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That which feeds me destroys me

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Apr. 6th, 2005 | 11:04 pm

Update by Red. Red/Kit



“Must you do that constantly?”

Maedhros liked having Kit around. He was someone to take care of; he was smart, and rather attractive as mortals went. The only downside was the waves of noxious fumes that followed him everywhere. He left great clouds of smoke behind him after a visit that made the flat reek and the plants unhealthy. Maedhros often felt like he should apologise to his azaleas after a visit. He’d dust their leaves and mutter, “I know you don’t approve of my taste in men.”

Maedhros had met a fair few smokers in his time, but no one so rapaciously addicted as Kit. His fingernails stunk of it. “It helps me think,” he’d say and Maedhros bit back a lecture on nicotine reducing the blood supply to the brain. It was, as a good demon, Maedhros’ usual stance to take the side of the libertarians in whatever particular argument was taking place. He just wished in this case the libertarian side wasn’t so damn smelly.

Roughly two months into having Kit about he’d caught influenza. Not the common ‘flu, something really nasty.

“’Flu is nasty,” said Deedee, shaking the thermometer that had just diagnosed Kit with a temperature of 102. “Most people say they have ‘flu when they have a bad cold. When they see real influenza in action, they’re shocked.”

He’d been stuck in Maedhros’ bed for four weeks sweating like a pig. Maedhros bore sleeping on the couch and the increased laundry bills with good grace. Kit, barely able to stagger to the bathroom and unable to swallow more than soup and the fizzy vitamin c packets Deedee brought nevertheless managed a daily shuffle to the seven eleven for cigarettes and still made his way through a carton a day.

You certainly have to give the boy points for commitment, Maedhros thought.

“I’m orally fixated,” Kit said, inhaling deeply.

“I noticed,” said Maedhros. Yes Kit, that look on your face when you drag on your cigarette, I know where I’ve seen it before. Eyes shut; hungry, sucking in breaths like the air is ambrosia. Admittedly, your face is usually partly obscured by my thighs when I see this expression, but I still recognise it.

Kit snorted.

“It’s the insatiable hunger of artists, Mephisto.”

Maedhros smiled and lay back on the couch so his head was in Kit’s lap. Kit’s non-smoking hand began to twist softly through his braids.

“If you were a more whimsical poet you’d keep cats.”

“Instead I keep demons,” Kit laughed as he felt Maedhros’ shoulders moving to a comfortable position against his legs.

Kit took one last deep lungful of his cigarette and ground it out on the ashtray beside him. Maedhros watched his eyes flicker over to the packet again. He’s never satisfied, thought Maedhros. If I could define that boy in one word it would be “craving”. He let his empty hand rest on Maedhros’ chest, letting the need rest in the air around him for now.

Insatiability isn’t a bad trait in a mortal that dares to love the inhuman, thought Maedhros. The need to be totally annihilated into a greater self, a desire few humans could meet was what had brought Kit into his flat, got him down on his knees, made him keep returning. He wants to be more than mortal, thought Maedhros.

And he loves me, he thought. I love him too.

Maedhros remembers when they’d come to this conclusion. They’d never dated as such; neither Kit nor Maedhros had needed courting to take their clothes off. From that first flash of recognition in the internet café, sex had been a foregone conclusion. They both wanted it, why delay the inevitable? As things progressed, Maedhros became aware of how little of the island Kit had seen. The inside of bars, the internet café, the bright lights of Times Square, that was all.

“How long have you been here?”

“Seven months.”

“And you’ve never been up the Empire State?”

“I’m not a tourist, Mephisto. I like people, not places.”

“You should. It’ll give you perspective at least.”

Kit smiled.

Even New York’s top tourist attraction could draw only a smattering of people that drizzly February afternoon. The sky was already pinking towards dusk over New Jersey. Kit picked his way gracefully around the square of the viewing platform, preparing to be underwhelmed, refusing to participate in any spectacle that amused the gawpers of Wyoming and Arkansas in their garish anoraks.

He’s such a kid, Maedhros thought. He leant against the wall of the skyscraper, and pulled Kit in towards him as he completed his circuit. It was a risky gesture, up here among the visitors from the mid-West, and it knocked some of Kit’s cynicism out of him. It was a statement to the visitors, you want to see New York, here is New York, and it is our city too.

“I’ve seen –“ said Kit into Maedhros’ chest.

“You haven’t seen,” Said Maedhros. He held him for a few moments more, eyes half closed, willing down the darkness.

When Kit removed his face from Maedhros’ chest, night had fallen. Maedhros took Kit’s hand and walked him to the edge of the viewing platform where beneath them the city had been transformed into a galaxy of bright and burning stars.

Kit looked down, and gave in to it all.

“You like the night altogether too much, little poet,” Maedhros said.

“But you are so beautiful in the dark.”

“You should try and live in the daylight, among your own people and stop living on dreams.”

“It’s too late. I don’t belong there. I can’t – they don’t seem like people who could ever truly know me, not really. Even before I met you.”

“But being with me takes you further from them,”

“No you, you’re almost an accident. You are something that happens to people who can’t live in this world. And you shall make me great, I know that.”

Maedhros’ fingers ran through Kit’s hair.

“I’ll burn up your soul,”

“It’s a fair bargain.”

Kit turned his face away from the glitter beneath him up to meet the eyes of his lover.

“If I had as many souls as there are stars in heaven I’d give them all for you Mephistopheles.”

“Quite the poet tonight.”

“I love you.”

Maedhros held Kit and knew how much those words cost such a trustless, lonely creature. He knew because he’d been there before, spoken like that before. Kit said them with all the hurt and the daring that he had said them himself on the shores of Mithrim over a millennia ago. Kit had let something else in to a world that had previously only ever contained himself.

“I love you too.”

The pact was sealed. It was probably nothing but trouble, but they couldn’t go back now. They were bound together, by blood, by sex, by soul. They were confederates, loyal to each other if to nothing else in this world.

Kit’s mouth was dry as he kissed it.

Remembering that kiss, Maedhros shifted his position so he was straddling Kit and tried for another one. There was always something dirty about kissing Kit Marlowe, and it wasn’t just the aftertaste of all that nicotine making him taste so strange. As Maedhros licked his tongue over Kit’s lips, chapped ragged from the incessant smoking and felt them grow moist and soft he couldn’t help but think of the other end of the boy, that other tight dry little entrance that with enough kissing and enough lube became another part of Kit’s body that he could work his way into.

One end or the other, it felt the same. Kissing Kit was sex. The boy was so damn hungry; he wanted to absorb anything you put inside him. Here he was now, sucking on Maedhros’ tongue, wanting more, wanting to be satisfied.

Maedhros knew he could slake Kit’s eternal hunger, but even he couldn’t end it. He could use his body to bring him a few hours dozy respite from the gnawing neediness for life, for everything that is, but he couldn’t stop the force. Maedhros thought it wasn’t coyness that made the French and the Elizabethans describe orgasm as death. Death would be the only thing that could bring satisfaction to all this constant scratching desire.

Poor Kit, Maedhros thought, and gave him the best comfort he could.

Maedhros didn’t know quite why he loved sitting on Kit’s lap and kissing him, just kissing him, until he could feel Kit get hard beneath him. He could feel it now, already, the effects of his tongue, through the thin fabric of the boy’s trousers, hear it in the little moans that escaped from him every time they drew back for a breath. Maedhros would kiss Kit mercilessly until he ached, until he was desperate for relief, until they both were. It didn’t stand to reason, Maedhros had kissed enough people before this bedraggled poet, continued to do so every night at the Hacienda to pay the rent. He couldn’t even remember kissing Fingon being this good.

Other things with Fingon perhaps, but not the kissing.

Sex is magic, Maedhros thought breathlessly. Sex is sacred. It’s beyond science. You can do the same thing with one person and it produces nothing more than a little ticklish, unwilling arousal. You can do it with another and it feels like this. No wonder it scares people. I’m only kissing him and it feels like, it feels like –

He stopped and gasped for breath. Kit’s eyes, almost black with arousal looked back at him. This time it was Maedhros who moaned.

It feels like we are swapping souls. Like I have his life force in my mouth and he has mine. Like we are feeding off each other.

Maedhros pulled Kit’s shirt over his head, then removed his own. He shifted a little to allow Kit to work his trousers down, to shake them off his ankles. My beautiful mortal, thought Mae, my beautiful second-best poet. The boy was pulling Mae’s own trousers down now, retrieving the tube of lubricant from his pocket as he did so.

Maedhros held his fingers out to catch the gloop that Kit let fall on them. There was a moment of conspiratorial understanding flashing between them, then they changed positions, Maedhros on his back, Kit lying over him. They kissed again and Maedhros guided his slick hand behind Kit.

Now that your mouth is wet and yielding and open, lets see about what we can do for the other end, thought the Quende.

They kissed and Maedhros worked his fingers over the knot of flesh between Kit’s nethers. He stroked it until he felt it relax, tentatively pressed a finger against it, until Kit moaned and parted his legs further to let him in. He worked him from both ends now, arching his back to press his body against Kit, controlling him between his hand and his mouth, feeling the little whimpers he gave out as stroked the delicate skin inside him.

“I love you like this,” Maedhros gasped.

Kit tightened around his fingers in reply. Being inside him felt wonderful. He worked methodically, brushing against the layers of muscle, feeling them twitch and open up to him. It was so good to make someone feel this good. Reading Kit’s pleasure with his fingertips, the way each movement inside him reflected in a gasp, in a twitch of his stomach and a thrust of his cock against Maedhros’ thighs, it didn’t feel dirty, it felt like kindness, like pure charity.

Maedhros knew Kit liked to be used like this. He was the proudest sodomite Maedhros had ever met, once his clothes were off. He took immense pleasure in what his arse could do, what it could take in, how beautiful it felt to be stretched, to yield, to feel the muscles down his back ache as they accommodated another man inside them. The brave big boy who took all that was given, who swallowed it whole. Maedhros liked to help Kit feel proud of himself.

He toyed with keeping the kid like this until he came. He’d done it before and sorted himself out later, getting more from the memory of bringing his lover off than from the strokes of his hand. But Kit moaned, pushed out of the kiss and fumbled on the floor for more lube.

“I love –“

“Don’t say it,” said Kit, slicking himself as Maedhros’ hand was occupied. “Say it and I’ll come.”

“I want you to come,”

Kit’s face visibly tensed as if he was trying very hard not to do just that.

“Please, I want – I want.”

Kit pressed against Maedhros, his body saying what his mouth could not. I want to be inside you Mephisto. I want to loose myself in you.

So they lay on the rug, Kit fucking Maedhros and Maedhros fingerfucking Kit, lost to the world. They were somewhere blank, somewhere away from earth, somewhere with a white stage and a white backdrop that was silent, completely still.

Sweaty hair fell over Kit’s face as he asked, “Where have you taken me now Mephisto, where have you –”. Then he was crying out again, because his body was so full and all that mattered was feeling the pleasure, feeling Mephistopheles pleasure, feeling in his own skin how the demon felt as he fucked him. My body, your body, who cares, who cares, it’s all one, one being, oh fucking Christ.

Maedhros held him safe as he came. I won’t let you go mad Kit, he thought even as he shot hot semen over his stomach. He waited until Kit was ready to open his eyes again, stroking his back, enjoying the calm that flowed through his lover’s body.

“Oh,” said Kit, senselessly blinking, lost for words and lost to everything else.

“That good?”

“I love you Mephistopheles.”

“I love you, Kit Marlowe.”

They lay on the rug and held each other as their bodies gently re-acclimatised to being without desire. Carpet burns started to bite slightly, skin began to feel clammy under the sweat, and the world came back to them. Kit snuggled into Maedhros’ arms as it happened, feeling the peace that only the dead of exhaustion brought him. Maedhros stroked his hair.

“Must you, Kit.”

But Kit had already got up and reached across the floor for his lighter, his cigarettes, the ashtray. He leant against the sofa and breathed in the fumes once more, already hungry, already craving again.

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Comments {5}

citizen tipu

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from: applegnat
date: Apr. 7th, 2005 07:06 am (UTC)
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God, the sexiness and the smartness are so compelling, and the tenderness so surprising and not at all incongruous with the disaffected shagging like bunnies deal. It's so beautiful and symbiotic, as I've said before. And Mae and Kit are equals in different spheres, they're both lost and they're both painfully truthful about themselves - to an extent.

I love this, and I am in awe of you.

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club_hacienda

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from: club_hacienda
date: Apr. 7th, 2005 10:52 am (UTC)
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Thank you Nol,

You know how much I fangirl you.

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club_hacienda

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from: club_hacienda
date: Apr. 7th, 2005 10:55 am (UTC)
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Ooooh That came up as club_hacienda! What we should have said is sit down and have a free drink on the house.


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Kortirion

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from: kortirion
date: Apr. 9th, 2005 05:45 pm (UTC)
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Slutty - and sensuously intelligent! What could be more appealing?

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club_hacienda

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from: club_hacienda
date: Apr. 9th, 2005 06:07 pm (UTC)
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Mae: We are an odd couple, but we do have a certain appeal.

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