Footsie

Author: Shiretoko Title: Footsie

Summary: Zelgadis finds that he hates mornings. Mostly because Xelloss does not.
Rating: R
Pairings: Xelloss x Zelgadis
Feedback: Surewhynot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Slayers, it belongs to its respective parties. If I did, I highly doubt I'd need to write fanfiction about it. It'd also be porn.
~*~*~
Zelgadis decided that he really wasn't a morning person.
Sure, he had enjoyed them once upon a time. Morning was quiet, it was sitting calmly at a table with a good strong cup of coffee and the just-waking world. The world that wasn't interrupting him, or grinning like they'd ate a small child. In fact, the world in question also was not continually bumping the very tip of a booted foot against his shin.
Nope. Not one for mornings. Zel twitched.
"Xelloss," he growled between clenched teeth. "Stop it."
The insufferable grin seemed to only grow from his distress. It was at least a two-devoured-children one now. "Stop? What are you talking about, Zelgadis-san?" As usual, the honorific seemed tacked on to his name simply to annoy him. For some reason, Xelloss had situated himself directly across from him today, idly stirring a cup of tea. He grumbled and began to settle himself into a comfortable slump over his own cup before laying eyes on the dish the purple-haired priest chose as breakfast-- quite possibly the most girly looking, sugar-dusted cream puff he'd ever seen. Zel could feel the daily migraine coming on already.
"Why...are you pretending to eat?"
Eight-devoured-children. Wow, he'd tickled the damned mazoku somehow. "Oh, but I am eating, Zelgadis-saaan." There was another light nudge to his ankle from the other's shoe.
That was more information than he was willing to process this early in the day. Of course, only encouraging him with a reaction would most likely snowball the whole thing...and he'd never be able to finish another breakfast again. He'd kill him later.
One incredulous snort later, he was back to his coffee.
The normal incoming hurricane of red hair and blue armor heralded Lina and Gourry's entrance, whereupon they proceeded to order everything on the menu and not a thing less. Amelia's entrance was a little more dignified. If you could call bursting in and proceeding to perch on the chair declaring the injustice of starting without her 'dignified', which you couldn't. Zelgadis simply held the sturdy mug close, inhaling and remaining the picture of zen amongst the feeding frenzy. It was chaos, but at least it was routine.
A strategic poke connected with his leg yet again. He hated life.
"XELLOSS. Quit it with the footsies." Zelgadis hissed in an angried whisper. For a moment it seemed to work. But Xelloss only paused before flashing him a very, very worrying look with one half-lidded electric purple eye. He blinked. What now? Nothing appeared to be happening immediately. The baby-eating smirk was back as Xelloss seemed to turn his attention onto his (remarkably fruity) breakfast confectionary. Zelgadis mentally shrugged, keeping a watchful eye on the suspicious creature over the rim of his cup as he slowly sipped at the steaming black coffee. The drink relaxed him, and Zel closed his eyes as he revelled in the slow welcome spread of warmth through his insides.
Of course, the soft press of toes lingering on his ankles never was a part of the breakfast equation.
Wait.
He shot a fairly freaked-out glare at Xelloss.
Xelloss smiled blithely before licking a stray spot of cream from his lips with a lot more exaggeration than Zel found necessary.
Holy fuck.
A thousand other plans-- all involving the word 'retreat'-- zipped through his head as he remained petrified in shock. The foot inched its way upwards with dedicated slowness. Okay, he could get up and leave. Just get up. He would dash from the table, go upstairs, splash mouthwash into his eyes to distract his brain from trying to replay the event in horror. Toes wiggled and trailed over his calf, Xelloss continuing to lick dainty spoonfuls of dessert as if nothing was amiss in their little world. Yes, then he'd run back to his room with burning eyes and scream for hours. That sounded perfect!
The foot rubbed teasingly behind his knee. Zelgadis slammed the cup down on the table.
Four pair of eyes were instantly trained his way.
Amelia piped up, still tugging on the sausage link in an effort to secure it from Lina. "Are...are you alright?"
Was he alright? How was any of this alright?! Dammit.Think fast...think fast...Zel sputtered and averted his face. "I...uh...I just burned...my tongue."
Fortunately that seemed to assuage them, and the inhalation of food recommenced. Zel picked his drink back up and murmured his relief into the cup with a small burble. Hopefully the food would keep them from asking him anything more, and he'd be spared having to improvise before he'd even had his morning coffee.
The sole of the roaming foot smoothed against his inner thigh.
Shit. Shitshitshit.
Zel tried to discretely reach underneath the tabletop, swatting at it with his hand to no avail. It creeped closer to somewhere he'd rather it not be despite his constrained squirms and murderous glares towards Xelloss. The mazoku plucked a strawberry from within the the pastry and laboriously cleaned it off, for all appearances oblivious to Zelgadis' plight. He swallowed thickly. This was throwing a monkeywrench into his ideas of retreat-- standing up was fast becoming a very bad idea. Before he could attempt it anyways, the foot disappeared from his leg. Zelgadis slumped in relief, missing out entirely on the next wide predatory smirk on Xelloss' part.
He yelped.
This time he had the misfortune to be attended to by none other than the perpetrator himself. His face went a few dozen shades of pink.
"Zelgadis-san, you're looking a little flushed! Is something the matter?"
Oh God, he'd kill him, he'd kill him and make his hide into something embarrassing like a gay little afghan, how dare he?!
"I...I'm f-fine!" the bare toes wriggled into his crotch. The grip around his mug tightened as he stifled another embarrassing outburst. "Just FINE."
No one else seemed to think so, everyone's-- including Xelloss, whom he really, desperately needed to hurt-- faces incredulous. "Are you certain? Now that I look at you, you do seem a bit hot under the," there was a distressing tug on the hem of his pants, "collar."
He was going to tear out his brain for dutifully replacing 'collar' with 'table'. Right after he murdered Xelloss for...for...did he just open the top of his pants with his toes? Zelgadis wasn't sure if that shattering noise in his head was the sound of his mind breaking or his plans of escape flying out the window. The foot wiggled inside as he remained unprotesting in horror. The cup when thunking back down on the table once again as he choked.
Lina raised her eyebrow and poked a stone-skinned shoulder. "What in hell is going on with you?"
"Ba...ahh!" Zel hid his reddening face behind his bangs. "...bad coffee."
Xelloss mimicked utter surprise. "Oh dear, maybe it has something toxic in it. Does your stomach hurt, Zelgadis-san?"
He was asking him questions on purpose just to hear him stutter, wasn't he!
AUGH.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to muster up hatred to fling in Xelloss' direction. He bit at the ceramic lip of his mug, fangs clicking and grinding against the surface as he attempted to swallow the breathy moan threatening to break free. The foot tucked neatly into his pants deftly manuevered, making him hazily wonder if there was some previous experience involved. No. No no, he was NOT thinking about that. Things were bad enough as it is, essentially trapped in public as some twisted little fuck rubbed into him, making him shiver and-- DAMMIT. He nearly screamed as Amelia leaned to take his temperature, stumbling through garbled apologies as he concentrated on anything and everything but the warm sensation between his legs.
And that goddamn bastard had the nerve to look smug!
Zel whimpered under his breath, soundly cursing his traitorous body. "NO! I...I'm just...feeling...f-feeling! Alittledizzy." A particularly devilish wiggle forced him to punctuate that with an undignified squeak. The long-suffering cup creaked under a muderous grip.
"Maybe you should lie down!" Xelloss suggested, and he could have sworn he heard the inaudible 'in bed, with me' right after that.
By now, Zelgadis supposed, he was a total mess. Hopefully if he hid his face enough, no one would notice why he was panting and glazed-eyed despite looking the picture of health. An annoying voice in the back of his head-- that sounded like Xelloss, why, dear God, why-- piped up to demand more: quite possibly a hand, though a mouth would be just lovely, hell, even another foot would be nice! Everyone's voices were drowned out by the rush of blood from his head to southerly destinations, heart thudding violently against his ribcage. Gourry was tilting his head and asking him something, and Lina looked a little worried; why was everything so blurry around the edges? Zel's mutineer body refused to listen to the inner howling of his rational mind, hips pushing a little more upwards into that foot.
At that point, he was so far gone that he missed the extra quirk of Xelloss' lips before his breath hitched. With an interalized howl, he was swept away by the resulting wave of sensation. Zelgadis bonelessly crumpled onto the table, a shuddering wreck.
The coffee cup had smashed in his hands, coffee soaking into his shirt sleeves.
He was dimly aware of everyone's eyes on the back of his head as he lay face down on the table, completely pleasure-buzzed. Zel felt the crush of embarrassment creeping up on him. Oh, to die at will. He tried unsuccessfully to stop breathing and settled for a long moan instead.
"I love mornings, don't you, Zelgadis-san?"
Zel groaned bitterly into the table.
No. No, he did not.
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