Glacial Spirits

By Shaded Mazoku

Disclaimer: Not mine, won’t ever be. They belong to Squaresoft. I just play with them…

Rating: NC-17.

Pairing: Magus x Flea.

Warning: Yaoi, some blood-play, lemon, Magus being odd, Flea being odd.

Summary: Magus gets a late night visitor. Stuff happens.

Written under the influence of Malice Mizer’s “Shiroi Hada ni Kuruu Ai to Kanashimi no Rondo”… …Or in other words, blame Mana for this ^_~…

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Cold. Everywhere, it was ice-cold, like wading through ice water on an early winter morning. Shivering, he struggled towards the faint light in the horizon. There was something not right about the light, but he couldn’t tell what. He waded forwards, and he could tell that there really was an icy liquid around his feet now. When he moved, he made little splashing sounds, and there was a hauntingly familiar smell in the air. He knew what he would see if he looked down. He didn’t. Looking up, he realized that he was nearly there. The light twinkled ahead of him, teasingly, a swirling mass of black and magenta. He reached out, nearly touching the source of that light, but something held him back. Something was creeping up his legs. He looked down, and watched the crimson tendrils twine upwards, from the ocean of ice-cold blood he’d been wading in. More tendrils joined the first two, and twined and twisted themselves upwards, restraining him. It was tempting to just give up and let the crimson liquid consume him, but he couldn’t. Not yet. There was still so much he had to do. The blood was forcing itself into his mouth now, drowning him in its coppery taste. He was weakening. The blood had nearly won. Using the last of his power, he reached out for the light.

And woke up.

The air in the bedroom was warm, in scarp contrast to the ice-cold blood in his dream had been. It was still night, out side the windows, he could spot a few bats doing their nocturnal midair acrobatics. Magus groaned and sat up, shaking his head. His body was soaked in sweat after the dream. The nightmare, rather, he thought and dragged a hand through his hair. The dream had come as a total surprise, though. He hadn’t had a nightmare in years. In fact, he hadn’t had any kind of dream in years. Not since he’d taken control of the Mystics. But this dream had been vivid. More like a memory than an actual dream. He could still smell the blood, could still taste it.

     “Bad dream, Magus?” Someone asked from the corner of the room. “I thought you didn’t dream anymore.” Magus turned quickly, preparing to attack the intruder. “Honestly, Magus,” the hidden stranger said, soft voice dripping with cynicism. “Are you going to attack me without any clothing on? Not very becoming of a lost prince, is it?” Magus growled and stood up, clothes or no clothes. His heritage was not something he allowed people to trifle with. A lost prince he might be, but that didn’t matter. He was still a prince, even if he hardly ever thought of himself as one.

     In the shadows, the stranger laughed, a soft, silvery sound that seemed familiar. “Such a nice view. You could almost make me forget why I’m here,” the stranger teased. Magus growled, startling himself more than the intruder. The sound started deep in his chest and rumbled upwards. A soft sigh, of what seemed to be wistfulness, came from the shadows. “Still very much the Alpha male, I see,” came the lilting voice. Glaring at the shadows, Magus slowly started an incantation, preparing to annihilate whoever dared sneak into his house like that. The familiar energy of Dark Bomb filled his body. “No need for that, Magus. Believe it or not, I’m not here to kill you.”

     “Why are you here, then?” Magus retorted, not letting go of the energy yet. “And while we’re at it, who are you, and how did you get in?” Some soft giggles came from the corner. “That’s more like the Sir Magus I used to know.” Another wistful sigh. “ I’m here because someone told me that you needed help and that I was the best for the job. And I came in through the wall. It’s not that hard.” The intruder snickered. Magus snorted. “I don’t need anybody’s help. And you still haven’t told me who you are.”

     “That, Sir Magus, is because I had hoped you’d recognize me,” the stranger said, and stepped into the light. The moonlight reflected of a long white dress, pale skin and long pink hair, but the large magenta eyes staring at him reflected no light at all. They were dark and filled with sadness and despair. The owner of those disturbing eyes was a creature of incredible beauty, but right now, the emotion in his eyes drowned it all. “Silly of me to expect that, of course,” Flea said, softly, not taking his eyes of Magus.

      “This is impossible,” Magus said, sitting down at the bed. His spell had sizzled away in the instant he’d recognized the Mystic. Flea smiled sadly at him. “Nothing is impossible, Magus. Just highly improbable.” He looked as though he wanted to cry. His eyes were watery, which made them shine with more brilliance than ever. Magus had never seen Flea look more appealing. Not that the Magician wasn’t always beautiful, but he usually acted like a complete flirt, and like he was a ditz. Right now, he could see right through all those acts, and see the real Flea. Flea wasn’t exactly scared, but he was sad for some reason.
      “Come closer,” Magus said, looking at Flea. The Mystic was too far away to properly hold a conversation at this time of night. “I don’t think so,” the Mystic replied, stepping even further away. Magus growled again and grabbed Flea’s wrist quickly, pulling him closer. The Mystic tried to pull away and Magus could feel his muscles move under his skin, straining against the touch and pushing the veins closer to the surface. And suddenly he realized just what was so odd about Flea being there, now, feeling warm and velvety under his fingers. “Oh,” was all he said, all he could say. Still, he didn’t let go of Flea.

      The Mystic smiled bitterly. “Oh, indeed. You would have thought that if they could bring me here, they could fix that little detail, huh?” He sat down on the bed next to Magus, dangling his legs. Slowly, his fingers traced over Magus’ hand. “You’ve got big hands,” he said. “Big and strong. For a moment there, I thought you were going to break my wrist.” He slipped his wrist out of Magus’ grip and replaced it with his hand. “You could break me in two if you wanted to, couldn’t you?” Flea’s soft words caused a reaction in him unlike anything he’d ever felt. On one hand, he was appalled that he could do that to Flea, and that he could all too easily imagine what it would be like, to break the doll-like Mystic beyond repair. On the other hand, the idea of having so much power over another being was thrilling. It was beyond thrilling, actually.

     Shaking his head, he realized that he was sitting stark naked on his bed, in the middle of the night, holding Flea’s hand, yet he had no idea how the Mystic had come to be there, apart from the fact that someone, someone powerful, had sent him to help. It struck him as ridiculous, but he didn’t move, or yell at Flea. “You know,” Flea said, “when you’re not being rude or anti-social, you’re actually very good company.” Elegant fingers tracing the veins on his hand accompanied those soft words. It was oddly comforting. Magus lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Flea nodded and leaned against his arm. He was oddly warm, everything considered. “Of course,” he said, smiling, “If you had walked around dressed like that, I don’t think we had been nearly as afraid of you.” Magus chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Flea grinned. “Naked men aren’t very intimidating,” he said.

     Magus smiled softly, and looked down at Flea, who was still tracing patterns on his skin. The sadness in Flea’s eyes was still there, and now that he knew what caused it, it made him feel really terrible. He was the cause of it, in a way, and there was nothing he could do about it. “This seems surreal,” he said. Flea craned his neck to look up at him, and smiled sadly. “Yes.” Magus shivered again, trying to ignore the memories that seemed to flood his mind every time he looked at Flea. “Don’t worry. I forgave you a long time ago,” the Mystic said, closing his eyes. “I’m no good at hating you. I like you too much.”

     Magus chocked at that. “You like me? You did nothing but make my life miserable for years.” Flea smiled slightly. “Well, I do like you. Most of the time I do, at least. Sometimes you’re just such a pain in the ass that I had to make you miserable.” He pulled his legs up into the bed and sat on his knees. “But you always made my life miserable in return,” he whispered. “How?” Magus demanded, suddenly very aware of Flea’s closeness. “Because you always drove me crazy, being so damn handsome. I didn’t know whether I should hit you or kiss you,” the Magician said, utterly soft. “When you were a child, you were a total menace with a snotty attitude. I didn’t know who you were then, and I never understood why you had that superior attitude.” He smiled again, tilting his head. “Then you grew into a very handsome young man, and suddenly, I had no idea what to do with you. I was sure I was going to go insane.”

     Magus closed his eyes, trying not to look at Flea. Still, he could feel the Mystic’s hand touch his face, resting along his jaw. “If you had any idea how much I wanted you back then,” Flea sighed, “but you always loathed me, and I felt like I’d explode.” Magus snapped his eyes open and found himself staring into Flea’s magenta ones. Growling, he stopped thinking and pressed his lips against Flea’s, in a forceful, rough kiss. The Magician blinked at first, but shortly afterwards, he closed his eyes and responded eagerly to the kiss. Magus pushed them both down into the mattress, enjoying the feeling of Flea’s skilled tongue slipping into his mouth. Pulling away to breathe, he bent down and brushed Flea’s earlobe with his lips as he spoke. “I’ve never loathed you, Flea. I just never understood you.” He nipped at the earlobe and was rewarded by the feeling of the Mystic’s body arching up against him. “Ooh. That feels so good, Magus,” Flea moaned, clawing at Magus’ back. “Sensitive ears?”

      Flea made a sound between a purr and a hiss as the blue-haired mage’s tongue snaked around the tip of his ear. “Mm, yessss. Don’t stop.” Magus wasn’t planning to. Flea looked absolutely exquisite like this, and it had to be the most arousing sight Magus had ever seen. The Mystic’s eyes were half closed, and they were gleaming slightly, as if Flea was preparing a spell of some sort. “Do you always draw on your magic in situations like this?” Magus asked, before going back to sucking gently on the tips of Flea’s ear. “Mm, no… …Only when I’m not paying attention to anything but my partner.” The magician’s words were followed by a soft moan, as Flea arched up against him again. Magus bit down at Flea’s ear to keep from moaning, wanting to show the Mystic that he was in control. 

     Not that Flea made any attempts to change that. He seemed perfectly content with being controlled, as long as he got something out of it. He ran his nails up Magus’ back before burying them in his shoulder. Magus growled and pinned both of Flea’s arms to the bed, using a bit more force than absolutely needed, just to see if Flea would twitch. The Mystic moaned again, looking more feral now than earlier. “You liked that, didn’t you?” Magus asked, looking down at Flea. The magician had bit his lips and blood was dripping from the wound. “Yessss.” The reply was sibilant, and Magus was suddenly reminded of how little he knew about Flea.

     Sometime after the defeat of Lavos, he had found a book about Mystics in a shop dealing in ancient books, and what he’d learned had been a surprise, but at the same time, it had made him feel stupid for not realizing it sooner. The Mystic race was demonic in origin. Many years before the fall of Zeal, an entire city of Enlightened had been thrown out from Zeal because they had used forbidden magic. They had opened a gate leading to the realm of the Shion, a race of non-violent demons. The Shion, happy to be free from their own realm, had offered to stay and help the ones that would later be known as the Banished Ones. By the time Magus had been born, the two groups, Shion and Banished Ones, had merged into one. The Mystics. A race of demonic origin and great magical power.

     And now, he has one of those creatures pinned underneath him, writhing in pleasure as he was hurt, and he had no idea what to do. He wanted to just take Flea, and forget everything else, forget all the bad things that had happened between them. He just wasn’t sure he could. Flea hissed slightly and pressed his knee up against Magus’ groin, effectively bringing the other man’s attention back to what they were doing. “Stop thinking so much,” was the Mystic’s advice as he easily slipped out of Magus grip and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. Magus was about to reply, but Flea kissed him before he could make a sound, hard enough to make him realize that perhaps he had underestimated the small man’s strength and endurance. Then again, he should have guessed that he had. Flea was a demon, after all, or at least descended from demons. But the Mystic’s lips where on his collarbone now, hot and eager, and it made it impossible for Magus to think. Flea was biting softly along the bone, careful about his sharp fangs. Magus groaned and tried to withstand the urge to just drop down into the soft mattress. Flea was hanging around his neck, though, and if Magus let go, he’d trap the small man underneath him.

    He carefully lowered them both down, instead, so that he had his hands free. Slowly, he started undressing Flea, growing increasingly annoyed with the fabric separating them. Flea smiled and showed Magus how to undo the lace along the sides so the garment could be peeled off. Magus smiled. The dress was very much a typical Flea garment, managing somehow to be both pretty and practical. Flea giggled softly and grabbed Magus’ hair to pull him close for another long kiss. Magus didn’t even try to resist, and occupied his hands with exploring Flea’s body now that the dress was out of the way. The Mystic was nearly naked now, dressed only in a pair of lacy panties that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but they looked very sexy and alluring on Flea. He growled and leaned over to bite at Flea’s neck. The bite was gentle at first, but when the pink-haired man made a little sound that was halfway between a moan and a whimper and pushed himself up against his teeth, he bit harder.

     It was hard enough to break the skin, and Flea’s coppery sweet blood filled his mouth. In pure shock, he pulled away and swallowed reflexively, but the other man’s eyes where still closed, the expression on his face one of rapture. With a pleased but surprised smile, Magus went back to biting at Flea’s neck and shoulders, delighting in the sounds the Mystic made. I never would have guessed that he was such a masochist, Magus thought, and bit softly at the spot where Flea’s pulse vein was closes to the surface. The reaction he got was far more intense than earlier. Flea screamed, although not out of pain, and arched his back so much that Magus half expected him to snap in half. This little show of sensitivity made Magus chuckle, but it also made him remember that he was nearly as worked up as Flea, as the Mystic’s leg brushed his erection.

     He bent his head down again and kissed Flea deeply, before tracing a line down the other man’s chest with his tongue, making sure to lavish special attention to the nipples. Not surprisingly, they hardened quickly under his tough, but that didn’t keep him from paying every bit as much attention to them as he had to the neck. He quite enjoyed feeling Flea unravel underneath him. It made him feel powerful, and it was one of the most arousing experiences he’d ever had. Though the sounds Flea was making now wasn’t really whimpers anymore. They were nearly inaudible words in the strangely melodic language of the Mystics, and Magus was too far-gone to translate. Finding out just how many spots on Flea’s body that would make the Mystic writhe when he touched them seemed much more interesting. So far he’d found twenty-seven. Flea was just too damned sensitive for his own good.

      However, the pink-haired magician had other ideas. Easily slipping from Magus’ grasp, he pounced on the taller man, spending some time playing with his nipples. Magus realized, as he bit his lip to keep from moaning, that he was nearly as sensitive as Flea was, he just didn’t know because he had very little experience with sex. Flea giggled and bit down at the sensitive nub of flesh between his teeth. Magus moaned. Not even biting his lip could stop it. Another soft giggle came from Flea, before he let his lead slip down to Magus’ groins. His tongue, which was surprisingly long and agile, flickered out against the tip, lapping gently at the drop of pre-cum that had formed there. When Magus made a sound that was obviously encouraging, Flea smiled softly and took the head into his mouth.

     The warmth and moisture of Flea’s mouth was nearly too much for Magus, and the Mystic was very aware of this. Flea was skilled with his mouth and knew exactly how to drive Magus crazy using it. He smiled and ran his tongue up the underside of Magus’ erection, drawing another moan from his former employer. He grinned and swirled his tongue around the tip, before swallowing the entire hardness, his throat easily letting it slide down. Magus half moaned, half growled and tore a large rift in the sheets. “Stop it,” he hissed between clenched teeth. Flea pulled away, leaving a glistening trail of saliva on Magus’ erection. He lapped lazily at the top before sitting back. “Not enjoying it?” he asked. Magus looked at him, red eyes shining with something Flea couldn’t quite identify. “Enjoying it too much,” he finally said. Flea smiled and tangled a hand in the blue strands that framed Magus’ face. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got all the time in the world, and nothing else to do with it.” Magus smiled, but the smile was a sad one, which was fitting. Happy smiles had no place on his face. “I don’t,” he said, and pushed at Flea, who easily sank back into the mattress. “And I want this to last.” Flea smiled up at him, eyes hazy with lust, but also with another emotion, hidden deeply in his eyes. Magus shook his head slightly and growled again, feeling the sound rise up through his throat. “Touch yourself,” he commanded the Mystic.

     Flea gave him another smile, a smile that seemed to tell volumes about exactly how much the small magician understood. His slender, long-fingered hands slid slowly but firmly over his body, in a way that showed that this was a familiar action. His fingers traced patterns over his skin, leaving red trails of swollen skin where the nails graced the skin. Giving a small moan, more to entice his audience than because he needed to, he moved one hand up to his nipples, teasing the already hard nubs into stiffening even further. Magus watched Flea’s display wordlessly, trying not to pounce on the Mystic. The Mystic was putting on a show for his sake, and Magus knew it. He enjoyed it, as well. Flea was skilled when it came to sexual matters, that much were obvious, and he knew exactly how to capture someone’s attention. Flea was raking his nails lazily over his chest now, leaving more swollen tracks, and the sight was absolutely one of the most erotic things Magus had ever witnessed. Flea looked up at him, and smiled once he confirmed that Magus’ attention was on him, before letting his eyes slide half-shut and using his free hand to remove his lacy underwear. Magus smirked faintly as he watched Flea get rid of the last article of his clothing. Even stark naked, it was difficult to imagine that Flea was really male, and that is wasn’t just an illusion. Flea smirked too, knowing approximately what Magus was thinking, and wrapped his free hand loosely around his own erection, moaning slightly as he did.

     Magus really wanted to touch Flea, but he also wanted this to last, and he doubted it would if he was in contact with his beautiful companion. The Mystic had proved again and again that he could drive even the most repressed and stubbornly straight man to ecstasy in no time, and Magus was not nearly that repressed. And he was not denying that he was attracted to Flea. How could he, when he had the magician lying on his back, caressing himself on Magus’ command? It was a rush unlike anything else. And so, he didn’t touch. He watched and hoped that time would stop right there, so that it would never end.

     Flea moaned again, in earnest this time, as even his supernatural endurance was wearing thin, more because of his partner than of the sensations he caused to himself. It felt amazingly good, of course, he knew his body perfectly by now, and to drive himself over the edge like this would be easy, but he wanted more than just this. He wanted share it with Magus, to let the other man feel what he felt. Mentally surveying the room, he tried to find anything that could serve as a lubricant. While a little pain could increase the sensation, the amount of pain being taken without lubricant would cause was not good. And he wanted nothing else in the world quite as much as he wanted Magus to take him right now. He suddenly remembered a pot of liniment for strained muscles standing in the shelf by the door, and smiled. He wasn’t about to move, and to ask Magus to get it was out of the question. Luckily, Flea was a far more skilled magician that people usually gave him credit for, and to teleport a pot of liniment was child’s play, even with his mind mostly occupied as it was now.

     Magus blinked as the pot suddenly appeared and Flea stopped touching himself to dip his fingers into the liniment. Part of him wondered why he’d never noticed that Flea was left-handed before, but that part was mostly ignored by the part that was watching in anticipation. Flea smiled at him and let his fingers tease over his entrance before slowly slipping in, easily widening the ring of muscle. The pink-haired man gave another moan and let another finger join the first two inside, obviously as impatient as Magus was by now. His other had had stopped teasing his nipples now, and was digging into the sheets, the nails leaving deep rifts. Magus growled and crawled halfway on top of Flea, crushing his lips to the Mystic’s. Flea responded eagerly, refusing to be inactive just because he was submissive. He uncurled his hand from the sheets and placed it around Magus’ neck, before removing the other hand from his opening and using it to smear a generous amount of the slippery liniment onto Magus’ erection. Finally, he tore his mouth away from Magus’ long enough to hiss “now!” into the blue-haired man’s ear. Magus needed no further encouragement and entered Flea with one single thrust. Flea gave a sound halfway between a sob and a hiss and reclaimed Magus’ mouth, kissing him with strength that amazed them both.

     Flea was warm and hot, and impossibly tight, and Magus couldn’t hold back now. It was too much, and too good. Flea made no protests as Magus took him without waiting for signal to move. He was too far gone, too caught up in his own pleasure for any such actions. Magus growled again, and managed somehow to maneuver them both into a better position, with Flea’s hips raised to allow deeper thrusts. The Mystic mewled and clawed at Magus’ back, and the blue-haired man could feel blood seeping out through the broken skin. He gave another growl, this one originating deeper in his throat than the earlier ones had, and increased the speed and force of his thrusts slightly, trying not to loose control soon. But Flea was so warm, and so tight, and the muscles clenched perfectly around Magus erection. Before long, the pressure that seemed to push at the seams of his being exploded and he came, biting viciously down at Flea shoulder as he climaxed. Flea moaned and came as well, unable to hold on anymore.

     They remained still for a while, no sounds coming from either of them but soft pants. Finally, Magus managed to muster enough strength to pull out of Flea, but he didn’t move further away than absolutely necessary, his mouth still latched onto the Mystic’s shoulder. Slowly, he pulled his teeth out of the flesh, lapping at the blood that welled up into his mouth. Flea made a small whimpering sound and ran a hand through the sticky mess on his stomach. Magus heard him mutter something, but he wasn’t coherent enough to hear what. It caused the mess to go away, though, so he classified it as a cleaning spell and went back to lapping at the rapidly coagulating wounds. Flea made another small sound and snuggled closer, one hand still tangled in Magus’ hair. Magus pulled away long enough to locate a blanket that had been kicked onto the floor and pull it back into bed and on top of them. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather deal with this in the morning,” he said, his voice sounding a little shaky. Flea said nothing, just curled closer, so he could rest his head on Magus’ chest and, fell asleep. Magus wrapped his arms around Flea, even though he wasn’t really the snuggly type. He just wasn’t sure if he could bear to let go of the small Mystic right now. He closed his eyes, wanting to just lie there and enjoy the feeling for a while.

When he opened his eyes again, it was morning, and small rays of sun peeked in through the window. He could see particles of dust dancing in the light. Lucca had given him some kind of watch to keep by the bed as a present once, but it was nowhere to be seen. It probably got knocked of the nightstand last night, the thought. The nightstand was a rickety old thing. Magus didn’t need a clock to tell that it was early, though. A small body was pressed against his, having slipped of his chest during the night, but Flea wasn’t warm anymore. He wasn’t cold, either, but seemed to hold about the same temperature as the rest of the room. Magus looked down at him and shivered. He could see straight through Flea. The Mystic was transparent now, and he wasn’t breathing. Magus remembered how the last time he’d met Flea had ended, now. He, Lucca and Crono had been in Ozzie’s fortress, and the three Mystics had attacked them together. Of course, the trio hadn’t stood a chance, but they’d still attacked, needing to keep their pride. Magus had been the one that had finally killed Flea, using Dark Matter on him. Yet last night, Flea had seemed more alive than ever, and Magus had nearly forgot that he wasn’t alive anymore. He would get to the bottom of this mystery and discover how the magician got there, but right now, he wanted to just lie there and grieve over what could have been if circumstances had been different.

     “Why couldn’t you say something when we worked together, Flea?” He asked, and looked down at the sleeping Mystic. He could see the torn mattress through his body. “Why did you have to die for me to realize that I desire you?” But there was no answer from Flea. The magician was as silent as a corpse. He didn’t move, not even when Magus poked him in the rib. But on one shoulder, he had a trail of coagulated blood seeping from a pair of small wounds. Magus wished he could cry, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even cry for Schala, much less for a Mystic.  He really wished he could. Just one tear. But his eyes remained dry and Flea remained dead, and nothing could be done about it.

Magus growled.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Author’s note: Well, that was long. And painful. This is the first lemon I’ve written in years, although I’ve though up many a plot for them.

The song that inspired this goes something like this in English:

"The rondo of sadness and love driven crazy by the white skin.

Music & Lyrics: Mana

on this night, the downpouring rain and wind pass through the forest

now, engulfed in the bell's melody, time....

the gently obscured moon.. tonight, together with the mist

I offer up my prayers with this aria

a kiss to the red roses that revolve about the white skin

the thorn of fate pierced my chest, splitting open my heart

The life breathing in the pitch-black darkness

The limbs seized by the transient sleep

And, these shadows are overlapping each other

Tonight, the peal of thunder invites you to the new encounter

gracefully merged together with the darkness i fall into..

the aria that signals the dawn

a kiss to the red roses that revolve about the white skin

the thorn of fate pierced my chest, and my heart...

the rondo of sadness and love driven crazy by the white skin

the thorn of fate, the time sealed away in my heart, now..

the rondo of sadness and love driven crazy by the white skin

the thorn of fate pierced my chest, splitting open my heart."

Thank you, Mana, I couldn’t have done this without you…

A sequel is in the works.

Back