#In The Mud Ditch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mixupmycota · 7 hours ago

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After some encouragement I am being very brave and posting some of the fic I have written for @feniksido of Kharian and Enzo, so if you enjoyed the snippet I shared earlier you may also enjoy this. I don't have fancy titles for these, I'll just give some basic info

5.8k, Explicit, M/M. Sparring session that quickly escalates beyond that into primal play, which is extra fun when one participant used to be a werewolf. I'm very proud of this one, it has some of my best descriptive work I think.

“Do you yield?”

It is said low, directly against his ear by smiling lips. Those same lips part, and take the shell of his ear between them.

Kharian laughs, and strikes out behind him with his left elbow. He feels it impact against the bottom rib, and there’s a sting from the scrape of departing teeth as Enzo jerks back. It is not for long, but it is enough, and Khaer drops flat to the earth, rolls to the side, and swipes out his leg to bring his partner down with him.

It’s a miss, but he keeps rolling until he can spring back up onto the balls of his feet, twigs snapping in his wake.

Enzo keeps his distance, watching him with a bright, hungry stare that almost makes him want to throw the game. Almost.

He had craved the scents and sounds of the woodland near their camp, and they both needed to work off excess energy on a day spent largely on paperwork and supply inspections. Enzo had agreed before he’d even finished making his proposal, and they had fallen on each other as soon as they were far enough away to spare the more sensitive ears in camp.

His hands curl, prepared to strike with claws he no longer has, and Enzo tilts his head slightly to the side as he takes in that old reflex. His smile broadens.

“As you like. Hunt me then, my wolf.”

Kharian doesn’t allow himself to be baited into action so easily, but he does return the smile with a grin of his own.

“Think about that often, do you?”

“From time to time,” is Enzo’s immediate reply. He tosses his head, flicking his hair back over his shoulder. “Your new abilities remain more interesting. In most situations.”

“But not situations like this?” Kharian steps to the right as Enzo darts in, grabbing his wrist and twisting it up and back. The grip isn’t good enough for a solid lock, and a quick spin from Enzo resets their positions.

“You know the answer to that question.”

“Maybe I want to hear you say it.” Kharian says, spreading his hands wide and assuming an innocent, wide-eyed expression. “Would you really deny me that simple happiness, Enzo? Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a cruel man.”

“Yes.”

“Come on. Is it really such an imposition,” He lunges, and this time his grip is true. Kharian pulls Enzo close to him, chest to back, wrapping his other hand up around his throat. “To tell me what you want?”

Enzo is silent in his grasp, waiting for an opening to burst free, but Kharian feels his pulse speed up beneath his fingers. He leans down, and bites the tense line of the trapezius with his regrettably human teeth, and Enzo jerks in his grasp. When he pulls back, he leaves the mark of those teeth behind.

“Or do you want me to tell you instead?” Khaer presses his lips to the side of Enzo’s neck, nuzzling his nose against the warm, soft skin. “I’m pretty sure I can make a few educated gu-”

He feels Enzo’s back tense against his chest at the same moment his foot is very firmly stepped on, and the momentary flinch is sufficient: Enzo doubles over, lifting Kharian up into the air. He throws himself to the side, and they tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Kharian is winded by the impact, and the first few hurried breaths are spent on laughter as they scramble to secure holds on each other, rolling and striking with elbows and knees. Crisp leaves rustle beneath them, and a flock of songbirds startle from the trees overhead and take off as one into the sky.

Flat on his back, Khaer twists and writhes, bunching up his knees and pressing them against Enzo’s waist to keep him at bay.

It’s a mistake, because Enzo grabs his knees and wrenches them apart rather than trying to keep pressing down. He feels his eyes widen in a moment of delighted realization, and then his thighs are pressed open and flat against the ground.

Enzo surges forward, pressing his left forearm against Khaer’s chest and rolling his hips to grind the beginning of an erection against him.

“I ask again,” Enzo breathes, his hair wildly mussed from their frantic scramble. “Do you yield?”

“It’s the claws, isn’t it. You want to know what it’d feel like to have my claws on your a-”

Enzo kisses him mid-sentence, licking into his mouth with a feral determination that has Kharian feeling incredibly smug. He shoves at Enzo’s face with his free left hand, pushing him away just enough to keep talking.

“So, yes, then? You know, I could always borrow your-”

Enzo collapses the weight of his lower body fully down onto Khari, and grabs both his hands to pin them up over his head. The last word never manages to leave his lips, attacked as they are the second he has no meaningful way to prevent it anymore.

He relents, parting them gladly and returning the hard and hungry kiss with just as much fervor as it is offered.

They stare at each other when Enzo pulls back, breathing hard and fast.

“Fine. Yes. It is the claws. And the teeth. And the thought of still having you beneath me, like this,” he undulates his hips to grind and press up against Khaer’s ass. “It does have its appeal.”

“There you go. That wasn’t difficult, was it? Being honest?”

Enzo’s expression sours slightly, and Kharian laughs hard enough it nearly sets him coughing.

“Alright, alright.” He lets himself fall limp back against the earth, relaxing his arms. “Yes, Enzo. I yield.”

Enzo’s eyes drift close, an expression of utmost satisfaction settling over his face. When he opens them again, they are bright with anticipation.

“I know you think about it too,” he says, light and conversational as he leans down, nuzzles his nose along the line of Kharian’s jaw. “Do you miss tearing things apart, Khaer?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Kharian replies, his eyebrows pulling up and together as Enzo lathes his tongue along the pulse point at his throat, sucking at the skin in a way they both know will mark. With his hands and thighs restrained, he rocks his pelvis up against Enzo’s in a continuous, joyful roll.

Enzo raises an eyebrow, and then very deliberately slides his gaze up beyond Kharian’s head, to where his hands are wrapped around Khari’s wrists.

“Point taken.” Kharian wrinkles his nose, staring up past Enzo’s shoulder at the canopy of the tree above them. Then he lets out a beleaguered sigh. “But it wouldn’t be the same.”

The kisses being pressed against his neck get firmer, the fingers around his wrists flex, and there is a rich heat to Enzo’s next words when they are spoken against skin.

“Tell me about it?”

Kharian scoffs, immensely fond.

“Some people might consider that a subject that’d spoil the mood, you know.”

“Ah, but you do not.” Enzo rocks more firmly against him, and his own trousers start to feel decidedly tight in response. “As is evident.”

“Gods.” His spine arches, and Enzo’s voice thrums with enjoyment against his skin. “Fine. Fine! Get me out of these clothes, yeah?”

“I was planning on it.” Enzo pulls back, releasing his wrists. Kharian immediately runs his hands through his hair, both to shake out some of the fine twigs caught in the strands and also give him a moment to compose himself under that fixed, burning stare.

Both scarred hands are dragged slowly down the curves of Khaer’s arms, thumbs working in wide circles as they go until they reach his shoulders. From there, they trail over his chest, kneading and grabbing there for a few blissful seconds that make him curse under his breath. Again, down those beautiful, lethal hands slide, until Enzo reaches the hem. The fingers bunch, gathering up the well worn fabric…and still. Waiting.

It takes Kharian a moment to realize that he is in a hostage situation. He feels a frown gouge itself across his brow as his eyes narrow, and Enzo’s smile widens.

“Running. I miss running. Chasing down something I planned to eat.”

The shirt is lifted to just above his navel, and stalls there. Kharian presses the palms of his hands over his eyes and lets out an extended, embattled groan.

“You’re a bastard, you know that? I love you so much.” He slaps his left hand down against a clump of moss, staring balefully up at Enzo through his good eye. “The wind through my fur. Churning up the ground under my paws after landing a jump. Adjusting my balance with my tail.”

Enzo does not move, except to continue his slow, methodical grinding. He circles his hips in tight, controlled motions, and Kharian tries to tilt his own up, to impress upon his beloved that perhaps there is something more productive they could be doing, but his efforts go ignored.

“Seeing the deer start to flag. Watching its sides heave.”

That sees him rewarded, the shirt finally pulled up and off entirely. Enzo tosses it aside, flicks open the first button of his own pants. Kharian’s eye is drawn to the movement, and he almost whines.

“Enzo, please? I want to feel you.”

“Keep talking, then,” is the reply he receives, thick with barely restrained laughter. “What’s wrong, Khaer? You were so eager to speak before.”

“I thought I was going to win, before,” he mutters, though there is no actual resentment in his voice.

Enzo drums his fingers against Kharian’s abdomen, rippling percussion that makes him tense with keen awareness of the flow of blood beneath his skin. He gives in with a gurgling noise of protest, unable to wait any longer.

“Digging my claws into the hindquarters, throwing my weight around! Dragging the deer to the ground. Biting the throat. I liked feeling the skin part. Made me feel alive. I do miss that.”

“There you go.” His menace of a partner says, sitting back up to his full height and staring down at him with a downright malignant grin. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it? Being honest?”

Kharian shoves at his arm, entirely ineffectually.

“Does that meet your satisfaction, oh Vampire of Sindervenz? Or do you want me to go over the flavor profile of the heart blood of my favorite stag?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Enzo drawls, his right hand efficiently undoing the remaining buttons on both sets of their trousers. Kharian makes a low, approving noise in the back of his throat, obligingly lifting his hips when both thumbs are hooked into his waistband. Enzo pulls both his trousers and his underwear off in a long, practiced flourish.

They had picked a good spot, the ground was warmed enough by what sun filtered down through the leaves to be pleasant against the skin, and the grass thick and relatively plush. Enzo brushes a few stray leaf skeletons out of the way from under the arch of Kharian’s back, and rocks back and up into a stand to remove his own clothes.

Kharian watches, feeling his expression soften into unabashed appreciation as the sunlight dapples over Enzo’s skin and hair, increasingly golden as the afternoon advances. His lover reaches into an exterior pocket before he puts his things down, retrieving a small, tightly stoppered vial, and Kharian feels his heart rate jump drastically.

Enzo palms it, resting his hands on his hips as he lets his eyes wander over every bit of Kharian’s body, continually drawn between staring at his chest; his eyes; and the thick, curved weight of his cock. Kharian grins, stretching out and pillowing his hands behind his head.

“You always fit so well in wild places,” Enzo says, sounding something that could be described as wistful. “The land looks more alive for your presence in it.”

Khari feels himself flush in immediate response, his smile shifting to one that’s smaller, but expresses the warmth those words conjured in his heart. Enzo’s expression shifts, his focus sharpens. He kneels, smoothing his free hand from Kharian’s left knee up to his inner thigh. His little finger slides along the edges of the long scar there, and the long-healed skin tingles in its wake.

Kharian allows his eyes to drift close as Enzo leans down and turns his face to slide his cheek over the thick hair that adorns Kharian’s thighs.

It makes him intensely aware of the position of his limbs, of the caress of the breeze that winds and eddies low over the ground in the clearing, the slight give and spring of the mosses and soft cover plants that grow warm from the contact with his exposed skin. An ant crawls over his ankle, then off and back into the undergrowth.

Enzo pushes his legs up and back, and Kharian makes a low, rumbling noise of deep approval when he feels the first thrill of contact between Enzo’s lips and his ass. He grips his own hair, tipping his head back and focusing in on his breathing as his ankles are hooked over his partner’s shoulders, feeling the slight shake in the exhalations of breath that drift over the most sensitive skin.

Enzo watches. He takes in Kharian’s relaxed posture, the increasingly restful expression on his lover’s face, and his lips turn up before they part.

Kharian’s spine arches clear off the ground, eyes flying open, when he feels Enzo’s tongue breach him with absolutely no ceremony, hot and wet and demanding.

“Fuck, Enzo-”

Whatever else he had to say falls to the wayside as his legs are pushed further back still, almost doubling him over, and held in place by Enzo’s chest pressing against him. He hears the pop of a stopper, and he barely has any time to think before freshly slickened fingers wrap around his cock. The oil is cool, a shock against his rapidly warming skin, and Kharian’s fingers dig furrows into the earth as he slams them down alongside his hips.

Enzo is relentless, licking against and into him with a frenzied intensity that makes his heart skip several beats, and his forehead prickle with sweat as he is overwhelmed by the barrage of sensation. He gasps for breath; thoughts scattering like the birds had earlier; as those beautiful, clever fingers twist and squeeze.

Enzo pulls back, presses his face hard against Khaer’s thigh to gather himself. He bites, just hard enough to make Kharian vocalize his surprise, then dips right back down. The delicate skin and taut muscle are irresistible targets for his lips, his tongue, and he breathes hard and fast against Khari as he flicks it back and forth.

He is deeply, deeply pleased with himself when he hears Kharian curse again, followed by a low whimper when he presses his tongue back inside.

Enzo strokes Khaer’s cock with cultivated irregularity, switching between rapid, soft pumps and long, slow and firm strokes on a moment to moment basis. Kharian’s abdomen tenses and spasms as the siege on his sensory processing continues, and each hurried exhale carries a rising tide of desperate little noises that have Enzo grinding up against his back.

“Please, Enzo, please I need, I, wait I need-” Kharian flings his right arm up, scrambling for purchase against something, anything, and coming up wanting. It smacks back down against the ground, his hand balling into a fist instead, and he shudders.

Enzo does not wait, or even meaningfully hesitate. He instead, redoubles his efforts.

Kharian writhes for him, trying fruitlessly to fuck up into Enzo’s hand whenever he slows down, but the position denies him even that. His cock aches, pulsing with violent heat that curls through his body and makes him pant, his toes curl so hard they almost cramp.

He knows he is babbling now, that he is just repeating Enzo’s name over and over, dotted with curses and entreaties for relief that will not be granted. He can hear himself distantly through the cloud of raw sensation that is scrambling his ability to form coherent thought, and his own tone spurs him on, carrying him more deeply into the moment.

His eyes screw closed, he focuses on his breathing, and begins to reach something close to an equilibrium in this frantic, overwhelming tumult of experience.

Until it stops.

Enzo lowers him back to the ground. Sits back on his calves. And he waits.

Kharian comes back to himself slowly, his brows twitching as the ocean of sensation retreats. His partner watches with a broad, insufferably smug smile, and it is that smile Kharian sees when he opens his eyes and realizes what is happening.

“Oh, fuck you, fuck off.” Kharian tries to sit up on his arms, but they are too shaky, and he collapses back against the earth. “Enzo, no. Enzo, no, why? Why, please? Please?”

“Hm?” He tilts his head to the side, his smile growing still wider. “Please, what, Kharian?”

Kharian presses his balled up hands over his eyes and lets out a frustrated, feral howl. Enzo blinks down at him, unmoved.

“You know exactly what, you know exactly what you’re doing-”

“Maybe,” Enzo starts, and Kharian swipes his hands through the leaf litter, attempting entirely ineffectually to toss some at him, “I want to hear you say it.”

Kharian glares at him. Inhales. Holds it. Blows the breath out, hard, through his nose.

“I did this to myself, huh.”

“You did.”

He groans.

“Fine! Fine, you win-”

“I already did. You yielded.” Enzo drums his fingers against Khaer’s calves. “You’re being a sore loser, Kharian.”

“You like it.”

“I do.” This is punctuated by those fingers curling, drawing back and scratching lightly down both his legs. Kharian jolts, and makes another long noise in the back of his throat. “Hearing you shudder, gasp. Your groans, your protests. The rhythm of your heart, your lungs. You’re a beautiful instrument.”

“Gods.” Kharian lets himself go limp, while his cock flexes and his thighs tremble. He takes a few seconds to gather himself, and he feels a little pride when his voice comes out almost entirely free of a quaver. “Please, Enzo, my darling, my love, please put me out of my misery and fuck me into the ground. I need it. I need you.”

“Hm.” Enzo taps his fingers against Kharian’s ankles.

“I want to feel you against my back. I want your teeth and your nails, I want-” He cuts himself off, throat working as he swallows, then he clears it. “I want you to make me bleed.”

The wind is knocked from his lungs as Enzo flips him, and after he gets it back Kharian laughs, clear and happy, as he brings his arms up to pillow his head on them. He brings his knees up, arches his hips and puts his body on display. He grins against his arm when he hears Enzo choke at the sight.

Enzo for his part, takes a couple of tries to get the top back off of the vial, a fine tremble of rising excitement making his fingers slip around it. When he succeeds, he pours a generous helping of the lubricant into his palm, restops and tosses the vial down with one hand, and immediately sets to work thoroughly coating his cock until it is gleaming in the afternoon light.

He runs his hands over the curve of Kharian’s ass, squeezing and kneading, then leans down and takes as much as he can of the left cheek into his mouth. He bites down, sucking and lathing the skin with his tongue, aiming to raise a mark that he’ll be able to think about for days when they’re too busy to find time together like this.

When he pulls away, a bright red circle prickling with violet and indigo rewards his efforts, and Khari shudders under his hands. Enzo runs his right middle finger over the divots left behind by his teeth, then slips that finger inside Kharian with a practiced twist. His aim is precise, and he is rewarded with a long, pressurized hiss from his partner when he hits his mark.

Enzo adds his index finger in short order, and alternates flicking them back and forth. Kharian rolls back against his hand, making his cock bounce between his legs in a way that makes Enzo feel like he has been struck by a jolt of lightning. He rises up on his knees, bending over his partner, puts his left hand between Khari’s shoulders and pushes him down against the earth.

“It would be just like this. My hand buried in your fur. Holding you down, hearing you pant, watching you writhe. My blood on your claws, on your fangs.”

“Gods, I’d be fighting you the whole time,” Kharian says, ragged, raw. “You’d have to-” He cuts himself off, lets his head drop against the grass and reaches back with both hands to spread himself wider. “Fuck. You’d have to work for it.”

“I know.” Enzo’s smile grows sharp, and it carries in his voice. “I would count on it.”

He withdraws his fingers, leans up, and hilts himself inside Kharian in one long, continuous push.

Khaer almost shouts into his arm in an exclamation of gleeful surprise. Enzo remains still for a few seconds, then the fingers pressed against Kharian’s back tense up and drag back in the same moment he pulls back. He lets his nails bite as he does, and Kharian tightens around him immediately, coupled with a low whine that spurs him to snap his hips back forward again.

The upward curve of his cock contours beautifully inside, and Enzo lets his eyes close for a moment to really focus on the sounds that Kharian makes when the head drags back, on the silken warmth enveloping him; and to imagine for a moment what it might be like to feel Kharian’s fangs on his throat.

Kharian hears Enzo near snarl behind him, and tenses his shoulders and chest to brace just in time before his thighs are knocked wider and he is shoved low to the earth. Teeth close on the back of his shoulder, in the same place he had bitten Enzo earlier, and stay there as his partner cleaves their bodies together and rolls his hips forward hard and fast.

“More,” he pants, flexing back up to meet each thrust. “Enzo, more. Please, please I-”

The teeth dig deeper, a white hot sting that makes his balls tighten, and Enzo grips him firmly by the waist, encouraging him to rock back still further. Kharian pushes up onto his forearms, clasping his hands together until his knuckles whiten, and lets his head hang down limp as Enzo fucks him exactly as he had asked.

He has a distant moment of feeling very smart for that. Great idea, actually. Never made a bad choice in his life, if they all led up to this.

Then Enzo’s nails dig deep, curl back on both sides of his waist at once and he lets out a wild, strangled noise of approval when he feels the skin cleave and blood rise to the surface.

Enzo pulls away from his shoulder, hips rocking forward so hard that Kharian is almost shoved forward with the force. He swipes up the blood beading on Khaer’s right side with two fingers and shudders when he slips them between his own lips, eyelids fluttering as he rolls his tongue to collect every trace. Almost sweet, hints of copper and iron, mingling with the leftover traces of oil that hadn’t been transferred to Khaer’s skin yet. Perfect.

He fists his damp fingers in Kharian’s hair, pulling his head back.

“Open your mouth,” he says, a hint of strain entering his voice from the effort he is putting in to keep himself controlled.

Kharian lets his jaw relax immediately, and Enzo buries himself as deep as he can go and stills there for a moment as he gathers the blood from the left set of scratches, squeezing and massaging the skin to encourage it to flow more freely, before sliding the fingers of his left hand between Kharian’s lips.

Enzo doesn’t need to tell him to suck, because he sets about it immediately. He tightens the hold on Khari’s hair and knees his legs open still wider, grinding inside in tight, rapid circles.

Kharian tries to say his name around his fingers, and it comes out wet, distorted, and so good it almost makes him come. Enzo adds another finger, and Kharian rolls his tongue over and around them as if he were sucking Enzo’s cock instead.

Khaer is utterly disheveled, his lower back and hands streaked with dirt, vivid lines of green from crushed plants. His skin gleams with sweat in the light, and he is glorious like this. His hair feels rougher than usual under Enzo’s hand for having rolled around on the ground, giving a very solid grip, and every now and then Enzo gives it a small tug just to feel Kharian try and fail to babble around his fingers.

He feels the tension beginning to build to his limit, that hot, fervent need that drives his hips to snap down harder and harder.

“Look at you, god.” He says, not even trying to conceal the raw glee in his voice. “Kharian, my Kharian-”

He pulls his hand from Khari’s mouth and it is like a crack forming in the wall of a dam. Kharian’s voice is rough and ragged and each word comes between hard pants.

“Enzo, it’s perfect, you’re perfect, you’re so-” He cries out, bites down on his own arm when Enzo adjusts his angle ever so slightly to drag his cock back against that sensitive bundle, and when Kharian next manages to speak he sounds near the edge of tears. “Fuck, you’re so good to me, I love you so much.”

“Of course I am,” the words spill hot from his lips, he presses them to the back of Kharian’s neck, his rhythm starting to grow irregular. “You make me. You make me good to you, you make me. God, you make me want. Want and want. You’re everything.”

Enzo shifts his hand from Khaer’s hair to curve around the pillar of his throat, supporting his chin.

“I need-” Kharian nuzzles his face against Enzo’s fingers, cuts himself off.

“What do you need, Khari? Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“I want to look at you when you come, Enzo, I want to see you.”

Enzo immediately pulls out, shuddering with the restraint required. He pulls away, helps Kharian roll over onto his back, and forgets how to breathe for a moment.

Kharian’s face is completely flushed, his good eye clouded over with the haze of pleasure. His face is slack with it, and it takes a few blinks before his gaze focuses up on Enzo’s face. He reaches up with his shaking right hand, cups Enzo’s jaw, and his voice is slightly faint when he speaks.

“Ah. There you are.”

Enzo turns his head, presses a kiss against the palm of Khaer’s hand. His cock pulses constantly, maddeningly sensitive now to the slightest change in air currents, beading with clear fluid, and he ignores it.

“Where do you want it?”

Kharian’s eyes screw closed for a moment, brows knotting together as he thinks. He wets his lips, re-opens his eyes.

“Chest.”

Enzo folds Khari’s fingers over, kisses each of the knuckles. Then, he crawls up and over Kharian’s spasming, exhausted legs, until he can sit up and straddle his hips.

He wraps his hand around his length and works it with speed and a grip that pains him enough to have him making repetitive, low noises on each exhale, his eyes fixed on Khaer, on the earnest adoration he sees written all over his features.

“Beautiful,” Kharian manages, and it is the last thing Enzo needs to push himself over the edge, letting out a harsh, urgent cry.

His cum catches on Kharian’s chest hair in scattered beads, and he almost collapses from the wave of bliss that immediately washes over him, needing to catch himself against the ground on both hands.

Enzo takes a deep breath in, holds it, releases it in a tight hiss. He rolls off and to the left, sliding down to put himself on the same level as Khaer’s clear eye. He looks down, and notes with an immense amount of pride that Kharian has remained hard, that his cock is pressed near flush against his pelvis and is twitching irregularly from the overstimulation.

Kharian’s chest rises and falls rapidly, near hyperventilation, his hips weakly rocking up and down.

“You,” Enzo says, when he’s sure he can speak again. “Are the most incredible man in the world.”

Khaer makes a few sounds like he is trying to form words, but they are incoherent, and he settles for blinking three times and then raising his right hand to provide a violently shaky thumbs up by way of response.

Enzo presses his head against the side of his arm, and smiles wide and bright.

He kisses Khari’s shoulder scar, then down and across, taking his time to allow his partner to recover a bit from the thorough fucking he’d just experienced. When he reaches the trail he had scattered, he flicks his eyes up to be sure that Kharian is watching him, and licks his own cum away with long, firm strokes of his tongue.

Kharian shudders from his head down to his waist, and Enzo runs the back of his hand up and down his abdomen.

“I want you in my mouth,” he says, pressing a kiss to Khaer’s left nipple.

“Greedy,” Kharian croaks, but he has an open smile on his lips when he says it.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Enzo bites the meat of Kharian’s pec in a quick, playful nip, then rolls back over so he can crawl backward down his body. He trails kisses as he goes, until finally he’s climbing back over Khaer’s now entirely limp legs to settle back between them.

“Enzo,” Khari says, slow but firm. “I need to be able to walk back to camp, when we’re done.”

“I could carry you,” he replies, mild, and Kharian blinks at him in a manner that conveys flat determination. “Fine. If you must.”

“Your magna-” Kharian screws his eyes closed, gives up on that word choice as his tongue starts to stumble over the syllables, “-Your restraint. Is appreciated.”

Enzo tosses his hair back over his shoulder, wraps his index finger and thumb around Khaer’s shaft, and coaxes it back until he can press an almost chaste kiss to the tip. He relaxes his jaw, mouthing around the head and letting his lower lip drag up and down its underside, reveling in how warm Kharian is, and how absolutely wrecked he looks.

Were it not for things like “the promise to end the war” and the accompanying “responsibilities”, Enzo would keep him here until the sun dipped below the horizon. He seethes, just a little, but defers to Kharian’s stated limit.

To that end, he stops toying with him, and takes Khaer’s cock into his mouth properly. He settles his hands over the shallow scrapes his nails had left behind at Kharian’s waist, and slowly, methodically starts to slide his head up and down.

Enzo keeps his tongue relatively relaxed, a contoured and wet surface for Khaer to focus on. He takes him as deep as the angle allows, Khari’s cock being as thick as it is prevents him from completely bottoming out. He lets himself vocalize as he dips and twists, low thrums that provide a touch of extra stimulation and active appreciation.

Kharian watches him with soft, happy eyes, gradually coming back to himself. The urgent, frenetic demands of his body pull back to comparatively relaxed insistence, a building certainty that comes in rolling waves.

His shoulder and waist throb with pleasant, lingering heat, and his scalp tingles. Those feelings link with every downward dip of Enzo’s head, combining with the deeply lingering thrill of being so well used, and Kharian feels himself start to tense up with the pressure of upcoming release. He knows that Enzo notices it too, sees a spark of fervent anticipation kindle in his eyes.

The rhythm shifts, picking up speed, and Enzo begins to actively suck on each upward pull, and when Kharian starts to rock up in earnest once more, his right hand slides between Khaer’s legs to cup and roll his balls in its palm.

That contact draws a sound from deep in his chest, a warm rumble that heralds his hips rocking up and the tensing of his cock as he comes in three distinct, intense pulses. Enzo holds eye contact with him for the duration, rubbing his thumbs in wide, firm circles over Kharian’s waist.

Kharian feels Enzo’s tongue roll around the head of his cock, collecting every trace of him, before his throat works as he swallows it down. He pulls back slowly, with profound satisfaction writ large on his features, until he allows Khari to pop free from between his lips.

“I’m so fuckin’ glad I lost,” Kharian says, extending his hands out. “C’mere. Lay with me for a bit?”

“Of course.” Enzo pauses, before a thought clearly passes behind his eyes. “One moment.”

Kharian watches, hazy and bemused, as Enzo rummages around in the pockets of their discarded clothing. The confusion clears when a small flask is retrieved, and Enzo gets up, steps away, and gargles for a moment before clearing his mouth out.

“Smart,” he says, and Enzo casts a look back over his shoulder before he tosses the flask back down on the clothing pile.

“I planned for my victory.” He replies, with his smug, gorgeous smile that makes Kharian’s heart light up in response. “And I want to kiss you.”

“Get back down here then. I’m not moving. I’ve worn a groove in from all that friction.”

Enzo laughs, and comes back to him on his hands and knees. He cups Kharian’s face, and there’s a trace of alcoholic heat on his lips and tongue when Khaer leans up into the kiss. When they part, Kharian bumps their noses together, then darts his arms out and wraps them around the back of Enzo’s neck.

He draws his partner down against his chest, holding him with all the strength that has managed to return to his limbs. Enzo makes a surprised noise, collapsing against him, and Kharian flicks his right leg up to tangle it over and between Enzo’s and further secure his hold.

“Do you yield?” Khaer asks, and Enzo turns his head to rest his ear against his skin, listening to his heartbeat.

“Yes. For you, I’ll yield.”

#myc writes things #Strings of The Forgotten #I GUESS I WILL USE THE PROPER NAME FOR IT THERE RATHER THAN JUST MUD DITCH TAGGING #kharian and enzo beloveds im being so strong for you on this enzo's birthday

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