In The Morning Light

He woke to lips at his neck and an arm snaking about his waist. He cracked open one eye, squinting in the too-bright and too-early sunlight that cut through the imperfect curtains.

“Mmm, good morning,” Jarlaxle hummed behind him, voice low and rough. The arm around his waist became a hand sliding down his stomach and the bed creaked beneath them at the slight shift in weight.

“What,” Artemis said, “Are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?”

The hand continued its descent, the mouth at his neck planting slow kisses down to his shoulder.

“Can’t you bother someone else?”

He felt Jarlaxle pout against his skin.

“But you are here, and warm, and--” the hand briefly dipped low, and Jarlaxle’s chuckle reverberated through his chest, “awake.”

“After last night? Really?”

“Why not?”

“You are insatiable.”

“I am enamoured,” Jarlaxle corrected. The drow was pressed up close against him, flush to his back, and Artemis was more than aware of just how awake Jarlaxle was. Teeth nipped at the top of his shoulder, “And you are quite delicious in the morning light.”

“You said the same thing about moonlight last night if I remember rightly.” The marks on his neck were certainly a testament to that. And the ones he assumed were on his back.

“Stop being so delicious then, abbil,” Jarlaxle’s hand traced circles over his abdomen, dextrous fingers trailing abstract patterns that sent little shocks and shivers darting through him. He nudged Artemis’ cheek with his nose until the human turned his head.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of Artemis’ mouth. The sheets rustled about them as Artemis rolled over to face him.

“What, and have to live with you sulking all day?”

“I would never--”

Artemis silenced him with a kiss, rolling his eyes beneath their lids at the pleased purr and the way the drow smiled into his mouth. He ran his hand down Jarlaxle’s side, rolling a thumb over his hip and enjoying the feel of warm skin beneath his palm. The kiss continued, lazy and slow, for several minutes. For reasons Artemis still didn’t quite understand, Jarlaxle seemed to take great pleasure in...indulging in him. He liked to take his time – when they had it to spare – and explore the human with his hands and his mouth.

This morning, it appeared, they had time.

Eventually Artemis found himself with Jarlaxle sprawled atop him, blankets hanging half off the bed in a tangle, his hands splayed over Jarlaxle’s back, feeling the subtle shift and flex of muscle under his fingers. Jarlaxle’s mouth had found his neck again and he groaned.

“I’m starting to think you’re part vampire, this obsession with my neck.”

“I enjoy the taste of your pulse, my dear Artemis,” Jarlaxle said, licking him. “So lively.”

“At least use the other side.” He was complaining but the ache of sucking kisses on already bruised flesh was a pleasurable one, and he knew Jarlaxle knew it. After drawing another groan from him Jarlaxle sat up slightly, resting on his forearms on Artemis’ chest. Artemis cocked an eyebrow.

“Bored already?”

“Of you, abbil? Never.”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” Jarlaxle tapped his nose playfully. “I’ll decide if I’m going to tire of you. And right now I’ve decided I never shall.”

Artemis resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Whatever you say.”

“You really aren’t a morning person, are you?” Jarlaxle grinned, and shifted his weight, sliding down the bed. His hands trailed down Artemis’ chest, tapping out quick little rhythms as he went. Artemis raised himself up on his elbows to watch him, a warm and heady eagerness building in his chest. “Well, mostly not a morning person.” The grin became a wicked smirk as he dipped his head and dragged his tongue in a long wet stripe up Artemis’ erection.

“Stop talking and get on with it,” Artemis growled.

“Mmm, yes, tell me what to do,” Jarlaxle settled more comfortably between his legs, running his thumbs up Artemis’ inner thighs. “I do love when you get domineering.”

He trailed kisses following the path of his right hand, soft and ticklish things that made Artemis shiver.

“It’s so enjoyable when you pretend to be in charge.”

If he’d had hair, Artemis would have pulled it. Aggravating little fuck. Jarlaxle glanced up, eyes dancing with mirth, and Artemis knew he was trying to get a rise out of him. He leaned back against the pillow, folding his arms up behind his head.

“Not going to work.”

“What isn’t?” All innocence. Artemis could practically hear him batting his eyelashes.

“You are one of the most irritating men I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“Only one of?”

Jarlaxle’s laugh wrapped around him, a thing with limbs and a warmth that Artemis didn’t entirely comprehend. Then his mouth wrapped around him, just as warm, taking the length of him with a comfortable ease. His eyes closed as Jarlaxle’s head rose and fell, slow and indulgent, dragging out each movement as if he didn’t want it to end. The feel of soft lips, of the low hums of pleasure vibrating through him from Jarlaxle’s throat, the play of hands stroking up thigh, over leg and hip and abdomen and back again...with his eyes closed and the slowly growing warmth of the sun hitting his skin he was starting to float. Mind detaching from body and all the tension leaving his limbs, turning him boneless and light.

Say what you liked about Jarlaxle running his mouth, he certainly knew how best to use it.

Slow, steady, nothing like the frantic pace of the previous night. Pure indulgence, tasting every inch of Artemis as he went, occasional drags of tongue mixed with interludes of hot, wet kisses.

“Hungry this morning, aren’t you?” Artemis said, slightly startled at how breathless the words came out. Jarlaxle sat up a little.

“For you? Always. As you said, I am insatiable.”

He trailed kisses over Artemis’ hip, following them with dancing fingers, before finally returning his mouth to his cock. Artemis let out a low moan this time – he could feel his pulse in Jarlaxle’s mouth. Slow as the pace might have been, it did not lessen its effectiveness. He found that his hips were jerking up, desperate little movements trying to drive deeper into the drow's mouth. Jarlaxle’s hands gripped his thighs in that soft, insistent as iron grip of his.

“Relax,”  Jarlaxle said, the low buzz of his words rolling right through him. “Let me take good care of you.”

On and on he went, maddeningly steady in his pace, despite Artemis’ growing need and the choked back noises escaping him. Rolling waves of heat tumbled through him, his skin seemed alight with want and pleasure. Nine hells, he was so close...if Jarlaxle would just go a little faster, take him a little deeper…

“I—” was the only word he could manage to say. Jarlaxle’s hand stroked his leg, each brush of fingers sending a tremor up his spine. It was too much. His hands clutched at his hair, chest heaving. “Gods, Jarlaxle--”

“Oh, yes, say my name like that,” Jarlaxle’s voice was heavy, dark. He raised himself up, taking Artemis in one hand now and when Artemis looked at him, his eyes were almost burning. The strokes of his hand sped up, confident flicks of the wrist that brought a groan from deep in Artemis' chest.

“Come for me, Artemis,” he said. “I want to watch your face when you come undone.”

“I--”

“Yes?”

“Jarlaxle, you…I…” the concept of connecting words together into sentences was beyond him. He swallowed thickly, heat uncoiling, rapidly reaching the point of no return. Jarlaxle’s hand tightened ever so slightly, his strokes quickened and then all at once it was too much. A cry wrenched free from him and though his eyes rolled back he was all too aware of the keen gaze on him, drinking in every second of his release.

“Fuck!”

Hot wetness spattered across his chest, across his neck – his neck! Gods above…

He was vaguely aware of Jarlaxle moving as he lay there catching his breath. Something brushed his chest and he flinched.

“Hush,” Jarlaxle murmured. A cloth swept over his skin, gentle and careful. Artemis finally got his eyes to focus and started to sit up, to reach for Jarlaxle and reciprocate – as if he could match that. A hand caught his wrist.

“You--”

“--Have gotten what I wanted,” Jarlaxle interrupted. He finished with the cloth and tossed it at the chair across the room. Moments later his entire bodyweight was once more sprawled atop Artemis, pinning him to the bed.

“Are you certain of that?” Artemis could still very much feel the distinct evidence of Jarlaxle’s interest in him pressing into his stomach. In response he got a nose burrowing into his shoulder.

“Yes,” Jarlaxle mumbled. “And I shall carry that look on your face wherever I go. My, what a sight to behold.”

“If you put my face in a locket I will kill you in your sleep.”

“Promises, promises.”

He hadn’t consciously decided to do it, but he was brushing his fingers up and down Jarlaxle’s back, almost petting him. As soon as his mind caught up with itself and he realised what he was doing his hand froze.

“Hmm, don’t stop,” Jarlaxle nipped his ear. “That was rather nice.”

Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Artemis resumed the motion. He’d never known anyone to purr so much as Jarlaxle did when he was enjoying himself. The drow snuggled closer to him fumbling for the blankets and managed to pull them messily atop their legs before giving up.

“Don’t we have things to do today?” Artemis asked. Jarlaxle let out a comfortable sigh and continued using him as a full-body pillow.

“Certainly.”

“Are we going to do any of them?”

“Oh, I expect so.”

“You don’t,” he said, softer now, still trailing his hand up and down Jarlaxle’s spine, “Even need to sleep.”

“Ah, but reverie is so much sweeter with you beneath me,” Jarlaxle said against his neck. “And if anything is truly so very urgent, I’m certain dear Kimmuriel will interrupt us.”

“Again.”

Jarlaxle’s laugh vibrated against his skin and Artemis sighed, giving up. There really was no arguing with him when he set his mind to something. The wakening noises of the world outside filtered dully through the window, another day readying itself to no doubt cause an array of problems. Artemis closed his eyes against the brightening light.

Mornings with Jarlaxle took some getting used to but they were, he supposed, not all bad.