marlowemuses | It's getting hard to bear, watching you all alone

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It's getting hard to bear, watching you all alone

They set up camp in the shadow of the place so that Griffith could watch it.

Though the walls were sound and the castle looked whole, even luxurious, no one suggested that they camp inside. There was something about it, a coldness, and the local villagers spoke of ghosts and demons and monsters in the haunted castle. Conflicting stories too outrageous to be real.
Griffith wanted to explore. But even he hesitated at the sight of the dark gate. Perhaps in the morning. Once they were rested.

In the morning, he took the lead with Guts. They left their horses down in camp with most of the band, and took only a small raiding party to investigate.

The castle’s gates were wide open, as if for a festival, and there were even garlands of wilted white flowers and scraps of fluttering white silk festooned around the courtyard. Griffith entered warily, hand on his sword. He kept Guts by his side, though they went a few paces ahead of the others. If they faced down anything supernatural, Griffith wanted to meet it first.

Somehow it wasn’t a surprise when the gates slammed shut behind them. Griffith glanced back, expression tight as they were cut off from the rest of their party, and drew his sword.

“Welcome, my love.”

A figure seemed to melt up out of the rocks, solidifying as if from wax and drawing itself up to a height of more than seven feet, not including the curving horns that grew from its brow. It had dark brown skin with gray and mossy hues distinctly reminiscent of grave pallor and loam. Both the face and the figure had a striking sort of beauty, as if they had been carved from wax and cast in bronze by a master sculptor, though there was something unnatural and unnerving about it. The body was perfect and bare, with no clothing to conceal the heavy phallus that hung between its legs.

It had eyes only for Griffith, who stared at it in stunned shock as it approached, not even lifting his sword to stop it as it reached for him as if to draw him into a lover’s embrace.

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Griffith doesn't know what to do with those questions. He doesn't know what it is that they're doing here. What he wants has been so simple for so long, but Guts' presence consistently muddies his certainty.

He wants Guts near him. He wants Guts to desire him with such a strength that Guts will never leave him.

Anything more specific than that makes his mind blur with panic and doubt.

"We're taking a bath," Griffith says, almost stupidly, keeping himself distant because it's that or panic. "What do you want me to say? I wanted to kiss you. If you don't want to be kissed, you can just say so."

He turns to the bottles again, selecting one and beginning to massage it through his hair.

There's a part of him wrought with a terrible fear that his worst thoughts about himself were true. A thought that sent his nails digging into his palms until red, stinging crescents formed there. Dreadful thoughts about how someone like Griffith might really think about a mongrel as lost as he was. That none of this was more than a greater man with loftier goals and his useful, bloodthirsty play-thing.

Guts reaches forward to clasp one of Griffith's hands, offering a gentle gesture to keep those thoughts at bay. The grasp is firm only to catch his attention - should Griffith pull away, Guts wouldn't stop him.

"I want you to tell me what you're feeling. It doesn't have to make sense."

Griffith doesn't pull away from the touch. Guts is allowed to touch him. He's the only one who's allowed to touch him, and Griffith trusts him so much that he doesn't question any touch.

The demand is harder, though, and Griffith glances over, wariness held behind his pale eyes.

What he's feeling? He doesn't feel things. He's only logic and ambition. Goal, plan, action. There's no space for sentiment in his heart.

"Are you afraid it's only because you're convenient?" Griffith asks, coolly. He continues combing the cream through his hair one-handed, allowing Guts to keep possession of the one he's claimed. His eyes gaze across the room, unfocused. "I can't say it's not. There's no one else I'd consider. You are my greatest soldier, my finest commander. I don't trust anyone else enough to desire them."

Guts is quiet for a long moment, letting some of the sting from the admission ease off. Griffith kept avoiding his eyes as he spoke. Even though the words spoke exactly to his fears, they still didn't quite ring true.

"And when the war's over? What then?"

His eyes bore ahead to Griffith, vulnerable yet undoubtedly intense. It isn't like Guts to discuss the future like that - but Griffith made him think about his own future in a way no one else did. He didn't quite have an answer for himself. If Griffith truly saw this all as mere convenience, he'd prefer to take the hit now rather than entertain any further delusions. He's long since learned that those belonged nowhere near a battlefield.

"The war?" Griffith asks it distantly, dispassionately, as though he's forgotten there is a war. The war is only a tool for him, a pathway to where he means to go. "Another war."

It's the wrong question, so Griffith takes a little bit of mercy and corrects it for him. "You want to know what use I'll have for you when I'm a king. Kings need armies, and generals. You will always be my best." You will always be mine.

He continues playing with his hair. It's that or look at Guts, and he's wary of the sentiment involved in the latter. But he still doesn't take his hand away from Guts.

It's strange how the same words that had been so lofty before brought nothing but frustration. Perhaps trying to bring the White Hawk to Earth was a useless and futile goal to have. He soared above, alone, heeding nothing but ascension.

Only they hadn't ascended as of late - they'd just barely survived by sticking together. Griffith the future king was a man Guts admired, but he wasn't the comrade he loved, and Guts is at a loss at how to find that other side of him again. Griffith kept avoiding answering his damn question.

An idea comes to his head - a stupid one, admittedly, but it was all he had left. It was this or accept the painful truth that Griffith may never see him the way he wanted - not as a subordinate under his command. His hand reaches further, tilting Griffith's chin so they were seeing eye to eye, right into the dark firebrands staring back. Mercifully, the eye contact doesn't last long, because Guts leans forward to return Griffith's kiss in all his rough and inexperienced way.

It's what he wanted, right?

Griffith lets Guts turn his head, meeting his eyes with the same calm, distant expression, gentled only by the trust he has in his expression for being handled by Guts.

He softens at the kiss, grateful to have an escape from explanations and confessions. Kissing back immediately, Griffith rests a soft hand on Guts’ chest, returning the kiss with slow, sweet guidance, using lips and tongue to gently teach the way he likes to be kissed. When it breaks for a moment, Griffith’s smiling again. Pushing Guts back with a light hand, Griffith moves closer, straddling Guts’ lap and then studying his eyes to make sure this is okay.

His thoughts of their disagreement quickly become lost in Griffith's soft touches. Whatever happens, all he knew was that the reciprocation made him feel warm and alive.

Guts' first, frustrated dive into the kiss brushed the tips of his teeth with Griffith's lips, but the tender guidance eases it back. He then becomes gentle and hesitant, once he realizes it is what Griffith wanted all along, and wanted it to continue. But he had never done this before, and only had his awkward first instincts to offer back.

He makes those earnest attempts to follow as best as he could, strange and alien as this all was. When Griffith's hand pushes lightly on his chest, he eases back against the wall of the bath, and finds himself straddled in the water. His own hand reaches up to support him and keep him in place. Guts doesn't mind it. Not at all.

In all honesty, he didn't expect his first kiss to be with a man either - but Griffith was so extraordinary, and his features so fine and feminine, perhaps it shouldn't surprise him.

"What now?"

Griffith smiles at what he sees in Guts' expression, and at the hand keeping him in Guts' lap. He relaxes more, sliding his arms up around Gut's shoulders and just enjoying being close to him.

"We take it slow," Griffith says, to reassure him. He guides a few wet strands of Guts' hair to one side of his brow, smiling fondly at him and then taking another soft, brief kiss. "We can just kiss for a while, if you'd like, or I can show you some things to make you feel good. What would you like?"

So light and limber Griffith felt in his arms now, leaning against each other as they were. Guts remembers how easily he'd been kept pinned to the ground in their first duel. Griffith didn't need any more brawn or fighting technique now, though - the smile and the kiss easily keeps him in place, face flushed with warmth and lips eager to gingerly return the gesture.

When the suggestion comes, his expression softens, searching Griffith's eyes a little more confidently for answers.

"What things?"

Pleased by that response, Griffith trails his hand down Guts' chest, touching him with gentle hands and tracing arcane patterns across Guts' skin for a minute until he finally comes to Guts' nipple. He doesn't touch it, tracing circles around the areola in order to tease before he gives the nipple itself a light flick. Then he catches it between his knuckles, tugging gently at it while his thumb rubs very, very slowly over the nub itself. He's curious to see how Guts likes this kind of nipple play, and he watches Guts' expressions closely, wary of bumping up against any of Guts' walls or old traumas.

His breaths deepen as Griffith begins, the touch soft and pleasurable enough to be easily accepted in return. It’s.. good, like the massaging of the shampoo through his scalp, but with a more arousing edge to the sensation.

Guts is quiet, soaking in the feeling much the way he sank into the hot bath, watching Griffith all the same. The frustration in his eyes had become warm and receptive. Something stirred in him, seeing how careful and attentive Griffith was being with his scarred body. No matter what he said before, something about this felt more true - even if it wasn’t said in words.

Pleased at how Guts seems to relax into it, Griffith takes his lips for another kiss, still soft and gentle as he leads Guts, showing him different ways that they can kiss and just playing around with that for now. He moves his attentions to Guts' other nipple, playing with that for a minute as they kiss.

When Griffith wants more, he lifts his head to give Guts another smile, watching his lover's eyes as he trails his hand down Guts' chest, down his belly to his cock. He keeps his touch light and gentle, barely there at first as he watches Guts to make sure that this is all okay.

It’s okay. It’s more than okay. This may be his first time making love with another, but he had the good sense to know where Griffith was going with it now. Those light, teasing touches were starting to drive him crazy.

Dissatisfied with simply being acted upon, Guts gets the idea to use his mouth on other parts of Griffith after their kiss. His warm breaths brush against his pale skin as he finds the base of Griffith’s jaw and begins to kiss his neck. He knew exactly where the jugular lay beneath the skin - and perhaps it’s the vulnerability of it all that made him want to lavish this part of Griffith with gentle affection.

Griffith sighed with pleasure as Guts began kissing his neck, and he tipped his head against Guts', nuzzling very softly at him without obstructing Guts' kissing.

While he knows perfectly well how to get a man off, Griffith wants to be delicate and playful right now, to show Guts pleasure for the sake of pleasure rather than heading to any particular goal. His fingers play gently with Guts' foreskin, gliding it down and slipping gentle fingers into the crease, and then move down to play with his balls, cupping them gently in his palm while his fingers massage at the loose skin of the sac.

He's content to drive Guts crazy at the moment, wanting to see if Guts will reach a point where he'll ask for more, and enjoying Guts' explorations of his own. "Guts," he breathes, a soft murmur of affection meant to urge him on.

"Hah.."

Griffith's playing wrests a sharp breath out of his lungs as streams of pleasure travel up his body. Guts had gotten himself off before, but Griffith doing it to him was worlds away from that. His voice, his scent and his soft skin were wonderful things to add. It is both a physical and emotional warmth, making it all the sweeter to his senses. Guts' body responds in kind, and doesn't take too much manipulation before he's aroused enough for Griffith to feel the erection beginning to form in his hand.

Guts looks up from his gentle kissing of Griffith's neck, watching him as his own hand wanders from Griffith's back to his belly, eager to return the favor. He is careful as he grips the base of Griffith's cock, massaging the skin with his thumb. He knew well enough from his own exploration that the rough calluses made for some interesting sensations, though he watches Griffith's reaction to the initial touches before moving too aggressively.

Griffith is already hard, has been since they started kissing, and he smiles joyfully as Guts takes him in hand. "Yes, please, Guts," he breathes, gliding his hand up again to caress at Guts' length. "You can touch me wherever you want," he says, wanting Guts to have the freedom and confidence to explore, and very curious about what would happen once Guts did. "Handle me however you want. I trust you."

Beaming happily at his lover, Griffith cups Guts' cheek in his hand and kisses him again, deeper and more heated this time, trusting Guts to keep up with him.

He joyfully meets Griffith’s kiss again, a little bit more confident now. The caresses up his length sends a shudder through Guts’ whole body, lapped up by the waves of pleasure and excited by Griffith’s eager words.

Not entirely thinking, Guts finds himself standing up in the bath, supporting Griffith in his arms as he quickly finds a wall ledge to lean against. He didn’t quite plan out how the new angle would affect Griffith’s reach, he just knew that the touches were driving him crazy and he couldn’t bear to sit still in one place. Some of the oils and soaps are knocked over in the process, but he seems too focused on pleasuring Griffith to care. The moment he has the leverage, his hand is back to pouring eager attention over his member, curious to see what other sounds Griffith can make.

“Like this?”

Griffith laughs with surprise and delight as Guts lifts him like that, pressing him back against a ledge so that he's pinned between Guts' body and the warm stone. "Admirable initiative," he teases, locking his legs around Guts' waist to support himself and keep Guts close.

No longer worried about being so careful and tentative with him, Griffith nips and kisses along the side of Guts' throat, suckling possessively at the skin. He wants to leave a mark or two on Guts, wants to claim him for everyone to see. "I was just going to stroke you off here," he murmurs against Guts skin, then lifts his head to meet his eyes, heated with desire. "And then when we get back to our room, you can finger me. But if you're impatient, we can just fuck here."

Guts looks back into Griffith's eyes, his own chest rising and falling with hungry breaths. Yes, he did want more - but there is something eating at his thoughts. Should he want more? He knew very well what 'fucking' meant between them. As well as the first few steps had gone, he finds himself hesitant at the thought of it. Could he ever go that far? Even if Griffith wanted it?

"I... don't know," he says, voice low and eyes dark with those uncertainties being quickly shoved away from his mind. It's the kind of look Guts gets when his own thoughts have gotten too damn loud, and he's opted for focusing on the visceral of whats in front of him.

He knew he liked the slight sting of each nip on his neck and the desire in Griffith's eyes. He liked the moans and laughs he could wrest out of him, and the sensation of Griffith's hand between his legs. God, if he wasn't acutely aware of some carnal part of him begging to take up his suggestion to fuck each other and see where they end up. But Guts cared too much about him to do that - whatever Griffith did want out of this, he wanted to do it right.

"I just know I want you."

Guts lowers his head to rest it on Griffith's chest, simply enjoying the sensation of touching his skin. The arm supporting him presses them closer together, sharing the heat of their bodies. There is no bite of shearing teeth or kisses then, just a desire for closeness.

"I want you, too," Griffith said, proud of Guts for the emotional vulnerability and honesty of that. He curled his arms gently around Guts' head, cradling his beloved to his chest.

"We'll go with my plan," he decides for them both, now that he has a better idea of where the line is that makes Guts balk. He'd thought for a moment that Guts' desire might have negated his lingering traumas, but they're still there, whatever they are. "We can stroke each other off here, because I was having fun with that, and then when we go back to our room I'll show you a way that I like to be touched, and you can enjoy making me come a few more times in your arms."

Smiling beatifically down at him, Griffith strokes gentle fingers through Guts' hair. "Now set us back down. I can't stroke you at all at this angle."

Guts feels his heart seize for a moment at his words. I want you, too. For a moment, he is lost between the sensation of Griffith's arm softly curled around his head, and the rhythmic breathing of his chest, and his fingers running through his hair. It takes a second or two for him to respond to his request.

"Ah.. Okay."

Right, the angle. He sets Griffith down, thankful that he at least had a better idea of how to navigate all this. Guts knew he barely had any idea of what he was doing here. He just knew he liked it, and wanted more. Sitting down on the edge of the bath, he waits to see what Griffith might have in mind next. Guts trusts him as much as he was trusted to be touched and handled.

Griffith slides back into the water, settling comfortably and expecting Guts to join him. When he turns around to find Guts seated on the side of the bath, he laughs. "Now you're just tempting me," he teases, curling his arms loosely around Guts' hips and pressing a few sweet, playful kisses to the side of Guts' cock. He can't be expected to resist. It's right there, and Griffith wants so much to put his mouth on Guts and to see how he reacts.

Dragging the flat of his tongue up Guts' shaft and over the head, Griffith lifts his eyes with a playfully wicked expression, very happily enjoying this kind of teasing now that Guts has given him such a golden opportunity.

He is?

"Ah - "

Guts' expression rises with surprise as Griffith lowers his mouth to drag his tongue up his length. The mischievous expression in his bright eyes gets the corner of his mouth to grin back as his hesitations melt away to nothing. His physical desires quickly come back with a vengeance, emerging in both his body and hungry expression. He wanted this - he wanted whatever Griffith had in mind a thousand times over.

A hand reaches down to rest it on Griffith's head - the beautiful cascades he'd always been so fascinated by interlocked between his rough fingers. Enough of that teasing will wrest a proper groan from his throat.

Griffith's grin widens happily at the smile on Guts' face and the hand in his hair. He turns his head to kiss the inside of Guts' wrist, blessing it and giving that hand full approval to continue playing with his hair.

They've already done plenty of teasing and foreplay for Griffith's taste, so as soon as he sees that trust and pleasure in Guts' expression, he leaves off teasing and takes Guts into his mouth, laving his tongue over the head once before sliding down to let Guts nestle against the back of his throat. He repeats this a few times, bobbing his head around Guts and then moving his hand around to stroke the parts of Guts' shaft that he can't quite reach.

Though he has an unfortunate amount of experience doing this, Griffith has never done it for the pure pleasure of it before. He remains rapt on Guts' every expression, every sound, lifting his head every few moments to give his lover another playful, affectionate smile before dipping back down.

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