Lacrymosa

Title: Lacrymosa
Pairings: JarethxRivalen
Description: This is an AU one-shot to my original fiction series "The Mimickers". The characters are mine and mine alone. Please, do not steal. There are no spoilers for the novel in here, and the link to the story is at the bottom of the fic.

Lacrymosa

There was a knock on his door, a few simple raps, unobtrusive and barely noticeable. Jareth only heard it because he expected it. He was waiting for the knock. Beside him, Phaedra stirred, breath easing a gentle warm wind against his neck, a small murmur of discontent escaping from her lips at being disturbed. He patted her gently on the back, soothing motions and shushed her back into sleep. She snuggled, she sighed, and didn’t stir again, easily falling back into slumber.

He waited a few minutes more, knowing that his visitor was well aware of his current situation and was waiting patiently on the other side of the door. Perfectly silent and still, most likely blending into the shadows as he always did. Once Jareth was certain that Phaedra was sleeping peacefully, he eased out of the bed, careful not to disturb her. Creeping across his room, guilt filling his belly as he moved about like a thief, he pulled on a loose pair of cotton pants and surreptitiously opened the door, allowing a brief sliver of light to peek into his bedroom.

It fell ironically on Phaedra’s face. He didn’t allow himself to look. Or the guilt would have been too much to bear.

He slid the door open with only enough room for him to ease out before closing it gently behind him with a barely noticeable click. He paused a moment, eyes closed in contemplation and letting loose of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His hand fell away from the doorknob as his skin prickled with the familiar sensation of knowing he was not alone.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” he said softly, voice barely louder than a whisper. His eyes remained closed, his back chilled against the cold wood of the door. Goosebumps prickled across his skin, his nipples hardened of their own volition. And an all too familiar tingle of anticipation shook through his body.

Then a voice spoke up, equally soft, ever inconspicuous. “What if tomorrow never comes?” he questioned rhetorically, the both of them knowing very well that for all of their crew, it was a clear possibility. They could die in the battle, their blood soaking some unknown plane as their enemy went on uncountered, destroying anything in his path, sucking the very life out of their world until it was nothing more than a dry and empty husk. That was their future, if they failed, that was their fate.

“What about... regrets?” finished the other voice.

Jareth managed a dry chuckle, humorless and full of scorn. “Do you have any?” he questioned, unable to deny the rise of emotion inside of him, both hurt and guilt. He finally opened exotic brown eyes, locking onto the silent shadow on the other side of the hall, away from the subtle yet revealing coronial glow of the night-lights in the Xanathos.

There was a shift, a small rub of cloth before a form emerged, and he knew without having to look who it would be. “Do you?” Rivalen asked, dark hair slightly obscuring his features. He was dressed similarly to Jareth, light cotton pants, except that he wore a loose tunic, self-conscious of the scars that lined his chest. Jareth knew from experience that there was a literal labyrinth of them, once obscured by a hefty array of bandages, but now healed thanks to their otherworlder prophetess.

His eyes narrowed in response to Rivalen’s question. “You are the one who knocked on my door,” he countered, folding his arms over his chest defensively. He had the feeling of a scared child inside of him, afraid that if he stood free than he would lack any barriers. That what he truly felt could be seen.

Rivalen always left him feeling as if he were teetering on an edge, never quite able to stand on firm ground and forever wondering if he were ever going to gain a grip on himself again. That was how it had been between them since that one fateful lusty night of passion and sweat-slicked skin. The memories came then, cropping up and flashing through his mind. Regrets... yes, Jareth had regrets. Too many for him to count and far too many for him to make right in his short lifetime. Even shorter if tomorrow only brought death.

The other man was silent for a moment, golden eyes cast down to the floor as his brow furrowed in thought. His hand twitched at his side, the only movement in an otherwise still figure. Until finally, Rivalen spoke, his voice, his very words, hesitant and unsure. Which was strange considering how confident and cold the younger male usually was.

“Regrets are something that I’ve not the luxury to hold,” he responded honestly. “Yet, I find myself in a position where certain... issues crop up that I have otherwise left... undealt.”

Jareth rubbed his hands over his chilled arms before he realized how much of a revealing motion that was and stopping altogether. His stomach jumped at the implications of Rivalen’s words, more memories of whispered cries and hidden encounters... secrets that he kept locked inside that stemmed from more than his liaisons with this man. Liaisons from the past, that he hadn’t wanted but had grown to crave with every fiber of his being.

He was a pathetic man with these addictions, always finding himself obsessed with one thing or another, as if unable to live his life without some sort of vice. The cutting, the training, that man, Rivalen... and now the lies that he clung to like a protective barrier, even if they crashed around him. His lip curled into a smirk.

“If the world were to end tomorrow,” he repeated softly. He raised his gaze to Rivalen’s, their eyes meeting look for look. He was surprised at the emotion he found swimming in golden orbs, usually hidden by an icy facade but now bared for him to see. None other than him.

“I would want one last chance for everything I never said.”

There was a flash, something flickered, and before he could register what happened, although he expected it, lips were covering his, hands tangling in his hair. He relented to the kiss, opening his mouth and greeting the invading tongue with a casual flick of his own. Lust coiled inside of him as fire flickered through his veins as he finally received what he had cast aside despite his cravings.

Of their own volition, his arms came up, wrapping around the slimmer, paler waist in front of him and dragging Rivalen closer, pressing their bodies together as the kiss deepened, repressed feelings being expressed. His cock swelled in his pants at the close proximity and an answering hardness pressed into his hip. The regret had not been one-sided.

Jareth couldn’t remember who had initiated it in the beginning, just like he couldn’t remember who had ended it. He didn’t know which of them ever wanted it more or why it had even started in the first place. He wasn’t sure why it was so easy to betray Phaedra when it came to Rivalen, or why he felt guiltier for a transgression he hadn’t wanted then for one he desired deep down.

Fingers curled into hair, massaging his scalp as Jareth pressed their hips together, a low growl echoing in Rivalen’s chest. This was dangerous, it was too exposed out in the hallway where anyone could venture out to the bathroom and spot them. When they had kept everything a secret for so long. Perhaps that was a clear-cut that they shouldn’t, but by Seiran, he wanted to. Their groins ground together and a barely restrained groan reverberated in Jareth’s throat as he slipped further into a lusty haze. Just one kiss and he fell into oblivion. With just one kiss.

He struggled against his own desires and separated their lips, not missing the subtle panting of Rivalen’s breath, or his fingers still entangled desperately in his hair. “Not here,” he managed to gasp out, fire racing through his veins when Rivalen rolled his hips, grinding against him.

Rivalen’s head lowered only slightly, somewhat chagrined by that truth. Jareth could feel the younger man’s body trembling against his, barely restrained lust coursing through him as well. It had been too long, far too long for the both of them. He never should have, they never should have started something they couldn’t finish. Too many desires were left hanging.

“What should I expect?” he questioned, voice barely above a whisper, so quiet it didn’t even echo in the empty hallway. “This is dangerous... it is far too tempting.” He paused, reconsidering his statement. “And you are not making it any easier. You need to decide.”

Jareth scoffed, eyes narrowing. “You knocked on my door. Don’t tell me that I am the one who is faltering.”

Rivalen opened his mouth to protest, before closing it just as quickly, untangling his hands from Jareth’s hair and attempting to pull away. But the hands around his waist refused to release him. “Let me go,” he muttered, turning his gaze to look at the neutral floor, anything to keep him from looking into exotic brown orbs. He knew it would be his undoing.

The captain sighed, closing his eyes as he laid his head gently against the door. He chose to forget that just on the other side was Phaedra, the woman he professed to love. And he did, a part of his heart was reserved for her. But there was also a piece of him that couldn’t just cast aside Rivalen. He was utterly torn, perfectly and universally draxed, so to speak.

“Quit running so quickly,” he muttered gruffly, choosing to tighten his hold. “I’m not telling you to leave.”

Rivalen scoffed. “Well, you certainly aren’t asking me to stay,” he countered, making another vague effort to depart. It was only half-hearted however, and he exhaled sharply, another biting comment escaping from his lips. “Go back in your room. Return to Phaedra. I’m certain the bed is cold without you.”

Brown eyes narrowed at the implication, at Rivalen’s blatant dismissal of him as if he hadn’t been the one to come seeking and before he knew it, Jareth was jerking the younger male towards him, forcing their lips together for another kiss that was more violent than gentle. Caught off guard, Rivalen stumbled backwards but didn’t break away from the kiss. The predator instinct raged within Jareth, brought upon by Rivalen’s unintentional retreat and he pressed forward, pushing the taller man against the far wall with a slight thump as he ravaged Rivalen’s mouth.

Rivalen acquiesced to him without further protest, melting into the touch as his hands settled on Jareth’s shoulders, asking without words for more. An almost animalistic desire rose in the captain then and as he devoured Rivalen’s mouth, he slowly directed them down the hall, three doors to the left where he knew Rivalen’s room was, the last on the end and neatly nestled in the corner.

Luckily, the door was unlocked and they tumbled inside, nearly tripping over each other’s limbs. It was dark as always, Rivalen seemed to thrive on shadow but from months of experience, Jareth neatly guided them to the bed, easing the door shut with a press of his foot and never once ceasing in his assault.

His lips left Rivalen’s mouth, only to drag eager lips and tongue over a surprisingly smooth jaw, Rivalen never had to shave, until he latched on the sensitive skin of the younger male’s neck. A sound, Jareth wasn’t sure how to describe it, resonated in Rivalen’s throat. It was all he needed for encouragement.

His hands slipped downwards, moving around to the simple tie that held Rivalen’s pants on his slim hips before yanking on the string, deftly undoing the simple bow. They slid to the floor in a pool of cotton and Rivalen’s hardened shaft sprung free, already seeping at the tip with the evidence of his arousal. As he reached for Rivalen’s shirt, the younger man helped by divesting him of his clothing. Soon they were pressed skin to skin, a blazing fire springing up between them as Jareth’s hardened cock rubbed insistently against Rivalen’s flesh, seeking entrance into the other man’s body.

He was lost then, lost in an inferno of desire for a lover he could never quite forget. He ignored the battle that was to be the next day, or the unfaithful act that he was committing, only concentrating on the here and now. How good it felt, how right, and how he would probably never get another chance again. Even if they defeated Ahriman, this was most likely the last time he would ever get to taste Rivalen.

A surge of longing overcame him then and he returned to Rivalen’s mouth, ruthlessly devouring the younger man, memorizing the taste and feel of his lips. Locking his scent within his mind so that it would be forever ingrained in his memory. They tumbled backwards onto the bed, Rivalen’s legs parting to allow Jareth to nestle between them as he blindly reached upwards, hand seeking a bottle of oil he had stashed there earlier.

Jareth’s hands never stopped moving, one stroking Rivalen’s cock as the other glided along pale flesh, caressing a flat abdomen before moving upwards, languid movements that only served to arouse his lover further. He traced faintly visible scars and ones that made him internally shudder, obvious witnesses to a past that he would never know. The captain pressed his tongue hungrily into Rivalen’s mouth, ignoring the saliva that smacked noisily between them. Little whimpers of pleasure escaped from the younger man’s mouth as he moved restlessly beneath him, hips straining upwards as Jareth stroked him continuously.

Rivalen bucked his hips, thrusting into the tunnel formed by Jareth’s hand as his questing fingers finally wrapped around the vial of oil he kept under his pillow, a remnant from habits of past. He wrapped his free hand around Jareth’s back, blunt nails digging into tanned flesh as he pressed the cold bottle against his lover’s chest, smirking when Jareth recoiled in surprise.

He broke away from the kiss finally allowing Rivalen to breathe, only to dip his head and latch his lips around a pink nipple, teeth tugging on the hardened bud. Rivalen arched beneath him, a low moan escaping from his mouth. “Ah!” he gasped, fingers digging into Jareth’s back as the captain smirked, finally taking the vial of oil from Rivalen’s grasp.

He swirled his tongue around the pink bud, delighting in every gasp and moan from Rivalen’s lip, every arch of his body and eager tremble. “You make the most arousing noises,” he murmured against Rivalen’s nipple, uncapping the oil with one hand. “You always have.”

“Ungh... shut up,” growled the younger man as fire coiled in his belly, the twin stimulation almost too much for his already wound libido to bear. He panted vigorously now, his free hand twisting in the covers of his bed as he arched up desperately, throbbing for a release that he was achingly approaching.

“Don’t... drax!... don’t patronize me,” Rivalen managed to gasp out.

Jareth raised a brow, pulling back from his relentless stimulation as he sat on his heels, leaving Rivalen’s hips thrusting into thin air.

“Bastard!” the younger male hissed, sweat beginning to dot his brow. He was so close and he ached, by the gods, he needed it. He reached for his own arousal, determined to finish himself but Jareth quickly batted him away as he stroked oil over his own shaft with his other hand.

Rivalen growled and glared, but it was less powerful when glazed over with lust and need. He wanted to deny it with every inch of his being but just could not. He wanted Jareth, by Melali, he wanted the damn captain to drax him within an inch of his life, though he wouldn’t say so aloud. The passion between them was more than he could deny and even if it were just this one last night, he would take it for what he could get.

“I’m beginning to think that’s a loving nickname,” Jareth replied, shooting Rivalen a look that was distinctly unreadable as he settled back between the younger man’s legs. He ran a gentle hand along the outside of Rivalen’s thigh before cupping a pale buttock in one hand. His cock poised at Rivalen’s entrance, the blunt head pressed to the rosy pucker but not entering. It seemed to twitch beneath him, as if in invitation. It was all he could do to not simply shove inside without warning.

Golden eyes narrowed. “Think what you like,” he countered, shifting his hips in order to urge Jareth forward. “Drax me, dammit!”

Jareth hesitated. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has been awhile for many things.” Rivalen’s nostrils flared, face set with determination. “I can take it.” And he could. The initial pain, it was nothing. He was so close to the edge that it didn’t matter. He simply needed the other man inside of him, he needed to be taken and claimed and reminded that for the moment, tomorrow didn’t matter.

The captain sighed, hung his head for a moment before looking up, matching Rivalen gaze for gaze. It was deep, dark, something fallen and echoing in a never-ending cavern of secrets and lies. Rivalen wasn’t sure exactly how to describe it save that he knew it summed up what they were to each other.

Jareth’s hands pressed into the bed on either side of Rivalen’s head as he slowly thrust forward, the blunt head of his arousal penetrating the puckered rim of muscle with some resistance. Rivalen fought against the burn and pain, bucking his hips to drive Jareth deeper even as he wrapped his legs around the older man’s waist, encouraging a quicker penetration. His back arched as the fiery pain of not having been stretched first assailed him and yet, he craved it as well. He was going to be sore tomorrow...

A little bit of pain with the pleasure, a silent retribution for the guilt that sometimes swelled inside of him for their secret liaisons. For wanting Jareth and needing Jareth, for asking for him while always knowing the man could not turn away from temptation, despite his love for Phaedra. It was utterly selfish of him, but he didn’t think he could stop himself. He wanted far too deeply and far too badly.

Jareth eased inside of him, filling him entirely, reminding Rivalen of their twisted and insane relationship. What began as an uneasy friendship with constant bickering and differences of opinion, escalated into a torrid love affair where neither man could seem to come out on top. From there something developed though they couldn’t figure out what and then somewhere, somehow, it ended. They went their separate ways because it was best for everyone. Rivalen didn’t even know if there was ever emotion involved, whether when he was draxing Jareth or when it was the other way around.

Both of his arms went around Jareth, dragging the man down for a fierce kiss as Jareth’s patience ran out and he thrust completely inside. Rivalen panted, entire body seizing as it fought to accommodate the intrusion, flexing and clenching around Jareth’s cock. The captain moaned into Rivalen’s mouth as he struggled to maintain his control, the need to thrust and claim rising up inside of him.

Agonizingly slow, he withdrew until just the head of his cock remained before pushing back in with deliberate movements. Rivalen moaned and clutched all the tighter, the pain slowly ebbing into a blossoming heat and pleasure that raced up his spine, bringing him back up to the brink. But he restrained himself, not quite ready to release.

“Tight,” Jareth groaned, thrusting a bit more eagerly into his lover, enjoying each cry of pleasure that he wrung from the younger male. He gasped as heated walls clenched around him, snapping his hips forward and driving deeper into Rivalen, reveling in the sounds such a movement produced. “So damned tight.”

Rivalen’s body jerked as his breathing quickened. “Faster,” he demanded, knowing it would irritate Jareth if he did so. He tightened his legs around the older man’s waist, driving him deeper as his cock brushed across something electric. “Nnnn.”

“Better?” replied the captain snarkily as he pumped his hips even faster, angling his thrusts to stroke Rivalen’s prostate each time. The younger male’s neglected organ was trapped between their bodies, leaving streaks of precum on Jareth’s stomach every time it rubbed against his abdomen.

The dark-haired man could only moan in response, heat pulsing through his body. His hips jerked raggedly, a vague rendition of the same rhythm as Jareth’s. A steady garble of cries escaped from his lips before he could clamp down on them, tingles racing through his body and his nails dug into Jareth’s back. He was so close...

Jareth’s hand snaked between their bodies as he leaned on one elbow, wrapping firmly around Rivalen’s cock. “Stop holding back,” he groaned raggedly, breaths sharp pants of hot air against Rivalen’s neck as he buried his face in pale skin. He pistoned his hips even faster, driving another needy moan from the younger man. “You always held back,” he added, stroking Rivalen’s aching shaft.

As if he had been seeking that permission the entire time, or maybe it was even apology for all his mistakes before, Rivalen couldn’t be sure. Nevertheless, it was then that his back arched, his orgasm pulled from his body on a wordless cry of ecstasy, muffled only by Jareth hastily pressing his lips over Rivalen’s. Blinding white fire coursed through his veins. He spilled into Jareth’s hands, writhing and jerking wildly beneath him.

It was too much for Jareth to take. The pent up frustration, the delicious sounds emanating from Rivalen’s mouth that deepened his arousal, the clenching of Rivalen’s inner walls around his cock. He managed a few more thrusts before his world exploded around him. His hips bucked wildly, wringing every last drop from his body and riding the last of the tremors until there was nothing left within him.

Jareth collapsed on top of his lover, only rolling slightly to the side so as not to completely crush the slimmer man. The both of them were panting heavily, sweat beaded on their entire bodies. And there were no more words to be spoken. What really could they say that hadn’t already been said? And what could they say when they couldn’t or wouldn’t say goodbye?

Jareth slunk from the room a few minutes later, leaving Rivalen alone on the bed and staring without comprehension at the wall. He slipped into the bathroom and cleaned himself off before sneaking back to his room, an all-consuming guilt sitting like a heavy weight on his shoulder. He never could seem to make the right decision and in the end, he always seemed to hurt everyone.

Rivalen hadn’t said anything when he rose from the bed, or when he dressed, or even when he headed towards the door. He didn’t even hear the creak of the bed to signify that the dark-haired man had moved. He had retreated back into that familiar protective impassivity, not that he had ventured that far from it to begin with. Jareth had paused at the door, one hand on the knob, with the urge to speak only... he didn’t have any words.

He took the coward’s road instead and left, reminding himself that it was the last.

He repeated the words like a mantra as he slipped into his bed, Phaedra automatically turning towards him and laying her head on his chest. He swallowed down lingering guilt, convincing himself that he was doing the right thing. There was nothing between he and Rivalen but lust, as there had always been.

What about regrets?

Rivalen’s question echoed in his ears, resoundingly loud in the peaceful silence.

I would want one last chance for everything I never said.

His own words haunted him. And yet in the end, he had said nothing at all. It was no one’s fault but his own.

- - - - -

Review please! And if you are interested in reading the fic that this emerged from, you can find it on my homesite: http://dracosdebauchery.tripod.com/id4.html . There is plenty more slash and other goodness where this came from.