Bite Your Kiss

They came crashing through the door, Artemis back first with Jarlaxle trying to climb him like a tree. Said door went slamming shut again, hard enough to rock in the frame, as Artemis pinned Jarlaxle up against it, the drows mouth hot and needy against his own. Teeth at his lower lip, hands shoving under his shirt and clutching at his back even as he shoved a leg between Jarlaxle’s thighs.

Off came the weapon belts, leather and buckles and hilts and blades thudding on the floor and not so much as half a thought for any below who might have to hear it. Jarlaxle ground up against him, one hand pulling at his hair now, trying to get him closer – as if such a thing were possible. His tongue licked into Artemis’ mouth, little gasps and moans of delight escaping from him while Artemis’ hands roamed his body.

And then he was being spun about, kicking his boots off into the darkness with Jarlaxle’s hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him across the room. He kept on trying to pull Artemis’ shirt off without having to stop kissing him.

It wasn’t going well.

Jarlaxle’s hands were everywhere at once, Artemis’ cloak was somewhere on the ground between wherever the fuck he was now and the door, and Jarlaxle’s vest was on the other side of the room (possibly even out of the window) because he’d torn it off and flung it away to better touch the skin growing warm beneath his hands. That smooth, well-muscled form pressed up against him and now his back was up against the wall. His hip knocked against the dresser as Jarlaxle shoved him, sending something atop it crashing down. Neither of them cared.

Jarlaxle’s mouth at his neck, his jaw, his ear, all hot breath and a lean body curving against him, and good gods they needed to be out of the rest of their clothes yesterday. Artemis grabbed Jarlaxle’s upper arms and pushed him back, the move sending him to the edge of the bed as Artemis finally got his shirt off. It disappeared into another dark corner. Jarlaxle scrambled up onto the bed, biting his lip over a delighted grin of anticipation as Artemis stalked towards him, closing the distance in seconds.

Then he had him, pinned against the sheets, Jarlaxle’s hands drinking him in in the darkness, rings and bracelets catching against his skin. It was fine. It was all just fine because now Jarlaxle was naked except for all that jewellery and he glittered in the thin sliver of moonlight from the window, a wickedly beautiful and pliable thing beneath Artemis’ hands.

Well. He was naked except for the hat, because somehow that was still on. A ruby eye burned in the shadow of the brim, fiery desire. Artemis scowled and snatched it off, tossing it behind him. In the brief moment he wasn’t looking, the eyepatch vanished somewhere too, and now he had Jarlaxle’s full attention.

“Careful with that,” the first words either of them had said since they’d made it back to the inn. Jarlaxle’s voice was breathless on the warning and Artemis ignored him, instead kissing him again, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he rocked their hips together. Jarlaxle’s hands at his waist, the quick shuffle of fabric and then at last it was nothing but skin on skin and sweat and friction. Strong, slender legs wrapped about his waist, pulling him close, closer. A hand curled round the back of his neck as he sucked a line of bruises into Jarlaxle’s neck.

A little light-headed, he pulled away briefly, sitting up to try and catch his breath. Jarlaxle was immediately grabbing at him again, trying to pull him down, and Artemis caught his hands, pinned them above his head. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t break out of that if he wanted to.

“Let me breathe a minute,” his voice was ragged, his heart racing. Jarlaxle pouted, writhed beneath him in a way that caused all sorts of interesting sensations. Artemis squeezed the drows wrists. “Insatiable menace.”

“Don’t say you’re tired already,” Jarlaxle rolled his hips up again and Artemis groaned. Damned drow’ll be the death of me. “If you need a break, you should have just said. I for one am feeling quite energetic.”

And then he was free of Artemis’ grip, slithering out from under him and Artemis found himself flat on his back, watching as Jarlaxle straddled him. There was a familiar silver-topped vial in his hand and Artemis didn’t even have a chance to ask where he’d managed to pull that from before he gasped at the feel of cool, slick, wetness on his cock.

“Fuck-!”

“That is the intention, yes.” Jarlaxle’s hand stroked and stroked, and he’d thought he’d been hard before but apparently that had been no more than prelude. All he could do was lay there beneath Jarlaxle’s clever, talented fingers, knowing what would come next, lips parted and breath short in the anticipation of it. Sometimes Jarlaxle took this part slow, indulging as he took Artemis into himself, stretching out the pleasure.

Tonight he had no patience.

Artemis gave a cry as Jarlaxle sank onto him, then another as the drow adjusted his angle. Artemis caught both his hips in his hands, curving over them to hold Jarlaxle in place as he rocked upwards. Delighted, Jarlaxle’s smile was a cat-thing, a bright curve in the darkness. Hard and fast he rode Artemis, the humans hands hot and heavy against his sides as they followed the shift of muscle. And really, it was all Artemis could do to hold on against Jarlaxle’s frantic pace.

“Ah, abbil!”

Breathing faster now, driving Artemis into him deeper with every roll of his hips. The thin moonlight limned his dark skin, all purple shadows and glittering gold. The tangle of decorations at his neck thumped against his chest with every thrust, a soft jingling counterpoint to the breathless moans and soft curses that filled the room. Beneath it all the creak and shake of the bed, which was not well-made, and if it broke then it broke because nothing short of world-ending calamity could have induced Artemis to let go of Jarlaxle right now.

“Ar-te- mis!” His h ead thrown back, utterly lost and losing his rhythm as he climbed ever higher. It was not a concern, for Artemis merely dug his fingers in harder and snapped his hips up, wanting, needing, craving more.

He wasn’t sure which of them came first. He knew Jarlaxle cried out loud enough with it to wake the fucking dead, and he didn’t think he’d been much more restrained. Jarlaxle collapsed on top of him, practically smothering him as he lay there, twitching occasionally with the aftershocks. The room seemed awfully quiet after all that.

Jarlaxle was making soft, breathy little noises against his collarbone, trailing kisses along it wherever he could reach without moving too much. His hand traced Artemis’ bicep, his fingers light and gentle as they wandered up to his shoulder. Artemis’ own hand lay heavy against the small of Jarlaxle’s back, holding him in place atop him. Gradually, his breathing began to return to normal, his pulse to settle back to a sensible level.

Jarlaxle’s fingers traced up his neck now, dancing up to brush along his cheekbone, to map the line of his nose and his brow. Artemis let his eyes fall closed as the touch continued to whisper over his skin. It was...nice.

Jarlaxle said something and he blinked. He’d been halfway to sleep already – great gods, but the drow wore him out sometimes.

“What was that?” Trying not to sound like he’d been on the verge of passing out.

“I said,” a smirk in that voice, Jarlaxle knowing everything as he always did, “That I think I’m going to keep you.” Soft lips against his, gentle but insistent as they opened up his mouth so Jarlaxle’s tongue and his breath could once again find their way inside.

“—not your pet,” he said around the drows ever-hungry mouth.

“Pet? No, never, dear Artemis,” Jarlaxle shifted against him, hard again already. “But mine? Oh, that you most certainly are.”

“Is that so?” despite his tiredness, Artemis could feel his body starting to respond to Jarlaxle’s again. The night, it would appear, was not yet over. With a quick heave that had Jarlaxle laughing in delight, he had the drow beneath him. “Always, Jarlaxle is the one holding the reigns, hm? Jarlaxle the possessor, never the possessed?”

“Mmm, you can possess me anytime you wish, my abbil,” Jarlaxle purred, canting his hips up eagerly. Artemis wasn’t about to deny him, and oh, how sweet to slide back into him, to feel legs wrap about him and pull him close, nails digging into his back and carving lines of want and need into his skin. Their pace was far less frantic this time, Artemis fucking him slow and deep, drawing out every movement to enjoy it to its fullest extent.

Jarlaxle’s head was turned to the side, displaying the long, sleek line of his neck. Artemis pressed his mouth to it, tasting sweat, dragging his tongue up to Jarlaxle’s ear and nipping the lobe before drawing the long, delicate tip between his teeth. Jarlaxle gasped and dug his nails harder into Artemis’ back. Artemis bit down just a little harder, enjoying the way Jarlaxle squirmed below him.

“More,” he gasped, “More!”

“Of what?” Artemis drove into him, deep, and stopped there. Jarlaxle made a little almost-mewing sound in the back of his throat. “That? Or this?” he bit hard on his ear, pulling a little.

“Abbil!”

“Lost all your pretty words, have you?” He rocked his hips, not pulling out, just letting Jarlaxle feel him. “Come now, Jarlaxle, you’re normally so vocal about what you want.” his mouth found Jarlaxle’s pulse, teeth scraping over it.

“Artemis!”

It was a wonder his back wasn’t bleeding, the way Jarlaxle clawed at him. He stretched his head up, capturing Artemis’ mouth in a desperately heated, sloppy kiss. Mumbled words hummed against his lips and while he couldn’t make out half of it, he thought he caught a ‘fuck me’ and a ‘please, abbil’ in there somewhere, which was close enough. With one hand on Jarlaxle’s cheek so he could kiss him properly and the other on his waist so he could fuck him properly, Artemis did as Jarlaxle wanted.

The posts of the bed thunked rhythmically against the wall – was it an outside wall? He couldn’t remember. Ah well, if it wasn’t the occupant was at least getting a show, what with Jarlaxle’s cries reaching a fever pitch again. He broke their kiss to hear them better, even though Jarlaxle whined at the loss, lips glistening and eyes blazing.

“Yes! Xas, xas!” over and over again, words of encouragement rapidly descending into half-drow nonsense as Jarlaxle’s head tilted back, pushing into Artemis’ every touch. Artemis’ cupped his face, thumb sliding to his lip, rolling over it, and he groaned when Jarlaxle took it in his mouth, dragging his tongue across the pad. He could feel Jarlaxle getting close, and though a part of him wanted to see how far he could push, how much he could toy with him before letting him finish, a greater part very desperately wanted to feel him come again. Preferably before he did.

Which might prove difficult, given how impossibly good Jarlaxle felt around him, particularly when the drow gazed up at him now from half-lidded eyes, still with Artemis’ thumb in his mouth. Gods, but he looked good like that. Jarlaxle’s tongue flicked back and forth over the tip of his thumb, and it wasn’t much of a stretch to remember him doing that exact thing to his cock just a few nights previous.

The way Jarlaxle’s lips curved told Artemis that he knew the human was close. The way Jarlaxle writhed beneath him told Artemis that the drow was closer.

“I think I like possessing you,” he said. “How about it, hmm? I’m not yours, Jarlaxle – you’re mine.”

That did it. Jarlaxle’s mouth fell open around a great, gasping moan and Artemis kissed his exposed throat as he fucked him through his climax. The feel of that, the act of that, of Jarlaxle beneath his hands, in his grasp, under his power, that pulled him to the edge and beyond. Jarlaxle’s legs wrapped tight around him, holding him close as he came – keeping him close as he finally let his now-shaking arms give way and rested his forehead against Jarlaxle’s.

“I’ll agree to it,” Jarlaxle murmured in his ear.

Slightly dazed, Artemis blinked.

“What?”

“To your terms,” Jarlaxle unwrapped himself from around Artemis, and slid out from beneath him. Artemis rolled gratefully onto his back, but got only a few seconds of freedom before Jarlaxle was sprawled across him again.

“What are you talking about?”

In a gruff voice that Artemis could only assume was meant to be an impersonation of his own, Jarlaxle said;

“How about it, hmm? I’m not yours, Jarlaxle – you’re mine. I believe that was roughly how it went – my apologies for any innacuracies, you were being rather distracting.”

He tilted his head up so he was looking into Artemis’ eyes, that ruby fire only slightly dimmed with the aftermath of exertion.

“I’ll agree to it,” he said again. “I shall be yours – on one condition.”

“You’re bargaining. I just fucked the soul from your body, and you want to bargain.”

“How poetic, abbil! I must be rubbing off on you.” Jarlaxle grinned. “Don’t you want to hear my condition?”

“I suspect I’m going to whether I want to or not.”

“I shall be yours, dear Artemis,” Jarlaxle drew spirals on his chest with one finger, “If you shall in turn be mine.” He arched an eyebrow and tapped Artemis on the sternum. “Sound fair?”

“Whatever you say,” Artemis replied, closing his eyes and ignoring whatever it was that was going on inside his ribcage right now. Jarlaxle huffed, but said nothing more. He just lay his head on Artemis’ chest and curled a hand up over his heart. Not many minutes later, his breathing had slowed to the steady, measured pace that was the drow equivalent of sleep.

Knowing it did not take much to wake him from reverie, Artemis was very slow and careful as he laid his hand atop Jarlaxle’s. When he spoke, he did so oh so very softly, barely louder than a breath.

“Sounds fair to me.”