Post by Conway on Nov 4, 2011 22:53:05 GMT -5
His eyes skimmed over the bandana tied to his bedpost, a wooden memorial hacked neatly up by lines of notches. 'Little brat,' he thought as he dropped into bed, lights fading in the room and mind fading into sleep. He'd have to get that kid back in the ring again. Maybe if he offered the bandana up as bait? It was nicer-looking by far than what the boy was wearing now.
He woke to a weight on his bed, looming over him. All instinct, he struck out, sending his potential attacker reeling backwards, stunned. (It was only after the punching that he considered the possibility of it being Albino looking to play. Well, if that was how he was gonna wake a guy up, he deserved to get popped in the face.)
He took advantage of the other's dazed moment to entangle their legs. A shift of weight and a shove, and their positions were easily switched. But when he pinned the other's wrists above the pillows and glared down he was not met by the expected red eyes looking up at him in disgust. He locked eyes with a pair of optics more intensely yellow than his own. They glared up at him from above a dirty rag of a mouth guard.
...Noisy Boy?
He recovered quickly from his surprise. "Now, now...Noisy Boy, what's this? I thought we were actually starting to get along, no?"
Fierce eyes stared back into his (at least he couldn't spit with that rag over his mouth.) No verbal answer, but Noisy's gaze flicked up quick to the bedpost, the bandana, the goal. "Ah, so you wanted that back after all, did you? And badly enough to crawl over a slumbering lion to get it?"
His own gaze travelled to the bedpost, catching on the notches there. Then, back to the defiant body under him, and an unkind smile bared his teeth.
"Maybe I could be persuaded to return it?" His body shifted closer as he spoke. His leg, still entangled in sheets, pushed up between Noisy's, and he was pleased to find a positive (if unwilling) response as the Boy tried to squirm away. He leaned in close to the masked face. "Might as well have some fun while I have you in my den."
The closeness finally forced a voice out of Noisy Boy. "GET OFF!"
Midas exhaled, hot on Noisy's face. "That's the idea."
"Nnngh---no."
Midas ground himself down against Noisy. "Really? Are you sure, Boy?"
Midas would stop if he had to, if he thought Noisy was actually afraid. But the tremble that ran up the other fighters body had nothing to do with fright. "Nnngh."
That wasn't a no; he took it as permission to continue. Noisy's wrists were twisted to fit beneath one restraining hand, freeing the other to run down Noisy's body to the effect of a delightful shudder and another attempt to writhe away from his touch.
But he didn't stop. Legs freed themselves to straddle Noisy, and he chuckled when the younger hips bucked up after him. "Easy, now." He stroked soothingly down Noisy's abdomen, and his hand slid all too easily into the oversized pants the Boy favored. He was rewarded with a gasp and a needy push up into his hand when it replaced the pressure of his knee.
Now, why hadn't this occured to him sooner? He'd make the disgraced fighter live up to his name, he thought, as he nipped his way up Noisy's neck. Swiftly he made it to the new/old mask. Noisy Boy had been reduced to a shivering mess, all stuttering breaths and small, whimpering, needy noises. And Midas wanted them: wanted to smother them with his mouth. With no hands to spare, he slid his mouth up Noisy's face, pushing the rag aside, and---
Woke up---woke up with only his pillow beneath him.
"Fuck!" He slammed a fist into it and pushed himself up, looking first to the bandana on the post, then accusingly down at his pants.
Midas tore the handkerchief from the bedpost and rolled onto his back. He held the bit of blue fabric to his face, inhaled, and took care of himself.