The Eagle: Esca/Marcus;
Written for airspaniel for the Five Acts Meme. Prompt: ink.
It’s my first Eagle fic guys. Asdfghj, be gentle with me!
Esca tuts him for every flinch and squirm, his brows frowning even as his mouth smiles and scolds at Marcus for the movement.
“You'll ruin it,” Esca says, fingers squeezing at the flesh of his upper arm.
Marcus offers no apology other than to still himself, his body tense and all but reverberating with the will to remain unmoving. He feels the puff of Esca's laugh against his skin an instant before he raises the needle back up, piercing it through his skin with quick and skilful efficiency.
Closing his eyes, Marcus tries to envision the tattoo that will be the result of Esca's ministrations. The soon-to-be blue bands and swirls permanently branding his olive skin, a story told in lines and strokes, a story- so Esca promises- that will talk about their adventures in the North. It is not the Roman way to mark oneself in this way, but for Esca- because of his fascination with Esca’ own painted flesh and because Esca asked to do this for him,- he was more than willing to rebel against propriety and let his friend mark him.
Marcus grits his teeth as the needle sinks more deeply into his skin. He shifts his hips against the bench he lies upon and bites back the moan he feels building there at the back of his throat. He is a man used to pain, and trying to hide it when he feels it, but never has he experienced this turning from pain into the first hesitant tendrils of pleasure. He feels his loins stir, his body flushing with arousal.
With every prick of the needle, with every swipe of rough cloth against his bloodied flesh and rub of blue powder into the fresh wounds, Marcus feels his desire grow from strength to strength.
“Are you well?” Esca questions him, voice soft and concerned and it is all he can do to reply in the affirmative, to alleviate Esca’s worry and implore him to finish his design.
He shifts his lower body, trying to resettle himself into a position of comfort, and finds himself groaning at the movement. He cuts the sound off quickly, turning his face away from Esca’s surprise and cursing his traitorous body for giving him away.
To his relief, Esca says nothing, continuing only drag the needle across his upper arm until, mere minutes later, he calls an end to the session, pleading a cramping in his hands and suggesting a rest for both of them.
Marcus nods his agreement and Esca implores him to sit up, to drink some watered wine with him, perhaps a bite of food to restore his strength.
“Do not concern yourself with me, Esca,” Marcus says, smile strained. “Go fetch your meal, I am fine as I am.”
Esca’s smile turns more curious still, his eyes bright and all-seeing as he reaches out to touch at the down-turn of Marcus’ mouth. Marcus watches him, wary, feeling as his cheeks heat further at the press of Esca’s fingers to his lips. He purses them, fighting against the urge to lick at the tips of Esca’s fingers.
“Will you not look at the work I have started?” Esca asks, his look peculiar but his words teasing.
Marcus flicks his eyes to his arm, reddened and swelling, the thick bands of blue looking so very foreign against his previously unmarred flesh and he is excited to see it, even in its unfinished state.
“I have every faith in your abilities, Esca,” Marcus tries, but his voice is hoarse and his words only raise Esca’s eyebrows.
“It is not unheard of for some to find the tattooing process stimulating,” Esca says then. He removes his fingers from Marcus’ mouth and shifts himself to drag his hand down the arch of Marcus’ back and towards the swell of his arse beneath the thin cotton of his clothing. He squeezes boldly at the flesh there, his voice a deeper husk as he asks, “If you are willing, I can take care of you, Marcus?”
He leaves his hand where it is, his fingers dipping down into the space between Marcus’s unconsciously spreading thighs. He hears Marcus’ breathy moan as he presses his fingers against him.
“Esca, I—” Marcus breathes, turning his head to look at him, his cheeks stained now deeply with arousal, his eyes dark and his look wanton. He wants to be embarrassed, ashamed at his reaction, but Esca is neither and it is the look upon his friend’s own face that gives him the strength to speak. “I though that your hands were cramped?”
Esca smiles at this, and it is the slow smile of the wolf who has his prey spread out before him, to be consumed at his own leisure. His hand slides away from Marcus’ arse to his hip and he pushes with relative ease, turning Marcus onto his side- freeing his trapped sex and allowing it to rise up and tent his pants.
“I do not need my hands to take care of you, Marcus,” Esca says and Marcus watches as his tongue flicks out to wet at his lips and he groans unabashedly then at the clear intention in his friend’s words.
“You don’t have to,” he says, words hitching as Esca’s hands move to his fastenings, his fingers expert in their untying of them.
“I want to,” Esca says, reaching into his pants and drawing him out. The first touch of his mouth to his cock sends a shock of pleasure throughout his body, the wet heat sucking him down without preamble and Marcus lifts his free leg a little, allowing his hips to thrust up to meet Esca.
The pleasure is almost too much, and he groans at the feel of Esca’s tongue licking up the length of him, at the way he kisses his mouth to the very tip of him before sucking him in once more.
“Esca,” he groans, feeling as Esca swallows around his length, and he reaches out, fingers threading through Esca’s hair in warning, but he only presses in further, mouth working furiously along the length of him and Marcus feels the tightening in his loins a moment before his body jerks with stuttering release.
Esca works him until he is finished, his mouth reddened and spit-wet as he finally pulls away. Marcus eyes him dazedly, his body light and heavy at once. He reaches out his arm to Esca in question but his friend just smiles, tucking him away and turning him back onto his front. He brushes quick fingers against the sweat-dampened locks sticking to Marcus’ forehead before reaching for the tools of his trade once more as though unaffected.
“Let me finish this,” Esca says softly, and Marcus’ eyes follow his red-swollen lips unabashedly.
“What about you?” Marcus asks, eyes flickering to the bulge tenting the front of Esca’s pants.
Esca shifts once then settles himself, his gaze intent. “After,” he says and Marcus shivers at the promise in his words, at the thought of what is to come between them.
“After,” he agrees as Esca lifts the needle and begins to pierce it into the flesh of his arm once more.