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All Twisted (Die Another Day one-shot)
by X-x_Deus Ex_x-X

“Just what the ******** do you think you’re doing sleeping with my brother?”

Jyzal had to confess, the hand wrapped tightly around his throat felt heavenly. Anyone else would be downright terrified, and rightly so. These were people who had self-preservation instincts and the capability to feel pain. For Jyzal, the latter was barely applicable and the former wasn’t at all. In fact, he’d never even heard of these “self-preservation instincts” of which people spoke when they marveled at the plethora of bruises, cuts, scars, and other miscellaneous marks he carried. But in reality, Jyzal wouldn’t trade a single one of these marks for the world. Not one of them had been earned in combat-no, he was far too good for that. These had all been earned from long, slow, painful torture. Who it was from varied, and almost all of them had a story. Jyzal’s favorites, though, had all come from the hands currently wrapped around his throat, and he held them close to his heart with warmth and fondness.

He’d never tell Shawn this, of course. That would imply that he and the crown prince were growing attached to each other! On some level, perhaps the two men each knew and acknowledged that they were indeed growing somewhat fond of each other. But admitting that, putting it out in the open? No, never! They were both far too proud for that. And so they simply carried on with their façade, each denying fervently that these fists were excuses for kisses and this rough ******** a sham for the gentle love-making they simply couldn’t tolerate. Shawn liked to abuse, and Jyzal liked to be abused. One would think they would be perfect for each other, and yet, Jyzal still slept around like a b***h in heat. Shawn liked to say it was because this gave him more of a reason to punish Jyzal, which always meant better punishments.

But Jyzal had gone too far this time. Regime, of all men! Why did it have to be Regime? The one person in the world that Shawn would have absolutely said no to seeing Jyzal slip into bed with. And Jyzal knew this. Shawn was still torn over whether or not Jyzal knew this. On the one hand, he might have thought that this would bring him the kinkiest punishments of all, and therefore the best sex they’d ever had. However, he may not have known that, because if he did know that, he’d also know that sleeping with Regime could possibly cost him his life.

The face Shawn presented to the real world was a calm, cool, collected, yet aloof one. Nothing bothered him, nothing ruffled his feathers, nothing got under his skin. Everything was always under control, there was never a reason to panic. But behind closed doors, Jyzal knew differently. Shawn held an incredible amount of rage within him, and he needed to unleash it somewhere. This ire coupled with his desire for control made him a terrifying sexual partner, but Jyzal existed solely for these sorts of people. They made the best lovers! When Jyzal said he was a masochist who lived for punishment, most people assumed he was into kink, some pain but mostly the strange and weird. And they treated him accordingly. That wasn’t to say some of the more unusual eroticism or even the more-well-known practice of bondage wasn’t enjoyable, but Jyzal was possibly even beyond the bounds of a mere masochist. He lived for pain itself, unbridled, untamed, unregulated. He sometimes got himself purposely captured by the enemy so he could be tortured for a few days. The best part was, he could climax from the pain alone.

Jyzal was torn from his pleasure-filled haze as Shawn abruptly tore him away from the wall, only to slam him back again, harder this time, until Jyzal’s eyes squeezed shut and he saw stars dancing on a black canvas. “Answer me!!” Shawn roared, his face contorted into a wicked snarl as he sharply drove a fist into Jyzal’s stomach. With the wind knocked out of his lungs, Shawn’s grip on his throat tightened until Jyzal couldn’t possibly get any air into his lungs. For one panic-stricken moment, Jyzal’s eyes flew open, wide with shock. He couldn’t breathe at all. And Shawn was too good to be doing that accidentally. Had he miscalculated? Had sleeping with Regime truly cost him his life at Shawn’s hands?

But then, what seemed like an eternity later, Jyzal found himself sprawled on the floor sucking in a desperate, gasping breath that scraped against his throat like used razor blades. Coughing a little, Jyzal managed to push himself up to an elbow before pain exploded through his cheek. Shawn had dealt him a vicious punch that had sent his brain rattling around his skull-but Jyzal wouldn’t have it any other way. As the blows started to truly rain down on him, Jyzal couldn’t help but grin. This was euphoria…this, right here, was heaven. The pain embraced him, welcomed him home. This was the only time when Jyzal felt right. There was no other way to say it, no other way to explain it. He just felt right.

“Why the hell do you keep going back to him?” Shawn was screaming. He’d been screaming, but Jyzal had been too lost in the pain to answer. This pain was unique, so perfect that it could only ever really be Shawn’s. Jyzal wouldn’t let this on, either, though. To tell Shawn would be to give him leverage. And Shawn didn’t need leverage. Not over Jyzal, who he already held perfectly captive in his hands. “What can he give you that I can’t?!”

Nothing. Truly, nothing. Shawn was so much better in every way. But the taste of blood in his mouth was Jyzal’s warning, and he could sense deep down that Shawn was rapidly losing control. He had to say something, he had to give Shawn even just a little bit. But for some reason, he couldn’t. Why was it so hard to just confess that really, Shawn was all he ever wanted?

Shawn’s hands wrapped around him then, picking him up and then half-carrying, half-dragging the dazed Jyzal across the room. Multiple maximum-strength punches to the head had rendered Jyzal a bit light-headed, making his vision go fuzzy and his ears ring. He was definitely concussed, but what did Shawn care? He didn’t. That was why Jyzal was with him. They always managed to expertly tread that pleasure-danger boundary with precision and accuracy. Today might be different, though, if Shawn couldn’t get his rage under control. Jyzal had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what was coming next, but he didn’t raise a finger in protest, instead letting Shawn drag him down through the castle to the lower levels to where it was cold and damp and dank and the walls smelled of mold and the rats made little skitting noises as they scurried across the stone. This level of the castle was reserved only for those who were awaiting trial or death-these were the most desperate people, because these were the people who had wronged Shawn. Once sentenced, they would be shipped off to a suitable prison. But enemy spies and soldiers were interrogated here, and so the dungeon was well-equipped for the purposes Shawn and Jyzal used it for. And no one ever questioned the screams they heard.

Dragging Jyzal into an empty cell, only bothering to slam the wooden door closed behind himself, Shawn threw Jyzal across the room to land, slumped in a heap, against the cold stone wall. Chains clattered as Jyzal fell against them, but he tipped his head back and welcomed their chilled caress. Tonight he’d really done it-but he so deserved it, and it felt so, so good.

The cold chill of the chains wrapped around his wrists like a tender embrace. Sighing softly, Jyzal eased into the restraints, almost relaxing as Shawn locked his wrists into thick, heavy cuffs and then yanked on the end of the chain, drawing his hands up over his head. His shoulders burned with sudden, abrupt pressure, but Jyzal only breathed into this as well. This was familiar, this was comforting, this was pleasant. And because it was Shawn, it was only that much better. Jyzal was in love with the sweet kiss of the pain, just pinches and dull aches for now, but held all the promise in the world to morph into something far greater.

And Shawn didn’t disappoint. He didn’t hesitate for a moment to rip Jyzal’s clothes from his body, baring pale flesh heavily scarred to the cold dungeon air. Everything left Jyzal’s form except the plain black leather collar around his neck; that stayed. Most people assumed it was a fashion statement, but Shawn and Jyzal knew better. This collar was Shawn’s, and Shawn’s alone. Jyzal wore it only for him. Another little thing that neither of them would admit to: there was loyalty between them. A soft moan was pulled from his throat as the sharp, cutting pain of a whip dug into his side, but this was standard play for Jyzal. Shawn was going to have work harder if he wanted to really make Jyzal scream.

But Shawn knew this.

He knew it and he loved it and he catered to Jyzal’s every moan, whimper, and scream. Jyzal’s body was shaking halfway through, and that was how he knew it was good. The hot burn of a knife cutting into his skin was beautiful; the dull explosions of pain from being struck with a variety of objects left nasty bruises almost immediately, but Jyzal treasured every one. These were marks of love. For Shawn to pay this much attention to him, to put such effort into every strike, to perfectly tailor every movement, that was love. There was precision in these hands, carefully measured and expertly placed. Shawn was very good at what he did, and for him to gift Jyzal with but a few hours of this treatment was exactly that: a gift. Jyzal appreciated every second of these moments, and he made sure Shawn was aware of his appreciation.

Shawn loved the way Jyzal’s body arched and stretched and leaned into his hands, and so Jyzal took care to rise up to meet every one of Shawn’s ministrations. The noises he made were music to Shawn’s ears, so Jyzal was as vocal as he could be. He knew which way to turn and twist to contort his body into a more aesthetically-pleasing shape and position, so he did. And Shawn showed his own appreciation by even more carefully laying cuts and bruises on Jyzal, letting him know pain at its most intense and at its finest. And even though Shawn had spent an hour working on him already, Jyzal knew that they were just beginning.

Shawn spent a total of three hours working on Jyzal, and the blonde had plenty to show for it. There was more blood slicking his skin than there was filling his veins, and whatever wasn’t covered in blood was marked by a dark purple bruise or an angry red welt. Jyzal had been whipped, cut, burned, beaten, and taken several times as Shawn bit into his neck and shoulders and aggressively snarled his claim of dominance over Jyzal. The growled words were welcomed. To feel like property was a privilege, because he was Shawn’s property. The prince enjoyed him enough to want to have him entirely for himself, and never share him with another. Shawn had been insistent enough upon this claim that he had decided that, in addition to the very rough, borderline-abusive sex, Shawn had granted him another punishment for sleeping with Regime that manifested itself in deep, still-leaking cuts down the outside of his thigh.

Shawn had carved “slut” into his thigh.

No other lover would ever be able to ignore it, Jyzal realized as Shawn raked his nails over the fresh cuts, drawing a sharp yip and an exaggerated twitch from Jyzal. Jyzal felt the smirk on Shawn’s lips as the prince pressed his lips to the back of his shoulder, and he felt a small comfort at knowing that Shawn had been pleased by the reaction.

“Are you going to sleep with him again?”

Yes. “No.”

A harsh yank on the chain around his neck; Shawn dealt him a crippling blow across his rear that pulled at the open cuts from the whip and stung the new bruises. Jyzal’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back; his back arched, and he pressed back towards Shawn’s hand, begging for more of the contact.

“I don’t believe you.”

Jyzal’s lips feathered towards a smile for a moment before he turned his head slightly to try to speak more to Shawn than away from him. “Then convince me,” he purred. “Make me never want to have anyone else touch me.”

As only Shawn ever could.

***

“What is this?”

Regime’s voice was low and growling. He was upset. Jyzal shrugged innocently, propping himself up on an elbow and shamelessly displaying the milky-white thigh that had thickly scarred. Shawn’s loving mark was as clear as day etched into his skin: slut. “A scar.”

“I can see that, you stupid b***h!” Regime snarled, sitting up on his knees to properly strike Jyzal. Although it stung and bit at his skin and his head snapped to the side, it just wasn’t the same. “Who did this?”

There would be no good answer, Jyzal knew. And for whatever reason, he simply wasn’t looking forward to the punishment s much as he usually did. But not answering would be worse. “We both know where this came from.”

This time, Regime hit him hard enough to knock him off the bed. Jyzal found himself sprawled across the floor in a liquid-like heap, rather apathetic as the second prince fell upon him and laid into him. It wasn’t the same, he noted with bitterness. Regime just couldn’t touch him the way Shawn could, couldn’t excite him, couldn’t light him up. There was anger, of course. There was even psychosis, as Jyzal continued to ignore Regime’s beating. Regime liked to try to break him with the pain, he realized. Shawn so carefully measured every ounce of pain to try to tread that line between pleasure and annoyance to Jyzal. The other prince could just play him so much better. Shawn knew that control was the key to being able to play Jyzal like a violin, whereas Regime thought that the more infuriated he became, the more he could successfully punish Jyzal because he could simply free the beast within and wail on Jyzal to his heart’s content. He seemed to think that this blind rage would excite Jyzal even more, perhaps even scare him-but it was hardly the case.

Even as Regime turned him over and immediately drove into him, dry and unprepared, Jyzal didn’t care. He didn’t even grind into Regime to try to take him deeper, feel more of the burn, make himself tear-he simply propped himself up on his elbows and knees and rolled his eyes at the pull in his hair. Truthfully, he didn’t know why he kept going back to Regime-he never really got anything good out of it. The novelty had worn off. So what was there left?

When he didn’t react to anything Regime did, the brunette’s rage only continued to grow. He began to truly hurt Jyzal, breaking bones and finding sick and twisted ways to violate him. Still, Regime didn’t succeed in even fazing Jyzal. The only thought in the blonde’s mind was, Shawn could do this so much better. Because he could. Shawn could make this into a mind-bending combination of intense pleasure and excruciating pain, one that would positively set Jyzal on fire. Shawn knew exactly how much and how to tease him, what he liked and what made him sing. Despite the blood snaking down his thighs, wrapping around both like a toxic snake, Jyzal simply stood up, wiped himself off, and walked away from Regime. It hurt, it stung and it burned like all hell, but now, Jyzal was only left frustrated and unsatisfied.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Regime snapped, too exhausted to do much more than futilely grasp at Jyzal as he walked away.

Jyzal only sneered down at Regime and told him, “Your brother’s a better ********.”

***

The next few weeks Jyzal managed to stay away from Regime. The other prince was getting anxious and impatient, constantly calling for Jyzal. Jyzal responded with less and less enthusiasm-he spent his time wrapped up in Shawn’s arms, being lavished with rich attention that only Shawn could provide in its unique elegance. Because it truly was an art to play Jyzal like he wanted-needed-to be played.

Shawn must have known something was off when Jyzal was actually semi-willing to allow him to cuddle after the last time they had brutally ********. “You’ve been off lately,” he mused, absently trailing the tips of his fingers over the fresh scars on Jyzal’s thigh. Jyzal closed his eyes and subtly leaned back, sighing softly with contentment. It had gotten to the point now that any touch of Shawn’s, any at all, was enough to fill him with warmth and satisfaction. He loved it.

“My little double-crossing act is getting complicated and tiresome. Do not concern yourself with it.”

Shawn just snickered once and kissed down on the back of Jyzal’s neck. “But I do concern myself with it,” he returned evenly. “Because I’m always worried that your double-crossing will turn triple-crossing and I’ll find myself at my brother’s mercy.”

“Never,” Jyzal purred, shifting back to press himself against Shawn. “You ******** too well. I’d never compromise that.”

Snorting with laughter, Shawn remarked, “I keep forgetting that despite your love of playing games, you are, deep down at your core, a selfish creature.”

“You know me so well,” Jyzal purred, turning over now to drape his arms around Shawn’s neck. A very affectionate gesture for himself, but he hardly cared anymore. He was still partially riding the high of the mind-blowing sex. Shawn was just way too good at what he did.

When they finally parted, Jyzal knew what he had to do. And while he dreaded the encounter, he knew it needed to happen.

***

“Remember the last time you slept with me?”

“Of course. I-”

“I hope you made the best of it, because it was the last.”

This time, when Regime moved to hit him, Jyzal simply raised a knife and let Regime’s hand fall across it. Shouting once more from surprise than pain, Regime staggered backwards, blood pouring from a wound squarely across his knuckles. Skin and muscle had been severed down the middle of the bone, and Jyzal was sure that if Regime hadn’t caught himself he would have very pretty bone damage. The snarl across his face was ugly, but Regime was uglier-Jyzal only gave him a level glare that told Regime that he no longer had patience for the prince’s antics.

“Was I not clear?”

Regime’s sneer only deepened, and Jyzal knew he was in for a fight. “No, you were perfectly clear,” Regime replied. “But apparently I wasn’t clear enough when I said that you belonged to me.”

***

Shawn knew something was wrong the moment Jyzal willingly came crashing into his arms.
His lover never wanted to cuddle after sex. He despised contact, affection, and any semblance of a relationship, even feelings at all. So when Jyzal sighed softly and placed his head on Shawn’s shoulder the moment Shawn undid the complicated rope harness suspending Jyzal from the ceiling, the prince was instantly worried. Wrapping his arms around Jyzal, pushing his fingers through short blonde hair, Shawn worked at the knots remaining in the rope still wound around Jyzal’s body with his free hand and covered his lover’s face in kisses. If something was genuinely wrong to the point that Jyzal actually wanted comfort, Shawn wouldn’t hold back.

“What?”

Jyzal simply hummed softly in response, winding his arms around Shawn’s neck the moment they were free. The rope burns decorating his wrists were beautiful in their angry, raw appearance. The rest of his body was covered in similar marks, but the ones on his wrists were the worst. Jyzal had fought those with a fury unlike anything Shawn had seen before, to the point that he stopped, pulled the gag out of Jyzal’s mouth and asked him if he was okay. Jyzal had responded breathlessly, but assured Shawn that he was fine. Shawn had assumed that Jyzal was just having a little more fun than usual and resumed his earlier actions, but now, he was starting to wonder.

“No, really, what’s wrong?” Shawn pressed, kicking the last of the rope away from Jyzal. He’d really used a lot of it, he noted. Its thick, coarse texture was a rough kiss against Jyzal’s flesh, but he liked it better that way. “You hate this. What’s come over you?”

So complicated. He really didn’t want to answer, but… “I’ve stopped seeing Regime.”

At first, Shawn was elated. Yet another victory over his brother! And a victory over Jyzal as well. This meant that he had successfully mastered Jyzal himself, and won the blonde’s complete loyalty. But the more he thought about the implications of Jyzal’s statement compared his actions now, the less Shawn liked what he was hearing. The conclusions he was drawing were…less than optimistic. Regime likely wouldn’t have been happy that Jyzal was rejecting him, especially in favor of Shawn. But what had he done when Jyzal rejected him? He certainly hadn’t taken it well, Shawn was certain. Regime was fighting a losing battle against Shawn, but he seemed hellbent on never seeing that fact.

“What did he do?”

Jyzal closed his eyes and leaned on Shawn a little more. He didn’t want to talk about it…it was embarrassing. He never should have let it happen, but he’d just given up after a while, figuring it would be easier to take it and get it over with. He’d been wrong, though…it was terrible, it was awful, and he’d loathed every moment of it, but he’d been completely unable to escape. Regime had known that his pseudo-submission wouldn’t last, and had immediately taken full advantage of it. For all his skill and prowess as a warrior and an assassin, at the end of the day, Jyzal was still only human.

“Tell me,” Shawn pressed, receiving no answer from Jyzal for several minutes straight. It wasn’t like his pretty little blonde not to answer him…Jyzal was usually outspoken and snarky. He wasn’t quiet and withdrawn this way. What had happened between him and Regime that he was so hesitant to speak about?

“…I told him no.”

Everything became clear with that single statement. Mouth opening briefly as if to speak, the realization dawned on Shawn like light on the shore at sunrise. All of a sudden, he understood everything. Jyzal was too proud to admit that he’d either not been able to fight off Regime or that he yielded to Shawn’s brother and simply took whatever was dealt to him without a fight. Because Shawn knew Jyzal never would have sat back and taken it if he’d know what Regime planned on doing, or wanted to do at that moment. Regime wasn’t much of one for planning; this was likely a spur-of-the-moment deal, brought on by rage and fury at being denied not just a pretty ******** but a battle. This wasn’t even so much about Jyzal as it was which of the two brothers could claim him as theirs. Deep down, these men just couldn’t refrain from fighting over anything.

Shawn bent his head and pressed his lips to Jyzal’s forehead. For the life of him, he couldn’t come up with a damn thing to say. How was he even supposed to respond to that? Jyzal must have misunderstood his silence as either skepticism or not quite getting it, because he sucked in a deep breath that shook his whole body and he continued, “I told him no. I told him I was done with him, that I didn’t want to be with him anymore. That I was choosing you. He wasn’t happy, but I knew he wouldn’t be. I was ready. I fought. I tried to make him stop, I promise! But I thought he was just going to keep hitting me. So I let him do that. I don’t even feel it when he hits me. He can’t touch me like you do. He can’t make me feel it. But…that was when he…he tied me down…I couldn’t…break free…at that point…”

“Stop, stop,” Shawn whispered, shaking his head at Jyzal’s words. “I believe you. This isn’t your fault.” A good start, but where to go from here? Shawn was so unaccustomed to seeing Jyzal as anything but calm, cool, and in control. This was a change for him. Even though Jyzal still seemed to largely have it together, Shawn knew the blonde well enough at this point that he knew Jyzal was at his breaking point. This was bothering him. This got to him. He didn’t know how to handle this, what to expect from himself or from Shawn, hell, he didn’t even know how to talk about it. While the fury rose up in Shawn, cold, calculated aggression that would freeze an entire city and have no qualms about razing it to ground, he stuffed that fury away. Jyzal likely wouldn’t take it well. Oh, he understood on the surface perfectly fine that Shawn’s anger wasn’t directed at him. But deep down, his brain would be its own worst enemy. It would gnaw at him and eat him alive, make him worry and fret over nothing. He didn’t need to see this anger.
“Don’t go back there,” Shawn finally said. “I don’t want you anywhere near him. I’ll send a team of assassins tomorrow…Dahlia can take care of him. I want to take care of you.”

“I’m fine-” Jyzal started, but Shawn was having none of it.

“Absolutely not,” he firmly stated. “You aren’t going anywhere or doing anything until I personally clear you to do so. And until then, you aren’t leaving my side. Is that clear?”

He knew he’d made the right choice when Jyzal let out another shuddering, defeated sigh and murmured, “Yes.”

“Good.” Once again bowing his head, Shawn kissed Jyzal’s forehead again before deciding he wasn’t satisfied and sliding his fingers underneath Jyzal’s chin. Shawn placed a sweet, loving kiss against Jyzal’s lips, one that was uncharacteristic for both of them. But this side of him was coming out now that the cuddling had been accepted, and Jyzal was in a rather docile mood to begin with. “Now come upstairs,” Shawn coaxed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Shawn did feel guilty about having his way with Jyzal so soon after Regime had-and he hadn’t even known! He couldn’t help but think that if he had indeed known what had happened, he never would have touched Jyzal, no matter how much he ached with the desire for the beautiful man’s body. It simply wouldn’t have been fair to Jyzal. Even if Jyzal insisted upon it, Shawn would deny him again and again until he was certain Jyzal could handle it. Taking his lover upstairs, Shawn entered his private suite and went straight to the bathroom, turning on the water to let it heat up as he eased the clothes off Jyzal’s body, hastily thrown back on to walk through the palace. It was telling just how affected Jyzal was in the way he stood quietly and allowed Shawn to do whatever he would with him. Jyzal was…almost meek in how pliant and cooperative he was in Shawn’s hands, melting into his touches and eagerly leaning into every gentle caress. Shawn was taking full advantage of this to indulge his more affectionate side, lavishing Jyzal with attention that was far sweeter than lustful in nature. Normally, Jyzal would have been snapping and snarling and swatting at him to leave him alone, but now, he just stood quietly. Shawn couldn’t tell if he loved this or loathed it.

Once the water had heated up, Shawn gently coaxed Jyzal into the shower with him, leaving him under the water briefly to stick his head out the door and call to Nicaise, who he knew was hovering nearby. Appearing soundlessly as if out of thin air, Nicaise politely inquired as to his master’s wishes, not even batting an eye at Shawn’s partial nudity. Shawn told Nicaise to gather a medical kit and leave it in the bedroom, and then he was dismissed for the evening. Nicaise softly murmured an affirmation and then disappeared; Shawn closed the door again and retreated to the shower, ridding himself of his pants as he walked and stepping right into the warm spray and immediately wrapping his arms around Jyzal. The blonde squirmed a little, still not one hundred percent comfortable with the attention, but he accepted it nonetheless.

Shawn spent over half an hour in the shower just cleaning Jyzal up. He paid very close and careful attention to the blonde’s wounds, mostly inflicted by himself but some that were either from previous sessions or from Regime. With a soft cloth and a bit of mild soap, Shawn first saw to cleaning each wound individually, ensuring that no dirt or filth remained inside the wound itself. Every twitch of pain was minded; every flinch was responded to with softly-whispered reassurances and gentler touches. Only when Shawn was satisfied that he had paid attention to every single open wound on Jyzal’s body did he settle for cleaning himself up and allowing Jyzal to wash his hair and scrub his body again. Once the water was shut off, Shawn wrapped Jyzal in a large, fluffy towel before drying himself off. Then, he took his lover by the hand and led him into the bedroom, where he guided him to sit down on the bed. Removing Jyzal’s towel, Shawn had him lay back on the vast expanse of satin sheets and soft mattress as he began working on stitching some of the more severe of Jyzal’s wounds. They both knew no anesthetic was required; Jyzal probably didn’t even feel the pinch of the needle or the scrape of the thread in and out of his skin. He was too desensitized by now.

Even if he couldn’t quite feel the pain, though, he could feel Shawn’s hands. And some of the places he needed to stitch made the heat pool low in Jyzal’s abdomen. Shawn outwardly ignored any hint of arousal from Jyzal; for the most part, Jyzal simply closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, shifting a little to try to make himself less obvious. Shawn still caught himself letting his hands linger, though, brushing just a little too close or touching with an entirely different tone than he had originally been driving at. It was just so much fun to put his hands on Jyzal…the blonde was so well-conformed. His body was smooth and flowing, every line contoured perfectly to fit into the next, every shape blended and every shadow soft. He just fit perfectly into Shawn’s hands.

They barely managed to make it through the entire stitching process with straight faces, but somehow, they did it. Jyzal put on a very nice show of patience as Shawn bandaged a few of his cuts and burns, and Shawn made a very convincing act of innocence as his hands continued to linger just a bit too long in certain areas. Breathing in deep, Shawn reveled briefly in the scent of his lover-it reminded him of a raging fire, all passion and unquenchable desire. As heated as Jyzal, for sure.

When the entire process had come to an end, they both breathed a sigh of relief. The tension between them was undeniable, and neither seemed particularly fazed by it. Jyzal in particular. He just loved having Shawn’s hands on him, and it was obvious in smaller, less obvious ways. The way he’d shift every now and then, for example, or the way he would suck in a deep breath and sigh softly with contentment were very telling. The look on his face of pure joy when Shawn’s hands finally skated over his rear was unmistakable as well. He just looked happiest with Shawn’s hands on him, and appeared disappointed when they left. Shawn could swear he was pouting a little as he wordlessly stood up and gathered the towel in his hands, presumably to go toss it in the bathroom and then retrieve his clothing.

He did not expect Jyzal to drop to his knees, yank his own towel off, and take him into his mouth.

Almost choking on a gasp of shock, Shawn immediately reached for Jyzal to tangle his hands in his hair and yank him off-no way! Not so soon! But then Jyzal pulled his favorite little tongue trick, the one Shawn fell for every time, and the prince found himself giving a shuddering sigh as a shiver when down his spine. Heavenly…his pretty blonde was simply heavenly. Instead of tangling and pulling, Shawn instead dragged his nails across Jyzal’s scalp, gently reminding him of the rougher edge while still being kind and soft in his movements. Allowing his fingers to remain combing through Jyzal’s hair, Shawn gave up the fight to resist very quickly and simply leaned back and enjoyed it. Jyzal was far too good at what he did…and it would seem that he was well aware of this fact.

Despite the urge to pull Jyzal into his arms and fall asleep the moment he was finished, Shawn instead dragged the blonde into his lap and immediately began to work him with his hands. Jyzal had no objection, wantonly moaning and bucking into Shawn’s hands. It would seem that right now, they were both lusting for something a little more intimate, but neither of them really knew how to handle it. So they did the best they could and finished happily all the same, both of them spent and content. For a moment, Jyzal was actually happy to sit in Shawn’s lap being petted and kissed and loved on, something Shawn took full advantage of; then, Jyzal grabbed his towel from where he’d dropped it on the floor and wiped Shawn’s stomach clean of his climax, bending down to kiss the skin he’d just cleaned before tossing the towel aside, standing up, and locating his underwear before shamelessly stealing a pair of Shawn’s comfortable sleep pants and just as shamelessly crawling straight into bed.

“No, it’s fine, help yourself,” Shawn chuckled, watching Jyzal shrug at his reprimand and hug a pillow to his chest anyway.

“’m tired,” Jyzal mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. “Now come to bed, I know you are, too.”

Knowing that this might be his last opportunity to get away with some measure of affection with Jyzal, Shawn gave a crooked smile and a roll of his eyes that went unnoticed and then dressed himself and got into bed anyway. As he felt the bed dip behind him under Shawn’s weight, Jyzal tossed the pillow he’d been holding aside and turned over to face Shawn. The moment he was lying down level with Jyzal, Shawn wrapped his arms around him again and immediately began kissing his lover like there was no tomorrow. Jyzal finally raised objection to this, nipping at Shawn’s lip in a small but serious warning of what might come if he continued. Shawn, pulling back obligingly, merely chuckled at this, and pulled a squirming Jyzal closer across the bed until their bodies were pressed flush. Now, how long could he get away with this, he wondered? “You are a twisted little creature, you know that?” he grunted as Jyzal simultaneously buried his face in Shawn’s shoulder and elbowed him in the stomach.

“Would you have me any other way?”

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