#martzel morell

designed some trinkets last night for the OC crew

(featuring@modern-mintjudas)

There’s a cafe a few blocks off campus that Martzel likes to go to for the atmosphere and the independently roasted coffee beans. It’s much like his office, Kito thinks as he waits for their drinks– full of old books, lit by golden light and mismatched lamps. He slides a folded fifty-dollar bill into the barista tip jar before taking the coffees outside.

Martzel is working late– again. He called Kito an hour ago saying that he was extending his office hours to help some of his students, and while Kito is irritated, of course he’ll bring him coffee and moral support. 

And so Kito braves the biting February air whipping his scarf around his shoulders so he can carry two cups of coffee into the humanities department.

Martzel is in his office, just as he said– Kito can hear him speaking through the closed curtains of the windows. Something about the Mongols. Kito listens for a few seconds. A smile creeps onto his face at Martzel’s enthusiasm about the subject. At last, he knocks on the door, gently so the coffee doesn’t spill.

“Ah– my appointments are all booked, I’m afraid my office is closed for drop-ins at the moment–”

“Even for coffee?”

There’s a thud and a shuffling and Martzel throws the door open wide, bespectacled and clad in a tweed suit that he’s very proud of, beaming down at Kito. “I could never say no to coffee. Oh– yes, of course– Kito, this is Judas, from my advanced world history class.” He stands aside to allow Kito into the cramped office. The student, Judas, is seated at Martzel’s desk, across from where he usually sits with his back to the window. They look up from their papers and wave nervously. “I hope you don’t mind too badly, Kito darling. They wanted to go over their last essay with me, and I couldn’t disappoint…”

Kito scrutinizes them. The beginnings of a dull pink blush have started at the tips of their ears. When Martzel addresses Kito again, they switch their attention to their essay, shuffling the papers for something to do.

“I see,” Kito says. He hands Martzel his coffee and approaches Judas. “May I read it?”

Their eyes widen. “I– it isn’t v-very good–”

“Don’t bully my pupils, lover, we’ve been over this. Although, it is very well-written. Judas here has more passion than the rest of their class put together.”

Again, they fidget. Kito squints. “Hmm.”

Martzel kisses him, and it tastes like coffee. “Does this mean you’re kidnapping me from my office?”

“Not necessarily. I wanted to make sure you had enough energy to finish the day.”

Judas, bolting up from their chair, stows their papers in their backpack, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry. I know I’m keeping you, Professor Morell.”

“Judas, it’s alright, really–”

“No, I– I think I understand the source material well enough now. I don’t want to eat up your time.” 

They duck out of the office before Martzel can stop them. He sighs as the door closes. “They’re terribly bright, but I know they won’t be with me much longer. They’re a medical student and this is a required class. I just don’t meet many like them, with such a thirst for knowledge…”

Kito places his coffee on a nearby bookshelf and slides his hands up Martzel’s chest. “Not the only thing they thirst for.”

“I– I beg your pardon?”

Kito chuckles. He removes the coffee from Martzel’s hand as well, so Martzel can embrace him back. Kito’s breath fogs Martzel’s horn-rimmed glasses. “Haven’t you seen the way they look at you? They’re starstruck. Doesn’t it remind you of anyone?”

Martzel ponders him for a second. All of a sudden, his face falls and jaw drops. “Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh no. How– how did I not see it?! Oh nooo… and I was giving them hope by allowing them to stay after class hours with me, heavens above… what do I do? I don’t want to break their heart!”

“It’s alright. I’m sure you’ll find a way to let them down easy.” Kito soothes him with a few kisses across his stubbled jaw. Martzel sighs and melts under his mouth. “Did you like the way they called you Professor Morell…? Oh, you must enjoy it. You adore a touch of authority.”

“I– I– K-kito–”

Kito presses him into the wall, knee between his legs, tongue at his neck. “Mmm… and did they beg you to meet in your office, all alone, Professor?”

Martzel fidgets and wheezes. His dick stiffens next to Kito’s thigh. “We can’t– here– make a mess–”

“You want to wait? Are you afraid the books will hear us?”

“The walls are thin… I c-couldn’t, in front of the other teachers…”

Kito sighs and releases Martzel, who stumbles forward to chase his warmth anyway, whining and drawing him back into his greedy arms. “Professor, really, this is highly inappropriate,” Kito teases against his chest.

“Quiet. I’m taking you back home.”

“Even if I have more questions?”

Martzel shuts him up with an aggressive mind-blowing kiss. Dazed, Kito drifts out of the office after Martzel, barely remembering to grab the coffees on his way.

“Hey, tough guy.”

Martzel raises his head from his arms. Cinnamon wafts toward him through the stench of beer. He blinks. “Aro…?”

Aro Slattery raises his eyebrows. He’s clearly dressed up for clubbing, but his eyeshadow and shirt are too sparkly for this bar– he must be in the middle of bar-hopping. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I… uh…” Martzel paws around at the counter for his half-emptied mug. “Oh…”

“You look like shit. Here, sit up straight. Look at me.” Aro hoists Martzel upright, half in his arms, so he can dab at the corner of Martzel’s mouth with a napkin. “Havalana, Martzel. I’ve never seen you get this shitfaced drunk. Did something happen?”

Martzel, stupefied, nods. It’s all coming back to him now. But his throat is too dry to speak. He reaches for his beer and takes a deep swig before he answers. “Ki-to,” he rasps.

“Your little boyfriend? What about him?”

Martzel swallows. “Kito… was angry with me…”

Aro rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move away. “So did you break up?”

“I… I don’t know, I… I begged him, but… but he hates me now… he hates me…” His head hangs in shame.

Aro sighs. “Riiight. Well, I don’t think here’s the best place to talk about your love life. Let’s go back to my place. Come on. Lean on me. I’ll make you some tea and we’ll set your head straight. Okay? Up. Ugh, you’re fuckin’ heavy…”

Aro half-carries, half-drags Martzel out of the dusty piss-smelling bar and down the street. The air is cold enough to bite tonight but Aro’s body is warm. Martzel pulls himself closer against the chill. Luckily, Aro’s apartment is less than a mile away, but Aro grumbles the whole way.

Martzel melts in the warmth of the apartment. He’s deposited into Aro’s bed, limp as a puppet with cut strings, while Aro busies himself in the kitchen. His stilettos click on the tile. “Asra got me this tea from Nopal. Says it’s great for hangovers. Like, you aren’t hungover, but you will be, so… do you still take it straight? No milk, no sugar? Wait– yes on milk. No on sugar. See, I remember. I remember everything when it comes to you.” Porcelain clinks, water pours, herbs rustle. Martzel watches with eyes half-open. When the tea is prepared, Aro brings it to the bed. “Hey. Up. Come on, I made this for you, drink it.”

“Whiskey,” Martzel slurs.

“No whiskey. You’ve had enough to drink. This should get you sober.”

Martzel shakes his head as Aro pushes him upright. “No… no… I can’t… forget…”

“Don’t make me baby bird this shit to you.”

When Aro doesn’t relent, Martzel allows his head to be tilted back and for scalding hot tea to be poured down his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut painfully. Aro takes pity on him after a few sips and removes the mug from his lips. “Sorry. Too hot?” he asks, too late.

“Yes,” Martzel gasps.

“It’ll cool down. How’re you feeling?”

Sure enough, some of the alcoholic haze is already fading. Less of a blinding fog than a softening mist. Martzel blinks. Aro’s face swims into view. He’s no longer a sea of sparkles. “Thank you,” Martzel says. “A little better. I’m afraid I… ah… you didn’t have to do this.”

“Bullshit. You were gonna pass out if I just left you there. And it’s not like I don’t like you anymore. I’ll help you when you need it.” Aro claps Martzel on the back and thrusts the mug into his hands. “Now. Tell me what happened. You said Kito was angry at you?”

Martzel heaves a sigh. “We never fought like that before. He wants me to… to give up sailing. He wants me to live in Vesuvia.”

Aro whistles. “Woow. Yeah. No.”

“Vesuvia is lovely… Kito, Kito is lovely… but give up the ocean? I couldn’t. And I couldn’t spend the rest of my life surviving off an allowance my boyfriend gives me. It’s ridiculous. But he thinks that giving up my self-reliance is somehow a matter of pride– and yes, in part, but– the commitment– the sense of duty– you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Yeah. You don’t wanna get tied down. If he’s your only source of money, you can’t go anywhere else. You’re trapped.”

Martzel blinks. “Er– yes. That’s exactly right.”

“See, told you I know you,” Aro says with a wink.

“I suppose you do.” Martzel sips his tea.

“Sooo… what happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

Aro leans closer. “Does this mean you and him are over?”

Martzel’s heart falls. He can’t meet Aro’s eyes, instead focusing on the golden tea in his hands. “I’m not sure.”

“Not sure,” Aro repeats. Aro’s pointed nails creep up Martzel’s shoulder. “But you said you want to forget him.”

“I’m not sure about that either.”

“Want me to help?”

“Er… how?”

Aro’s smile comes closer, and closer, and there’s a split second when Martzel realizes what’s about to happen, but it’s too late. Lips meet lips. The tea falls to the floor as Martzel’s hands fly up and shove Aro away, horrified. “Aro, no!”

“Geez, so rough! You could’ve said something!”

Martzel groans and stands up from the bed, head in his hands, safely out of arm’s reach from Aro. “You can’t just… I should have known, I should have known…”

“Fine, okay. You don’t want me. That’s– that’s fine, I just– I wanted to cheer you up. Kissing always cheers me up.”

“Thank you for the tea, Aro. I think I need to leave.”

“Huh?! No!” Aro grabs Martzel’s shirt to keep him in place. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Wait, I– I’ve got a good idea! Hear me out! Asra showed me a really neat trick the other day, I think you’d really like it!”

“I’m not interested in tricks,” Martzel says warily.

Aro flashes him a grin again. “Ooh, but you’ll like this one. Here, pick the mug off the ground. Is there still tea? Good. It should work fine. Don’t worry, I’ll clean that stuff up later.” When Martzel hands him the mug of half-spilled tea, Aro dips his fingers in the liquid. He buzzes with excited energy. “Okay. Close your eyes.”

Martzel squints. “Will you try to kiss me again?”

“Don’t be such a baby. No, I won’t, I’ll stay right here on the bed.”

Martzel closes his eyes, shoulders tensing. Aro is ominously silent, giving no indication of what he’s doing, and Martzel doesn’t like it. “Aro? Are you ready?”

But someone else answers. Martzel’s heart skips a beat when he hears it. “Yep. Open up.”

He’s almost afraid. But he obeys. His eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. “What…? What are you–”

“See, now you can practice,” Kito says, hardly able to control his laughter at Martzel’s reaction. “How’d I do? Pretty good, right?”

Martzel swallows a lump in his throat. “Yes…”

Kito crawls forward on the bed. His silken hair falling around his rolling shoulders, olive skin shining in the lamplight, everything is unmistakable. “Don’t look so fuckin’ scared. C’mere. Look, now you can tell me everything. Imagine you’re coming back and you wanna apologize and explain stuff and I’ll do my best Kito impression. Ahem.” He sits up again on the edge of the bed and clears his throat. His proud eyebrows furrow. “So you’re finally back. You smell like beer, Martzel. I told you I hate when you drink.”

Martzel fights a bewildered laugh of his own. He cautiously approaches the bed and sits next to Kito. “I’m sorry, my love. I felt terrible after our fight.”

“I’ll bet you did. What, are you here to say goodbye?”

“Goodbye?”

Kito crosses his arms. “You’re leaving. You made it pretty damn clear earlier that you’d rather stick your dick in the ocean than stay with me.”

Wow. The impression is terrible, but the image is so perfect. Martzel can’t resist wrapping his arms around Kito’s narrow shoulders and pulling his nose into his hair. Even Kito’s hair is perfect, right down to the scent of ylang ylang and rose oil. He takes a deep breath in. The facade slips. “My darling, you misunderstood me. I would do anything for you–”

“Except stay with me,” Kito interrupts, but the fire has left his voice. “Seems a little counterintuitive if you ask me, Martzel.”

“I do want to stay with you. I would stay with you for the rest of my days if only you would let me.” Martzel pulls Kito backward into his chest, his nose pressed to Kito’s lovely hair, fingers twining his curly locks. “Dearest, how I love you. Never forget it. But you forget my nature… I wasn’t meant for land like you… I grew up on the sea, I will live and die on the sea, and asking me to give up travelling is like asking me to give up breathing. For you, I would stop breathing, but my body will not let me. Do you understand?”

Kito takes a deep shaky breath. “O-oh. Um… yeah… I guess… I understand.”

Martzel presses a kiss to his forehead. “What would make you happy? What can I do to secure your happiness?”

“Ah… nobody’s ever asked me that.” Kito rearranges himself so he can look up into Martzel’s face. His golden eyes shine with the beginnings of tears. “You… you love me? Say it again.”

“I love you, Kito Achebe.”

Kito hides his face in Martzel’s neck. He’s shaking all over. Martzel soothes him with gentle hands stroking his back and hair. “I love you too,” he mumbles. Kito’s hands ball into fistfulls of Martzel’s shirt. “C-can I kiss you?”

Martzel smiles. “You hardly need to ask me.”

When Kito doesn’t lift his head at once, Martzel guides him up by the chin to eagerly meet his lips. Kito whimpers, tightening his grip, opening his mouth and allowing Martzel to explore to his heart’s content. When a tear rolls down Kito’s cheek, Martzel pauses. He pulls away. “Kito? Angel, what’s wrong?”

Kito shakes his head. Saltwater clings to his long eyelashes. “It’s.. it’s… wrong…”

“Have I done something wrong? What is it?”

Martzel wipes the tear track from Kito’s skin. Finally, Kito speaks. “Touch me.”

Martzel lowers his lips to kiss Kito’s neck, undo his shirt. Kito melts under his touch.

“Again… say it again, pl-ease.”

“I love you.”

Kito moans as he’s lowered to the bed. His hands are thrown up next to his ears in surrender. Calloused fingers caress every inch of skin they can reach. “I wish we could be like this forever,” Kito murmurs.

Martzel kisses Kito’s stomach. “Why not?”

“‘Cause… ‘cause…”

“You aren’t still worried about the ocean,” Martzel teases.

Kito avoids his gaze. “Dunno. Maybe. Maybe… you should think more about the ocean.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, land is nice and all. Pretty. Stable. But you said yourself you can’t forget the ocean. Sure, it’s– it’s moody, and unpredictable, but– hells, it loves you. It had you first, you know? Doesn’t that count for something?”

Martzel smiles. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Kito meets his eyes again helplessly. “Fuck me.”

“Martzel Morell,” Kito Achebe snaps.

Both Martzel and the Kito underneath him snap their attention to the furious Kito in the doorway, whose face quickly warps into confusement. “What the–?”

The illusion is broken. Martzel leaps off the false Kito as though his hands were burned, scrambling off the bed at top speed, face boiling red. “Kito, I– I didn’t mean–”

“Who are you?” the real Kito demands. He storms into the apartment with more fury than Martzel has ever seen. The false Kito glowers right back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the fake Kito spits.

“I asked at least two dozen people after I found that disgusting little tavern, but I hardly think it matters. Show yourself.”

The fake Kito rolls his eyes and sits up as a disgruntled Aro Slattery. His teeth are bared in Kito’s direction. “Next time, don’t just march into someone’s fuckin’ house, yeah?”

Kito’s anger somehow intensifies. His eyes shine with a panther’s feral predatory power. “You,” he hisses. “How dare you, you shameless little slut?”

“Kito,” Martzel reproaches meekly, but one look from Kito silences him.

“How dare you take advantage of a drunken man? How dare you take my shape just so your loneliness is quenched for a few hours?” Kito advances toward Aro on the bed, who cowers back into the pillows. “You should be ashamed. I ought to hang you with your bedsheets, you scheming harlot, you demon. If you so much as lay a finger on Martzel Morell again, I will personally ensure that nobody in Vesuvia will trust you again. You think that I am some unknowing fool, don’t you? You think that I won’t get my hands dirty?” Behind him, in the kitchen, the familiar shink of cutlery cuts through the air, as drawers open, as blades ready themselves. “I have people who are up to their knees in dirt. I will make your life a living hell, Aro Slattery.”

An unsettling silence swirls like poison gas in the air. Aro is utterly frozen. Finally, Kito turns away from Aro, the kitchen knives replacing themselves as he takes Martzel’s hand. “Come home.”

Martzel stumbles after Kito without a backwards glance. His pulse races. The icy air outside doesn’t even bother him. When they’re a safe block away, he murmurs, “you asked after me?”

“Of course I did,” Kito growls. “I thought I would find you at that tavern. When you weren’t there, I was worried.”

“Kito, I–”

“Did he take advantage of you?”

Martzel blushes worse than ever. He watches the road. “No.”

“Did you ask him to transform into me?”

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

“He… he helped sober me… so we could talk… and he took your shape, so I could practice, because I wanted to talk to you, more than anything, and… and I must have still been drunk, I forgot, I only saw you, and I needed you… oh, gods, Kito, I should have known, I should not have allowed myself to–”

Kito squeezes his fingers. “I’m not sure what category of adultery this falls into, but I’m not angry with you. He is the one at fault.”

“But I– I let him–”

“My love, you still reek of beer. You won’t be convincing me that you were in your right mind.”

Tears swim in Martzel’s eyes. “I love you more than anything,” he says.

Kito smiles and kisses Martzel’s bicep. “I know.”

“Please don’t be too hard on Aro, my angel. He means well.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Er– his intentions are– hm–”

“I won’t kill him, if that’s what you mean,” Kito sighs. “Too much red tape. I would rather not deal with the intricacies of murder. But I’m still not happy with him. One more slip-up, and I’ll make him pay, Martzel, I must insist on it.”

“Ah… I suppose that’s fair.”

The night air is a little warmer. Martzel’s feet don’t drag as much. “Come home and I’ll put you to bed,” Kito says gently.

“Home,” Martzel echoes.

“We can discuss everything in the morning. You need to rest, and maybe vomit.”

“I love you,” Martzel says again.

Kito sighs and stands on his toes to give Martzel a kiss. “I love you too.”

–

Aro is on his hands and knees, cleaning up the spilled tea from his floor. He bites back tears. Stupid Martzel. Stupid stupid stupid Kito. Just thinking about it makes him want to throw up.

But Martzel’s words ring in his ears. “I love you,” Aro whispers, and nobody answers.