TW: Sparring

"Are we really doing this?" Lalna asked, looking down at the sword in his hand. "I mean, really?"

Rythian cocked his head to the side. "We don't have to if you don't want to."

"I just think that, you know, real swords are a bad idea."

"You can't learn properly with fake swords."

He made a face, then said, "Yeah, but have they got to besharp?"

"I'm not blunting my sword," Rythian replied. "I'd have to sharpen it again later."

"So why not just have a dedicated training sword? I mean, it doesn't seem like it'd be that much of a chore."

He shrugged. "This is my training sword. The other one is made of dark matter and kills things." He slid one foot back across the floor and sank into his stance, the sword held lightly in front of him. "Now, are you going to train, or are you going to walk away?"

Lalna looked at the sword again. "What if I hurt you?"

Rythian grinned. "You won't."

"What if you hurt me?"

"I won't."

With a resigned sigh, Lalna took up his stance, mirroring Rythian.

"Bend your knees more."

"Look, I know what I'm doing, all right?"

"If you say so."

Rythian blurred, and suddenly there was a blade arcing towards Lalna's head. He yelped and leapt back, and the tip of Rythian's sword cut a thin line into his collar. Lalna lost his footing and tumbled, and then there was a sword at his throat and a foot on his chest and Rythian was smiling at him.

"Bend your knees more," he suggested again.

"Little warning would've been nice," Lalna grumbled.

"And yet, you so rarely get any warning in real life." Rythian stepped back and offered Lalna his hand. Lalna took it, and Rythian hauled him to his feet.

"Right, okay, let's try that again."

"Good attitude," Rythian said, patting him on the shoulder. He floated back and sank into his stance again. Lalna followed suit.

"Ready," he said.

"I'm sure," Rythian replied. He darted forward again, but Lalna was ready for him this time, ready for the speed of his movement.

Their swords clashed together, and the force of Rythian's strike threw Lalna off balance. He caught himself just in time to knock aside a stab to his stomach. Rythian was left open for a moment, and Lalna kicked him in the chest. Rythian staggered back a step, wheezing.

"Not so bloody easy now, am I?" Lalna said. His heart was pounding, and his body was filled with humming energy.

Rythian grinned at him again. "Please do get cocky. It'll be that much funnier when I beat you."

"Look who's talking," Lalna said, and went for him.

Rythian danced backwards, always staying just out of range, ducking and weaving and always grinning.

"You're not trying to hit me," he pointed out, as he sidestepped a thrust to his chest. "Try to hit me."

Lalna, frustrated and out of breath, growled out, "Fine."

His blade whistled down towards Rythian's head and struck against something solid. The impact made his whole arm go numb. Rythian swept his own sword to the side and wrenched Lalna's blade out of his hand. The momentum spun him, and then Rythian shoved him, and his back slammed into the wall.

Cold steel pressed to his throat, and Rythian was using his whole body to pin Lalna against the wall, and his face was only inches away from Lalna's and they were both of them breathless and sweating.

Rythian grinned at him. "A valiant effort," he panted, "but fruitless."

On instinct alone, Lalna reached for Rythian's hips. The sword pressed harder into his throat, and Rythian placed a knee between his legs.

"No," he said, "first, you're going to acknowledge that you're dead."

"Ryth, come on," Lalna whined. "You won, all right? I get it."

"Say you're dead," Rythian instructed. "I killed you."

"You're creepy, you know that?"

Rythian's eyes glittered. Lalna could feel his breath on his face.

"I just want to hear you say it," he said. His knee pressed up, and Lalna sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"I'm dead," he said. "You killed me."

The sword clattered to the floor, and its pressure against his throat was replaced by Rythian's hand, and then Rythian was kissing him with such fire that Lalna started to burn. He grabbed Rythian's hips and yanked them flush with his own. Rythian already had a hand under his shirt, and everywhere his fingers touched glowed with warmth.

Lalna decided, fuzzily, that he really liked training.

Credit to MindfulWrath on tumblr