Love/Hate Relationship (Dragon Quest VIII, Marcello/Eight, R)

[queenoftheskies.livejournal.com]

Title: Love/Hate Relationship
Author/Artist: queenoftheskies
Rating: R
Warnings: m/m, sex, oral sex
Word count: 1,815
Prompt: Dragonquest VIII, Marcello/Eight: undeserved compassion - I think it'd be easier if you would just hate me
A/N: I'm late with this. I'm sorry. I'd hoped to scrap it and write it over from scratch because I'm not sure this is what you're looking for. However, time constraints (real life) have kept me from doing so.
Summary: Marcello and Eight move past their dislike for one another.


“Come on,” Eight urged, picking Marcello up again.

The Templar groaned. “I don’t understand why you can’t just leave me to die.” Not that he wanted the former royal guardsman to leave him and not that he wanted to die, but it hardly seemed like something he wanted to admit to a man he considered inferior. Mostly, he just wanted to be rid of the goody two shoes, to escape and further his own plans, plans that would now include revenge.

“They’re getting closer,” the young man insisted, glancing past Marcello to the rise of forest covered hill to he east. “If we don’t hit the ruins by dark, we’re monster bait.”

Shadows fell over the cluster of small hills that covered their passage between the few civilized outposts that spotted the land. “It looks to me as if we’re monster bait already.” Marcello offered the boy a rueful grin. “But, then, isn’t that precisely what our tormentor has planned?”

Eight ducked lower into the rocky crevice, his hand creeping to the boomerang hanging from his belt. “If you don’t want to come, I can’t force you.” His eyes rose at the guttural grumbling overhead. “But, I’d really rather not leave you here alone.”

Had he been at his full strength, Marcello thought he might have done something to attract the attention of the monsters and left the young fellow at their mercy. But, seeing as how the former palace guard was the only thing standing between him and annihilation, he decided it better to settle for annoying the fellow instead.

“Oh, if you insist.” Marcello accepted the hand he was offered, pulling himself up off the ground. He felt a might better already.

There was something inherently delightful in baiting Eight to see how much he’d take. He had the patience of a saint, but Marcello was sure if he worked at it long enough, he could find all the young man’s weak points and goad him into losing more than just his temper.

"Keep low." A hint of irritation crept into the hero's voice. "If we're lucky, we can lose them and make the ruins by nightfall."

#

They didn't make it. In fact, once the monsters caught their scent, they barely made it halfway to their destination. To Eight's credit, he had managed to wedge them into another crevice between hills and drag boulders near enough that there was no clear view of their location. After that, he'd killed a big monster single-handedly--which had provided a few moments of concern and long minutes of entertainment for Marcello--and squeezed the piss out of it on and around the boulders to keep away the smaller creatures. Pretty ingenious for a boy so innocuous-looking.

When the young man had finally settled down to stoke the fire and draw their waning provisions from a heavy canvas bag, the ex-Templar dragged himself up from the pile of worn blankets on which he'd been lying and regarded Eight with the first real respect he'd felt since being abducted and dragged on the damn fool quest. There had been no real details, only some mumbling about Angelo and Jessica and the vague hint of a curse.

Anything having to do with his half-brother, Marcello wanted to avoid...especially if it involved actually helping the bastard.

“Think about yourself for once,” he said, propping himself up against the rocky hillside. “Let me go and you can escape. The monsters are after me, not you. Chances are they wouldn’t even notice you gone.”

Eight doled out food into parcels, then singled out one and split it, passing a small chunk of crusty bread and a strip of dried meet to Marcello. "Do you make enemies everywhere you go?"

"It's a talent of mine." Marcello snatched his ration from Eight's hand and ate greedily. They'd had nothing since sunrise. Still, they didn't appear to have more than two days of food left at best. "A talent that will get you killed if you don't leave me behind."

“I can’t do that. We need you to break the spell.”

“Then your motives aren’t as pure as they seemed at first glance.” The ex-Templar hunkered down beneath his blanket, ignoring the continued grumble of his stomach when his bit of food was gone. “Everyone is out to get something. Some objectives are just…more profitable than others.” He laughed. “Perhaps we aren’t so different after all.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Eight said. He looked down at the bite of bread left and handed it to Marcello. “I won’t hurt anyone to get this done.”

Marcello knocked the offering from Eight's hand. “What about me? Aren’t you hurting me by keeping me captive like this?”

Eight rolled the remaining provisions up in a cloth and packed them back in his bag. “Depends on how you look at it. I did save your life.”

Marcello’s voice rose. “A life I no longer need.”

Eight shrugged. “Then you can waste it after you break the spell. We’ll have no need for you then.”

“I’ll curse you from one kingdom to the next. There will be no place you can go to escape it and no one who can break it but me.”

“Fine.” The boy settled on the ground wrapped in blankets, with his head on the bag, and closed his eyes, apparently untroubled by the possibility.

Marcello shifted, struggling to find a more comfortable position. He hissed when the wound in his side pressed against the cold rock. Warmth soaked through his jacket. “Damn it.” He was bleeding again.

Eight opened one eye, watched while Marcello discarded the blanket and peeled back his coat to examine the wound. It looked worse. He should have admitted to it sooner, while they'd had the chance to gather medical herbs or secure supplies in the last city through which they’d passed.

“You’re hurt worse than I thought.” Eight shoved his own blankets aside and rose.

“What an astute observation.” Marcello closed his coat. “There's nothing we can do about it now. If I'm lucky, I might even be dead by the time we reach the ruins.”

"It's not that bad." Eight shoved Marcello's hands out of the way. “Let me see it.”

“Since when did you become a medical…”

“I have a bit of healing magic.”

Marcello perked up. “Did you say magic?”

The boy nodded.

“Why heal me?” He really didn’t understand the lad. “I've been nothing but horrible to you and there’s less of a chance I’ll escape if I’m injured.”

Eight’s expression remained noncommittal. “It does me no good if you get worse and die along the way.”

“Good boy! You almost sound as if you don’t care.” Marcello unbuttoned his coat and discarded it. “But, you still do, don’t you? You’d save me even if there was no chance I could help you…wouldn’t you?”

“Let's hope we don't have to find out," Eight said with a scowl. "We might not like the answer."

#

Long after Eight had stopped the bleeding and convince the wound it wanted to heal, Marcello lay awake, watching the boy sleep. He'd expended himself too much during battle that day to have enough magic to heal Marcello completely, but what patching he'd done had assured the ex-Templar a chance of escape.

He'd spied a small knife Eight had concealed in his pack after he'd sliced a medical herb into small enough portions to make a poultice which had added might to the power in the healing spell. His side still hurt and movement was limited, but not too limited for him to crawl the distance between them and slide the weapon from the pack while Eight slept.

He weighed his options scarce minutes before he decided to act. Surprise was the best weapon. Without it, he might never escape.

Dagger in one hand, Marcello grabbed Eight by the front of his coat with the other. The boy woke with a start. Eyes wide, he spied the dagger.

"What are you doing?"

Marcello pulled the younger man close, fully intending to bury the dagger in his side and run into the mountains just beyond the next bend in the road past the hills where they hid, but the sweet smell of mint and medical herbs that hung about the lad made him hesitate. All he needed was to incapacitate him. He didn’t actually need to kill him.

You’re going soft, he told himself. It couldn’t be soft. It was just that…the boy had powers. There was always the possibility he might come in handy some day.

Shoving the blade of the dagger beneath his leg, Marcello planted his lips on Eight’s with just a little bit of tongue to, he hoped, excite the boy. Eight’s eyes went wider. He spluttered and gasped, which only made it easier for Marcello to insinuate his tongue directly into the boy's mouth.

For a moment, it seemed as if Eight would choke, but by that time, Marcello had brought the hand that had held the dagger up between them. Before his prey could compose himself, he’d taken the boy by the balls. Eight jumped, but Marcello held on, squeezing until the young hero gasped again, then sliding his hand forward to stroke the length of his growing erection through his breeches.

Eight trembled beneath his touch, drew his breath in ragged gasps. It looked like it wasn't going to take a weapon to debilitate him after all. Marcello's touch grew bolder, teasing. He felt himself stiffen. The boy was nothing if not delicious. He slid his free hand into his own pants, worked himself slowly as he worked the boy.

Knife forgotten, Marcello ceased his ministrations long enough to drop his trousers. Catching Eight by the shoulders he pulled him forward until the tip of his penis was eye to eye with the boy's nose. Eight stared at it a moment as if mesmerized by the sight of another man's cock. Then, ever so slowly, his right hand caught the base of Marcello's prick.

The ex-Templar gasped when the boy took the cock into his mouth. Then, without batting an eye, he reached beneath Marcello's leg to pull out the knife. He tossed it some yards away, out of the reach of firelight. Marcello knew he'd care come morning, but three drags on his penis later, he wasn't so sure he wanted to escape any more.

He came with a rush so sudden that it pulled a scream from him. "I'll do it! I'll do it! Anything you want, just..."

Eight cocked one eyebrow as he wiped the cum from his face with one sleeve.

"I think it'd be easier if you would just hate me," Marcello said with a satisfied sigh.

Eight dropped to the grass beside him and wrapped an arm around him, laughing softly. "Now what would be the fun in that?"