Lessons
by Mythdefied
August 2003

"Whatsamatter, scared?" Strife grinned down at him, an expression showing a disturbing lack of sanity from bare inches away.

"Yeah," Autolycus admitted because he did have a god on top of him, pinning him down and that tended to dictate a certain amount of fear.

"Mmm, good." And suddenly Strife licked him, dragging his tongue up Autolycus' cheek. "You taste good too. I like fear." Another lick, this time over his lips and Autolycus couldn't help a reflexive shiver.

Strife giggled, a much lower sound than his normal pitch. "I think you like fear too." Then he moved against Autolycus, his hips shifting, pushing and Autolycus was abruptly, unwillingly hard. "Yep, you like it."

Autolycus wanted to protest that no, he didn't like it, but then Strife's mouth was on his, forcing his open and Strife had started moving against him. Even with their clothing, all the leather between them, Autolycus had no problem feeling that Strife was equally hard and stiffening even further.

He grabbed Strife's shoulders, wanting to push him away, but a leg shifted between his, pushed his legs apart and the angle, the pressure, changed. Autolycus gasped, a surge of arousal shooting through him as Strife ground against him, hard. His cock was trapped against the leather of his pants, a painful sensation with the continued pressure and yet somehow good too, like an intense ache, a deep pulse that grew as Strife continued to thrust down against him.

Strife wasn't so much kissing him now as devouring his mouth, tongue sliding along his, teeth nipping at his lips, and Autolycus couldn't help returning the attack, the challenge more than he could resist when his cock began to throb in sync with his rapidly increasing heartbeat. He bit down hard on Strife's lower lip, tasted blood and seconds later heard a deep moan that hadn't come from him. It quickly transmuted into a low growl and Strife slammed against him, teeth and lips colliding, hips driving hard, the metal rings of Strife's outfit digging down into Autolycus' skin even through his own clothing, and as white spots began to dance in front of Autolycus' close eyes, he had to admit that okay, fear could be good. Then the world just exploded, impossibly bright and loud and sounding so much like his own voice yelling.

Some time later, lying sprawled on the cold floor, Autolycus absentmindedly twirled a lock of black hair around his fingers. The slim body draped on top of him didn't move, didn't make any attempt to shrug off Autolycus' arm.

"So," Strife said near Autolycus' ear, his voice a low murmur, "did you learn your lesson about stealing from gods' temples?"

"Uh-huh." Autolycus licked a drop of sweat off Strife's neck. "Do it more often."

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