RANTtoME

I have to update most of my ocs bare with me pls💔

Arlecchino was a liar, the winner of the game Pierrot would call love. There was no such thing, Arecchino would tell himself. There was only pleasure and what would human beings be without pleasure?

Though his tongue spoke falsehood and flattery his heart sang out one pure unbridled truth—he was in love with his best friend.

He did not know when nor how the attraction started though he was not sure calling how he felt as such was appropriate.

Had Pierrot been a woman it would've been easy to admit these feelings. Had Pierrot not been in love with Columbina it would've been easier to seduce him. Had Pierrot stayed that sweet naive boy who followed him around it would've been perfect.

But the fool just had to grow up and develop certain desires that weren't aimed towards him.

Sweet, foolish Pierrot longing for the moon when the sun is smiling upon him. Which was why the sun enchanted the moon. For only then would the fool's folly be realized. It was impossible to long for the moon. The moon couldn't be conquered, it's beauty was always meant to be admired never possessed.

Which was why it was easy for the sun to be with the moon because like the moon the sun also shone to be admired but alas the sun and moon could never meet, though they both shone to be admired the root of why they shine was what separated the two.

The moon shone because she wants to spread beauty even in the darkest of nights, though she has her dark sides she chooses to illuminate the darkest paths. The sun shone because he was burning, a fire he chose to contain in fear of unleashing hell.

A fire that continued to grow the more greedy he became, a fire waiting to explode.

But even the wildest of fires could be doused, with a fool's kiss.

"My love, are you alright?" the fool asked cupping his cheek.

He still felt hot, burning even, but it wasn't as unbearable as before.

"Pier..."

The heat was rather pleasant enveloping every inch of his body in a tight embrace. Though the heat surrounding his cock was even more pleasant.

"Ah! There." Pierrot sighed out embracing his lover once more.

Arlecchino dreamt of this moment a lot more than he could count, to have this fool pinned and ravished by him over and over. He dreamt about it even while awake, to drown in his scent, to taste the sweetness from his mouth and other much more unholy things to the point it almost drove him to madness.

He thrusted and hit that spot once more, the spot that rewarded his member with a tight addicting embrace each time. He couldn't be bothered to count how many times they've done it only that he wished it lasted longer.

It was time's like these that he loved, to be connected with his lover, to fall asleep and wake up to his lovers scent. Oh, how glorious it was.

If he woke up tomorrow and found all of this to be a dream he would be devastated, he was becoming madder and madder as the days went on. Everything felt too good to be true, this warm embrace, the soft voice calling his name, everything. If he were to die now he would be glad, for dying in this dream-like ecstasy was better than waking up to any reality.

"My love, faster." the sweet voice urged.

His pace became relentless, he was in a trance stuck in between his thoughts and the sight before him. He was a doused flame, but even a doused flame still had a spark. Though the spark wasn't of guilty desire, it was far more raging than any desire.

"Pier..."

It was doubt. He needed this dream to be real and not a hopeful fantasy he created in his madness. If he was indeed mad let him stay mad, he did not want to burn anymore. To be scorched and scalded by his desires was something he wished never to experience again.

He was warm now, comfortingly so. Pierrot loved him. He was loved. He. Was. Loved.

It can't be a dream.

It can't. It can't. It can't.

He hated it. The fear of losing this happiness.

"Pier..." don't be a dream.

"My love..."

I will die this way if that's what it takes to keep you mine.

"Pier..."

It was suffocating, maddening, and aggravating. He hated it. Pierrot was his. His. His. His.

"Mine..." Pierrot will always be his.

"Yes..."

That spot again, then again.

"Pier... You feel so good."

It was addicting.

"Arlecchino, kiss me."

It was maddening.

"Hmm..."

It was real.

"Ah! I—"

The release came quick and clear.

"You're real..." Arlecchino gasped out admiring his lover.

"What are you—Ah!"

The pace picked up again with Pierrot holding on for dear life.

"You're real. You're mine. Mine." he growled in an almost primal way. It seems the fool has indeed succumbed to madness.

"Wait! I just..." Pierrot was out of breath, rightfully so.

When they started, well he couldn't remember as he wasn't really thinking though it's been a good long while since they started.

The moon was still behind the mountains as if watching them cheekily when they first came in the room—way too eager and impatient. Now, the moon could no longer be seen outside as if giving them their privacy while at the same time telling them it's gonna be morning soon which unfortunately meant they had to stop soon and get ready for their job which is proving to be rather difficult for our poor Pierrot.

He loved Arlecchino, but the bastard was relentless.

During work, after work, before work. There wasn't a time nor place where he wasn't gasping for air.

Though he found that kissing the bastard made him snap back to whatever trance he was in except for the rare occasions when it had the opposite effect like now; Arlecchino was getting through the haze slowly, though his pace remained.

Pierrot didn't hate his lover's talent, but it was too much. His hole would become a perfect mold for his lover at the rate in which they are currently going.

"Ar—Ah! Slow down."

"Pierrot, you're real." Arlecchino was crying.

"Why are...." he was panting trying desperately to get up and comfort his crying lover.

It wasn't everyday but it happened often enough for Pierrot to know that his lover simply needed some form of reassurance. He was never certain as to what would warrant such a response. For his lover to weep in such sorrow despite his all too eager thrusts. Did it hurt to be with him? Was a question he would often ask himself but then the bastard would smile that devilish grin he used to hate and all his worries goes away.

"I love you..." he reassured despite struggling for breath.

"Pier..."

"I love you, you bastard." he sighed out kissing his lover to further prove his declaration.

The kiss was firm if not a bit clumsy, it was slow and tender enough to be reassuring and rough enough to prove that he was real, that this was real.

He loved him.

Arlecchino's release followed soon after, filling him up nice and warm. He moaned softly at the sensation of being filled up while at the same time dreading how to clean it up.

"With the amount I put inside of you, you'd be pregnant by now." the bastard teased.

"There he is. You scared me there, I thought you'd finally descended to madness." he teased back, one of the habits he unfortunately picked up from his lover.

"With you, I'm always mad." his response was accompanied with a soft kiss that made Pierrot's heart flutter.

What a wonderful feeling it was to be loved. And what's more beautiful than two fools in love?