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Opening the door to your room to find the person you love has beaten you there should lift your spirits and warm your heart. Even for someone who’s lived as many centuries as he has, such a gesture should bring a smile to his lips and so should the idea of what might follow after. Sadly, the moment he catches that splash of purple hair darting across his room, it’s not himself that it’s towards. It’s the window.
“Ah! Shylock! You finished! Come see her, she’s beautiful tonight!”
At Murr’s exclamations and excitement he finds himself sighing. He doesn’t let himself get his hopes up, there’s no point in that. No matter what Murr he has in front of him, it will always be the same; he’ll always be chasing after something he can’t have rather than the person who he can. Even on the rare occasion he manages to get him into his bed, it’s as though he’s on loan, a night where he’s his before he gives him up for who knows how long again.
“It would take a miracle for it to be anything but in your eyes.” Entering the room properly, he sends his scarf to his coat rack. “Is there any particular reason you’re in here, Murr?”
Who between them is the real fool? The genius who fell for the moon to the point where it destroyed him or himself, for falling for someone so enamoured? If only his loathing of Murr had been the emotion to take the strongest hold; although in that too there is entertainment, he can’t say he would have been able to stay away either way. Giving the moon a quick glance is all he needs as he moves through the room, it isn’t any different to any normal night. Is it possible he came in here for a different reason and got distracted? Perhaps, but it’s just as likely he decided upon passing to look out of Shylock’s window rather than his own. He’s raised someone perhaps more unpredictable than his original self and certainly more erratic.
“Hmmm, I think so? No wait! I forgot!” Laughter fills the room and Shylock decides to keep moving past him. “You’re not going to come look, Shylock?”
He might think it a cruel joke, if he didn’t know Murr better. Murr can be mercilessly cruel and tear people apart with mere questions but he can’t help himself, it’s part of his inherently terrible nature to say and do such things. Even the far more gentlemanly Murr of the past had left broken hearts in his wake and selfishly chased innovation with no care for the destruction it left behind. Even if he were able to start from scratch again, he doubts he’d get a different result.
“I think it’s time we shut the curtains, don’t you? I wouldn’t want the sun waking me up too early tomorrow.” Ignoring the small growl that forms in the back of Murr’s throat at him pulling the fabric across the windows, he shuts out the view.
“Goodnight, my love.” Murr speaks fondly, before spinning around as he closes the final gap in the curtains, body falling atop Shylock’s bed. “You're too cruel Shylock, taking away my beloved from me.”
“I could say quite the same thing about the moon itself.” He doesn’t let anything show, sending both his bowtie and vest from his body instead as he watches Murr with an unchanging expression. “You know, Murr, entering someone’s room and laying yourself on their bed might cause them to get ideas.”
The way he’s laying isn’t remotely alluring, spayed out and green eyes staring directly back into his own with a mischievous sparkle. It is cute however. Both of them don’t have to be alluring, he can make up for that himself.
“And what would they be? Oh! Let me guess! I bet it’s something interesting!” Cackling with laughter Murr rolls around as a small frown settles on Shylock’s lips. “No? Is it something bad? I’m super interested now.”
Taking the steps to sit himself down beside Murr, he lifts his pipe to his lips, inhaling smoke before letting it spread into a cloud between them.
“Well given it’s my bed you’re laying on, there’s no way it would be bad.” Reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair out of Murr’s face, he lets his finger trail behind his ear before drawing it under his jaw. “In fact I do believe I’ve had excellent reviews from your very self before. You’re maybe the one person in this world who could spend a night with me and not have the memory of it stay with you for eternity.”
There’s a change in the look in Murr’s eyes, understanding shining in them as he appears to actually listen to his words for once.
“Ah so it’s that! Shylock, how naughty.” There’s more laughter as Murr starts to move himself closer. The movements are anything but sexy, wriggling across the mattress and messing up his sheets needlessly. However there’s no need to worry about that when, if he can keep things on the right track, they might end up messing them up more anyway.
“I’d have to say that if one of us is truly naughty it would be you, Murr.” Dematerialising his pipe he finds a smile settling on his lips at what might just arise from this.
It has been such a long time since he was even able to get this close. Many lovers fill the gaps in between, all of their faces and names melting into the background as Shylock lets himself imagine the one his heart longs for and the one who he’ll never truly have for his own. Moments like this, nights spaced years apart, are the closest thing he’ll ever have to what he truly desires. Perhaps it’s crueller to himself to have these tastes of Murr knowing he’ll truly be his, but he can’t help but to chase desire and these fleeting moments of passion.
“By what do we judge that on? Do you know? Do I know? Just what is bad and what is good?” Putting a finger to Murr’s lips thankfully manages to stop him breaking into a rant or laughter for once; his eyes instead fill with a different kind of mischief as he slowly opens them once more and closes his teeth sharply around the first knuckle.
“Well, I believe most people would say nibbling on someone’s finger unprovoked is bad.” Despite the way his lips turn downwards, he doesn’t hate the action. It’s endearing in a way, like a cat who got bored of being pet and would rather play.
Murr keeps eye contact as he leaves his teeth in place, as if waiting to see what Shylock will do next as his tongue flicks over the tip of his finger.
“And that, I would have to say, is being very bad. Wouldn’t you think, Murr?” It’s flirting as much as he can in this state and Shylock knows it. That shine in his eyes as he bites down hard enough for Shylock’s eyebrow to twitch in response, combined with the way he’s moving his tongue betrays that he knows exactly what he’s doing. “At this rate I may just have to punish you.”
With that, Murr’s jaw releases and a look at says ‘I’d like to see you try’ settles on his face. There’s a brief second where they hold that moment, Shylock’s lips falling into a smile to match. Oh he is troublesome, but this is far from the sort of troublesome that sees him on his knees begging for Murr’s life. This is the kind of troublesome that’s exactly what he’s looking for tonight.
It takes less than a second from that gaze breaking for Shylock to be pushed to his back, Murr on top of him with his hands on his shoulders. Just like a cat pouncing on its prey, but Shylock has to wonder who between them really is the prey. Himself? Trapped underneath the man he despises and loves at once, or Murr? Pieces of his soul sat like trophies gleaming in jars on a shelf. He’ll return those to him one day but for now he’ll pick and choose, not moulding Murr or controlling him per say, simply influencing him slightly and ensuring that he doesn’t inflict the lunatic genius he previously was upon the world again too soon. This Murr is far cuter after all.
Completely unperturbed by the sudden turn of events, he reaches up and runs his fingers through Murr’s hair, the small snarl on the other’s face waning as he leans into the touch.
“Will you be mine tonight, you detestable wizard?” They’re so close to what he wants from tonight, just a little more and he’ll be able to experience his lips and his body all for his own again.
“Is it really me you want, or is it the other me?” The question is in stark contrast to the mood that’s building, almost shattering it.
“Who knows?”
His adorable, scatterbrained Murr who chews on things he shouldn’t and growls like an animal, or that despicable genius who had inspired irritation and hate all while stealing his heart at the same time? Not that this Murr is any less despicable. He misses old Murr, even with all his flaws, but the old Murr wouldn’t be pinning him to the mattress like this. This is something he can only do with Murr in the state he is now.
“How about both of us?” Murr laughs and Shylock’s fingers move to the buttons of his outer shirt to start undressing him as the conversation continues to stray. He doesn’t want him to get so distracted that he forgets what’s going on. The less clothes he has him in, the more chance there is of him remembering why he’s got Shylock pinned to his bed. It’s inelegant to rely on magic to undress someone else though, there’s a certain sensuality that it lacks.
“I can’t say the idea doesn’t interest me.” But the reality of it would be much different to any fantasy. Perhaps with the correct shard of Murr’s soul, they might be able to bring such a fantastical idea to life, although the chances of it actually going the way he wants are unlikely. He has enough trouble controlling one Murr. “But tonight you’re the one I have with me, aren’t you?”
“So it is me then. That’s why you’re keeping so much of me to yourself, am I perfect yet?” Murr’s eyes gleam wickedly as he speaks. “Has it all been worth the effort to create the me I am? Do you promise?”
“I can’t.” Anyone would have to be an absolute idiot to make a promise to a man such as Murr.
Murr breaks off into laughter at his response.
“Good, you’re not an idiot. I might hate you if you did.” A rational person would hate him already for how he’s keeping part of him from returning to where they belong. With only the tiniest bit of thought paid to that, he pulls Murr’s head down and capture’s his lips with his own to keep more nonsense spilling from between them.
He’s thankful that despite the way Murr’s brain will jump from one thing to the next before you can even comprehend what he was first trying to say, once you get him to this point, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Kissing is thrilling in itself and what comes after is so much more. Sharp teeth tug at his bottom lip a little too eagerly as Murr starts to put his all into this kiss and Shylock finds himself smiling back into it. Such small wounds can be taken care of easily; though if Murr were to mark his entire body with those cat-like teeth of his, he might just keep them around to heal normally as a souvenir.
Perhaps he’s lucky in a way. While Murr can never touch or hold the moon, he can hold him, kiss him and hear his breath picking up as the atmosphere between them becomes more heated. The object of his affections may never truly be his, but he can un-tuck his shirts and slide his hands over the smooth skin of his slender waist and up towards his chest. Tasting his lips, a lingering hint of the wine he’d drunk when he visited his bar earlier still on his tongue, Shylock lets himself indulge fully.
Even with how many years he’s lived on the rare occasion he does get to have Murr like this, excitement never takes long to start building. Bubbling up fast, the thrill of knowing he has Murr for his own for even just the night mixes with growing arousal in a cocktail more intoxicating than any alcohol will ever be. It’s incredible how well they move in sync like this when often he’s just doing his best to keep him in line. A mutter against his lips sees Murr’s shirts disappear fully, giving Shylock’s hands more freedom to explore. Closing his fingers around a nipple gets him a small moan in response and seeking out a repeat of the same, feels his hips press down against his own.
Already he can feel Murr starting to get hard, how fast he gets excited is endearing. For Shylock himself, it’s simple why he lets himself get entrapped in the moment so fast; his entire body and mind react as soon as he has Murr’s lips on his but he knows it’s different for Murr. Whatever Murr’s thinking as he grinds his hardening cock against his own is likely far from what his own thoughts are. If only it was all about him, if only he could train him to only have eyes for him but ah, there’s no fun in that is there? The idea disgusts him as much as it entices him. Having Murr like that would be like trapping him in a cage and stripping him of everything that makes him Murr. Thoughts like that aren’t for tonight though, he has him right now without having to take things that far. Sliding one hand down towards his ass, he pulls him in tighter, drowning out those thoughts with the friction of Murr grinding so shamelessly and eagerly against him.
How he would love to drag this out for hours and fully brand the experience within Murr’s memory but for tonight he feels like if he tries anything like that, Murr will disappear. Maybe he can have that at some point in the future and take his time, or that might just be wishful thinking. A night like that might just be the start of finally instilling some proper manners in him as well. Another moan sounds against his lips as the thrill of that idea causes him to pinch a nipple particularly hard. Drawing out the action, he waits until Murr’s practically whimpering before letting go. He only just gives him long enough to start recovering before repeating the action, ensuring that by the time he’s able to see his chest, it will be a deep crimson from the abuse.
Murr’s teeth pull at his lip as he breaks the kiss, smiling devilishly down at Shylock. A quietly stuttered breath leaves Shylock’s lips as Murr’s hips continue to seek pleasure from him. From this angle Murr is absolutely enchanting, the way he looks at him merges both his current and old selves, almost giving him the best of both worlds. Can he imagine the old Murr shirtless and grinding against his growing erection like this though? His own hardness so evident in his own pants and his lips shining with spit? A hand distracts him somewhat from those thoughts, moving to the front of his shirt to fumble at a button before Murr frowns and Shylock gives a small laugh. He moves his hands to help him, slowly undoing each button and watching Murr’s expression grow impatient as he lets himself indulge a little in the art of teasing.
Pulling his shirt open fully and baring his chest entirely, he barely has to wait a second before Murr’s lips are on it, teeth digging in just above his crest in a mark he knows will last for days. A gasp leaves him at the sharp pain but he lets him bite down on the skin for as long and as hard as he wants. There is after all, pleasure to be found in pain too. Rocking his hips back up against Murr’s, he’s starting to need proper stimulation more and more. He knows it’s what they’re both desiring and he’s sure if he isn’t already, Murr will soon be desperate to have him inside. Even if it’s not him explicitly he’s thinking of, as they move things up a level.
“Murr,” He can hear his voice breathy and tinged with need as he speaks. “What say we take this a step further?”
Fingers moving to Murr’s belt, he barely gets it undone before Murr’s teeth are unlatching from him and he’s using magic to take care of things himself. It would see him frowning due to how it ruins the seductive flow of things if it wasn’t so Murr to get impatient with such things. Giving a soft smile instead, he pushes a shoulder until Murr’s sitting upright. Dressed only in his jewellery, he’s a sight to behold as Shylock takes a moment to drink him in. From his flushed face and his shuddering chest, to how proudly erect he is, every bit of him is shameless and irresistible.
Using only one finger at first, he draws it up the underside of Murr’s cock, watching it twitch slightly at the direct stimulation. There’s a wriggle directly against his own, seeing him gasp as an impatient frown settle’s on Murr’s features. Oh that only makes him want to play more though. Lightly wrapping his hand around his length, he knows he’s giving Murr far from what he needs but each attempt from Murr to get more pleasure only sees himself getting more. His pants are far too tight by now and he’d much rather be inside Murr than have him grinding on him like this, but it is fun to watch his desperation grow. Can he get him to beg for him perhaps? To plead for him to give him what he knows he’s so desperately after?
“Shylock-” It’s almost too conveniently timed, as though he’s peering inside his mind.
“Yes Murr?” Then again, there are some things about himself that are obvious even to someone like Murr.
“Do I have to beg for you? Is that what you want?” His words are almost whined as Murr attempts to wrap a hand around Shylock’s own before his wrist is caught, keeping it away.
“That’s exactly what I would like.” Something like a frown crosses Murr’s features as he admits it before it morphs and a breathless laugh leaves him.
“Of course that’s what you would want, that’s just like you!” It doesn’t carry half the volume his words usually would. “You want me all for yourself don’t you? You want me to plead to have your cock deep inside me. You want me to beg you to have your way with me until I can’t think.”
At the filth spilling from Murr’s lips, he locks his eyes with his, stilling his hand.
“And is that what you’re asking for, Murr?” Raising an eyebrow he waits for his answer, confident in the fact that Murr’s at the point where he won’t leave on a whim by now.
Slowly he starts to tighten his grip, moving his hand up the length of Murr’s cock with the tightness he knows he wants but none of the speed.
“Yes.” He utters as Shylock’s hand moves, before a gleam appears in his eyes. “I want just that, Shylock.”
“Well then, let’s see if you remember what to do then?”
Murr acts almost instantly, a small jar of slick liquid usually kept in a drawer appearing between them.
“Good boy.” As though petting a cat his hand is on Murr’s head again, stroking through his hair as his hand picks up the speed slightly on his cock. “How about you get yourself nice and ready for me, I do quite enjoy a show.”
As the jar is grabbed out of the air, Shylock makes a move to align them more comfortably on the bed, moving around to recline into his pillow. He’s tempted to summon his pipe again as he watches Murr dip fingers inside the jar and straddle his hips anew. Rather than that, he tends to something more pressing. Reaching down to his belt, he opens it and his fly almost leisurely. He doesn’t need to fully expose himself for this and there is something pleasing about the contrast between his own semi-dressed state and Murr only dressed in his jewellery.
He doesn’t tease himself like he did Murr but he doesn’t rush. As Murr’s hand reaches behind himself and fingers slip inside, Shylock picks up a steady pace on his own cock, working it without haste as he drinks in Murr contorting his body to reach in deeper and his mouth falling open to spill moans as he strokes over his prostate. His lack of modesty makes for quite the display. Zero embarrassment shows at all as he fucks himself on his fingers and lets beautiful sounds leave him in response. If anyone but Faust shared a floor with them Shylock might be concerned they were keeping him awake but he’s sure someone like himself will have taken precautions to insulate his room from outside noise. Murr’s free to be as loud as he wants without taking the care to protect his own room from leaking noise. In fact it might be quite nice if someone were to walk past and hear; for them to realise Murr is his.
“Shylock…” His name sounds so lovely falling from his lips in such a way.
“Do you want more Murr?” With a nod and Murr’s hand retreating from behind himself he gets his answer. “I’d like to hear your answer, preferably.”
“I do, yes.” He’s so adorably obedient when he has him desperate. “Yes.”
Murr’s hand twitches as though he’s tempted to wrap it around his own dick or slide his finger inside himself again as Shylock coats his cock in that same, slick liquid. Watching Murr barely holding back from touching himself, he can’t help but take a little extra time. Just enough so that when he does pull his hand back from his cock, Murr’s own is gripping the base as he positions himself over it as if he can’t wait a second longer.
“Oh my, you are impatient aren’t you?”
A needy moan leaves Murr’s lips as he starts to sink down on him and Shylock hears his own voice join it, quieter and more refined. Just like in many things, Murr isn’t patient. He isn’t one to slowly take him in and savour the slow stretch of being filled so thoroughly. No, Murr is one to take him in fast, the heat and tightness overwhelming as it surrounds him. The look he gives Shylock as rolls his hips against him almost immediately is all too teasing; he knows how good this must feel for him. Letting a stuttered breath leave his lips, Shylock draws fingers down Murr’s chest as he continues the movements. They aren’t fast yet; not what Shylock knows they’ll be like once he fully gets comfortable, but they’re still bold enough that by the time his fingers have dipped low enough to wrap around a slender hip, he hears another satisfied sound sneak past his lips.
There’s no time to properly steady himself as Murr continues to pick up the speed, just enough to begin to take in the sight before him. The pleasure on his face is undeniable and his cock bounces in time with his movements; it really is like he’s showing off and putting on a performance for the sake of Shylock. Drinking in every part of it and ensuring to commit the sight to memory he lets the enjoyment of the moment wash over him entirely. This is one of the most intimate pleasures there are, a near perfect mix of desire and fulfilment. As though exceeding his expectations, his arousal only continues to rise as Murr gets more and more vocal and he can see fringe start to cling to his face from sweat. The sheen beginning to cover his body from the exertion of riding him and pleasure he must be feeling himself is beautiful, shining off his skin like rays of that which he loves so much.
But that’s all just some wild unattainable dream that will only serve to destroy him all over again isn’t it? Shylock’s the one who can truly have him.
Shylock’s the one whose body is filling with heat as his cock sinks deep into Murr with every movement the other makes. Shylock’s the one who’s neatly manicured nails dig lightly into the skin of his hip and whose moans mix with Murr’s own. He can feel sweat starting to build at his own hairline and knows that the flush on Murr’s face must be replicated on his own. Murr is his right now, no one else’s. No one else is sharing this moment, no one else is in the room with them replacing the sweet smell of smoke from his pipe with the unmistakable smell of sex.
Pushing himself up on one elbow he comes closer to Murr’s face, the hand on his hip travelling upwards to cup Murr’s cheek. Extending a thumb he pulls Murr’s lip downwards before slipping it inside his mouth. Almost instantly there are teeth on it. The bite is sharp but it brings a smile to his lips. The intention of the move wasn’t this at all, but he lets him nibble, suck and muffle his moans around the digit for just long enough to satisfy whatever need Murr has right now to sink his teeth into something. His own desire and reason for starting to move is rather unbecoming but he wants to be the one fully in control, he wants to see his own movements making Murr fall apart rather than merely enjoying tonight’s entertainment from the audience.
“Murr,” Letting his thumb slide from between Murr’s lips, they stay parted as panting breaths start to fall from them. “Move onto your back for me will you?”
He gives a sweet smile as he asks and Murr gives one last roll of his hips before obliging.
“Are you going to ruin me, Shylock?” He asks as he falls into the place Shylock had been taking up, legs spreading wide and welcoming.
“Who’s to say I haven’t already?” There’s a double meaning to the words he speaks as he settles in between Murr’s legs.
It’s so easy to slide inside him, Murr’s legs wrapping around his hips as he does, pulling him in deeper. Rather than starting to move immediately like Murr had, he takes in how Murr’s hair looks splayed out against his pillow and the glazed over, lust filled expression in his eyes before pulling back. Once he thrusts in again though, he doesn’t hold back. Exact thrust is angled exactly as he knows they both need it, pushing over Murr’s prostate before sinking in fully. Repeating the action over and over fills the room with a rhythmic base behind both their moans and pants. Oh how indulgent he’s getting to be tonight.
There are fingers reaching towards his hair, pulling out pins and a hair tie as he feels it fall around his shoulders and back. Is Murr trying to make as much of a mess of him as he looks himself? Angling Murr’s hips up higher he thrusts in deeper, enjoying how Murr’s hands immediately move back to the sheets, twisting in them tightly. His name starts to spill from his lips in his moans, Murr’s head tilting back as far as it can against the pillow as he lets pleasured sounds leave him with care for how loud nor depraved he sounds. Head falling forwards as he continues to thrust into him with all he has, Shylock knows he too is nearing climax. Drawing this out would be lovely of course but so would letting it take its natural course at this pace.
His hair forms a curtain between them, Murr’s head tilting back to look him in the eyes as everything but their own faces is cut from their view. Murr is his world and in this moment it’s almost like he’s Murr’s. Almost, but that doesn’t stop the steadily growing pleasure within him and the need to keep following this through to the end. Murr’s breath tickles his lips and he doesn’t doubt his own is doing the same. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off him for one moment, not even as Murr’s eyelids flutter shut and the extremes of satisfaction growing within him tempt him to do the same. Every part of this he wants to see, who knows how long it might be before he can have Murr like this for him again after all.
His name falling from Murr’s lips once more, hands move to Shylock back, gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly that it risks ripping. Murr is seconds from finishing and there’s no denying that. Even through his shirt he may have red lines marking his back from his nails digging in as deep as they can as pleasure becomes too much for him to comprehend. Face contorting with the height of what he’s feeling, Shylock almost feels like he’s about to hear his name once more but as he thrusts in deep, the moan is nonsense; raw and near-animalistic as it leaves him. With how Murr reacts, how he sounds, looks and tightens around him he knows he’s riding the high of his orgasm. It doesn’t cause him to hold back at all. If anything he goes harder and deeper as he seeks his own, determined to draw every moan, gasp and growl out of Murr that he can.
There’s no helping it when his eyes do fall shut and his back bends so that he can capture Murr’s lips, swallowing his now overstimulated moans as his own climax hits. Shylock knows if his lips weren’t on Murr’s, his name would be on the tip of his tongue as his hips still deep inside him. Marking him for himself he holds there. Murr kisses back breathlessly as Shylock enjoys every bit of pleasure his orgasm has to give. Lightheaded and still slightly dizzy with the height of his satisfaction, he eventually pulls back from Murr’s lips, smiling down at his completely spent expression.
“This is quite the good look on you.” It’s little more than a whisper, something just between the two of them before begins to push himself upright. ‘If only I could see it more often’, is left unsaid.
As he sits up fully and starts to move out of Murr, his eyes focus on some of his release following him out, staining the luxurious fabric of his bedding as it trickles from Murr’s hole.
“Weird.” Murr wriggles, all allure and sex appeal gone as he pulls a face.
“You’ll say that every time wont you?” It doesn’t take much to clean up with magic at all but he allows himself to take in all the evidence of Murr having been his tonight for a little longer before he bothers. From his own cum that’s trickled out of him, to Murr’s own staining his chest.
“Will I? Have I? You seem to know, don't know? Or do you?” Murr’s words slur slightly with a tired edge to them as he breaks into questions.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Cleaning up the evidence, he shakes his head slightly at the question. “Do you really think I’ve never had anyone inside me in my life?”
“Have you? Was it me?” It wasn’t.
“Would you like it to be you?” There’s no answer to his question
When his eyes drift up to Murr’s face, sleep has taken over and still naked on his bed, he’s passed out as though he belongs in it. Shylock knows he’s far more comfortable in his hammock but he’s not going to bother himself with transporting him back there. He’s going to keep him until he wakes in the morning. A night Murr could have spent gazing out at the moon that he’s had him all to himself.
Moving up the bed he takes the spot by Murr’s side, sitting up against the pillow rather than laying as he summons his pipe to his hand once more. The sounds of Murr’s even breathing by his side are a rare treat as he inhales sweet smoke. A hand lifts to Murr’s own as he enjoys his pipe, gently stroking his hair as one might a pet cat. Gazing down at him he gives a fond smile. So sweetly sleeping like this, no one would ever guess what his previous genius had unleashed, nor the far different but still troublesome personality his current self holds.