Work Text:
It all happens faster than Top's able to comprehend.
One second, he's leaving the hotel's bar only to find Mew in the lobby, eyes wild under his growing bangs; the next, they're madly making out in the elevator, Top's body hiding them from the security camera as Mew's nails dig painfully into the muscles of his arms.
Teeth leave behind stinging trails as they sink into his lips, as if hungry for the blood that hides beneath the skin.
The lift signals their arrival at the top floor, but Mew doesn't allow him to move, fingers pulling at his shirt to keep him in place and glued to his body, never letting up on the heat of his kisses.
"Mew-" Top tries to speak, voice muffled by Mew's lips. "We need to get out..." A long-suffering sigh escapes his mouth when a profound bite is branded onto his neck, feet tripping over his as Mew pushes him back against the opposite wall, pressing the button to keep the lift's door open.
As fast as their bodies collide, Mew's warmth suddenly disappears, standing on the hallway's threshold with a perverse grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
Inside his eyes, swirls a concoction Top can't quite name - lust? Anger? Danger?
Whatever it is, it has him enraptured, feet moving of their own volition to seek after the feverish promise they offer, glinting with murderous mischief.
They don't even get to the door before Mew recaptures him in his snare, nails scratching over his scalp and fingers pulling roughly at his hair to keep him in place, smirk widening when Top chases after lips he can't reach.
"Behave," Mew commands. It's the first word he's said to Top since their eyes met across the lobby; his voice sounds unfamiliar, outlandishly powerful. Top's putty in his hands, not a resemblance of the regalness he so often carried himself with to be found.
He's but a mere worshipper now, crawling back to the altar so Mew can bestow upon him any blessing or curse he might see fit.
The key card takes far too long to fit into the opening, but once it does, they barrel inside, shoes discarded messily around the entrance. The door lock clicks closed, and they're on each other immediately, hands shoving against shirts and undoing buttons. Clothes are abandoned to reveal skin that begs to be marked, so Top gets to work as quickly as he can, love bites decorating the column of Mew's neck.
Mew runs his hands down Top's bare back, pressing at the points he knows will have him moving against Mew's body, hips rolling in tandem with the waves Mew creates.
They're dancing, they're sparring, they're crumbling, Top wants-
"Bedroom," Mew whispers into his ear, making Top tremble from head to toe. Complying without a second thought, as he knows that's what will please Mew the most, Top hoists him up the wall, wrapping the other's beautiful thighs around his torso.
There's a smile tugging at the sides of Top's mouth as their bodies come together, but as he looks up, not a fraction of this overwhelming elation is reflected in Mew's visage. Instead, he looks ferocious, like he's got Top right where he wants him - stuck in his trap.
It's a game of seduction unlike any other Top has experienced, not even with Mew himself. Bold, bright, angry, it leaves scorch marks down his shoulder blades in the shape of Mew's fingertips.
Gripped onto as tight as iron-clad claws, Top walks them backwards into his bedroom, kneading his fingers into the muscles spread out beneath them, upper thighs and buttocks. Mew recaptures his lips as Top presses particularly hard down on his asscheek, bringing their groins together and eliciting a faint moan from the man in his arms, a sound Top echoes, louder.
Gentle and unrushed, afraid that if he moves too fast, time will spin itself out of control and Mew will be gone before he can fully register his presence back into his house, back into his life, Top places him back down on his feet at the foot of the bed. In a mad search for quietness within the storm of his thoughts, Top rakes up Mew's tank top, pinching the nipples that appear before him until they're perked and licking stripes over them, down, lower...
Mew's beautiful hands are a weapon, aim set on him entirely, programmed to destroy, to rebuild, to tangle into his hair and put him on the right path. Top's his lost wanderer, made to follow the rules he wordlessly dictates, to understand the underlying meaning of being on his knees before Mew.
Well-practised in this art, Top pulls the zipper of the other man's pants down while never breaking eye contact, hoping Mew can see in him that which he can't say out loud. The button pops easily, revealing a secret side to Mew - his boxers are still pale blue, still a part of the Mew Top met what feels like a lifetime ago, the one he loved, loves, the one he lost.
Tugging the waistband down his hips and leaving the fabric to pool on the ground, Top hungrily watches Mew's cock spring free, hard and delectable right in front of his eyes.
Mew watches him lick his lips at the sight, pulling him closer by his scalp until all that Top can see, hear, feel, is Mew, nosing at the meeting point of his thigh and hipbone, teeth scraping over the skin to leave his imprints of being here, so Mew won't forget. Please, Top begs to the universe, don't let Mew forget me.
Time becomes non-existent, merely a memory of separation; inside the walls of his lonesome bedroom, they're infinite, made of pure sensation that spreads from fingertips down spines, over flesh, around girth. Gripping Mew's erection in his hand, Top gives himself ample time to feel the weight of it in his grasp, tugging in the slow pace Mew's always liked best, head thrown back and throat bobbing heavily.
Top could watch him unravel forever, he's certain of it. It always starts as a quiet affair, breath growing shallow as it turns into gasps Mew can't hold back, moans reverberating in his chest in a mesmerizing melody. When Top licks the beading precum off the tip of the hardening erection, Mew topples forward, holding himself up by burying his nails into Top's shoulders.
The mix of pain-pleasure makes Top groan against the dick in his hands, placing open-mouthed kisses to the length, feeling it grow harder still under his lips. With the tip of his tongue, Top draws a path from the hilt to the leaking head, engulfing it in his mouth and hollowing out his cheeks.
The moan that punches its way out of Mew's throat fills Top with a primal sense of pride, like his blood's turned into flames, boiling from the inside out with a need to scream until he feels raw, guts spilled on the floor.
This Top is good for, pleasure that ripples through his body as Mew thrusts into his mouth carelessly - this, if nothing else, he can do for Mew.
It's liberating, to give his body away wholly to the only man who can break Top and have him beg for more. With his ability to speak taken away so heavenly, Top begs in the next best way he knows: grasping at Mew's thighs with enough force he pleads to the heavens the marks his fingers leave will last for at least a short while, enough that Mew might remember him in a light holier than he deserves.
Top allows himself to be used for Mew's delight, feeling the head hit the back of his throat with enough vigour he nearly chokes, but doesn't move away, even if the grip on his hair loosens. There's nowhere for him to go that isn't the shrine of Mew's hips, nowhere he'd rather be than in Mew's presence.
Mew seeks his orgasm with an unbridled wildness, hips moving forward madly, as if searching for the kinds of answers he can only find through fucking Top's mouth to his heart's content.
The signs of his approaching undoing remain the same Top's memorized like clues to the meaning of his existence - staring up at Mew through wet lashes, he sees the eyes scrunched closed, and the mouth parted to let gasps that filter out unbidden, plump lips swollen from his kisses.
With no warning, Mew comes down his throat, keeping him in place by holding his nape viciously, as if Top would ever dream of escaping from him. Top lets him have it all, ride the wave of satisfaction for as long as it lasts as he swallows as much as possible, holding Mew up by the back of his thighs as his legs begin to quiver, knees threatening to give out.
Once Mew begins to soften in his mouth, Top pulls away, only to fall forward into Mew's body, nuzzling against his navel and inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin. There's a faint ache in his knees but Top doesn't pay it much mind, feeling far away from his flesh, even as his cock's so hard it becomes painful.
A diabolical smirk twists Mew's features as he stands triumphant over Top, wiping the come trickling down Top's chin with his thumb before pressing it to his own tongue.
"Come here," he tugs at Top's hair, pulling him up to kiss him once more, tongue licking the back of Top's teeth as if chasing the aftertaste of his own cum. Mew's taste is just as inebriating as that first night, sweet and sour and mouthwatering, consuming Top whole like the blazing sun.
They're less kissing and more biting into each other, Mew's hands ripping him open like he wants to reach the very core of Top, bare his heart so he truly knows the emotions that move him.
Every bruising touch of Mew's fingers against his body screams of possession, of wanting Top all to himself - and why shouldn't Top indulge him, when he's always belonged to Mew, has been his even before he could understand it? His heart, his body, it's all Mew's.
Top isn't any better, if he's to be honest. His fingers dig deep enough into Mew's skin as he reaches under his tank top to create bruises, attempts made to melt them together, like he can hide beneath flesh and live inside of Mew for the rest of his life.
If allowed, Top would never be parted from him ever again, would stay by Mew's side in whatever way he'll be had - and part of him exists within Mew forever, the sick and twisted side of Top that broke him and kept him returning to Mew when he knows he was unworthy of doing so, pretending to be innocent as the guilt dragged him down.
Mew looks like he's out for his blood, eyes so dark Top thinks he's seeing red in them, a hallucination, a mirage, a vision of divinity. Whatever Mew is, Top wants him, whether as a tantalising gift or a terrifying omen, a boon from the heavens to have Mew here, a torment to not know how long it might last.
If Top bleeds, will it show Mew how human he makes Top feel? If Top bleeds, will it make Mew trust him again?
"I'm gonna tie you up," Mew mutters against his mouth, pulling his belt out of its loops with so much force it nearly rips the fabric of his pants. Top nods eagerly, rucking up the other's undershirt so he can feel more skin pressed on his.
Impatient, Mew shoves him back on the bed, crawling over him with licentiousness in his gaze, travelling over Top's body like he's looking for the best place to drive his teeth into, and lips latching to the pulse point in his neck.
It's a feverish image Top easily recalls seeing before - Mew holding him down as his ticklish kisses rained across Top's chest mere seconds before the world around them shattered, how his heart raced right before it stopped completely, how it hasn't beat properly since.
Top's seeing red and smoke, blood scalding in his veins as the leather's looped around his wrists, arms shoved up and out of the way. With nowhere to tie them to, Mew presses down on them once, a keep them here motion, before stepping back completely to stare down at his handiwork.
He looks proud of himself, the glint of challenge that has always fascinated Top found once more in his eyes at last, instead of the cold detachment and blazing fury he's grown so used to being met with every time Mew's gaze is bestowed upon him.
Top will never tire from the pull Mew has on him, body moving of its own volition towards the other man like a pair of magnets is attached to each of them. Mew's lips curl in exasperation, pushing him back down and shaking his head in an admonishing manner. "Behave," he repeats, tone barely above a hiss that has Top's veins singing and his brain warping.
Taking Top's lap as his seating spot, Mew lazily tugs at his soft cock, tank top abandoned somewhere Top can't care about. His bare body stands glorious and just out of reach, leaving Top parched and trying to undo his bindings, with no success.
A bright flush trails down Mew's neck and chest, accentuating the love bites Top has left behind, the chain resting against his collarbones calling for Top to tug on it and bring their lips back together.
At Mew's mercy, however, all he can do is watch, the showcase of power slow yet sizzling as it encases them into a glass case of lust - or at least that's what Top feels like, bound for the devouring of his own god, unable and unwilling to fight the overwhelming desire to be all that Mew wants, all that might please him.
Cocking an eyebrow down at Top, Mew watches him lick his lips at the sight of the hardening erection in front of him. "Haven't you had enough?"
"Never," Top answers promptly, not an ounce of doubt in his mind.
"You're insatiable." Mercilessly, Mew yanks at his hair to bring his face closer, bowing his spine at an unnatural angle. "Having only me would never suffice, would it?"
No air enters his lungs, like a punch to the gut. "Mew-"
"Quiet." Mew lets go of his scalp, leaving him to flop back down onto the bed. "I'm not your defence attorney, you don't get to have one. I'm your judge, and you'll serve whatever sentence I decide for you, won't you?"
"Of course, anything you want." There's no need for thinking in order to reply.
"Tsk," Mew clicks his tongue judgmentally, his eyes filled with blazing fire, "you're so pathetic. I hate you." Like he's being stabbed open to find his heart, like Mew might never love him ever again, that's the shape taken by Mew's words.
"I know." No more can be said with Mew sucking on his tongue like he's trying to draw confessions straight out of Top's speech, carving painfully sweet lines down his chest with his nails, scars that will remind Top of pleasure down in the depths of hell. The button of his pants is undone in mere seconds, Mew's hand diving under the waistband of his briefs to take Top's hard cock into its grasp.
Top's not ashamed to admit the blaring noise that leaves him at the barest of touches to his aching dick, pulsing red in between Mew's fingers as it is moved out of its enchasing. Mew seems unsatisfied with it, tugging harsher over the length in the same rhythm he jerks himself to.
"Louder," he demands, hand moving faster and thumb pressing over the underside vein. Top's sure his hands are pale from the lack of blood circulation with how tightly he's grasping at the bed sheets, wrists covered in red lines from the edges of the belt.
He wouldn't be able to restrain himself from yelling even if he tried, not with the way Mew keeps his grip deadly tight, free hand moving down to circle his balls, barely even there.
Of course, Mew knows when it becomes too much for him to handle, his orgasm approaching much faster than Top would like it to, but he no longer holds any control, handed it to Mew quicker than it could be asked of him. And because Mew knows he's on the edge, he's also the one to pull him back from it, fingers forming a ring around the base of his cock to keep him from coming.
The noise that tears through his throat sounds pained, as if being toyed with like this is killing him - yet the idea of stopping couldn't be farther from his mind. He needs more, whatever more Mew will give him, even if none at all.
"Do you want to come?" Mew taunts, nails flicking over one of Top's nipples. Top can't seem to find his voice after moaning like his life depends on it, resorting to nodding desperately. Smiling as if he knows secrets he'll never tell, Mew leans down to lick his earlobe, whispering, "Inside of me."
Having Mew this close without being able to touch him is torturous, Top thinks he's losing his mind, but his sweet, nerdy, seductive beyond-belief Mew uttering filthy orders at him might just be his real undoing.
Lifting himself off Top briefly, yet long enough that it feels like a lifetime before his body's pressed against Top's again, Mew rummages through his bedside table for the bottle of lube, dropping it onto the mattress next to Top's head.
"Watch me," he dictates, popping the lid open and pouring way more than necessary over his fingers, most of the substance dripping down onto Top's chest. The lube's cold as it meets his skin, making him shiver and the sinister curl to Mew's lips deepen.
"Please... Mew..." Top's not quite sure what he's asking for as Mew's hand disappears behind himself and he's not allowed to do anything but lie there. All that he knows is that he's desperate, body twisting and turning on the bed as his wrists, kept down by the sheer force of Mew's glare, attempt to free themselves to no avail. He can feel the edges of the belt digging into his skin, certain to leave him marked up for at least a small while, so that every time Top looks at his own hands, he'll be reminded of this night, of who had him at his mercy.
"Beg for me." Mew's voice sounds sweet yet icy, like he's talking past Top and to the walls, willing the world to bend to his desires.
"Please let me touch you," he pleads without success, the leather around his arms unyielding.
"Why would I do that?" Scoffing, Mew breathes open-mouthed as he continues to work his own fingers into himself. "Do you think you deserve to touch me, Top? All you ever do is break me."
"Mew, please... I love-!"
"Shut up or I'll gag you." The words strike something inside Top's chest he'd never considered, never even bothered to look at. Still, it's as if his body has already pondered over it for long hours and decided it's beyond interested, cock twitching visibly at the idea. "Oh." Mew's tuned to his body in ways Top can't even begin to understand, a cruel smile twisting his lips in tandem to the darkening of his irises in a mix of lust and anger. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Shame and craving swirl inside Top, not sure if he should deny and save face when he barely has any now, or admit to the desires he's never dwelled upon and let Mew do whatever he wants to him. "How much more can I take from you, like you've taken from me?"
Everything, he means to say, all that I have, words he can't bring himself to utter under the weight of Mew's hips, Mew's stare. All he does is respond to Mew's demands and watch, consumed entirely by the expression lining the other man's face, trying to read it without quite managing to. It's pleasure and anger, like Mew wants his body and wants him gone, like Top isn't deserving of a single inch of what he's receiving, much less of being in Mew's very presence.
Mew looks close to tears, palm covering Top's eyes. In the darkness, Mew's gasps ring louder, building waves of desire inside Top's chest.
His hands fight futilely against their entrapment, desperate in his need for touch, starving to have Mew everywhere he can reach and kept stuck in place by the sound of his voice alone, breaking between moans.
Though he can't see, Top's experienced enough of Mew to envision it, the way the sweaty hair falls over his eyes, cheeks burning red, eyelids screwed shut. Being deprived of sight borders on too much, his world reduced to the single point of contact between Mew's hand and his face.
Top doesn't realize he's started crying himself before Mew's touch abandons him, damp palm sliding down his cheek and then gone, leaving the tears to trail down his cheeks and onto the sheets, as pathetic and pitiful as Top feels.
He can see his own tears reflected in Mew's chocolate brown irises, how they threaten to spillover and are held back by the intensity of the other's loathing for him - Top never wants to see Mew break again, knows he'll never be close enough once more to be able to be the one who holds him when he cries.
Mew lets out a small grunt as his hand moves away from his behind, a solitary finger running over Top's erection making his toes curl into the sheets. He looks at Top like he's dirt beneath his shoes, uninterested, bored even. The indifference leaves Top feeling restless, hands shaky and eyes continuing to leak without him meaning to cry. Mew's lips taste of regret, binding Top into a spell of scorn-laced affectionlessness.
Hedonism ruled his days, yet no pleasure he's ever felt in his life compares to Mew's body moving against his, supple thighs framing his hips and hands viciously yanking at his hair to command the pace of their kisses.
Kisses are an overstatement, truly - they feel more like feasting, like Mew will only be satisfied once he's devoured Top's lips raw, broken his ribs into two halves that show who Top really is on the inside, spreading his rotten nature into the air.
Would it please Mew to know him entirely? Who even is Top, in reality? Looking into his own mind has always been forbidden territory, aware of the dangers of travelling it alone; could Top unravel himself for Mew when he's never done it even to his own eyes?
For so long Top's kept his real self hidden, tailoring the perfect mask of aloofness and pretentiousness, connecting with no one for no one connects with him. It makes him want to laugh bitterly about the irony that the only person who's ever grounded him is the one he drove away the farthest.
Guiding Top's dick to his hole, Mew closes his eyes, breathing in deeply and exhaling as the head touches his rim. Top doesn't even realise no air is entering his lungs until Mew looks down at him, beautiful and imperative, irises a storm of all the things that might've been, all the future they could've had and never will.
Before Top can lose himself to the madness of sorrow brewed in desire, Mew moves his body down, thighs shaking as he lowers himself torturously slow, a noise between a sob and a moan escaping him once he's fully seated on Top's lap.
Top holds no noise back, panting open-mouthed as he feels tightness surround his painfully hard cock. His muddled brain comes up with the cheesiest ideas in the heat of the moment - coming home and becoming one and I love you - none of which he voices, lost to pleasure and terrified that one false word might shatter the daydream he's in.
It's too much and nowhere near enough, all at once.
Mew's here, so close and so far, bodies connected and minds separated by miles, the spaces between them ripping apart and leaving them in shambles.
He needs to reach out, to make sure Mew understands there's nowhere else he'd rather be than right here, under him, with him.
There's nothing he can do but moan, desperate to please and afraid of the outcomes, somewhere between floating and falling - suspended mid-air, caught on his way to nowhere, not knowing where he came from or he's going, but knowing that Mew's with him, all that could possibly matter encapsulated by this single fact.
In the back of his mind, Top sees the two of them, not too long ago, whole lives apart, making the loveseat only a few steps away give justice to its name, Mew sat on his lap as he slowly, inexperienced, rode him, sweetness Top never understood until the moment, the likes of which he can't find now.
Mirrored, starkly different images they paint, like the people they were then and the ones they are now are not the same, reincarnated and warped and tainted by the racing of time over their decaying relationship - if one could even call what they share now a relationship, love that leads nowhere but suffering, disgrace with an aftertaste of it was you and you destroyed it, what now?
Mew bounces on his lap with abandon, the bed moving noisily, likely enough to wake the people on the floor below, though he doesn't seem to care, too preoccupied with getting his pleasure wrung out of Top's body and nothing else, palm pressed down over Top's bound wrists with all the strength he can muster. Top leans his arms into his grip, letting his body be pulled in whatever shape fits Mew's ideas better.
"Mine, you're all mine," Mew utters hotly. He looks out of his mind, like he's not even here anymore, glazed eyes wrapped up in a veil of desperation Top can't break through. Grip tight on Top's chin, he speaks through gritted teeth, "Say it!"
"I'm yours!" Top gasps out. It's the truth, of course, but he's so confused it feels like Mew's interrogating him all over again, prodding to see if he'll slip up and reveal more regrets.
Mew doesn't seem satisfied with his reply, biting down hard on his neck. "Only I get to have you like this." His voice drips with an acerbic kind of poison, that kind that Top can't stop drinking from, to his own detriment, corroding his lungs and blazing his heart.
"Yes, yes..." Top doesn't know what he's saying anymore, too high on sensation to make any sense of anything that isn't Mew and the heat of his body as it slowly sinks back down around his cock.
Mew's panting against his throat, moaning lowly as he licks a stripe up his jaw. Top struggles more against his bondage, stuck between wanting to please Mew and needing to reach for him, to make sure he won't disappear in a cloud of imagination. How can he make sure this isn't a dream, a hallucinatory nightmare? How can Top know where, who he is, as everything burns and he's turned into ashes forever calling out Mew's name?
Hips move minutely over his, enough to have Top exhaling a litany of Mew's name, inhaling a lungful of intoxicating honey and pink peppers.
Mew came down from the heavens, that's the only explanation for how perfectly he fits into every one of Top's desires, sugary and demanding and harsh in just the right amounts. Top wouldn't have been able to create his perfect partner if he tried, not when Mew already exists.
The jostling of his hips restarts suddenly, Top's gaze caught by the flexing muscles on Mew's legs as he rides him with wild disregard, head thrown back and using Top's body for leverage, his nails leaving imprints all over Top's chest.
Pleasure feels like torture, blissful, hellish, slow and fast and everything in between, kisses across the column of his neck hot like brands, as if Mew's attempting to leave him forever marked by the presence of him, to show doubtlessly to the world who Top belongs to, has always been made for.
"Mew, Mew, baby..." Top's not aware of his own speech, just babbling whatever can make it through the scrambled path between his brain and mouth thoughtlessly.
"Don't call me that," Mew snarks, pushing down on Top's collarbones to keep him flat on the mattress. "Say my name, don't forget it."
"Mew, Mew!" He can't bring himself to care about the other hotel guests, screaming at the top of his lungs without sense. "I love-"
"No," Mew cuts him off, eyes ablaze in ire. "Don't you dare."
Top's lips clamp shut immediately, regret burning in his veins. Would Mew even believe his words if he had managed to voice them out? Would it change anything, make him trustworthy, make him even more of a liar in Mew's eyes?
Alas, Top doesn't dare, always a coward, always destroying all that he touches - perhaps it's a good thing that Mew has rendered him incapable of reaching out, stopping Top from tainting him even further with his treacherous fingertips.
Perhaps it's a good thing he chokes on his tongue before causing more damage, trying as he might to lose himself to the harsh, purposeful movements of Mew's body as he chases after his orgasm without a care for how shaky his thighs have become.
There's still something eating away at Top's thoughts, however, the ever-present sense that everything's wrong, out of place, the feeling that's been with him from birth and has only grown stronger through the years, likely to follow him to his deathbed.
Let this mattress be it, his eternal resting place - what's the difference between dying in Mew's bed and doing so on his own? His chest's already sliced open, anyway, bleeding all over the place like it could ever compensate for the pain he's caused. The candles were lit and his heart ceased to beat, it's only a matter of time for lust to feel like a small death.
Eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open in a silent scream, Mew comes, painting Top's chest white with spurts of come. He keeps stroking himself through his orgasm, uncaring to move his hips over Top's as his hole clenches painfully tight down on Top's cock, almost there yet not enough to have him reach his peak alongside his lover.
And does Top even have the right to call him lover, when this seems more like a moment of deep-seated hatred than of passion, the lust clouding his mind but not being able to obscure the smoke rising out of Mew's ears, swirling around his neck to choke him?
Is it the smoke or Mew's hand that clasps itself to his throat, leaving him unable to breathe? Top doesn't care - he's so close, any moment now-
Mew lifts himself up, sinking down fast and hard and toppling Top over the edge with a shout muffled by the other man's mouth covering his.
Top gasps for air and is denied oxygen by the ferocity of Mew's lips, brain clouding over and being thrust into a deep ocean he can't find the way out of.
"Mew...?" Top asks dazedly as the weight of his body suddenly disappears. Eyes blink rapidly to try and regain some sense of focus, making out the shape of Mew pulling his clothes back on quickly, the fabric of his shirt a blur as it slides over his shoulders. "What are you doing?"
"This was what you wanted from me, right?" His gaze is unreadable, hard as stone; as he regards Top with barely contained disgust, Top feels small, worthless. "This is all that I need from you."
The belt around his wrists loosens easily, but it's too late.
Mew's already gone.