Without Armor, Part 4: Love-fever

The white-blonde actor was in the middle of a beautiful soliloquy, leaning against one of the prop columns, gazing up at the artificial Mystic Moon when Chesta glanced at Migel.

The brunette was propped on his elbow, cheek in his palm, staring blankly at the stage, an odd contrast to the faces of Gatti, Dalet, Guimel and Viole around him, immersed in the drama. He looked like the only person immune to the glorious joy-ride of a magician's spell.

"Don't you like the play?" Chesta whispered.

Migel looked up, glad Chesta had finally spoken to him so he wouldn't have to keep quiet in the insolent silence of the boys around him, watching the actors ramble constantly on in dramatics that he didn't understand.

For a second he hesitated telling Chesta that he didn't know Jyan, but the look on his lover's face was like an open fire. And he didn't want to lie to him. Any sensible relationship had to have a strong foundation of honesty, he knew.

"I don't understand it," he admitted in a throaty whisper.

Chesta cocked his head a little, eyes wanting to be compassionate but not understanding.

"I never learned Jyan," he explained, feeling humiliated now, wishing he hadn't said anything. Now Chesta would think him a stupid, cultureless idiot. Even if his face was sympathetic, just like it always was, he knew Chesta would think, somewhere, maybe in the back of his mind, that he was a backwater bumpkin.

Oh shit, why did I tell him? Migel thought miserably.

The blonde's face conveyed a look of both amusement and exasperation. Was Migel really so proud? Maybe he'd have to work at that... teach him to open up a little. Migel Labariel was, in Chesta's biased opinion, a gift from the gods, from his feather-hair to his ignorance of the Jyan language. Somehow it added to his lover's appeal. Somehow it gave Migel an air of humble, realistic, maybe even boyish grandeur.

"Well, why didn't you say so before now?" he asked absently, knowing perfectly well what the answer was.

"Veri tan... veri tan... veri hera re a chevela...," the actor was saying, voice echoing through the beautiful auditorium.

Chesta leaned over and put his lips close to Migel's ear.

"He said 'My love... my love... my heart is in chains'," he translated in a whisper.

Migel stirred in his velvet-backed seat, leaning forward on his armrest so Chesta could better reach his ear.

"Ariana le seana cearvan yer nay wyan dilan fea..." the actor said, smiling a little.

"Let the world tell me you're not worth dying for...," Chesta whispered.

"... Lea yera tou."

"...Because you are."

"Who's he in love with?" Migel asked in a rapid whisper in effort to catch up on the acts that he'd missed.

"The woman with black hair. Do you remember her? He's in love with her but their parents don't want them together because they're of warring countries," Chesta explained.

"Oh...," Migel said, nodding.

How ironic, he thought somberly.

The actor was speaking again, sliding down the column in a dream-like state. Migel smiled. He was good. That stupid-happy dreamy look on his face was quite believable. The Dragonslayer didn't realize that he himself was sporting the same look, feeling Chesta's ardent breath on his ear.

"Veri tan pyria ye mia sher... liva a la feanau win nai kitan..."

"My love burns in my chest," Chesta whispered, "like a fever with no cure."

Migel grinned unconsciously, and had the other Dragonslayers happened to cast a glance their way, their secret would have been out and spreading just like that poor, infatuated actor's love-fever.

"Tira moriana... tira er danlandia dara muchian yera."

"This morning," Chesta breathed lightly into Migel's ear, his lips brushing its lobe, "... without you, it's just a dwindling dawn."

"De ariana le seana cearvan yer nay wyan dilan fea..."

"So let them say you're not worth dying for..."

"De ariana le seana cearvan omia er wira. Fai ittaki... veri hera re a chevela. Eva manoa mortav, nay eva manoa vera vive. De ariana le seana cearvan omia er wira, fai gea vive. Ah tira feanau er ta mukia."

"Let them say our love is forbidden, because it's too late... my heart is in chains," Chesta whispered, deftly taking Migel's hand from the armrest and lacing their fingers together lightly, "They say every man must die... but not every man really lives. I would live and die for the fever I feel for you."

He kissed Migel's cheekbone, securely hidden behind his lover's long bangs. He felt Migel squeeze his hand, curling his fingers snugly around Chesta's knuckles.

Suddenly, neither of them were interested in the play.

"Migel..."

It was half whisper, half desperate whimper when it came out of his mouth. Chesta sat squirming slightly in his seat, leaning over into the side of Migel's face, his breathing becoming slightly heavier. He squeezed Migel's hand, realizing that his tight uniform pants had become even more tighter, in a warm, pleasant sort of way. His leg wrapped around Migel's, and it frustrated him that he felt no warm skin through the restricting armor they were both wearing.

Oh... oh, damn it to hell. I get excited just looking at him. This will not do, he thought.

He squeezed his thighs together in effort to surpress the feeling, but it was creeping up into his abdomen, and the warmth of his inner legs only made it worse.

"Chesta... are you okay?" Migel hissed, keeping his eyes on the stage, and the backs of the other Dragonslayers' heads.

Chesta was squeezing his hand ferociously, almost crushing his knuckles.

"Migel, I... oh damn it... Migel..."

He sounded as if he were on the verge of tears. Migel felt his butterfly eyelashes on his cheek as Chesta squeezed his eyes shut.

"I...," he sucked a mouthful of air in through his teeth in a hiss that sounded almost painful.

Migel pivoted in his seat so that he could see Chesta's face.

"Chesta... nani...?"

A hazy pink blush was blossomed across Chesta's cheeks under eyes squeezed together so tightly that they were leaking thin tears.

"What the matter??" he said, grabbing Chesta's face in both hands.

The eyelids lifted, and unveiled glassy blue orbs, filled as much with fear as the thin, saline film.

"Migel," he whispered urgently, unable to say much more.

Migel searched Chesta's face desperately, misty blue eyes wide with concern. He looked Chesta up and down to see if he was hurt anywhere... and then he found the problem.

"Oh hell..."

He glanced at the stage again.

"How much longer does this play have?"

"It's... it's about halfway... finished..." Chesta gasped.

"Okay," Migel said firmly and certainly. "All right. Follow me."

"What? We can't... what do you mean?"

Migel was already out of his seat, crawling on the theater floor.

"Migel!" Chesta hissed. "Come back, I'll just sit here and concentrate on the play until it goes away..."

Migel looked over his shoulder.

"Come on," he ordered.

Chesta sighed through his nose, looking from the stage, to the audience, to Migel, and back to the stage again.

Groaning with worry, he followed.

Migel led him to the bathroom, Chesta walking so close behind him that if anyone had seen, they would have missed the erection but cocked their eyebrows just the same.

The brunette pushed open the bathroom door and closed it securely behind himself.

He checked each stall individually before approaching Chesta again.

"Migel, we have to go back!" Chesta insisted.

The taller Dragonslayer ignored the pleas, knowing that Chesta's erection had more say so over his actions at the moment, and that the erection was on his side.

He pushed back the flaps of Chesta's jacket, a look of concentration on his serious face, and massaged the insides of Chesta's thighs with his fingertips.

"Uhhhh..." A heavy sigh, ending with a tiny whimper, escaped from the back of Chesta's throat.

Migel took one of his hands and led him to an empty shower stall, drawing the curtain closed.

Chesta was gripping his waist hard through the leather uniform, digging his fingers into the material, making tiny rehtchhh-ing sounds as the leather stretched.

Migel unzipped the front of his uniform and slipped both arms out of the sleeves. He pushed Chesta gently against the wall and leaned over, placing his chin over the other boy's neck.

Chesta unzipped his own uniform and squirmed out of it, letting it dangle around his waist.

Migel's now bare hands pushed back the clothing and snaked down Chesta's leather pants, underneath the boxers. His fingers wandered deftly a moment, then found the hard fleshy member.

Chesta sucked in his breath through his teeth again, this time because he could feel Migel touching him, touching the very part of him that lusted like a tiger. It was almost like having Migel reach into him and touch the Lust itself.

His own hands slipped past Migel's pants, pushing back the yellow boxers.

So he has will power..., Chesta thought when he discovered that Migel's own division of Erotica wasn't standing at attention. We'll see about that. Look alive, soldier.

He wrapped his fingers snugly around it, and slid his palm up the length of the shaft, his fist closing around it as it got thinner.

At the same time Migel was pressing his body harder against Chesta's and breathing heavy sighs onto the boy's neck. His own fingers were pumping with a slow, steady rhythm, and he groaned deeply when he felt warm fingers on his own sensitive appendage. Almost immediately, he was as stiff as Chesta, the blood in his own tender partner in crime pulsing with hot lust, right up to the tip. The wonder of it all... the elation... it was so thick that it hurt his chest a little to breathe.

Chesta closed his eyes and craned his neck to one side, expanding the field of fleshy neck area for Migel's mouth. The mouth took quick advantage, opening wide in slick suckling, pressing its tongue to the skin. The moist breath was hot, steamy almost, on Chesta's neck.

"Migel...," he whispered, pushing his eyelids closed. He could feel his eyes watering. Oh gods, the feeling. It was too much. All of Gaia was sinking under them in triviality. He wondered again how he ever enjoyed anything at all before now.

Migel was starting to quiver against him. The taller Dragonslayer pushed himself closer to Chesta. The blonde released another of his deliriously enchanted back-of-the-throat moan-whimpers. His head craned backward, stretching his neck and stroking Migel's warm. soft-skinned erection in his palms. When one hand slid off the tip, he used the other one, palms sliding up the length. Migel was nearly panting at the feeling. He was pushing air out heavily, sucking in, his chest rising and falling in sharp little hitches.

He could feel a warm ball of fervent, blinding ache swelling at the very bottom of his stomach. He'd tried to keep quiet, restricting his moans to hard snatches of labored breathing, but now he could no more hold the soft groans in than his erection could hold the Ecstasy in.

Chesta felt Migel shivering violently against him, his little hitches of breath sliding into audible moans, erratic attempts at whispering his name.

"Auhhh... ohhh.... Mmnn... Shess.... Shess..... Oh, Chesta."

Chesta slowed his pace. When one hand slipped off the length of Migel, he took more time in getting the other one around it. He put so much into it that he couldn't concentrate on the feeling of Migel's fingers between his own legs.

Migel dug his chin into Chesta's neck. The Ecstasy was stretching out. Chesta was stretching it out. It stretched out, thinner and more intense. It was barely hanging on now. Slipping.... slipping....

And just when Migel thought he'd never come, his whole body erupted like a human volcano. Hard, cold goose bumps started at his wrist and swept up the entire length of both of his arms, right up to his shoulders. His stomach was full of thrilling, white-hot joy. It quivered inside.

His teeth clenched and his lips peeled back in the form of a grimace of pain. But it was a grimace of complete and utter joy, if there is such a thing.

"Auhhhh....hhhu....ohhhh... Chesta... Chesta Chesta Ches-ta, sh-es-ta...." his whispers were thick hisses, almost hysterical with the feeling.

Chesta suddenly felt thick warm liquid in his palms. At the same time, Migel's shivering body gave one last violent jerk against him, pressing him hard against the wall.

And still he managed to stroke Chesta carefully, delicately in his own fingers.

Chesta bit down on his fleshy bottom lip and concentrated on the fingers. The feeling. The precious sensitivity of the division of Erotica between his legs. The now familiar eruption came, spilling into Migel's hands.

The brunette was still pressed against Chesta, his breathing trying to slow, trying to recover from the orgasm. Forgetting that his hands were covered in Chesta's seed, he reached up and touched his lover's face.

"Migel!" Chesta interjected at the shock of the thick, warm, slick and silky liquid on his cheeks.

"Nani??" Migel pulled away and caught an image of his hands, fingers covered in the still warm boy-juice, pressed against Chesta's face. He released immediately, as if the come were a deadly disease.

Chesta's surprised visage suddenly burst into laughter.

Migel, hands out on either side of himself, holding up limp wet palms as if in surrender, suddenly caught the hilarity of it all. His stern face broke into a broad, succulent grin.

Chesta held up his own hands and pressed his palms against Migel's. Their bare fingers laced, seed seeping into seed, slipping between the tight crevices between knuckles.

"I think Rule Number One has just been abolished, ne?" Migel whispered, his eyelids dropping slowly over the misty blue.

"Good riddance," Chesta said, and placed kissed underneath Migel's jaw.