Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2361278.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Tales_of_Xillia
  Relationship:
      Alvin/Jude_Mathis
  Character:
      Alvin_(Tales_of_Xillia), Jude_Mathis
  Additional Tags:
      Tales_of_Xillia_2_-_Freeform, Spoilers
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-26 Words: 3090
****** Another Scene ******
by nectarimperial
Summary
     When it's difficult to see the path that lies ahead, it's easy to
     fall back into old habits.
Notes
     I'm not the best at writing, but I have a lot of feelings.
See the end of the work for more notes
Shoving the younger boy against the doorframe, Alvin realizes they haven’t done
this in awhile – not the whole sex part, they’ve definitely done that, but
rather these kinds of desperate encounters colored in the myriad of emotions
that stem from uncertainty. As much as Jude tries to be calm and rational about
every situation, there is always a little part of him that utterly lacks
control, and even if Alvin doesn't want to admit it, he lusts for these moments
when the other lets his guard down above all else.
“Why did it have to be us?” Jude breathes, calloused hands pushing the blue
coat off the man’s body, fidgeting with the knot around his neck as he stands
on his tiptoes, kissing at the flesh hiding underneath. His fingers are shaking
as they wrap themselves around Alvin’s broad shoulders, tracing patterns along
his back.
“I would’ve thought you’d be happy, kid,” he replies, tearing the lab coat and
buttoned shirt off, hoisting Jude up and grunting when the boy’s legs wrap
around his waist, grip on his torso tightening. Alvin stumbles backward toward
the bed in the middle of the inn’s room, collapsing on the mattress and pulling
Jude’s lips against his own, tugging desperately at the black undershirt and
throwing it haphazardly on the floor.
Straddling the man’s waist, the doctor pulls back and shoves up the hem of
Alvin’s fuchsia polo, running his hands over toned abdominal muscles, “Of
course I am. She’s back, but that – I mean – our mana destroyed their Milla for
ours?” His black lashes flutter over golden eyes, downcast in a quiet
dejection. Seizing the temporary lapse in movement, Alvin unbuckles Jude’s grey
belt, sliding his pants as far down the other’s legs as they would go in their
current position. Jude rolls his eyes, mumbling something incomprehensible
before sitting up and removing them the rest of the way, throwing them on
ground with force. He sits on the edge of the bed just a second too long,
resting his arms against his knees.
“You sure you want to do this?” Alvin asks, propping his body up on his elbows.
The boy sighs, breath ragged and heavy, “Why did it have to be this way?” Alvin
sits up the rest of the way, crossing his hands over his torso and yanking off
his own shirt, discarding it somewhere in the darkness next to him.
“I can’t answer that,” he replies, voice hushed. “Look, we can stop—” but his
words are cut off as he feels himself being shoved against the pillows. His
shoulders hit the headboard with a crack as Jude resumes his former position
wrapped around his waist, shaking his head.
“No, I need you,” he starts, amber eyes full of the same fierce determination
that clouded his judgment the first time they’d done this, some time after the
battle at Fort Gandala, when Jude thought he’d lose the Milla he looked up to
forever. “You understand me,” he finishes, leaning over and nipping at Alvin’s
neck. Pulling back, his lips crack into a small smile as he looks down at his
companion with a small laugh, “Why am I always undressed first? I don’t think
that’s fair.” Sliding his hands down Alvin’s abdomen to his hips, he let his
tongue trace patterns against his skin as his fingers slid into the waistband
of his pants, swiftly unbuckling the belt and pulling them just below his
knees.
Alvin feels himself groan, from a combination of both pleasure and concession,
accepting that emotionally-compromised-fucking was just something they did when
it was necessary, and lets back of his head hit the frame, and finds enough
resolve to wrap his fingers in Jude’s raven hair, jerking him closer to his
cock. He had known from the moment Jude looked at him beneath long lashes in
the restaurant of the inn that this was where this night was going to lead the
both of them, but his breath still hitches in surprise when he feels he boy’s
lips grace the head of his shaft.
Sliding his mouth lower, Jude tries to take in as much of Alvin as he can, but
despite all his practice and research, he still feels his stomach muscles jerk
violently, and does nothing to mask his reflexes, coughing when the other man
bucks his hips upward, forcing him to take as much as possible.
“Still too much for you?” Alvin teases, and as punishment Jude pulls back,
letting his tongue work the head, flicking over the sensitive skin of the tip,
fingers digging into the other man’s hipbones, dragging downward, feeling the
raised flesh beneath his fingertips.
Saliva coats the full length of Alvin’s cock as Jude suddenly finds himself
caring less and less about his gag reflexes, desire fueling his actions as he
moves his other hand to make small ministrations at the base of his shaft,
wanting to experience and savor as much of the moment as possible. Above him,
he hears harsh breathing, and the grip in his hair tightens, a non-verbal cue
that his actions were acceptable to his companion.
Pushing downward on the boy’s head, he can’t help but emit a moan when he feels
Jude cough around his cock, despite trying desperately to avoid the other
members of their party overhearing their actions. The faster he felt the
other’s mouth sliding against him, the quicker he felt himself losing control
of his actions, and he thrust upward, enjoying the way he hit the back of
Jude’s throat, surge of longing coursing through his body. But before he can
experience the release he was so frantically craving, he feels the boy’s mouth
withdraw and lets out a long groan in desperation.
“Don’t do this to me, Jude,” he pants, kicking off his pants the rest of the
way, running his hands over the boy’s face, scattering reverent kisses on his
lips, begging him to continue.
“Lie down,” Jude breathes, calloused hands forcing his shoulders against the
pillows. He reaches over the edge of the bed to his traveling bag at the foot
of the frame, grabbing a small bottle, and brings their bodies close together,
returning his kisses from earlier. Keeping his knees on either side of Alvin’s
hips, he flips the top open and reaches a hand between his legs, sliding a
slicked finger inside of himself, mouth hovering just above the other man’s ear
as he moans softly.
Alvin wraps a hand around his small waist, the other gripping his soft raven
strands tightly, and his fingertips lightly graced his soft skin as he rests
his hand against Jude’s, guiding his motions, feeling the boy’s movements
intensify with a longing as he forced him to take more of himself, sliding
another finger in, the wetness of the other’s tongue hot against his ear. He
grinned up at the darkness, “I missed this kind of desperation from you,” he
says, forcing the boy to take another digit, keeping the movements of his hand
at an even pace, just enough to illicit the passionate whimpering he adored so
much.
“I missed doing this for you,” Jude replies with a sharp inhale as he feels
Alvin pull his hand away. His knees are weak, and though he feels like any
attempt at moving might make him collapse, he forces himself up and kneels,
positioning himself on top of Alvin’s cock.
“Er, no protection this time?” Alvin asks, gripping at the doctor’s hips and
helping to guide him down without ceremony.
Leaning his body back, resting on his hands, Jude feels the man’s length
sliding into him, and as his breaths become more and more labored, he feels the
words “I trust you,” spill from his parted lips before he lets his guard down
completely, mind fogging with desire. It wasn’t often that Jude made the
decision to ride him on his own. He usually complained that it hurt too much,
or that the angle never felt right, but watching the boy completely unravel on
top of him was always something Alvin enjoyed witnessing.
Alvin pulls his knees up, resting the doctor’s back against legs, keeping him
perpendicular on top of his body. Since the events of last year, he’d tried
being more gentle when they spent time together, but the way Jude’s thighs
tightly grip at his hips and his hands claw with a franticness at any available
skin tell him now was not the time for such tenderness. That wasn’t what Jude
needed and furthermore, it was hardly what he wanted in the darkness of their
room at Marksburg Harbor, with the moonlight shining in from the open curtains,
illuminating the doctor’s pale skin, head thrown back as he repeats his name
over and over like a mantra, driving his body forcefully down.
Panting he looks down at his companion with half-lidded golden brown eyes, “I
told you I—ah—I needed you. You can—shit—fuck me harder, Alvin. I can take it,”
he moans, words louder than he probably intended, his cries of pleasure filling
the walls of the small room. Nothing verbal needed to be said, no words could
express how unbelievably turned on he was, hearing those harsh words coming
from the usually decorous honors student, and Alvin thrust his hips upward,
causing Jude to let out a small noise of surprise, cheeks flushed as he rode
the other for all he was worth.
“You can act like such a whore when you want to, you know,” he breathes,
gripping Jude’s hips firmly in his hands. By now, they’ve stopped caring how
loud they are, or if they’ve woken anyone else up, and are wrapped in their own
passions, bodies slick with sweat, pressing and grinding against one another.
Jude tries to laugh, voice coming out raspy and hoarse, gasps of air between
each word, “I wouldn’t do it if you—ah, fuck—didn’t like it so much.” He can
feel the burning sensation settling in his thighs from spreading his legs for
so long and he loves every second of the pain. He loves every time Alvin
thrusts into him, and every minute his mind was only in the present, nowhere
else. Reaching a hand between his legs he starts to touch his own length and
Alvin protests, but doesn’t dare stop him.
“You know how much I like watching you, you’re gorgeous,” he says, dropping his
head to the pillow, driving deeper, reaching his limit faster than he expected.
Jude falls forward, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other leaning against
Alvin’s chest, trying to support his weight. Alvin hates how slow Jude’s
touching himself, hates the throaty moans that come from his soft lips, and he
doesn’t know if it was the way the boy’s lips were wrapped around him
earlier—tasting, sucking, choking or how pretty he is in the dim lighting of
the room, but he knows he can’t last any longer. He drags his nails into Jude’s
skin, grips his hips as tightly as he can, and thrusts upward, coming inside of
him.
“Fuck, Jude,” he says, opening his eyes, reaching a hand to brush the long
black hair from his face, strands clinging to his sweat soaked forehead.
"Is it my turn to complain?” He asks, breathing heavily.
Shaking his head, Alvin replies, “Be a good boy and get on your knees.”
Jude complies, pushing himself upright, pulling their slick, tangled bodies
apart, enjoying the way Alvin still feels inside of him, sticky and messy,
semen smeared between his thighs. He doesn’t know what Alvin’s going to do, but
it doesn’t matter because he knows he’d never do a single thing he wasn’t
comfortable with, and he values that part of their relationship. Or
arrangement. He wasn’t quite sure they’d ever talked about it in the past year
or so they’d been together.
Jude does as he’s told, positioning himself on his knees, waiting with his
cheek pressed against the pillow, hands twisted in the comforter, still aching
for release. He feels Alvin behind him, fingers tracing patterns against the
skin of his back, and moans, pushing his body back impatiently. Alvin laughs
and Jude is just about to protest when he feels the man’s tongue slip inside of
him, pushing against his tight entrance, tasting everything he has to give.
Immediately, he tenses but relaxes when he feels a soft reassuring touch
against his hip.
“Fuck, I thought, I thought you hated doing this,” he moans into the down of
the pillow, aware of the saliva falling from his open mouth and not caring in
the slightest.
Jude’s right, Alvin doesn’t really like it. But Alvin likes Jude and if it
makes him happy, there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do. He doesn’t give a reply
and swirls his tongue, moving the hand gripping the boy’s hip to his cock,
still hard from touching himself, and slowly slides his fingers across the
shaft, pressing a thumb against the slit of the head. Alvin can taste his own
semen and it doesn’t repulse him as much as he thought it would, increasing his
pace until he’s able to slide a finger in alongside his tongue, other hand
moving to pump his cock faster.
There’s flush spreading from Jude’s cheeks to his ears, a part of him almost
embarrassed at how exposed he is, but a greater part of him loves the
relentless way he’s touching and toying with him as he gasps for air, moans
turning to shouts and cries of pleasure. He’s never given so much of himself to
one person, and before he can dwell on the thought, he feels himself coming
into the sheets, chest collapsed against the mattress, forcing his hips to stay
in the air, nails clawing desperately at the headboard, Alvin spilling from his
lips. He feels Alvin pull away, and he drops the rest of his body, panting
heavily into the pillow.
Neither of them say anything, Alvin lying next to him, one hand thrown over his
forehead, the other harshly wiping at his chin and beard. Vaguely, Jude wonders
what time it is and slows his breathing, reaching a hand to the nightstand to
grab his GHS. He flips open the screen, wincing at the bright light and
realizes he’s grabbed Alvin’s by mistake, gravure idol that looks all-too-much
like Milla winking back at him in her bikini and groans, reminded of both the
man’s inappropriate behavior and exactly what he’d been trying to forget in the
first place. Finally his eyes adjust and the numbers 2:47 glare back at him
along with a text from Leia sitting unread. Clicking the arrow keys, he opens
the message picture of a frog with the text Oh Jude, hold me tight and let’s
tether all night long plastered over the image. He hopes she sent that earlier
and neglects to check the timestamp, choosing to remain ignorant.
“Feeling any better, kid?” Alvin asks, and Jude rolls over, nodding.
“There wasn’t anything we could’ve done. I know that. It was the only way to
save Elle,” he replies, leaning his face against his arm, letting the other
reach out and run his fingers through the man’s brunet hair, shorter pieces
framing his face. Laugh lines and the beginnings of crinkles on his forehead
and around his eyes are just starting to appear, outlines shallow and
undeveloped, and his five o’clock shadow has started to come in, whiskers
prickling against his finger tips. Jude thinks he doesn’t look twenty-seven,
but his idea of old and young is still so black and white, being barely sixteen
himself.
“You know what you told me a year ago?” Alvin asks, and Jude hums lightly
before the man continues, “‘She died because she wanted us to live.’ Fractured
Milla or not, Milla has never been afraid to put her life on the line for
others. She cared about Elle and Elle was worth protecting—it became her
mission. Don’t forget about her.
“I won’t,” he replies, resting his head against Alvin’s shoulder. They stay
quiet like this for some time, and Jude expects to hear the man’s deep
breathing as he drifted off into sleep, but it never came. He supposed it was
difficult to feel tired with a million thoughts racing back and forth,
processing the problems of the world in addition to the events on board the
ship. He struggles to understand their current situation, what Ludger must do
for the sake of the world, and whether or not it was right to determine if a
dimension should be destroyed. Whether or not it was right to decide who lived
and who died. But his mind drifts elsewhere, too.
He thinks of Alvin—if he still blamed himself for Presa’s death, or if he had
ever been able to forgive himself for shooting Leia. Even small mundane things,
like if this had a title, what was it? Or whether or not they would ever be
able to find anybody else that would accept them for what they were: broken,
lost, desperate for any kind of validation for their feelings.
“We should get a cat,” Alvin murmurs into the darkness, wrapping an arm lazily
around Jude’s waist.
Jude snorts, “I’m a dog person, you know that.”
“I know, but we’re not home enough. Cats are pretty self-sufficient. We can,
you know, just take it back and forth between our apartments or something.”
“Leia’s not going to like that. Just get a cat, I’m always over there,” he
mumbles into Alvin’s skin, eyelids drooping with sleep, eyelashes fluttering
closed, breathing becoming deep.
Alvin chuckles softly, idle hand playing with his black hair. It had grown out
some, and he’d started tediously styling it every morning. It made him laugh,
he remembered when the doctor’s look was you’re lucky I woke up on time and
he’d try to smooth out his raven hair to get it to lay flat against his head
when it wanted to twist and wave. He was up about the same time as Alvin now,
(maybe a littlelater) fixing his hair, fussing with his clothing and
appearance, pretending he had enough hair on his boyish face to warrant
shaving. Sometimes Alvin wonders if he did that for him, or just because he
wanted to; sometimes he wonders if Jude even cares what Alvin thinks, and
sometimes he wonders if Presa was right—he’d finally found his place.
“Then just move in,” he says at last.
Jude makes a noise, “Fine.”
End Notes
     Thanks for reading!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!