Well, it’s set in a secret room.
Smutty second part to yesterday’s post. This one feels so janky to me. The smut is overly elaborate, and the characterization is NOT there (by which I mean, there isn’t any, really). But! I committed to posting early-stage wips! So here you go!
At least I can guarantee there’s lots of sex.
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The mansion was a maze—the kind of place where generations of renovations and additions had turned it into a non-Euclidian labyrinth, with doors that didn’t lead where they seemed to and sounds that traveled in strange directions. With every step they took into the building’s heart, the entirety of the mansion felt stranger and less real. The Red Death guided Arthur through it as if he belonged there; led Arthur by the hand away from the more frequented public areas and pressed against a door that looked like nothing more than a paneled wall. When it swung open, he drew Arthur up the hidden stair behind it.
The chamber at the top looked like the owners were keeping it as a museum tour piece: a bedroom lit only by candles and a hearthfire. When the door swung shut behind them, merging seamlessly with the walls, it was as if there were nowhere in the world but this.
Maybe the mansion below was a ghost, Arthur thought fuzzily. Larson’s pet monstrosity, swollen on the lives of his victims.
Read more: Malevoween Day 18: Mazes & Secret PassagesStanding in the middle of the room, the Red Death opened his arms to Arthur, and Arthur came into them. He smelled like smoke and blood when Arthur buried his nose in the crook of the man’s neck, and when Arthur rose up to kiss him, he tasted like fire and soot and rage. Or maybe that was Arthur, because the Red Death moaned and bore down to sink further into Arthur’s mouth.
When Arthur wrapped his arms and legs in a fierce grip around his lover as he was lifted against the wall, the thick body in his embrace felt real. When the man’s cock entered him, it felt like something else entirely, something not human at all.
He rode that cock, pinned between man and wall, as it began to carve space into him thrust by thrust. “Yes,” he gasped against his lover’s jaw, cheekbone, throat with each stroke, and it was permission—to scoop him out, to empty him of what he didn’t need and make room.
Make room for what? He didn’t know, but his lover was smoke and flame and anger inside him. He felt like the fury in Arthur’s own soul coming home to roost. Arthur tore the plumed hat from the man’s head and ripped his collar open to scrabble and claw at his neck. He wove his fingers into the golden hair to pull him close, wrapping his limbs tighter around him with ferocious, clinging hunger.
“Oh christ yes,” Arthur moaned into his mouth, and the Red Death hitched him up and laughed into his mouth in turn as though Arthur’s body sheathing him were an unbelievable delight.
“You’re reckless,” he murmured against Arthur’s jaw with that beautiful voice. “Do you even know what you’re agreeing to?”
“I know you want it as much as I do.” Arthur grabbed the side of his face to hold his eyes. “Don’t you?”
The Red Death licked his tongue across his upper lip. “Oh yes. But if you want to reach Larson… If you want to be successful, it will cost you.”
He didn’t question it, not when he could taste this man’s—this being’s—hate for Larson on his tongue, feel it in his belly. As if he were a spectre made of the smoke and blood and the ash of Larson’s corpse that were all he wanted to leave behind him in the ruins of this place. It all seemed self-evident: that the Red Death wanted Larson dead, and that neither of them could do it alone, and that Arthur would have to pay a price to achieve it. “Then take it out of me,” Arthur hissed.
That was the last clear thing he knew.
He felt the stretch in his shoulders when the Red Death took his wrists and lifted them high, to close his hands around the bed’s curtain rod while his partner embraced him from behind. His hands around that rod were a pact, he vaguely knew, while his lover’s fingers twisted into the cords of his corset to tug his body back onto his cock. Pull after pull, he swayed on his toes, hanging by his arms while the garment tightened, bore down around him like a clenching fist, squeezing his old self out while that cock, searing, thrust retribution and anticipation into his body till he felt himself turning molten and glowing inside. He couldn’t breathe, the air crushed from him. Or maybe seared out from his lungs by his own inner heat. He wondered if he really saw the air ripple when he exhaled. He wondered if it was his flesh or his lover’s, arm wrapped heavy around his shoulders, that seemed to shine in the flickering firelight.
The edges between them felt blurred, by the time his angry specter lowered him to the bed. The furs covering it were luxurious against his bare back and shoulders. They stuck to the sweat-damp skin of his sides and thighs as the Red Death knelt astride him and helped Arthur strip him in turn.
He was so fucking beautiful as he smiled down at Arthur, enjoying the way Arthur’s eyes roamed him while their hands moved over his body together. His skin gleamed in the firelight where it was bare. Golden hair furred his chest and cut a trail down his slabbed belly to grow thick between his legs and over his thighs. The sight of it kindled heat in Arthur’s aching groin. Was that unexpected? Was it strange to be unquenchable? When he’d been fucked so deep with that impossible cock that it only felt natural that it should’ve buried arousal in him so deep that nothing could ever reach it to extinguish it?