Title: Spoils

Author: Triskell

Rating: mild R

Fandom: "Edward II" by Christopher Marlowe

Pairing: Edward & Spencer Yr., implied Edward & Gaveston

Disclaimer: The play belongs to Marlowe, though I don't think he would sue for this, seeing he's a) dead, b) the one who wrote a play about the King in love with another man in the first place.

Author's notes: This should make sense even if you've never seen "Edward II". I got hooked at Shakespeare's Globe in London. I never thought I could love a play this much ;D.

SPOILS

© JEL, 24 July 2003

Innocence.

A potent wish to possess something untainted with the sordidness of stale desire; he had kept his will and power close at hand since his heart no longer beat so frantic with the passionate rhythm of another's breath ghosting against his cheek. The youth before him had not known the luxury of pure desire, and though he knew the ways of women, he had not yet tasted all the ways of men. He was temptation, pale skin encased in paling blue silk, soft movements rippling in the folds of softer fabric, teaching light to highlight curves otherwise hidden from the eye.

Innocent.

A wonder in the making as he smiled and fawned, desperate for attention from the one man that he should not seek to please. A man who needed. All. More than a timid, gentle touch, more than a hard embrace. Tenderness had passed with love, been cut with bleeding swords from deep within his scarred heart. His lover dead, gone, buried, far from him. No way to bring him back, promises broken, wishes not granted. But in this youth all he had cherished rose again, much sweeter, dearer in the mere remembrance of another's smile.

Innocently.

A hand upon his shoulder, strong arms around his back, the slightest hush of rippling light-blue silk. The youth had wished to please, but in this touch was more, an edge of longing for a deeper pleasure, a heated rush of pale skin flushed with need, tormented by the light touch of a knowing hand and brought to sweet fulfilment with a smiling gasp.

He spoiled innocence that night, taking the youth within his body, offering his soul in penitent surrender for betraying the one man he loved in his own quest to quench the raging need for contact in a cold and insubstantial world of strangers.

He saw a spark of green in glazed, dark blue eyes, a flash of heaven as the angel fell, no longer innocent, into his knowing, greedy arms, welcomed his flesh, his seeking mouth and stroking, unstillable hands.

He took the hunger from his youth and owned him with each tender stroke, innocently uttered, breathy words of whispered love a mere echo brushing past his deafened ears.