyed exhale leaving him. "I can barely feel it—just keep going."
The rest of the finger slipped inside of him, curling testingly against his walls. The motion drew a sigh from him, but it still wasn't enough. His hand reached behind, pushing the fabric aside, to lightly grasp Zeke by the wrist to guide him.
"More fingers," he breathed, grinding himself down onto those fingers. A stuttered sigh left Zeke—he followed as directed, sliding his finger out before working the second in. This time, the sensation burned at first, yet the burn would disappear soon, the fingers pistoning in and out, curling and probing at different angles each time.
The next press inside made his hips jerk involuntarily—he gasped, lashes fluttering from the sudden electrical pulse of pleasure.
"Right there—fuck, more." Unable to help himself, he rocked himself into his fingers again, drawing out a quiet squelching sound from the force of it. Zeke tilted his face up to place a kiss on his lips, sweet in a way that contrasted his entrance stretching even further with the presence of a third finger. Xerxes gasped against his lips, the parting of them allowing Zeke to slip his tongue inside.
He kissed back, each thrust of his fingers drawing quiet hitches of breath from him—his hands roamed over Zeke's shoulders down to his chest, squeezing the pert muscles in his palms, as he ground himself down to meet the force of his fingertips.
Zeke probed deep into his mouth, the speed of his fingers picking up as his tongue began to plunge into his mouth in rhythm—he moaned, trailing one hand downwards to wrap around Zeke's cock to pull on it in tandem. Xerxes hummed into the kiss, feeling the other's length jump in his palm, hot and at full mast, swollen and hard with precum already leaking from the tip.
He jerked away, hips stuttering as his hand returned to grip Zeke's wrist in an almost frantic motion to stop him. After a moment to catch his breath, strands of hair already sticking to his temple with sweat, he pressed another chaste kiss to his lips. "Gege, fuck me already."
Zeke's cock twitched again—any hesitation in his golden eyes sharpened, dark with lust. He removed his fingers, hands returning to his waist to pull him closer.
They kissed like this for a moment: Xerxes' arms draped over his shoulders and his long hair curtaining over their faces from the new angle, while Zeke's fingertips left tingling paths over where they stroked over his thighs that bracketed him, and over the divots where the thighs met his hips. A single moment turned into another, stretching a span of minutes as they found themselves entranced in each other's presence—Xerxes rocked his hips in Zeke's lap, the cleft of his ass grinding against the entire length of his cock, the slick from the earlier machinations making the slide butter smooth.
Zeke's hands tightened on his hips, stopping him long enough so he could reach for the tube again, squeezing out another dollop of the clear fluid to smooth over his cock—then with the guidance of his hand, its bulbous head began to press into him.
Xerxes tensed for a second, breaking the kiss to let out a sharp gasp from the burn, even more intense from the stretch of his girth. He paused—and so did Zeke, the other running soothing circles into his thighs as he bit his lip, restraining the grunt that threatened to escape him from the sensation of his entrance twitching around him.
After a moment of controlling his breathing, he began to sink himself down the rest of the way—but with shaking thighs from the exertion, gravity took him the rest of the way down, until the entirety of Zeke's length was inside.
Zeke moaned, feeling him clench and unclench around him as Xerxes shuddered, head dropping into his shoulder as wet pants left his lips. They stayed like this, stalling as Zeke stroked over his hair.
Xerxes straightened finally, bracing himself against his shoulders to kiss Zeke again—and he lifted himself up halfway, before snapping his hips down again.
"Mnn…" Zeke's hands tightened on his hips, before his hold grew gentle again, almost tempted to hold him tight and thrust into him. "Fuck, Xer…you're so tight…"
He rested his forehead against Zeke's, breathless, before he thrusted himself down again, then again—he rolled his hips, changing angles so he could reach that spot again.
"Ahn…Zeke…so big…" he gasped, rolling his hips faster. "So perfect for me…"
Zeke's breath hitched at that—his hand moved from his hip to rest on the nape of his neck, and in one harsh motion, their lips crashed together in a messy sonata of teeth and tongue, without care for the saliva that escaped their joined lips.
Xerxes rocked himself onto that cock, plunging deep inside of him with each rut—when Zeke began to move too, unable to help himself, the extra force of the head of his cock hitting his prostate drew breathy moans from him with each thrust.
The bed began to creak, their pace growing faster—when Xerxes's thighs began to burn, Zeke started snapping his hips upwards, hard enough for the squelch of their joined bodies to grow loud, lewd and almost deafening in the quiet room.
Xerxes found himself lifted completely off of his cock, a loud, keening whine leaving him—in the next moment he was flipped over and pressed into the mattress with his elbows braced against it to hold himself up, Zeke gripping his hips tight to yank him up so his ass was in the air.
Zeke pushed his cock into him again, this time in a single, smooth motion and with more force with better leverage from the new position. It drew a shocked cry from him—and without a breath of peace, that cock began to ram into him, Zeke's hands trailing down from his hips to pry his cheeks wide open. A low groan left Zeke, lips mouthing a quiet curse at the sight of his cock sinking deep into him, that rim swallowing him whole.
"Zeke, oh fuck, fuck!" he couldn't stop the moans that were punched out of him with each thrust, the new angle allowing better access for him to hit that spot every time. Zeke pistoned in and out of him, hard and fast in his abuse of his hole—he screamed, feeling the beginnings of a dry orgasm rip through him.
"Gege—ngh fuck! Right there, right there, ah, ah—" he shuddered hard—yet, his unattended cock still hanging hard and bouncing with the force of every thrust between his legs. "Zeke, fuck, you're so good, hnn—fuck—!"
Zeke gasped, feeling him tighten around him—it wasn't enough yet. He pulled him the rest of the way up, until he was kneeling with him and his back was pressed against his chest, every rivet of his steel spine pressed into him. Zeke slowed his pace, grinding into him, as he brushed Xerxes' hair over his shoulder and kissed at his neck, biting and sucking at the junction of his shoulder and leaving a trail to the nape of his neck—he pressed a hot kiss to where he knew he was most sensitive, running his tongue over the skin between the steel.
Xerxes shuddered again, the contact almost too much as it forced a cry out of his throat—Zeke's hand wrapped around his leaking cock, stroking in tandem with each slow thrust, before gripping the base of it when he let out a particularly keening moan.
Tears would have sprung from his tear ducts by now, had he kept his human eye. However, with no tears, he could only manage to choke out a sob.
"Gege, gege—fuck, I need to come—"
Panting breaths brushed over the shell of his ear as he felt Zeke press gentle kisses to it, too gentle for the lewd sight of their joined bodies. "Shh…not yet."
With that, he pulled out, leaving Xerxes to whimper at the loss, before he flipped their position again, with the younger man facing him and collapsed nearly boneless on top of him where they lied in a tangle of limbs.
He pushed in again, drawing out another moan from him as he scrambled for purchase, gripping his biceps tightly as his nails worried stinging crescent markings into his skin.
With Xerxes otherwise struggling, he hoisted his hips up with a strong grip—and he thrusted hard up into him.
Xerxes sobbed into his shoulder, nonsensical babbling leaving him—so he thrusted again, and again, faster until he couldn't even string together a basic sentence, floundering as Zeke used him.
"Gege, haah—come, hn—inside—" he gasped and mewled—those tantalizing sounds grew louder, breaking off into hitched staccatos with every thrust too fast for him to catch up. "Zeke, Zeke —ah, ah, ah—"
Xerxes came first with a shout, back arching as electricity shot through him and his eyes rolled from the intensity of it as dizzying stars filled his vision, a nearly complete white-out—Zeke was still thrusting, faster and erratic, so his orgasm crashed over him in nonstop, punishing waves as every dropped of it was squeezed out of him, spilling ropes of white between their chests and leaving a hot slick between them.
"Xer, fuck—ahaah—" Zeke's hips stuttered to a stop, jerking as groans were torn out of him with the spasming velvety tightness squeezing around him—Xerxes shivered again, his walls clenching around him and pulsating with his thundering heart, as he felt hot fluid fill him deep. Zeke thrusted through his orgasm, yanking Xerxes in for a rough kiss, teeth clacking almost painfully, as white began to seep out from his hole, streaming over his cock that still twitched inside of him.
They kissed passionately, still riding out their high—until they broke their kiss, a trail of saliva separating them, to catch their breath, Zeke's slowly softening cock still inside of him. They breathed each other in, tangled together still as neither of them were inclined to let go—so, eventually, they shifted to lie on their sides, Xerxes too exhausted and spent to feel like moving meanwhile Zeke reached over him to haphazardly nudge the tissue box closer and off the nightstand.
It tilted, only to land in the trash bin rather than on top of the bed—so he only rolled his eyes when Xerxes snorted, "Nice one."
The next morning, Lin wouldn't find Xerxes in his room—just as soon as she wanted to invite the Executor for a mission, she would immediately turn on her heel and walk the other way with awkward horror in her eyes, pretending she did not hear the noises from Zeke's room. Tian Lang and Shirli should suffice for today.