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Under the tender lights of the masquerade, it seemed there existed some sense of fragility in Rollo’s face. His hand rested in the warm plumage upon Malleus’ shoulder, and though he said nothing as the fae lead him around, that in itself spoke the loudest. He was poised to let go any moment and flee away from Malleus, and from the rest of these people whom he had hurt so gravely. But it was then that a voice cut through his inner turmoil, two gloved fingers coming to angle his chin with gentleness to make eye contact.
“You are silent. What are you thinking of, Rollo Flamme?”
Rollo lifted his hand out of the feathers and removed those fingers from his chin, though he did keep his eyes on him - with the intensity that flamed in those green eyes it was difficult to pull himself away. He felt Malleus’ hand on his back pull him closer, and he didn’t object as much as he would have liked to. When was the last time somebody had embraced him so, even if this was only a dance? He couldn’t remember.
“Despair. You rouse it in me.” He spoke dryly, although a strange feeling began to bloom in his chest as he felt the low vibration of Malleus’ laugh. It must be that lingering rawness from having what were effectively his innards exposed to the party at the top of the bell tower not so long ago. Idia Shroud, who had cowered on the sidelines much like himself until not too long ago; Azul Ashengrotto, who was gesturing towards his peer and being rebuffed with an almost playful coldness; and Malleus Draconia, the accursed, his beloathed, who had beckoned him into his arms without a second thought to his crime - they all knew.
“You are fascinating,” was Malleus’ only response.
***
At midnight, under the pale light of the moon that filtered through the gap in the curtains, Rollo Flamme tried his hardest to fall asleep. A current of overstimulation still hummed through his blood from the events of the day, and so it seemed his efforts were futile. Some deep, far-off part of himself that he had thought no longer existed had been wounded, and it cried out for that touch again. This out-of-sorts feeling plagued him, and in his frustration, he left his bed and opened the drawer in his desk. The substantial light from the fire had long died, leaving only the subtle warmth of embers. He struck a match and threw it in with a new piece of firewood, and sat on the floor in front of it, gazing into the new flames; something horrible twisted in his heart at the sight, and he placed his head on his knees. They had lied for him, and they were fools - despite Draconia’s appeal to his humanity, to which he had folded in the moment, it meant he could begin all over again.
That was when he heard a knock at the door which ripped him from his private melancholy for a second time that night.
He hurried to the door and when he opened it a fraction he was surprised to find Malleus on the other side of it - so surprised in fact that he was very near to merely slamming the door in his face. It was as though the prince existed to tear him from one torment, only to place him into the next. Words failing Rollo, Malleus got the opportunity to speak first.
“Flamme. I decided that I would rather like to spend my last night here with you.” He said it with such a forthrightness that further stunned him.
“Come in at once. I can hardly have you saying things like that in the corridor,” Rollo snapped as he opened the door, shutting it abruptly - yet as quietly as he could - as Malleus stepped inside. “What did you want?”
“I wanted to talk with you.”
He seemed so sincere that Rollo dared question how he had initially interpreted his words. Malleus was here in front of him, and the open wound inside him throbbed harder for a moment as if to remind him that it was there. He sighed, tired, defeated, and sat himself upon his rustled sheets, tilting his chin back to invite the other to sit with him.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Suspicion lurked in his voice. Had it not been for his own desperation for a distraction, he would never have answered the door at this time of night. He examined Malleus’ person like this - a little more unkempt, dressed in his pyjamas - and it seemed as though the fire he had lit surged hotter for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together and he looked away; all of a sudden he wanted to tell him to get out, so he could go back to feigning sleep alone like he was used to.
“Nothing in particular. I haven’t come here to quiz you,” he said, with that same sincerity. It was dangerous. Rollo almost wanted to believe that like this, with the soft moonlight illuminating his face in the dark, Malleus wasn’t the wicked monster he knew he was. “I wanted to thank you again for dancing with me. I could not detect any inexperience, though you said you didn’t like to dance. It was wonderful.”
It was then that Malleus shifted closer to him and took both of his hands in his. Rollo had never felt so vulnerable and so exposed as he did in this moment, his eyes meeting Malleus’ with the gaze of a frightened rabbit. What was he supposed to do? He was only human, and his heart could only take so much. He didn’t snatch his hands away.
“You said it yourself. It would have been rude for me to refuse your request, considering it was I who invited you,” he said, trying to remain still in his usual aloof state.
“And would you honor my requests still?”
Without further ceremony, Malleus embraced him, and Rollo froze where he sat, becoming as still as the statue of the judge. “What are you doing?” He managed to hiss, though it was half-hearted, from the way the touch had stolen the air from his lungs.
“You fascinate me. Something stirred within me when I held you earlier. You are so strong, and under your disdain, there was something else,” he spoke softer now that they were closer together, just shy of Rollo’s ear. “You are truly human, and that is your curse, is it not?”
Rollo didn’t respond, except to put his forehead against Malleus’ shoulder like some part of him had wanted to while they were dancing. “I hate you,” he said softly, lacking any real heat behind it. His hands found his back. Malleus let out another soft chuckle, the sound reverberating through both of their bodies. It was a far cry from the frightening intensity they had both shown one another mere hours ago.
“I won’t pity you.”
They drew back to look at one another, and Rollo found in Malleus’ eyes something that made the same feeling of warmth spread through him as it had earlier. Before his response was able to leave him, the fae leaned in and captured his lips, stealing those words and his breath all in one. His hands found the human’s waist, pulling him closer with a gentle yet firm touch.
Rollo broke from him when he was on the edge of his lap, though he didn’t let go; his heart raced in his chest, blood raging hot and fast through his veins like hellfire. He wanted to ask him just what in God’s name he thought he was doing manhandling him like this, thinking he wanted to engage in this way. To dance with another man had been humiliating enough, but to have the same man kiss him? The very man who had dominated Rollo’s life completely in spirit for weeks was here with him now, in his bedroom where the soft crackle of the flames in the fireplace was the only sound besides their mingled breathing. The line that separated hatred from that feeling he dare not name was razor thin. One of Malleus’ hands found its way to his neck, where his slender fingers caressed under his jaw.
He was the one to lean in again. Slowly, tentatively, he dared to kiss the corner of Malleus’ lips, thinking that he must be mad to even consider indulging this behaviour. Rollo blushed, flames of passion lapping at him endlessly, when he felt the other’s hunger; Malleus tilted his head and plundered further, the strong hand that rested on the human’s waist guiding him closer still, splaying his legs out around his own waist as he shifted to bring him fully into his lap. It was the curse of being human. A gasp died in his mouth as he felt his partner’s tongue on his lip, meeting him with the permission he knew he was searching for.
They stayed locked like that, an eternity contained within this kiss. Rollo felt pleasantly suffocated with his rising lust, his hand sliding down Malleus’s chest, resting in the centre of it. All of a sudden the room around them was saturated with burning heat, and Malleus lowered him on to his back among his modest sheets, breaking away from him to hover just above. Rollo’s eyes fell on to his lips, admiring the touch of redness that had bloomed in them with their kiss; some deep part of him screamed that this was what he had craved all along. Some company to love him; somebody that would welcome him into their arms with the same fervour a lover might. For tonight at least, Malleus was that someone, and as Rollo got lost in his thoughts he felt the gentle press of his lips on his jaw.
Malleus’s fingers were smoothing over the skin close to his knee, over his modest night clothes. Something came to life within him at the gesture that made a sound that was nothing short of unholy break from his lips; he felt the curl of a devilish smile against him.
“Is— is this what you came here for? To do this?”
“I suppose so.” Malleus seemed perfectly content, both of his hands ultimately landing on Rollo’s hips. “The truth is that I felt a profound loneliness when I danced with you. I think you and I aren’t so dissimilar in that regard. I wanted to explore it.”
Rollo scoffed, but like before there was nothing truly bitter underneath it - if anything, there was an expression of his need. There was a certain alluring curiousness in Malleus’s touch, like he was truly committed to his exploration, in more ways than one. The flush crept down Rollo’s neck, and the fae followed it, his soft lips working down the side of his white throat, with scalding, hungry hands slipping under his nightshirt to seek out his stomach and waist. Rollo’s hands, lost until now, found their way into his hair, privately appreciating its softness under his fingertips.
This tenderness was alien to him. He hadn’t realised the point his starvation had reached until Malleus had laid his hands upon him earlier in the night, and that feeling was only amplified now that his palms grazed against his bare skin, making his chest swell with heavy breaths. His trousers were loose enough to ensure he felt no discomfort, but his excitement was evident through them, growing more by the minute. Those inquisitive fingers found their way to his chest, and Malleus drew his fingertip over his nipple softly, making his breath hitch. He turned his face into his hair, and closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation.
Malleus lead and he followed in this new dance, as their lips came together once again in a mess of desire; he felt the fae’s hand descend, until his palm landed between his legs, caressing him and swallowing the litany of moans it drew forth. He couldn’t allow Malleus to take the upper hand so abruptly, and so he reached down himself to find that the other man was similarly excited.
Rollo was taken aback by it all; about what he was allowing. Peculiar guilt swirled around inside him for being so weak as to give in to this, but it was soon drowned in another wave of pleasure; even though this should have been something unholy, something that would condemn him to the fiery pit, the feeling that spread through him as Malleus bared him to the air felt like a blessing. It was like breathing a sigh of relief, bathing in heaven’s light at last even though the one above him was undoubtedly a demon. Long fingers curled around him and began to stroke, and he broke away to breathe. Still, Malleus’s lips remained on him, soft and warm against his cheek.
His hand trembled a little as he reached for the buttons at the front of Malleus’s shirt, though he was still able to undo them with one hand; undoing rows and rows of his own served to be good practice. It was his turn to be curious; drawing his fingers over his chest, his stomach, anywhere he could reach. Malleus sighed with his touch and his stomach clenched, knowing that he had pleased him, the flames of their passion growing only brighter. Rollo bit his lip to silence the sounds that the fae threatened to wring out of him - distantly he was still aware that someone could hear them, and to be caught in this situation would truly mean the end of the world.
Malleus drew back, taking his hand away, using the same hand to guide his chin for a moment so he could look at him. It was the same gesture he had used when they were dancing; Rollo was powerless against it. He had a dazed look in his eyes as Malleus pressed a short, chaste kiss to his slack lips, before pressing the tips of two fingers against them. Rollo relented immediately, welcoming those fingers into his mouth, letting Malleus get them slick as he liked. Those green eyes were locked on to his own, studying him, and Rollo found something so intense and erotic in that that he wanted to look away in shame, but didn’t dare. Allowing Malleus to claim dominion over him for one night by his own choice was better than suffering unwittingly, as he had, plagued by desires he didn’t understand and didn’t care to know.
Once he deemed his fingers sufficiently slick, he pulled them from Rollo’s lips, a small string of spit still connecting them. It was broken as he reached down.
“Will you open your legs?” Malleus asked. His voice was low and soft; however under his seduction there lurked a command, like the fangs Rollo could catch a glimpse of behind his plush lips. He took his bottoms off completely and his legs fell apart. Malleus reached down, a subtle smile of approval coming over his features that made the human’s traitorous heart skip a beat. He pressed one finger inside gently, his other hand coming to caress Rollo’s face as he winced at the new sensation, comforting him with insistent lips. After he felt no further resistance, Malleus added the second finger, earning a shudder.
“You’re quiet even now…”
Rollo tutted. The truth was that it was taking every ounce of self control he had to hold himself together, to not wail like some whore, to not let this passion sear him inside and out. “There are others who are sleeping,” he responded, though there was an undeniable sense of strain in his voice. He couldn’t let Malleus know his greatest shame, that which he scarcely wanted to admit to himself. This mockery of love filled something within himself he had thought unreachable. His thoughts were quickly dissipated by the press of Malleus’s fingers against what felt like his very core, and he moaned abruptly, the restraint disappearing. Thoughtful, Malleus began to stroke that weak point only, causing Rollo to writhe underneath him, teeth digging into his lips in a vain attempt to hold himself.
“Have— Have mercy—“
Rollo panted as he eased up, clutching the sheets in one hand. This rising lust was dangerous, and it was threatening to spill over at any moment, even from just this much; emboldened by his own pleasure, he slipped his hand under Malleus’s waistband, growing red as his fingers came into contact with his arousal. They kissed again, a mess of lips and tongues, all sense of shame or regret far away, replaced by their ardent mutual passion. Malleus dug his fangs into the soft give of Rollo’s lower lip, not enough to leave any kind of mark, but more than enough for him to feel the points; he wanted him to let go. It was his turn to make a sound as the human stroked him, a certain inexperience in it that was completely at odds with the collected self he displayed in the daytime. This was not the student council president of the college, the man who had lusted not too long ago for the crimson lotus to drain the world of magic, that heaved beneath him, reacting to his fingers. It was merely Rollo Flamme, exhausted from his exploits, shattered from having his very heart bared, as human as any other.
Malleus settled himself between his legs, pulling his fingers out. He pulled his own pants off before his hands landed back on Rollo’s bare hips, not neglecting to notice how the one underneath him avoided looking down at all costs, chest rising and falling rapidly in anticipation. He pressed his lips to his ear, somewhere between a kiss and a whisper. He sounded perfectly amused.
“I will be gentle.”
Rollo made a sound.
“You mustn’t say things like that—“
A whine undermined any seriousness he may have hoped to have in his voice. At this point he scarcely cared, as long as it meant Malleus would stay here, lavishing this sin upon him, keeping him warm through a night that would have otherwise chilled him to the core. They stayed like that for many long moments, Rollo’s hands finding their way to his partner’s back once more, shifting their hips against one another. The subtle sounds that fell from his perfect lips made something scalding hot unfurl in Rollo’s stomach; his skin was tacky with a sheen of sweat, leaking arousal hopelessly. His heart raced. He dared wonder for a moment if Malleus’s was racing the same way.
The fae spat into his hand. It felt unbearably lewd to watch him do something so undignified as that. He didn’t look as Malleus slicked himself, too caught up with what was about to happen; it was the boiling over of his frustrations, and relief from the many nights where he would wake up around now, all alone in his cold, dark chambers. He had been catching glimpses of Malleus everywhere, a man desperately obsessed; the fae owned him already, much as he would never admit it, and it was time for him to make good on his claim.
Rollo, though physically prepared for this, was not prepared for how it would feel when Malleus finally pressed inside him. A whimper that was nothing short of pathetic fell from his lips and he dug his fingers into his back, head tilting, leaving his throat vulnerable. He felt every slow movement of Malleus penetrating him, how he made it no secret that he was enjoying the strangled gasps of coalescing pleasure and pain, laying soft kisses to his Adam’s apple. It was ecstasy to feel so full, his mind flooded and hazy, body on fire.
Malleus groaned as he made his first thrust, pulling out as slowly as he had pushed in, and the sound was so deep and so sensual that it frayed Rollo’s nerves almost to their limit. He buried his face into his shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of his nightclothes against his cheek; one arm came around him to hold him there, as if this were an embrace between lovers, as Malleus began to settle into a measured, deep rhythm. Every breath broke into a moan, the sounds tumbling from his lips with no restraint, only to die on Malleus’s skin. Rollo noticed that even the tips of those pointed ears were flushed despite his composure, and it made his heart throb; this taste of love was sweet, even if it was to be short lived. They would wake up in the morning and he would have to bid him goodbye until that someday when they could meet again. When Rollo would not be so weak to his potent ministrations.
The fae began to move faster, and Rollo clenched around him; they moaned together, in a harmony of intoxicating pleasure quite different from the serenade that had taken place a few hours prior. Malleus ground him into his mattress with each thrust, strong hips firmly leading; Rollo could barely keep up with his movements, even less able to think about claiming some control back.
Malleus struck the weakest point within him over and over, never showing him any mercy like he had before; he longed not to climax too soon, some deep and selfish part of him wishing this would last forever, that Malleus could be his and his alone. Despite his desires, the tension within him rose, blazing and curling higher still. He felt the point of Malleus’s fang at his earlobe, his hand petting his side, and then coming down to wrap around him once more.
“I am inviting you, Rollo Flamme. Come undone,” he beckoned.
With a loud cry, Rollo did as he was told. His back arched into the other who held him there as he tensed, creating more pressure than ever between them, before falling limp in his arms. Malleus followed suit, hardly bothering to pull out of him; it was some kind of a parting gift, he mused. Relaxing himself, he fell on top of Rollo, who had melted quite thoroughly into his mattress. For some time, they stayed like that; as messily intertwined as their fates were, both sated by this encounter.
Eventually, softening, Malleus eased out of him; he didn’t hasten to leave, instead merely rolling to the side so he could pull Rollo into his arms, who still seemed entirely dazed beyond words. The human put his forehead against his chest, and found the answer about his beating heart.
“Are you going to expel me from your room?” Malleus asked, teasing.
Rollo scoffed, some of his usual demeanour returning now that he had had a moment to regain his bearings.
“No, stay if you wish,” he replied. He would never dare to admit that it was what he wished for himself, but it permeated through, with his fingers curled into his shirt. The warmth that remained between them was hotter than the fireplace, which was dying once again in the night. Malleus tipped his chin with his fingers once again, that gesture which made something stir in his heart, and bestowed a final kiss on his lips, as if to say goodnight. Rollo could face the reality of this when he was bidding goodbye to the rest of the college tomorrow morning; until then, he could allow himself to bathe in the warmth the embers left in the wake of their pleasure.
Someday, they would meet again, and his fight to wipe that smile off his face could be won. But that was not tonight; tonight alone he could cherish as a dream, he told himself.