Categories > Games > Soul Calibur
Unspoken
Patroklos goes looking for Z.W.E.I. after his final battle with Nightmare, and reminisces about his and Z.W.E.I.'s last intimate moments together. Z.W.E.I./Patroklos. Smut fic parading as a sad fic...
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Author's Note: Everything in italics is one big flashback interspersed throughout the frame narrative. Enjoy!
Patroklos wanted to turn around, but his legs continued forward, dragging him through the thick dirt that covered the valley floor. Hesitantly, the Athenian glanced upwards. The cliffs encircling the narrow passageway looked especially high from this angle, and Patroklos could feel his throat growing tight.
“You’re shameless,” Patroklos murmured.
Z.W.E.I. grinned against Patroklos’ lips, chuckling. The older man had crept into Patroklos’ tent under the guise of delivering medical supplies. Now the bandages laid in the corner of the tent, almost completely forgotten.
The blonde wiped the sweat from his brow, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. He wanted this to be over with. It was unbearably hot, and the Athenian’s torso throbbed with pain every time he breathed in-- a souvenir from his battle with Pyrrha. But another part of Patroklos wanted to walk on forever; to never find what he knew he would eventually stumble upon.
“Sorry,” Z.W.E.I. said, running a finger along the horizontal cut that marred Patroklos’ chest. The Athenian had incurred the wound earlier, while fighting the older man.
“It’s fine,” Patroklos replied, his voice thick with sleep. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Had it been wrong to leave Viola behind? She had as much right as Patroklos to be making this trek; maybe even more so. But the Athenian couldn’t waste time looking for her. He hadn’t even brought Pyrrha along. There was no reason for her to see what she had done, after all. She had already endured the agony in her brother’s eyes when she told him what had become of Z.W.E.I; what she had done to him while under the influence of that damned sword; Soul Edge.
“Tired?” Z.W.E.I. asked, poking the other man in the ribs.
Patroklos opened one eye to peer at the brunette straddling him. “As if you care,” he replied, his slight smile ruining his attempt at indignation.
“I care,” Z.W.E.I. assured him, planting kisses up and down Patroklos’ neck. “Why do you think so poorly of me?”
Patroklos smirked, running his hands down Z.W.E.I.’s muscular back. “You never give me any reason to think otherwise,” he pointed out.
It can’t be far now, Patroklos thought, though it brought him little comfort to think so. There was a bend in the passage coming up, and the dark, sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach grew worse as he neared it. He paused. Somehow, he knew his journey would be at an end soon. With a deep breath, Patroklos rounded the bend and froze.
“I’ll make you eat those words,” Z.W.E.I. retorted, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Patroklos’ pants. With one swift movement, he brought them down to his knees. Patroklos helped to kick them the rest of the way off, and then brought his hands up to Z.W.E.I.’s waist, preparing to give the other man the same treatment.
“Ah, ah,” Z.W.E.I. scolded, placing his hands over Patroklos’. “Hands to yourself.”
Patroklos frowned but complied, resting his arms at his side. Z.W.E.I. reached into the Athenian’s briefs and gave him a few quick stokes, which drew a groan from Patroklos’ mouth. Not wanting to see the smug look on Z.W.E.I.’s face, Patroklos kept his eyes shut tight.
Z.W.E.I. lay forty feet away, nothing more than an unmoving mass in the middle of the valley floor. Patroklos felt dizzy and weak all at once. It took everything he had to remain standing, and even more not to run away. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a shaky step forward; his limbs numb. He found himself looking everywhere except the spinning ground in front of him, even once he was directly in front of Z.W.E.I. He couldn’t face him just yet.
“You could be louder,” Z.W.E.I. suggested, his hand still moving around Patroklos’ cock. “No one will hear.”
Patroklos bit his lip, determined not to make another sound. He soon found his will broken once Z.W.E.I. tugged the Athenian’s briefs down and replaced his hand with his mouth, engulfing Patroklos in his wet warmth. Z.W.E.I. sucked at the head of the blonde’s cock and Patroklos couldn’t help but moan and plead for the other man to continue.
Patroklos grit his teeth, willing the tears away, and forced himself to look down. The brunette lying in the dirt was a bloody mess-- there was red staining his torso, face, clothes; even the valley floor around him. A short cry escaped Patroklos’ lips and Z.W.E.I.’s body became blurred by the Athenian’s tears.
After a few minutes that seemed to pass in a delirious haze, Z.W.E.I. halted his teasing and reached over to grab something from the bag he had brought with him.
The Athenian sat up a little when he finally felt two of Z.W.E.I.’s slick fingers against his entrance. “Relax,” Z.W.E.I. whispered, and Patroklos nodded, settling down once more. He shuddered as Z.W.E.I.’s fingers pushed into him, gently stretching him. Patroklos’ breath came out in gasps as the brunette’s fingers moved apart inside the Athenian, prompting Patroklos to push back against him.
Patroklos’ head spun as he sank to the ground beside Z.W.E.I. His sobs were uncontrollable now, and he dug his fingers into the ground for support. Why did Z.W.E.I. have to die? Granted, the pair faced mortal danger nearly everyday on their journey to find Pyrrha and the malfeasant, Tira, but they faced it together, and had always come out victorious. It had never occurred to Patroklos that any of them would die-- but here he was, at the end of their respective, final battles, with a cold, hours old corpse. It was too much to bear.
Having cried all he could, Patroklos took a deep breath. Somehow, on the surface, he felt a little better, although the raw, twisted feeling in his stomach remained. The Athenian wiped his face dry; his gloves dragging against his smooth skin.
“Ready?” Z.W.E.I. asked, in tone that signaled he already knew the answer. Patroklos just nodded, too needy to resist. Preparing himself quickly, Z.W.E.I. aligned his cock with the Athenian’s entrance and slowly slid inside. Patroklos’ passage was tight and hot and Z.W.E.I. groaned as he drove himself in to the hilt.
Z.W.E.I. paused, trying to stop himself from coming right then. In that moment, the urge to say something sappy, something along the lines of, “I love you,” came to Patroklos, and he even opened his mouth to do so. But before he could say anything, Z.W.E.I. began to thrust, and any intelligible thought the Athenian had drifted away.
Patroklos waited awhile in unmoving silence, although he wasn’t sure for what. His body still felt frozen, and he tried to will the strength back into his limbs. There wasn’t much left to do.
Slowly, Patroklos leaned forward until his lips met Z.W.E.I.’s, and he kissed him gently, as though he might fall apart. “I love you, Z.W.E.I.” And although there could be no response, Patroklos felt satisfied with the notion that Z.W.E.I. had felt the same.
Patroklos wanted to turn around, but his legs continued forward, dragging him through the thick dirt that covered the valley floor. Hesitantly, the Athenian glanced upwards. The cliffs encircling the narrow passageway looked especially high from this angle, and Patroklos could feel his throat growing tight.
“You’re shameless,” Patroklos murmured.
Z.W.E.I. grinned against Patroklos’ lips, chuckling. The older man had crept into Patroklos’ tent under the guise of delivering medical supplies. Now the bandages laid in the corner of the tent, almost completely forgotten.
The blonde wiped the sweat from his brow, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. He wanted this to be over with. It was unbearably hot, and the Athenian’s torso throbbed with pain every time he breathed in-- a souvenir from his battle with Pyrrha. But another part of Patroklos wanted to walk on forever; to never find what he knew he would eventually stumble upon.
“Sorry,” Z.W.E.I. said, running a finger along the horizontal cut that marred Patroklos’ chest. The Athenian had incurred the wound earlier, while fighting the older man.
“It’s fine,” Patroklos replied, his voice thick with sleep. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Had it been wrong to leave Viola behind? She had as much right as Patroklos to be making this trek; maybe even more so. But the Athenian couldn’t waste time looking for her. He hadn’t even brought Pyrrha along. There was no reason for her to see what she had done, after all. She had already endured the agony in her brother’s eyes when she told him what had become of Z.W.E.I; what she had done to him while under the influence of that damned sword; Soul Edge.
“Tired?” Z.W.E.I. asked, poking the other man in the ribs.
Patroklos opened one eye to peer at the brunette straddling him. “As if you care,” he replied, his slight smile ruining his attempt at indignation.
“I care,” Z.W.E.I. assured him, planting kisses up and down Patroklos’ neck. “Why do you think so poorly of me?”
Patroklos smirked, running his hands down Z.W.E.I.’s muscular back. “You never give me any reason to think otherwise,” he pointed out.
It can’t be far now, Patroklos thought, though it brought him little comfort to think so. There was a bend in the passage coming up, and the dark, sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach grew worse as he neared it. He paused. Somehow, he knew his journey would be at an end soon. With a deep breath, Patroklos rounded the bend and froze.
“I’ll make you eat those words,” Z.W.E.I. retorted, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Patroklos’ pants. With one swift movement, he brought them down to his knees. Patroklos helped to kick them the rest of the way off, and then brought his hands up to Z.W.E.I.’s waist, preparing to give the other man the same treatment.
“Ah, ah,” Z.W.E.I. scolded, placing his hands over Patroklos’. “Hands to yourself.”
Patroklos frowned but complied, resting his arms at his side. Z.W.E.I. reached into the Athenian’s briefs and gave him a few quick stokes, which drew a groan from Patroklos’ mouth. Not wanting to see the smug look on Z.W.E.I.’s face, Patroklos kept his eyes shut tight.
Z.W.E.I. lay forty feet away, nothing more than an unmoving mass in the middle of the valley floor. Patroklos felt dizzy and weak all at once. It took everything he had to remain standing, and even more not to run away. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a shaky step forward; his limbs numb. He found himself looking everywhere except the spinning ground in front of him, even once he was directly in front of Z.W.E.I. He couldn’t face him just yet.
“You could be louder,” Z.W.E.I. suggested, his hand still moving around Patroklos’ cock. “No one will hear.”
Patroklos bit his lip, determined not to make another sound. He soon found his will broken once Z.W.E.I. tugged the Athenian’s briefs down and replaced his hand with his mouth, engulfing Patroklos in his wet warmth. Z.W.E.I. sucked at the head of the blonde’s cock and Patroklos couldn’t help but moan and plead for the other man to continue.
Patroklos grit his teeth, willing the tears away, and forced himself to look down. The brunette lying in the dirt was a bloody mess-- there was red staining his torso, face, clothes; even the valley floor around him. A short cry escaped Patroklos’ lips and Z.W.E.I.’s body became blurred by the Athenian’s tears.
After a few minutes that seemed to pass in a delirious haze, Z.W.E.I. halted his teasing and reached over to grab something from the bag he had brought with him.
The Athenian sat up a little when he finally felt two of Z.W.E.I.’s slick fingers against his entrance. “Relax,” Z.W.E.I. whispered, and Patroklos nodded, settling down once more. He shuddered as Z.W.E.I.’s fingers pushed into him, gently stretching him. Patroklos’ breath came out in gasps as the brunette’s fingers moved apart inside the Athenian, prompting Patroklos to push back against him.
Patroklos’ head spun as he sank to the ground beside Z.W.E.I. His sobs were uncontrollable now, and he dug his fingers into the ground for support. Why did Z.W.E.I. have to die? Granted, the pair faced mortal danger nearly everyday on their journey to find Pyrrha and the malfeasant, Tira, but they faced it together, and had always come out victorious. It had never occurred to Patroklos that any of them would die-- but here he was, at the end of their respective, final battles, with a cold, hours old corpse. It was too much to bear.
Having cried all he could, Patroklos took a deep breath. Somehow, on the surface, he felt a little better, although the raw, twisted feeling in his stomach remained. The Athenian wiped his face dry; his gloves dragging against his smooth skin.
“Ready?” Z.W.E.I. asked, in tone that signaled he already knew the answer. Patroklos just nodded, too needy to resist. Preparing himself quickly, Z.W.E.I. aligned his cock with the Athenian’s entrance and slowly slid inside. Patroklos’ passage was tight and hot and Z.W.E.I. groaned as he drove himself in to the hilt.
Z.W.E.I. paused, trying to stop himself from coming right then. In that moment, the urge to say something sappy, something along the lines of, “I love you,” came to Patroklos, and he even opened his mouth to do so. But before he could say anything, Z.W.E.I. began to thrust, and any intelligible thought the Athenian had drifted away.
Patroklos waited awhile in unmoving silence, although he wasn’t sure for what. His body still felt frozen, and he tried to will the strength back into his limbs. There wasn’t much left to do.
Slowly, Patroklos leaned forward until his lips met Z.W.E.I.’s, and he kissed him gently, as though he might fall apart. “I love you, Z.W.E.I.” And although there could be no response, Patroklos felt satisfied with the notion that Z.W.E.I. had felt the same.
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