Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day had been long—too long. Guard duty in the endless halls, endless drills, endless orders barked from superiors who never seemed to understand how exhausting it all was. By the time Gurjin closed the door behind them, both he and Rian felt wrung dry.

But as soon as the latch clicked, something shifted. The stillness in the room wasn’t just relief—it was an opening, a freedom. Rian leaned against the desk with a heavy sigh, head tipped back, chest rising and falling.

Gurjin’s gaze lingered. Even in exhaustion, Rian had that sharpness to him, that presence that pulled Gurjin in like a flame. He smirked, pushing away the tired ache in his own body. “You look about ready to pass out.”

Rian cracked one eye open, his mouth curling. “Not before I get my hands on you.”

That was all it took. They collided—Rian pulling Gurjin down into a kiss that was all teeth and hunger, Gurjin answering with a growl deep in his chest. The taste of each other burned away the fatigue in an instant. Their hands fumbled with belts, tunics, anything in the way, tugging and pulling until fabric pooled on the floor.

“Bed,” Gurjin muttered, his voice thick, already flushed with heat.

Rian didn’t argue. They stumbled backward together until the mattress caught them, Rian falling first and pulling Gurjin with him. The weight of Gurjin on top pressed a sound from Rian’s throat—needy, unrestrained. He hooked his legs around Gurjin’s waist, dragging him closer, urging him deeper into the heat building between them.

Their mouths never stayed apart for long. When Rian gasped, Gurjin stole the sound with another kiss. When Gurjin’s hand skimmed over Rian’s hip, Rian shivered and arched, nails digging into Gurjin’s back. The room filled with their ragged breathing, the creak of the bed, the heat of bodies pressed skin to skin.

And then it hit—when Gurjin finally pressed into him, steady and slow at first, Rian’s world tilted. His fingers clawed for something to anchor himself, but the intensity sent him spiraling. Instinct took over. He lunged up, teeth sinking into Gurjin’s shoulder.

The reaction was immediate. Gurjin’s body jolted, a startled noise breaking from him—but not just any noise. It was a moan, guttural and raw, slipping from his throat like he had no control over it. It vibrated against Rian’s mouth, and for a heartbeat, the air went still.

Rian froze, pulling back just enough to see Gurjin’s face. His ears were burning, eyes wide, lips parted.

“Did you just…” Rian’s voice was a whisper, dripping with wicked amusement. “…moan?”

“Shut up,” Gurjin snapped, but his voice cracked halfway through, betraying him even further.

Rian’s grin spread slow and sharp, wicked with discovery. “Oh, that was new. And loud.” He leaned in again, dragging his tongue over the reddening mark on Gurjin’s shoulder. “Wonder what happens if I do it again.”

Before Gurjin could protest, Rian bit down once more, just a little sharper this time. Gurjin gasped—then that sound tore out of him again, even louder, deeper. His entire body shuddered against Rian’s.

“Oh,” Rian breathed, triumph gleaming in his eyes. “I like that.”

Gurjin groaned, trying to bury his face in Rian’s neck, as if hiding the sounds he couldn’t hold back. “Don’t—don’t use that against me,” he panted, thrusts faltering from the distraction of sensation.

“Why not?” Rian teased, breathless, nails digging into Gurjin’s arms as he bit again, drawing out another helpless moan. “You sound so good when you lose control.”

The game shifted from there—every movement now sharpened by Rian’s newfound weapon. Each time he needed to ground himself, his teeth found Gurjin’s shoulder or neck, and each time Gurjin broke apart a little more, the sounds pouring out of him uncontrollable.

By the time they finally stilled, the air was thick with sweat, the sheets tangled beneath them, and Gurjin’s shoulder bore a constellation of fresh marks. He lay panting against Rian, chest heaving, ears still flushed with heat.

Rian, smug even in exhaustion, dragged a lazy hand down Gurjin’s back. “So,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “looks like I found your secret button.”

Gurjin groaned, muffling his face against Rian’s chest. “You’re insufferable.”

Rian’s smirk widened. “And yet, you love me for it.” His teeth grazed the skin of Gurjin’s ear. “Next time, I’ll see how loud I can really make you.”

The groan Gurjin gave in response was half a warning, half a promise.

Chapter Text

The heavy thud of their boots echoed hollowly down the stone corridor, a rhythm of exhaustion. Rian’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his mail shirt a familiar burden. Beside him, Gurjin walked with a similar weariness, his usually sharp gaze softened by fatigue. The scent of damp earth and stale sweat clung to them, a testament to the day’s arduous patrol. They reached their shared quarters, a small, Spartan room, its only luxury a wide cot they both occupied. Rian pushed the door open, the creak of the ancient hinges a welcome sound.
“Finally,” Gurjin breathed, shrugging out of his breastplate, the metal clattering against the stone floor. He peeled off his gauntlets, tossing them onto a worn wooden chest. His dark hair, usually neatly bound, now spilled in damp strands across his forehead.
Rian watched him, a slow heat stirring beneath his own exhaustion. The day’s grit and danger faded, replaced by the familiar pull between them. He unlaced his own armor, each buckle and strap feeling cumbersome. “Thought we’d never make it back. That ambush… too close.”
“Always too close,” Gurjin countered, his voice a low rumble. He pulled his tunic over his head, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, crisscrossed with old scars and the taut flex of muscle. His skin, bronzed by sun and wind, gleamed faintly in the dim light filtering through the narrow window.
Rian’s breath hitched, the sight of Gurjin’s bare torso always a potent trigger. He dropped his own tunic, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air brushed his skin, but the heat inside him intensified. He moved closer, the exhaustion melting away, replaced by a different kind of hunger.
“Come here, you,” Rian murmured, his hand reaching out, tracing the curve of Gurjin’s shoulder. Gurjin’s skin felt warm, resilient.
Gurjin turned, his eyes, usually so serious, now held a soft, searching glint. He leaned into Rian’s touch, a low hum escaping his lips. “Tired, Rian. So tired.” Yet his arms rose, circling Rian’s waist, pulling him in close. Their bodies met, a familiar puzzle piece clicking into place. The scent of Gurjin’s skin, earthy and uniquely his, filled Rian’s senses.
“Not too tired for this,” Rian whispered, his lips finding Gurjin’s neck, pressing soft, insistent kisses along the sensitive skin. Gurjin’s jaw tightened, a shiver running through him. Rian’s tongue flicked out, tasting the salt and musk.
“Mmm, Rian,” Gurjin groaned, his hands gripping Rian’s hips, pulling him even tighter, their hardening cocks pressing together through the thin fabric of their breeches. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through Rian.
Rian’s mouth moved to Gurjin’s lips, a slow, deliberate exploration. He tasted the lingering bitterness of battle, the sweetness of desire. Their mouths opened, tongues meeting, swirling, a dance of growing intensity. Rian sucked gently on Gurjin’s lower lip, then plunged his tongue deeper, mimicking the rhythm he craved. Gurjin responded with equal fervor, his own tongue pressing, thrusting, the wet, hot exchange a prelude to more. A faint *shlick* sound accompanied their deep kisses as saliva mingled and tongues entangled.
Rian broke the kiss, gasping softly, his forehead resting against Gurjin’s. “I want you, Gurjin. All of you.”
Gurjin’s eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, met his. “Always, Rian. Always.” He reached down, his fingers fumbling with the ties of Rian’s breeches. Rian’s cock, already thick and throbbing, sprang free, pressing against Gurjin’s stomach. Gurjin’s own breeches soon joined the discarded armor on the floor. His cock, thick and long, jutted out, already glistening with a bead of pre-cum.
Rian’s gaze dropped, devouring the sight. He reached out, his fingers closing around Gurjin’s cock, the smooth, hot skin a jolt to his senses. He stroked it gently, feeling the velvet hardness, the pulsing tip. Gurjin’s head tilted back, a low moan escaping his throat.
“Oh, Rian,” Gurjin gasped, his hips instinctively thrusting forward into Rian’s hand.
Rian knelt, his eyes never leaving Gurjin’s face. He took Gurjin’s cock into his mouth, the head pressing against his tongue, the salty, musky taste filling him. He sucked gently, then more firmly, his tongue swirling around the tip, teasing the sensitive opening. Gurjin cried out, a guttural sound of pure pleasure. Rian’s lips worked up and down the shaft, his throat stretching, taking more and more of Gurjin inside him. He relished the feeling of Gurjin’s balls slapping against his chin, the rich scent of his arousal. Gurjin’s hips bucked, his hands finding Rian’s hair, holding him firm.
“Faster, Rian, please,” Gurjin begged, his voice hoarse.
Rian obeyed, his pace quickening, his mouth a hot, wet sheath. He felt Gurjin’s body shudder, a tremor running through him. Gurjin’s cum spurted into Rian’s mouth, hot and thick, filling him with its rich, metallic taste. Rian swallowed, savoring every drop, then slowly released Gurjin, his lips slick and glistening.
Gurjin sank to the cot, his legs trembling, his breathing ragged. “Gods, Rian. You always know.”
Rian climbed onto the cot, straddling Gurjin’s hips. He leaned down, kissing Gurjin’s chest, tasting the sweat and salt. His own cock, still hard and aching, pressed against Gurjin’s stomach. He reached between them, his fingers finding the slickness of Gurjin’s cum on his own cock, then spreading it over Gurjin’s ass, around the tight ring of his asshole.
“My turn,” Rian whispered, his voice thick with desire. He pushed a finger inside Gurjin, slowly, carefully. Gurjin hissed, his body tensing.
“Easy, Rian,” Gurjin gritted out, his hands gripping Rian’s thighs.
Rian waited, letting Gurjin adjust, then added a second finger, stretching him, preparing him. The wet *squelch* of his fingers sliding in and out echoed in the small room. He leaned down, kissing Gurjin’s neck, his teeth gently nipping. “You’re so tight, love. So good.”
When Gurjin’s body relaxed, Rian positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against Gurjin’s entrance. He pushed, slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Gurjin cried out, a sharp intake of breath. Rian paused, letting Gurjin stretch around him, feeling the incredible warmth and tightness. He pushed again, a little deeper, then again, until he was fully buried inside Gurjin. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect fit, a deep, primal connection.
“Ah, Rian,” Gurjin gasped, his back arching, his hands clutching Rian’s ass, pulling him in even tighter.
Rian began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through both of them. The *schlock-schlock* of their bodies connecting filled the air. Gurjin’s hips rose to meet his, their bodies moving in a primal dance. Rian watched Gurjin’s face, etched with a mixture of pain and ecstasy, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched.
“Look at me, Gurjin,” Rian commanded softly, his voice rough with desire.
Gurjin’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Rian’s gaze. His pupils were dilated, his expression lost in sensation. Rian pushed deeper, faster, the pleasure building, an unbearable tension. He felt Gurjin’s inner muscles clenching around him, milking his cock.
“More, Rian,” Gurjin begged, his voice a ragged whisper. “Push into me. Harder.”
Rian obliged, his thrusts becoming powerful, relentless. He pounded into Gurjin, their bodies slick with sweat, the cot creaking under their combined weight. Gurjin’s moans grew louder, more frantic, his legs wrapping around Rian’s waist, pulling him in for deeper penetration. Rian felt the familiar clenching deep inside Gurjin, signaling his imminent climax.
“I’m going to come, Rian,” Gurjin cried out, his voice cracking. “Oh, Rian!”
Rian felt the pressure building in his own balls, the exquisite agony of impending release. He pulled out slightly, then plunged back in, driving deep, his cock rubbing against Gurjin’s prostate, hitting that sensitive spot again and again. Gurjin’s body seized, his back arching dramatically, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as he climaxed, his muscles clenching around Rian’s cock, milking him dry.
Rian felt Gurjin’s cum pulsing against his cock inside, the warmth spreading. The sensation was too much. He groaned, his own release erupting, a torrent of hot cum flooding deep inside Gurjin, filling him completely. He collapsed onto Gurjin’s chest, their bodies heaving, slick and spent.
The silence that followed was broken only by their ragged breathing. Rian’s head rested on Gurjin’s shoulder, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against Gurjin’s chest. Gurjin’s arms wrapped around him, holding him tight, a silent affirmation of their bond.
“Gods, Rian,” Gurjin whispered, his voice still hoarse, a tremor running through him. “You always… you push me so far.”
Rian lifted his head, a soft smile gracing his lips. He kissed Gurjin’s jaw, tasting the salt. “Only because I know you can take it, love. And because I love watching you break apart for me.” He shifted, still buried deep inside Gurjin, his cock slowly softening, but still connected. He felt the warmth of Gurjin’s cum mingle with his own, a potent mix of their shared pleasure. The scent of sex, musky and sweet, hung heavy in the air.
Gurjin’s fingers traced patterns on Rian’s back, his breathing slowly evening out. “And I love letting you.” He pulled Rian closer, nuzzling into his hair. The weariness had returned, but it was a different kind now, a deep, satisfying exhaustion. They lay intertwined, the world outside their small room, with its patrols and dangers, momentarily forgotten. Only the warmth of their bodies, the lingering scent of their passion, and the quiet contentment of their shared intimacy remained. The soft *squish* of their bodies shifting on the wet sheets was the only sound as they slowly drifted into a comfortable sleep, still joined.

Chapter Text

The flickering hearth light cast dancing shadows across the rough-hewn stone walls of their shared chamber. Outside, the castle grounds hummed with the distant echoes of late-night patrols, but within, only the crackle of burning logs broke the quiet. Rian, his dark hair falling across his brow, traced the sharp line of Gurjin’s jaw with a calloused finger. The scent of woodsmoke and Gurjin’s own earthy musk filled his nostrils, a familiar comfort that settled deep in his bones. Gurjin’s eyes, the color of moss after a spring rain, met Rian’s, a quiet question in their depths.
“Still awake?” Gurjin’s voice, a low rumble, vibrated through Rian’s fingertips resting on his neck.
Rian hummed, a soft sound that barely escaped his lips. His gaze dropped to Gurjin’s mouth, full and soft, then lower, to the broad expanse of his chest, barely contained by the thin tunic. “Thinking.”
A faint smile touched Gurjin’s lips. “Dangerous business, that.” He shifted, pulling Rian closer until their bodies brushed, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, the friction a slow burn. “What thoughts keep you from sleep?”
Rian’s breath hitched. He moved his hand, letting it drift lower, over the taut muscles of Gurjin’s stomach. “Us.” He felt the subtle clench beneath his palm. “This.”
Gurjin’s hand found Rian’s waist, his fingers splaying wide, pulling him in even tighter. The heat from Gurjin’s body seeped into Rian’s, a delicious warmth. “What about it?”
“We’ve been… circling.” Rian’s voice was a whisper, barely audible above the fire. He lifted his head, his eyes searching Gurjin’s. “Like two wolves, always just out of reach.”
A soft grunt escaped Gurjin. His thumb brushed Rian’s hipbone, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down Rian’s spine. “Is that what you think?”
“I know it.” Rian leaned in, his lips brushing Gurjin’s ear. “I want to stop circling.”
Gurjin’s breath hitched. His arms tightened around Rian, pulling him flush against his chest. Rian could feel the rapid thump of Gurjin’s heart against his own, a frantic rhythm that mirrored his internal pulsing. Gurjin’s lips found Rian’s neck, a soft, tentative kiss that sent a jolt of pleasure through Rian. Rian arched into the touch, a low moan escaping him.
“Rian.” Gurjin’s voice was rough, strained.
“Yes.” Rian’s fingers tangled in Gurjin’s thick hair, pulling his head back slightly so he could meet his gaze. “I want you, Gurjin. All of you.”
Gurjin’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing in their depths. His hand moved, sliding down Rian’s back, pressing him closer still, until Rian could feel the undeniable hardness pressing against his thigh. Rian gasped, a thrill shooting through him.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Gurjin breathed, his voice thick with unspent desire.
Rian’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh, I think I do.” He leaned in, his tongue tracing the seam of Gurjin’s lips. “I want to feel you inside me.”
Gurjin stiffened. His eyes widened, a flicker of fear, or perhaps apprehension, passing through them. “Rian, my… my size.” His voice was a raw plea, a confession of his deepest insecurity. “I’m too big for you.”
Rian pulled back slightly, his gaze unwavering. He reached out, his fingers tracing the strong line of Gurjin’s arm, the thick muscles that bunched beneath his skin. “You think I haven’t noticed?” He chuckled softly, a sound filled with genuine affection. “I’ve been watching you for years. Every time you lift those heavy crates, every time you swing that sword.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I’ve imagined it.”
Gurjin swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It’s different when it’s… real.”
“Of course, it’s real.” Rian’s hand slid lower, past Gurjin’s waistband, finding the thick bulge beneath the fabric. He squeezed gently, feeling the impressive length and girth. Gurjin groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through Rian’s hand. “And it’s going to be glorious.”
“You could get hurt.” Gurjin’s voice was laced with genuine concern, his eyes pleading.
Rian shook his head, his fingers still wrapped around Gurjin’s erection. “I trust you. I trust us.” He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Gurjin’s lips. “We’ll go slow. We’ll take our time.” His tongue flicked out, tracing Gurjin’s bottom lip, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin. “But I want to feel you stretching me, filling me.”
Gurjin’s resistance crumbled. A shiver wracked his massive frame. His eyes closed for a moment, then opened again, burning with a raw, untamed hunger. “Are you sure?”
“Never been surer.” Rian’s voice was firm, resolute. He pulled Gurjin’s tunic over his head, tossing it to the floor. Gurjin followed suit, shedding his own clothes with a desperate urgency.
The firelight painted their bare skin in hues of amber and gold. Rian reached out, his hands finding Gurjin’s shoulders, then sliding down his chest, over the broad expanse of muscle, until his fingers brushed against the thick, hard shaft that jutted proudly from Gurjin’s groin. He wrapped his fingers around it, feeling the throbbing heat, the slick pre-cum already glistening at the tip.
Gurjin gasped, his head falling back, exposing the strong column of his throat. “Gods, Rian.”
Rian brought Gurjin’s cock to his lips, tasting the salty, musky flavor. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive head, then sucked a small portion into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing. Gurjin let out a choked moan, his hips twitching involuntarily. Rian continued, taking more of him in, his mouth stretching around the thick shaft, his tongue swirling around the ridged corona. He bobbed his head, slowly at first, then with increasing speed, drawing Gurjin deeper and deeper into his mouth. Gurjin’s hands fisted in Rian’s hair, holding him firm, letting Rian set the pace.
“Oh, Rian,” Gurjin groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “You taste so good.”
Rian pulled back, a thin trail of Gurjin’s pre-cum glistening on his chin. He met Gurjin’s gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And you feel even better.” He reached for the small pot of oil they kept for massages, dipping a finger into the slick, fragrant liquid. He smeared it generously over his own ass, then turned, pressing his back against Gurjin’s chest.
Gurjin’s arms wrapped around Rian, his hands finding Rian’s hips, pulling him back against his erection. Rian gasped as the hard, hot cock pressed against his slick asshole.
“Ready?” Gurjin’s voice was hoarse, a tremor running through it.
“More than.” Rian gripped Gurjin’s hands, his fingers intertwining. “Push into me.”
Gurjin hesitated for a moment, then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he began to press forward. Rian cried out, a sharp intake of breath as the thick head of Gurjin’s cock nudged against his opening. He felt a stretching, a burning sensation, but it was quickly replaced by a profound sense of fullness.
“Easy,” Rian whispered, his voice strained. “Just a little more.”
Gurjin pushed again, slowly, painstakingly, until the head had breached Rian’s entrance. Rian whimpered, his body trembling, his ass clenching around Gurjin’s cock. He felt the thick shaft beginning to slide in, inch by agonizing inch. The sound of wet flesh separating and rejoining filled the small chamber, a rhythmic *schlick* that punctuated their ragged breathing.
“You’re doing so well,” Gurjin murmured, his lips brushing Rian’s ear, his voice laced with encouragement.
Rian’s muscles screamed, but a deeper, more primal part of him urged Gurjin on. “Don’t stop.”
Gurjin grunted, pushing deeper still. Rian cried out, a mixture of pain and exquisite pleasure as Gurjin’s cock slowly, relentlessly, filled him. He felt the thick base of Gurjin’s shaft disappear inside him, a profound sense of invasion and surrender washing over him. He was completely impaled, stretched to his limits, yet he had never felt more alive.
“Oh, gods,” Rian gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re so big.”
Gurjin held still, allowing Rian’s body to adjust to his massive size. He kissed Rian’s shoulder, then his neck, his lips lingering on the pulse point. “Does it hurt too much?”
“No.” Rian shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s… perfect. Now move.”
Gurjin obeyed, pulling back a fraction, then thrusting forward again, slowly at first, then with increasing power. Rian cried out, a guttural moan escaping him as Gurjin’s cock plunged deep inside, hitting his prostate with every stroke. The rhythm became a primal dance, a symphony of wet flesh, grunts, and gasps. Gurjin’s balls slapped against Rian’s ass with each thrust, a rhythmic thwack that drove Rian wild.
Rian arched his back, pushing his ass back against Gurjin’s hips, trying to take every inch. He felt Gurjin’s cock stretching him, filling every available space. The sensation was overwhelming, all-consuming. He wrapped his legs around Gurjin’s waist, pulling him even closer, desperate for more.
“Fuck, Rian,” Gurjin groaned, his voice ragged with pleasure. “You feel incredible.”
Rian whimpered, his body nearing its breaking point. He felt the pressure building inside him, a delicious tension that threatened to explode. He could feel Gurjin’s cock twitching, nearing his own climax.
“I’m close,” Rian panted, his voice almost unrecognizable.
“Me too,” Gurjin rasped, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. He buried his face in Rian’s neck, biting gently, leaving a trail of love bites.
With a final, powerful thrust, Gurjin cried out, a deep roar that echoed through the room. His body tensed, then convulsed, emptying his hot, thick cum deep inside Rian. Rian screamed, a primal sound of pure ecstasy, as his own orgasm crashed over him, waves of pleasure rippling through his body. He felt the warmth of Gurjin’s cum filling him, a tangible sign of their union.
They collapsed onto the bed, Gurjin still buried deep inside Rian, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. Their ragged breaths slowly evened out, the only sound the crackle of the fire and the gentle thumping of their hearts.
Rian shifted, pressing a soft kiss to Gurjin’s shoulder. “I told you it would be glorious.”
Gurjin chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. He pulled Rian closer, tucking his head beneath his chin. “You were right.” He squeezed Rian’s hip, his voice still thick with emotion. “Always right.”
The fire continued to burn, casting long, intimate shadows. Outside, the castle slept, oblivious to the profound intimacy that had just unfolded within their stone walls. Rian closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Gurjin’s body, the lingering fullness inside him, and knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his soul, that they had finally stopped circling. They had found their way home.

Chapter Text

The castle’s stone walls hummed with the day’s residual warmth, a faint echo of sun through thick battlements. Inside, the shared room of Rian and Gurjin offered a sanctuary of flickering lamplight and hushed shadows. Gurjin, a mountain of muscle and scarred hide, leaned against the heavy oak doorframe, his silhouette dwarfing the opening. He watched Rian, smaller, wiry, but with a soldier’s compact strength, meticulously folding a tunic on their shared cot. The rhythmic snap of linen filled the quiet.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Gurjin’s voice rumbled, a deep tremor that vibrated through the floorboards.
Rian smoothed the last crease, his fingers lingering on the coarse fabric. He turned, a faint smile playing on his lips, eyes glinting in the low light. “Just thinking.”
“Oh?” Gurjin pushed off the doorframe, each step across the flagstone floor a heavy thud. He stood over Rian, casting a long shadow. The scent of sweat and leather, familiar and comforting, enveloped Rian. “Dangerous, that.”
Rian chuckled, a soft, breathy sound. He reached up, his fingers brushing the stubble on Gurjin’s jaw. The skin beneath his touch was warm, rough. “Maybe. Or maybe… it’s exciting.”
Gurjin’s breath hitched, a low growl escaping his throat. He leaned down, his lips finding Rian’s, a soft brush that promised more. “Exciting how?”
The kiss deepened, a slow exploration, Rian’s smaller frame melting into Gurjin’s formidable bulk. Their mouths opened, tongues met, a dance of intimate familiarity. Rian tasted of wine and something uniquely his own, a spicy sweetness that always ignited a fire within Gurjin. Rian’s hands moved from Gurjin’s jaw, tracing the corded muscles of his neck, then slipping beneath his tunic, finding the warm skin of his back.
Rian pulled away, just slightly, his breath coming in short, quick gasps. His eyes, dark pools in the dim light, held a daring glint. “I want something tonight, Gurjin.”
Gurjin’s thumb stroked Rian’s cheekbone, a tender gesture from such a powerful hand. “Anything. You know that.”
“I want control,” Rian murmured, his voice barely a whisper, yet it held an undeniable command. “Complete control. I want you… helpless.”
Gurjin’s brows furrowed for a moment, a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes. Then, a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “Helpless, you say?”
“Yes.” Rian’s gaze intensified, a hunger burning bright. “I want to worship you. Every inch. And I want you to simply… endure it. Let me pleasure myself, *with* you, for you.”
A low chuckle escaped Gurjin, deep and rich. “You always were a demanding one, Rian.” He paused, his gaze searching Rian’s. “And you always get what you want, don’t you?”
Rian nodded, a silent affirmation.
“Alright,” Gurjin said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Show me. Show me what you want.” He moved to the cot, sitting on the edge, his massive hands resting on his knees. He watched Rian, an eagerness in his eyes that mirrored Rian’s own.
Rian’s heart hammered against his ribs, a wild drumbeat. He moved to a small chest tucked in a corner, rummaging through it. He pulled out lengths of soft, worn leather, strips usually used for securing packs or gear. He turned, holding them up, a question in his eyes.
Gurjin’s gaze followed the leather. “Those?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “For me?”
“For you,” Rian confirmed, his voice a silken promise. He approached Gurjin, the leather strips dangling from his fingers. “Arms first.”
Gurjin extended his powerful arms, muscles flexing under Rian’s touch. Rian took one of the leather strips, his fingers deft as he wrapped it around Gurjin’s thick wrist, securing it to the sturdy bedpost. He pulled it snug, not painfully tight, but firm enough to hold. Gurjin watched him, his expression unreadable, a silent anticipation in his eyes. The other wrist was similarly bound, Gurjin’s arms spread wide, his chest exposed.
Rian stepped back, admiring his work, a thrill shooting through him. Gurjin’s eyes, usually so fierce and commanding, now held a soft vulnerability. “Good?” he asked, his voice low, a sensual query.
“Perfect,” Gurjin rumbled, a deep satisfaction in his tone. “More.”
Rian moved to Gurjin’s ankles, securing them to the lower bed frame with more leather strips. Gurjin’s legs, usually restless and powerful, were now spread, held in place. He was completely open, completely at Rian’s mercy.
Rian stood back, a slow smile spreading across his face. Gurjin, a giant of a man, lay splayed on the cot, bound, his eyes fixed on Rian. A faint flush crept up Gurjin’s neck, a testament to his rising arousal.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Rian breathed, his voice thick with desire. He knelt between Gurjin’s legs, his fingers tracing the outline of Gurjin’s muscular thigh. The skin was rough, warm, dusted with dark hair.
Gurjin’s breath hitched. “Rian…” The name was a plea, a whisper of yearning.
Rian began to shed his own clothes, slowly, deliberately. His tunic came off first, then his breeches, leaving him naked before Gurjin. His smaller, leaner body, honed by years of training and battle, was a stark contrast to Gurjin’s massive form. He ran his hands over his own chest, then down his stomach, his fingers teasing his own hardened cock.
Gurjin’s eyes devoured him, a hungry intensity in their depths. His cock, already thick and heavy, twitched against the coarse fabric of his breeches.
Rian’s fingers went to the buckle of Gurjin’s breeches, his touch light, teasing. He unfastened it, then slowly, painstakingly, pulled down the thick material. Gurjin’s cock sprang free, engorged and pulsing, a dark vein throbbing along its length. It stood proud, glistening with a bead of pre-cum at its tip.
Rian gasped, a soft, reverent sound. He reached out, his fingers brushing the head of Gurjin’s cock. The skin was velvety, hot. He stroked the length of it, feeling the rigid shaft, the heavy weight of Gurjin’s balls nestled beneath.
Gurjin groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the room. His hips bucked instinctively, a futile attempt against the leather restraints. “Oh, Rian… God.”
Rian leaned in, his tongue flicking out, tasting the salty pre-cum. He licked the head of Gurjin’s cock, a slow, deliberate sweep, then sucked it into his mouth. The taste was musky, potent, intoxicating. He moved his head, taking more of Gurjin’s cock into his mouth, his lips wet and warm around the thick shaft. He sucked, a slow, rhythmic pull, his tongue swirling around the tip, teasing the sensitive ridge.
Gurjin’s body arched, his back lifting off the cot. A low moan escaped his lips, raw and uninhibited. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face flushed. “Fuck, Rian… Don’t stop.”
Rian continued, his mouth working Gurjin’s cock, drawing out long, wet strokes. He heard the squelch of his lips against Gurjin’s flesh, the soft slurping sounds as he pulled back and forth. His own cock, hard and throbbing, bounced against Gurjin’s inner thigh with each movement. He wanted to feel Gurjin’s release in his mouth, to taste every drop.
He pulled back, just enough to let Gurjin gasp for air, then plunged his mouth down again, deeper this time, his throat stretching to accommodate the massive girth. He felt the soft brushing of Gurjin’s balls against his chin, the frantic twitching of Gurjin’s body.
Gurjin’s hips began to thrust, a desperate rhythm against the restraints. He was close, Rian could feel it. He increased the pace, sucking harder, deeper, his tongue swirling around the head, his hands squeezing Gurjin’s heavy balls.
A guttural cry tore from Gurjin’s throat. His body stiffened, then convulsed, a wave of tremors shaking his powerful frame. He came, a hot, thick gush that filled Rian’s mouth, coating his tongue, running down his throat. Rian swallowed, tasting the rich, musky warmth of Gurjin’s essence. He continued to suckle, drawing out every last drop, until Gurjin’s body finally relaxed, trembling, spent.
Rian pulled away, his face smeared with Gurjin’s cum, his eyes shining with triumph and satisfaction. He licked his lips, savoring the taste. “Mine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. “All mine.”
Gurjin lay panting, his chest heaving, his eyes slowly opening. He looked at Rian, a profound adoration in his gaze. “You’re insatiable,” he breathed, a weak but genuine smile gracing his lips.
Rian chuckled, a soft, satisfied sound. He leaned in, kissing Gurjin’s lips, sharing the taste of their mingled passion. “And you, my love, are perfect.” He untied Gurjin’s wrists, then his ankles, his touch tender. Gurjin stretched, groaning softly, then pulled Rian into his arms, holding him close against his still-trembling body. The room fell silent again, filled only with the soft sounds of their breathing and the lingering scent of their shared ecstasy.

Chapter Text

The din of the barracks was a living thing, a constant, hammering clamor of clanking armor, shouted orders, and the heavy boot falls of the Stonewood guard. It was in this controlled chaos that Rian felt both at home and utterly on edge, his nerves stretched taut every time a certain broad-shouldered soldier passed by. Gurjin’s eyes, dark and promising, had been undressing him all afternoon during their shared patrol of the eastern battlement, and the heat of that gaze was a brand on Rian’s skin.

As they rounded a corner into a thankfully deserted supply corridor, a hand—calloused and strong—clamped onto Rian’s bicep. He was yanked sideways, his protest dying in his throat as his back met the rough-hewn stone wall. Gurjin’s body crowded into him, a wall of warm leather and muscle, pinning him in place.

“You’ve been staring at my ass all day, Captain’s son,” Gurjin murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Rian’s chest, a stark contrast to the shouting echoing from the main hall. His breath was hot against Rian’s ear. “It’s terribly distracting for a lowly soldier like me.”

“Maybe if you didn’t swing it quite so—” Rian’s sarcastic retort was cut short as Gurjin’s mouth crashed down on his, a possessive, demanding kiss that stole the air from his lungs. It was all teeth and tongue and pure, unadulterated want.

Gurjin broke the kiss, a predatory grin on his face. He didn’t say a word, simply grabbing a fistful of Rian’s tunic and hauling him away from the wall. A door creaked open, and Rian was shoved into the pitch-black confines of a linen closet, the scent of clean cloth and oiled leather filling his nostrils. The door clicked shut, plunging them into near-total darkness, the barracks' roar now a muffled, distant thunder.

His hands were everywhere at once, expertly unbuckling Rian’s weapon belt, the leather sighing as it hit the floor. Gurjin spun him around, pressing Rian’s chest against a shelf stacked with rough-spun blankets.

“You know the problem with you, Rian?” Gurjin’s voice was a dark whisper against his neck as he pinned Rian’s wrists to the small of his back with one powerful hand. “You’re so fucking loud. The entire garrison doesn’t need to hear what’s mine.”

With his free hand, Gurjin yanked the dark green scarf from his own neck. Before Rian could even form a thought, the soft fabric was being pulled between his teeth, knotting tightly at the back of his head. A muffled sound of surprise was all Rian could manage, the gag instantly heightening every other sensation. He could smell Gurjin on the cloth—sweat, steel, and the faint, clean scent of the soap he used.

The loss of his voice made the world shrink to the space of this closet, to the feel of Gurjin’s hands peeling down his trousers, the cool air hitting his exposed skin. Gurjin’s belt followed, the leather whispering through the loops of his own pants. A thrill, sharp and electric, shot down Rian’s spine. He knew what was coming. Gurjin looped the belt around Rian’s wrists, cinching it tight, the leather a firm, unyielding promise against his skin. Helpless. He was utterly helpless, and it made his head spin with desire.

A hand, warm and rough, groped his ass, then came down in a sharp, stinging slap. The sound was explosively loud in the tiny room, the pain a bright flare that melted instantly into a deep, throbbing heat. Rian groaned against the gag, his body pushing back against the touch instinctively, asking for more.

He heard the slick sound of Gurjin spitting into his palm, then the blunt, insistent pressure of his cockhead against Rian’s entrance. There was no more patience, no gentle coaxing. Gurjin sheathed himself in one smooth, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Rian’s scream was absorbed entirely by the gag, coming out as a choked, desperate whimper. The fullness was breathtaking, a stretch that burned so perfectly he saw stars behind his closed eyelids.

Gurjin didn’t move, letting Rian adjust to the overwhelming intrusion, his body a tense, hot line against Rian’s back. “That’s it,” he breathed, his voice strained with his own effort to stay still. “Take it. All of it.”

Just as the initial shock began to subside, morphing into a deep, coiling pleasure, a new sound cut through the haze. Boots. Stopping right outside the door.

Both men froze. Gurjin’s body went rigid against his. The door handle jiggled.

“You hear something in there?” a gruff voice asked from the other side of the wood.

Silence. Rian’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of panic and illicit thrill. He felt Gurjin’s breath, hot and steady on his shoulder. He felt the slightest, almost imperceptible shift of Gurjin’s hips, a tiny, circular grind that sent impossible waves of sensation through his over-sensitized body. He was moving. Oh, gods, he was moving while the guard was right there.

“Nah,” a second voice replied. “Just the wind in the old ducts. Or rats. Come on, the Captain wants a report.”

The boots clomped away, their footsteps fading down the hall.

The tension shattered. Gurjin’s control evaporated. His hand clamped over Rian’s mouth, reinforcing the gag, as he began to fuck him in earnest. His thrusts were not the wild, frantic pounding Rian expected, but something far more devastating: slow, deep, and deliberate. Each withdrawal was a sweet agony of emptiness, each drive home a piston of perfect friction that nailed Rian to the spot. It was a claiming, a relentless reminder of who was in control here in the dark.

Rian was lost to it, a slave to the rhythm, his own cock achingly hard and leaking against the rough wood of the shelf. He could hear the wet, rhythmic sounds of their joining, a filthy counterpoint to Gurjin’s ragged breathing in his ear.

“You feel that?” Gurjin growled, his voice thick with lust. “That’s all for you. Every fucking inch. You take me so well, Rian. So damn well.”

His pace began to quicken, the slow, deep rolls transforming into something more urgent, more desperate. The shelf rattled with every thrust, a rhythmic creak that would surely give them away, but neither cared anymore. The coil in Rian’s gut pulled taut, winding tighter and tighter with every impact.

Gurjin’s hand snaked around his hip, calloused fingers wrapping around Rian’s length, stroking him in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was too much. The world dissolved into a white-hot pinpoint of pleasure. Rian’s body seized, his climax tearing through him with a violence that left him shuddering and limp against the shelf, his cry of release a completely silenced, breathless shudder against the gag.

Feeling Rian clench around him, Gurjin buried his face in Rian’s shoulder, his own thrusts becoming erratic, then stilling as he plunged deep, spilling himself with a low, guttural groan that was the most beautiful sound Rian had ever heard.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the distant, oblivious noise of the barracks. Gurjin slowly withdrew, his hands fumbling in the dark to untie the gag. The scarf fell away, and Rian dragged in a ragged, grateful breath.

Gurjin turned him around, his lips finding Rian’s in a kiss that was surprisingly soft, almost tender. He rested his forehead against Rian’s, both of them still bound by the belt.

“Next time,” Rian whispered, his voice hoarse, “we’re finding a bigger closet.”

A deep, quiet chuckle rumbled in Gurjin’s chest. “Next time,” he murmured, his lips brushing Rian’s as he spoke, “I’m not sure a gag will be enough to keep you quiet.”

Chapter Text

The door to the shared chamber groaned shut, and Gurjin slumped against it, the exhaustion of the day a heavy cloak on his shoulders. Dust from the training grounds clung to his skin, and every muscle in his arms and back screamed in protest. Just getting the armor off felt like its own form of combat. He fumbled with the straps, his mind a dull blank, dreaming only of the cool linen sheets and the deep, dreamless sleep that would claim him.

The attack was instantaneous.

A rough sack, smelling faintly of sandalwood and sun-warmed leather, was yanked over his head, plunging his world into sudden, utter blackness. A startled grunt was punched from his lungs as strong, deft hands seized his wrists, crossing them at the small of his back. He tensed, every warrior’s instinct roaring to life, his body coiling to throw the assailant off.

Resist. Fight. Throw.

But then he felt it. The bindings—not rough rope, but the familiar, soft-strong weave of a spare garrison sash. And the scent… that specific, comforting aroma of soap and the unique spice that was simply… Rian.

His fight evaporated, replaced by a thrilling, primal curiosity. He let his wrists be secured, the knot tight but not cruel. A shove sent him stumbling forward, his boot catching on a rug, and he landed with a soft whump on the edge of their own bed, the frame creaking in welcome.

Before he could form a question, a weight settled on his hips, straddling him, pinning him to the mattress. It was a familiar weight, a perfect fit. He could feel the heat of the other’s body through both their clothes. A hand, calloused from swordplay but gentle in its touch, splayed across his sternum, keeping him down.

“What in Thra—” Gurjin began, his voice muffled by the hood.

“Shhh.” The voice was a low, warm whisper, right by his ear, the breath tickling the fine hairs on his neck. “All day, I watched you. Pushing yourself. Pushing the new recruits. Giving everything.” The hand on his chest slid upward, palm scraping deliciously over the hard plane of his pectoral, a thumb brushing over a nipple hardened by surprise and the sudden rush of blood. Gurjin gasped, his back arching off the bed. “I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon. About how to reward such dedication.”

Rian.

The confirmation sent a jolt straight to Gurjin’s core, his cock already stirring, pressing insistently against the confines of his trousers, trapped under Rian’s weight. The blindfold wasn’t a deprivation; it was an amplification. Every sound was clearer: Rian’s slightly ragged breathing, the rustle of fabric. Every sensation was magnified a thousandfold.

Rian’s hands were everywhere at once, a dedicated worshipper at the altar of Gurjin’s weary body. They pushed the leather tunic up his torso, the cool air a shock against his heated skin. A mouth—hot, wet, unbearably soft—found one of his nipples. Teeth grazed the tight nub before a tongue soothed the tiny sting, laving and sucking until Gurjin was writhing, a low moan ripped from his throat. Gods, the feeling. It was… it was… His thoughts shattered into pure sensation.

He was completely at Rian’s mercy, and the surrender was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever known. His world was darkness and Rian. The scrape of a fingernail down his abdomen. The press of lips against the frantic pulse in his throat. The sound of a cork being pulled from a vial, and then the sweet, slick scent of oil filled the air.

He felt Rian shift above him, heard the rustle of clothes being discarded. Then, warm, oil-slicked hands were on him, freeing his aching cock, stroking him with a firm, knowing grip that made him cry out, his hips bucking helplessly. More. Please, more.

“So eager,” Rian murmured, his voice thick with want. “So good for me.”

Gurjin could only pant in response, his head thrashing side to side on the pillow. He felt Rian position himself, one hand guiding Gurjin’s length. Then, the most exquisite pressure. A hot, tight, impossible heat began to slowly, slowly envelop him.

Rian was sinking down onto him, taking him in an inch at a time, a long, shuddering moan echoing Gurjin’s own. The blindfold made the slow slide inward an eternity of torturous pleasure. He could feel every tiny clench and release of Rian’s inner muscles, the way his body had to stretch and accommodate, the slick, perfect friction as he sheathed himself fully, until their bodies were flush.

“G-Gurjin,” Rian gasped, his voice strangled, his thighs trembling where they pressed against Gurjin’s hips.

For a moment, there was only the stillness, the profound feeling of being joined, buried deep inside that incredible heat. Gurjin could feel Rian’s heartbeat around his cock, a frantic, rhythmic pulse that mimicked his own. Then Rian began to move.

It was a slow, rolling undulation of his hips, a masterful control that had Gurjin seeing stars behind the blindfold. Up, almost to the tip, a near-excruciating tease, then down again, a deep, grinding plunge that hit a spot inside Rian that made him sob with pleasure. The sounds were filthy, wonderful: the wet slap of skin on skin, their ragged breaths, punched-out groans.

Rian’s pace quickened, his hands braced on Gurjin’s chest for leverage. Each downward stroke was a claim, each rise a promise of more. Gurjin was lost in it, a vessel for pure sensation. The bindings, the darkness—they weren’t restraints, they were freedoms. Freed from sight, freed from action, he could only feel.

“You feel… so deep,” Rian panted, his rhythm becoming erratic, desperate. “I can feel you… everywhere.”

Gurjin’s own climax was coiling, a tight, hot spring in his gut, pulled tighter with every one of Rian’s movements. He was moaning, a continuous, broken sound, pushing up into that glorious heat as much as his position would allow.

“Rian… I’m… I can’t…”

“Let go,” Rian commanded, his voice a raw, needy thing. “Let go for me. Now.”

The permission, the desperate clench around him, the sound of Rian’s own pleasure reaching its peak—it was too much. With a guttural roar, Gurjin shattered, his release crashing through him like a wave, pulsing deep inside Rian’s welcoming body. The sensation triggered Rian’s own climax, his body clamping down in a series of exquisite, milking spasms around Gurjin’s cock, a high, keening cry tearing from his throat as he collapsed forward onto Gurjin’s chest.

They lay there, a tangled, sweating, breathless heap in the dark. Gurjin could feel the frantic hammer of Rian’s heart against his own. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sandalwood.

After long moments, gentle hands untied the blindfold and the sash. Gurjin blinked, the dim firelight of the room stinging his eyes. Rian was gazing down at him, his face flushed, his eyes dark and sated, a soft, utterly possessive smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

He leaned down, his nose nuzzling Gurjin’s cheek. “Welcome home,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Chapter Text

“Gods, Rian… what are you…”

The heavy wooden door of the storage closet clicked shut, plunging them into near-total darkness. The only sound was their ragged breathing, mingling with the distant, fading clatter of practice swords from the training grounds outside.

Rian didn’t answer with words. His hands, surprisingly firm, were already on Gurjin’s chest, pushing him back against a tall stack of linen-covered practice mats. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, leather oil, and the clean, musky scent of him.

“I’ve been watching you,” Rian finally whispered, his voice husky and low, right against Gurjin’s ear. His fingers found the stiff leather strap of Gurjin’s pauldron, tracing its line down to the sweat-damp tunic underneath.

Gurjin’s mind, still buzzing from the exertion of his solo drills, struggled to catch up. “Watching me? For what? A critique of my form?” He tried for a jest, but it came out as a strangled gasp as Rian’s palms slid down, mapping the solid planes of his abdomen through the thin, damp fabric.

“Something like that,” Rian murmured, his lips now brushing the hot, salty skin of Gurjin’s neck. His tongue darted out for a taste. Sweat and sun and pure, masculine effort. It was an intoxicating vintage.

His gaze had been snagged an hour ago, a casual stroll past the training grounds turning into a captivated vigil. He’d leaned against a stone archway, hidden in the shadows, and watched. Gurjin, a fellow guardsman and his friend since childhood, was a study in focused power. He moved through the intricate forms of the Vapran defensive style, not with the stiff precision of the master-at-arms, but with a raw, fluid grace that was entirely his own.

Every muscle in his back and shoulders strained against the dark fabric of his uniform with each parry. A sheen of sweat made his skin glow under the three suns, tracing the deep groove of his spine. The way his breeches clung to his powerful thighs as he lunged… Rian had felt a familiar, heated coil tightening deep in his own gut. It was more than appreciation. It was a craving.

He’d watched the way Gurjin’s brow furrowed in concentration, the way he’d bite his lip on a particularly difficult reverse-strike. He wasn’t just a soldier practicing. He was an artist committing violent, beautiful art. And Rian was his captivated, and increasingly aroused, audience.

Now, in the closet, that memory fueled his actions. His fingers worked quickly, deftly unbuckling the heavy belt with itsPractice swords. It fell to the floor with a heavy, metallic thud that seemed absurdly loud in the confined space. Gurjin’s breath hitched.

“Rian, wait… what is this?” Gurjin’s voice was thick with confusion, but there was no resistance in his body. He stood, pliant, as Rian’s hands worked at the laces of his breeches.

“Shhh,” Rian soothed, finally freeing the last latch. The front of Gurjin’s breeches fell open. “Just… let me. Please.”

That single word, rasped with a desperate need that Gurjin had never heard from his friend before, severed the last thread of his confusion. A low groan escaped him as Rian’s hand slipped inside, past the linen of his smallclothes, and wrapped around his hardening length.

The touch was electric. Gurjin’s head thudded back against the mats, his eyes squeezing shut. “Sog…”

Rian didn’t wait. He sank to his knees on the hard stone floor, the rough texture a stark contrast to the task before him. He nuzzled against the coarse hair at Gurjin’s groin, inhaling his deeply masculine scent, now overwhelmingly potent and delicious. He mouthed him through the linen, feeling him swell and twitch against his lips.

With a final, deliberate slowness, Rian hooked his fingers into the waistband of Gurjin’s smallclothes and pulled them down. His cock sprung free, fully erect, thick and proud in the dim light. Rian’s mouth watered.

He didn’t tease. The sight, the scent, the need was too much. He leaned forward and took the entire head into his mouth in one smooth, wet motion.

Gurjin cried out, a sharp, guttural sound that was pure, unadulterated sensation. His hands, which had been hanging limply at his sides, flew to Rian’s head, his fingers tangling in the dark strands of his hair. Not pushing, not pulling. Just holding on.

Rian worked him with a focus he usually reserved for his own duties. His tongue swirled around the sensitive crown, tracing the prominent vein on the underside, savoring the first bitter-salt taste of pre-seed that beaded at the tip. He took him deeper, his own throat relaxing, accepting the growing length until his nose was buried in the dark curls at the base.

Gods, he’s perfect, Rian thought, the words a feverish chant in his mind. So hot. So hard. All for me.

He established a rhythm, a steady, deep suckling that had Gurjin bucking his hips in a helpless, shallow rhythm. Every groan from above, every twitch of those powerful thighs, every choked whisper of his name was fuel. Rian’s own arousal was a painful, throbbing ache in his breeches, but it was secondary. This was about Gurjin. About devouring him.

He pulled off with a wet pop, breathing heavily, and looked up. Gurjin’s eyes were glazed, his lips parted, his entire body trembling with the effort of staying upright.

“Don’t stop,” Gurjin begged, his voice shattered. “Rian, please…”

It was all the encouragement he needed. He dove back down, his technique becoming more frantic, more hungry. One of his hands came up to fondle Gurjin’s heavy sac, rolling the tight orbs within, while the other gripped the base of his cock, stroking in time with his bobbing head.

He could feel the tension coiling in Gurjin’s stomach, could feel the desperate, jerking pulses that signaled the approaching end. He redoubled his efforts, humming around him, the vibration wringing a shattered moan from Gurjin’s lips.

“I’m… I can’t… Rian, I’m going to…”

The warning was a choked gasp. Rian didn’t pull away. He pressed closer, taking him as deep as he could, and swallowed.

Gurjin’s release was a violent, shuddering explosion. His hips stuttered forward as hot pulses flooded Rian’s mouth, each one wracking his powerful frame with tremors. Rian drank him down, swallowing every last drop, milking him with his lips and tongue until Gurjin was gasping, oversensitive, and slumping heavily against the mats.

For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Gurjin’s hands fell from Rian’s hair, his arms limp. Rian slowly, gently, released him, resting his forehead against Gurjin’s trembling thigh. He pressed a soft, final kiss to the damp skin.

Gurjin slid down the mats, his legs unable to support him any longer, until he was sitting on the floor beside Rian, his back against the linen stacks. He looked dazed, utterly spent.

“What… by the sands, Rian… why?” he finally managed, his voice hoarse.

Rian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. He looked at Gurjin—his uniform disheveled, his skin gleaming with sweat, his expression one of blissful ruin.

“I told you,” Rian said, his voice low and intimate in the dark. “I was watching you train. In that uniform… all that sweat and power…” He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing Gurjin’s ear.

Chapter Text

The air in the Blackwood was thick and heavy, smelling of damp earth and something metallic, like old blood. Every crunch of a twig under Rian’s boot echoed like a gunshot in the oppressive silence. His knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. The bounty notice had been clear: a monstrous beast, a thing of fang and shadow, was eviscerating the king’s guards. The reward was enough to buy a new life. The risk was ending his current one abruptly.

A low growl rumbled through the trees, a sound that vibrated deep in Rian’s bones. He spun, sword held high, peering into the shifting gloom. Something moved in the periphery, a flicker of dark muscle and matted fur.

“Show yourself!” he shouted, his voice steadier than he felt.

The creature melted from the shadows, and Rian’s breath hitched. It was huge, easily seven feet tall, covered in a pelt of sleek, dark fur. Yet it stood on two legs, with the powerful torso of a man and the terrifying head of a primal beast, all sharp teeth and glowing amber eyes. This is it. This is how I die.

He lunged, swinging his blade in a wide, desperate arc. The creature moved with impossible speed, parrying the strike not with a weapon, but with a hardened, taloned forearm. The clang of steel on whatever it was made of rang through the forest. They circled each other, a deadly dance. Rian attacked again, and this time, the beast caught the blade in its hand, ignoring the cut it made, and shoved him back with terrifying strength. Rian stumbled, his sword flying from his grasp, skittering away into the undergrowth.

He was defenseless. The beast loomed over him, its hot breath puffing against his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow.

It never came.

A sound, rough and guttural, yet hauntingly familiar, reached his ears. It was almost like… a word.

“R… Rian…?”

His eyes snapped open. The beast was staring at him, its head tilted. The ferocity in its amber eyes had softened into something else. Something like recognition. And in that moment, Rian saw past the fur, the fangs, the animalistic frame. He saw the line of the jaw, the set of the shoulders, the intense, intelligent gaze he would know anywhere.

“Gurjin?” The name was a disbelieving whisper on his lips.

A shudder wracked the creature’s massive form. The growl that followed was layered with pain and sorrow. “They… did this to me. The royal alchemists… an experiment.”

Memories flooded Rian. Gurjin, his best friend since they were boys. Gurjin, with his quick laugh and fierce loyalty. Gurjin, who he’d followed into a hundred foolish adventures. Gurjin, who he’d secretly loved for years, a love he’d never had the courage to voice before Gurjin vanished a year ago, presumed dead. The king’s guards weren’t just victims; they were his jailers.

All the fight drained out of Rian. He slumped against a tree, his mission, the bounty, his fear—all of it meaningless. “Gods, Gurjin. I… I was sent to kill you.”

Gurjin took a step closer, and Rian didn’t flinch. A massive, clawed hand, capable of tearing him apart, came up with shocking gentleness to cup his face. The touch was rough, but the intention was unbearably soft. “You looked at the monster… and saw the man,” Gurjin rasped, his voice a low thrum that resonated in Rian’s chest. “No one else… ever did.”

The emotion in those glowing eyes wasn’t just gratitude. It was a heat Rian recognized, a mirrored reflection of the desire he’d buried for so long. It burned away the last of his hesitation.

“I could never hurt you,” Rian breathed, his own hand coming up to cover Gurjin’s, pressing the furry knuckles against his cheek. “Never.”

A deep, approving rumble started in Gurjin’s chest. He leaned in, his massive form enveloping Rian, and pressed his broad forehead against Rian’s. The intimacy of the gesture, so vulnerable, so trusting, sent a jolt of pure need straight through Rian.

Then Gurjin’s mouth was on his.

It wasn’t a human kiss. It was possessive, primal, all heat and pressure and the slight, thrilling danger of sharp teeth. But it was also utterly tender. Gurjin’s tongue, thick and surprisingly soft, swept into his mouth, claiming him. Rian moaned, his body melting against the solid wall of fur and muscle. His hands tangled in the thick pelt on Gurjin’s back, holding on as the world narrowed to this single, searing point of contact.

Gurjin’s claws, so careful, made quick work of the leather straps of Rian’s armor. The chest plate fell away with a thud, then the pauldrons. His large hands slid under Rian’s tunic, and the sensation was electric—the contrast of coarse fur and smooth, hot skin against his own. A low growl of approval vibrated against Rian’s lips as Gurjin discovered the firm planes of his stomach, his chest.

With a sharp tug, Gurjin ripped the tunic open, buttons scattering. The cool night air hit Rian’s feverish skin, followed immediately by the scorching heat of Gurjin’s mouth on his collarbone. Oh, gods. Gurjin laved and nipped, his breath a hot brand, his tongue tracing a path down Rian’s sternum. Rian’s head fell back against the tree, a broken gasp escaping him as callused, claw-tipped fingers found a nipple and pinched, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain so intense his knees buckled.

Gurjin caught him easily, lowering them both to a bed of soft moss. He loomed over Rian, his amber eyes burning with a feral need that should have been frightening but only made Rian ache with want. He was already hard, his erection straining painfully against his trousers.

“Mine,” Gurjin growled, the word a promise and a claim. His huge hand covered the bulge, pressing down with just enough pressure to make Rian cry out. The sound was swallowed by another bruising, desperate kiss.

Gurjin’s claws hooked into the waistband of Rian’s trousers and smallclothes, and with one powerful jerk, he bared him completely. The night air caressed his heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the searing heat of Gurjin’s gaze roaming over his naked form. Rian felt exposed, vulnerable, and more aroused than he had ever been in his life.

Then Gurjin’s head dipped. His hot, wet tongue, so incongruously soft, licked a long, slow stripe from the base of Rian’s cock to the tip.

Rian jolted, a strangled moan tearing from his throat. “Gurjin!”

The beast-man didn’t pause. He took the head of Rian’s cock into his mouth, his lips stretching, and the sensation was utterly blinding. The heat was immense, the suction perfect. The threat of those fangs was a dizzying, thrilling undercurrent to the incredible pleasure. Gurjin’s tongue swirled around the sensitive crown, and Rian’s hips jerked off the ground of their own accord. A large, furred hand pressed his abdomen down, holding him still, a display of effortless strength that made him whimper.

Gurjin took him deeper, his mouth a wet, tight heaven. Rian could only fist his hands in the moss, his back arching, his world dissolving into the rhythm of that magnificent mouth. The growls vibrating around his shaft, the sheer size of Gurjin working him, the raw, animalistic hunger in every movement—it was nothing like he’d ever imagined. It was more. It was everything.

He was teetering on the edge, pleasure coiling tight and hot in his gut, when Gurjin pulled off with a wet pop. Rian whimpered at the loss, his eyes fluttering open.

Gurjin was staring down at him, his own arousal evident, huge and intimidating against his furred thigh. His eyes were dark with lust, but also with a question. He brought a claw to his own mouth, pricked his thumb, and a single drop of dark blood welled up. Then, with a painstaking slowness that made Rian’s heart hammer, he brought that thumb to Rian’s lips.

The metallic scent filled his nostrils. The meaning was clear, ancient, and irrevocable.

Do you accept me? All of me?

Without a second’s hesitation, Rian parted his lips and took the offered thumb into his mouth, suckling gently, tasting the faint, primal tang of Gurjin’s blood. The vow was sealed.

A roar, this one pure triumph, tore from Gurjin’s throat. He surged forward, his body covering Rian’s completely, a furnace of muscle and intent. He positioned himself, the blunt, immense head of his cock pressing against Rian’s entrance.

Rian’s breath caught. It was going to be too much. He was going to be split in two.

“Look at me,” Gurjin commanded, his voice a raw scrape of sound.

Rian obeyed, drowning in those amber eyes.

And Gurjin pushed inside.

Chapter Text

The thought was a constant, unwelcome hum in the back of Gurjin’s mind, a parasitic buzz that fed on every moment of quiet. You’re not enough. It echoed now, as he watched Rian sleep, the soft rise and fall of his chest in the dim moonlight. He was so beautiful, so good, and Gurjin was certain, with a conviction that felt like a physical weight, that he was going to mess it all up. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve him.

A hand, warm and familiar, slid across his chest. “You’re thinking too loud,” Rian murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He shifted, pressing his front against Gurjin’s back, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. “Stop it.”

Gurjin tensed. “How do you always know?”

“I can feel it. Your whole body gets tight.” Rian’s lips found a sensitive spot just below his ear, and a shiver, part pleasure, part shame, ran through Gurjin. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Gurjin muttered, the lie tasting bitter.

Rian’s hand drifted lower, skimming over Gurjin’s stomach, his touch feather-light and intentional. “It’s not nothing. It’s the thing that steals you from me. Let me chase it away.”

He rolled Gurjin onto his back, his weight a comforting anchor. In the dark, Gurjin could just make out the fierce, loving determination in his eyes. Rian leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was possessive, claiming, a silent argument against every one of Gurjin’s insecurities. Gurjin gasped into the kiss, his hands coming up to tangle in Rian’s hair, pulling him closer, trying to lose himself in the sensation, to outrun the nagging voice.

But as Rian’s clever mouth began to travel down his throat, kissing and nipping, the thoughts crept back in. Is this good? Am I doing this right? He’s so much better at this than I am.

Rian seemed to sense the shift, the subtle stiffening of muscle beneath his lips. He paused, his breath hot on Gurjin’s collarbone. He had an idea, a spark of inspiration born of pure desperation to silence the critic in the man he loved.

He looked up, his eyes locking with Gurjin’s. “You have the most perfect skin,” he whispered, his voice husky and sincere. “I love the way it feels under my mouth. So warm. So responsive.”

Gurjin stilled. The words were so unexpected, so specific, they sliced through the noise in his head. A flush of warmth, entirely separate from arousal, spread through his chest.

Encouraged, Rian continued his descent, his hands mapping Gurjin’s torso. When his tongue flicked over a nipple, he groaned softly. “Gods, the sound you make when I do that… it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. Do it again.”

A shaky exhale escaped Gurjin’s lips, and he arched into the touch, a low moan pulled from him almost against his will.

“Yes, just like that,” Rian praised, his voice dropping to a low, reverent rumble. “You’re so beautiful when you let go for me.”

The words were a drug, a potent antidote to the poison of his doubt. Gurjin felt a new kind of hunger awaken in him, a desperate need to earn more of those praises. His hips lifted off the bed, seeking friction, seeking more.

Rian’s hand slid down, palming him through his underwear, and Gurjin bucked into the touch with a broken cry. “Look at you,” Rian breathed, hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling them down. “So eager. So hard for me. It’s fucking intoxicating.”

The crude, fervent praise sent a jolt of pure lightning through Gurjin’s veins. He was unraveling, the constant critical narrative in his mind replaced by a single, driving command: More. Hear it again.

When Rian took him into his mouth, it was with a slow, deliberate heat that made stars burst behind Gurjin’s eyelids. His back bowed off the bed, a guttural “Fuck!” tearing from his throat.

Rian pulled off with a wet, obscene sound. “The way you taste…” he growled, pumping him slowly with his hand. “You have no idea. I could do this for hours. You feel so good in my mouth.”

That was it. The final crack in the dam. Gurjin’s breath hitched, not with insecurity, but with a raw, consuming need. He surged up, flipping them over in one fluid motion, pinning Rian beneath him. The shock and sheer delight in Rian’s eyes was its own form of praise.

“You want to taste?” Gurjin rasped, his voice unfamiliar even to himself, thick with a confidence he hadn’t felt in years. “Then taste.”

He kissed him, deep and filthy, letting Rian taste himself on his tongue. He moved down Rian’s body with a new purpose, his own doubts forgotten, replaced by a laser focus on wringing every possible sound of pleasure from his lover. He took Rian into his mouth, mimicking the devastating technique he’d just received, but with a newfound aggression.

Rian’s hands fisted in the sheets, a long, drawn-out moan echoing in the room. “Gurjin… your mouth… it’s… it’s unbelievable.”

The words fueled him. Gurjin redoubled his efforts, hollowing his cheeks, using his tongue in a way he’d always been too self-conscious to try before. He listened, truly listened, to every gasp, every hitch of breath, and adjusted his rhythm to maximize the effect.

“Yes! Right there! Don’t stop… gods, you’re so good at this. You’re perfect.”

Perfect. The word echoed in the core of him, burning away the last remnants of fear. He felt powerful. He felt enough.

When Rian was trembling on the edge, Gurjin released him, surging back up to claim his mouth again. He reached for the vial of oil on the bedside table, his movements sure and steady. He coated his fingers, his eyes never leaving Rian’s.

“Look at me,” Gurjin commanded, and Rian obeyed instantly, his gaze hazy with want.

He pressed one slick finger against him, and then slowly, so slowly, pushed inside. Rian’s eyes fluttered shut, a deep, grateful sigh escaping his lips.

“So careful,” he whimpered. “You’re always so careful with me.”

A second finger joined the first, twisting, scissoring, searching for that spot he knew would shatter Rian’s control. When he found it, Rian cried out, his back arching off the bed. “There! Oh, please, Gurjin, right there! You know my body better than I do.”

The preparation was a frantic, desperate dance. Gurjin was lost in it, in the symphony of Rian’s pleasure, each cry and sigh a verse in a song that celebrated his own competence, his own desirability.

When he could wait no longer, he slicked himself, positioning himself at Rian’s entrance. He paused, his forehead resting against Rian’s, their breath mingling in ragged gasps.

“Please,” Rian begged, wrapping his legs around Gurjin’s waist, pulling him closer. “I need you. I need all of you.”

With a groan that came from the very depths of his soul, Gurjin pushed in. The world narrowed to the exquisite, tight heat enveloping him, to the feel of Rian’s nails digging into his shoulders, to the ragged, pleasure-soaked sounds falling from Rian’s lips.

He set a brutal, perfect pace, each thrust hitting its mark, each one earning him a new litany of praise.

“You feel… so… big…” Rian choked out, his head thrashing on the pillow. “You fill me up… so completely…”

“Faster… yes! Just like that! You’re a god….”

The words weren’t just noise; they were ropes, pulling Gurjin higher and higher, weaving a new reality where he was capable, he was skilled, he was everything. He drove into Rian, his rhythm becoming erratic, the coil of his own release tightening unbearably. He was close, so close, the world dissolving into sensation and sound.

Rian’s hand slipped between them, frantically stroking himself in time with Gurjin’s thrusts. His whole body tightened, his eyes rolling back. “I’m gonna… Gurjin… the way you fuck me… I can’t…”

The raw, unfiltered rapture in his voice was the final trigger.

"Come for me," Gurjin growled, the command leaving no room for disobedience.

Chapter Text

The stone door to their chamber groaned shut, the heavy thud echoing Rian’s own pounding heart. He didn’t bother with the latch, instead spinning Gurjin around and pressing him against the rough-hewn wood, his mouth crashing against the other Gelfling’s in a desperate, hungry kiss. Gurjin’s surprised grunt melted into a low, rumbling moan as his hands came up to grip Rian’s shoulders, his own lips parting eagerly.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Rian breathed, his voice thick with want as he broke the kiss, his forehead resting against Gurjin’s. His hands slid down Gurjin’s broad back, pulling their bodies flush. He could feel the hard line of Gurjin’s arousal pressing against his own, a promise that made his knees weak. “I need you. Right now. All of you.”

Gurjin’s laugh was a warm, dark sound that vibrated through Rian’s chest. “So impatient.” He captured Rian’s mouth again, his tongue sweeping in with a confident possessiveness that made Rian’s head spin. His fingers worked at the fastenings of Rian’s tunic, the leather straps giving way under his practiced touch.

It was the soft, deliberate clearing of a throat that shattered the moment.

Rian jerked back as if burned, his head snapping toward the center of the room. There, bathed in the soft glow of the low-burning hearth, sat Mira. She was curled comfortably in the large, cushioned chair usually reserved for mending armor, a cup of tea steaming gently in her hands. Her expression was one of serene, almost scholarly curiosity.

“Mira?” The name tore from Rian’s throat, laced with equal parts shock and a flicker of old, complicated guilt. His hands, which had been roaming Gurjin’s body, fell away. “What are you—how did you get in here?”

“The lock on your window latch is still broken,” she said, her voice as calm as a still pond. She took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes drifting from Rian’s flushed face to Gurjin’s, which held more amusement than surprise. “I had a feeling you two might need… an audience tonight.”

Rian’s mind raced, a hot flush of humiliation warring with the relentless, throbbing need still coursing through him. Mira. His Mira. The one he thought he’d loved before he truly understood what love—what desire—could truly feel like. The one who had looked at him with such sad, knowing eyes when he’d confessed his confused feelings for Gurjin. The one who had ended things not with anger, but with a soft smile and the words, “You have to go to him, Rian. Your heart isn’t a thing to be argued with.”

“An audience?” Rian finally managed to sputter, his voice cracking. “Mira, I don’t—this isn’t—”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Gurjin interjected, his voice a low, steady counterpoint to Rian’s chaos. He hadn’t moved from his spot against the door, his posture relaxed. One hand came up to gently squeeze Rian’s tense shoulder. “She’s the reason we’re here, after all. She saw it before either of us did.”

Mira set her cup down with a soft click. “All I ever wanted was to know you two found your happiness. To see that the love I saw simmering between you finally boiled over.” A slow, wicked smile touched her lips. Her gaze was unwavering, intense. It wasn’t a look of jealousy. It was one of pure, unadulterated hunger. “And I want to watch. That’s my price. Let me see you. Let me see what real passion looks like.”

Rian’s protest died on his tongue. The room was stiflingly hot. He could still taste Gurjin on his lips, feel the phantom press of his body. His own need was a living thing, coiling tight in his gut, screaming at him to stop talking and just take. Mira’s presence, instead of being a barrier, was becoming a strange, new kind of kindling. The sheer audacity of it, the raw taboo, sent a jolt of electricity straight to his already-stiff cock. His resistance crumbled, burnt away by a hotter, more urgent fire.

“You… you truly don’t mind?” he asked Gurjin, his voice barely a whisper.

Gurjin turned him around, his dark eyes gleaming. “The only thing I mind is that we’ve stopped.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Rian’s ear, his voice a private, gritty promise. “Ignore her. Focus on me. Show me how much you need me.”

It was all the permission Rian needed. The last thread of his hesitation snapped. With a growl that was all possessive need, he reclaimed Gurjin’s mouth, the kiss deeper, filthier than before. This time, his hands didn’t fumble. They yanked Gurjin’s tunic over his head, revealing the familiar, powerful expanse of his chest. Rian’s mouth left Gurjin’s to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down his throat, over the strong pulse beating there, down to the tight nubs of his nipples. He laved one with his tongue, then sucked, hard, drawing a sharp, guttural groan from Gurjin.

“Yesss…” Gurjin hissed, his head falling back against the door with a thud. His hands tangled in Rian’s hair, not guiding, just holding on as Rian worshipped his chest.

Rian sank to his knees, his hands making quick work of Gurjin’s trousers. The fabric fell, and Gurjin’s cock sprang free, thick and full and already leaking. The musky, familiar scent of him filled Rian’s senses, and he moaned, nuzzling the coarse hair at the base before leaning forward to take the head into his mouth.

Gentle at first, a soft laving of his tongue over the slit, tasting the salty pre-seed. Then deeper, taking more of him, his jaw stretching. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking firmly as he began to move, one hand wrapping around the base to stroke what his mouth couldn’t yet take.

From her chair, Mira let out a soft, shaky sigh. Rian heard it, and the sound—an unmistakable sound of arousal—thrummed through him. He wasn’t just pleasuring Gurjin. He was performing. He was proving something. And the dark, wicked thrill of it made him take Gurjin deeper, until his nose was buried in the dark curls and Gurjin was cursing freely, his hips giving tiny, aborted thrusts.

“By the stars, Rian…” Gurjin choked out.

Rian pulled off with a wet pop, panting. He looked up the length of Gurjin’s body, meeting his hooded, desperate gaze. Then, his own eyes flicked to Mira. She was leaning forward now, her tea forgotten, her lips slightly parted, one hand absentmindedly tracing the neckline of her own gown. Her cheeks were flushed.

“See what you gave up?” Rian asked her, his voice ragged,challenging.

Mira’s smile returned, darker this time. “I didn’t give up anything. I gained a front-row seat to a masterpiece.” Her eyes drifted down his body, lingering on the obvious bulge in his trousers. “Now stop taunting me and finish what you started. Take him to the bed. I want to see everything.”

Gurjin’s hands were on him then, hauling him up from his knees and half-carrying, half-dragging him toward the furs piled in the corner of the room. They fell onto the softness in a tangle of limbs and frantic hands, clothes being torn away and discarded. Skin met skin, hot and desperate. Rian found himself on his back, Gurjin looming over him, his weight a perfect, grounding pressure.

Rian’s legs fell open in invitation, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was laid bare, for Gurjin, for Mira, for the universe itself. He didn’t care. His world had narrowed to the man above him and the burning need to be filled.

Gurjin reached for the vial of oil on the bedside table, his movements sure. He slicked his fingers, his eyes never leaving Rian’s. The first touch was a cool shock, a single oil-slicked finger circling his entrance, making him jerk and gasp.

“Look at me,” Gurjin commanded, his voice low and thick. Rian obeyed, his gaze locking with Gurjin’s as the pressure increased, and then—oh, oh—the first finger slid inside. It was a stretch, a burn he craved. He whimpered, his back arching off the furs.

From her chair, Mira moaned softly, a sound of pure want. “Another. Give him another.”

Gurjin obeyed, scissoring his finger, preparing him with a ruthless efficiency that had Rian pleading, nonsensical words falling from his lips. A second finger joined the first, the stretch deeper, more intense. Rian cried out, his nails digging into Gurjin’s biceps.

“Please… Gurjin, now… I’m ready, I need you now…”

Chapter Text

"You're sure about this?" Rian's voice was a low, husky whisper against his ear, a stark contrast to the commanding grip he had on Gurjin's wrists.

Gurjin’s breath hitched, his own voice unfamiliar, strained. "Yes. Just... just don't stop."

A low, possessive growl rumbled from Rian's chest. "Wasn't planning on it."

He’d never been here before. Not like this. The cool stone of the chamber wall seeped through Gurjin's tunic, a steadying chill against the feverish heat of his own skin. But the real heat came from the body pressed flush against his, pinning him firmly in place. Rian. His Rian. But not as he'd ever known him.

The shift had started hours ago, a quiet but persistent thrum during a routine patrol of the Crystal Desert's outskirts. The tension between them was always there, a live wire of competition and deep-seated affection, but today it had morphed into something else. Something… patient. Calculating.

It was Rian who had broken the comfortable silence. "You always lead," he'd said, his tone casual, but his eyes, those keen, intelligent eyes, were sharp with intent.

Gurjin had chuckled, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Someone has to. You get lost in your own head, scribe."

"Maybe I want to be the one who leads for once," Rian had countered, stopping their walk. "In more ways than one."

The challenge, subtle but clear, had hung in the arid air. Gurjin had turned to face him, a teasing retort on his lips, but it died there. The look on Rian's face wasn't one of playful rivalry. It was pure, undiluted hunger. A look Gurjin was used to wielding, not receiving.

A slow, understanding smile had spread across Gurjin's face. "Oh," was all he'd managed, the single syllable laden with sudden, thrilling possibility.

Now, back in the privacy of their shared chamber, that possibility was a crushing, exhilarating reality. Rian’s mouth found the sensitive column of Gurjin’s throat, not with softness, but with a deliberate, open-mouthed pressure that was more claim than kiss. Gurjin’s head thudded back against the wall, a choked gasp escaping him. His hands, held fast above his head in one of Rian’s strong hands, flexed impotently.

"Rian..." he breathed, the name a question, a plea, a surrender.

"Shhh," Rian murmured against his skin, his free hand sliding down Gurjin's chest, fingers splaying possessively over the hard plane of his stomach. "I've got you. I've watched you. I know what you like. Trust me to give it to you."

The words, whispered with such confidence, unraveled something fundamental in Gurjin. The need to control, to guide, to be the unshakable pillar—it melted under the searing heat of Rian's touch. He was adrift, and Rian was his anchor.

With a deftness that belied his usual scholarly demeanor, Rian worked the lacings of Gurjin's trousers. The cool air of the room hit his heated skin, followed an instant later by the shocking, electric warmth of Rian's palm sliding down, cupping him through his smallclothes. Gurjin jerked against the wall, a ragged groan ripped from his throat. Gods. The sensation was immense, overwhelming. He was already hard, straining against the fabric, and Rian's touch, so sure and demanding, was almost too much.

"You're already like this for me," Rian observed, his voice thick with dark pleasure. He applied a firm, circling pressure that made Gurjin's knees buckle. Only Rian's body keeping him upright saved him from crumbling to the floor. "Just from me taking charge."

He didn't wait for a reply. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Gurjin's smallclothes and drew them down, freeing his erection into the cool air. Gurjin trembled, exposed and utterly vulnerable. He squeezed his eyes shut, the intensity of the sensation a tidal wave threatening to pull him under.

"Look at me." Rian's command was soft but absolute.

Gurjin's eyes fluttered open. The look on Rian's face—a mix of fierce adoration and raw dominance—stole the air from his lungs.

Rian sank to his knees.

The sight was more potent than any intoxicant. Rian, on his knees before him. But there was no submission in the act. His gaze never wavered, holding Gurjin prisoner as he leaned forward. The first hot, wet swipe of his tongue up the length of Gurjin's shaft was a bolt of pure lightning. Gurjin cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily. Rian’s hands clamped down on his thighs, holding him still with an effortless strength that was new, intoxicating.

"Hold still," Rian instructed, his breath a hot ghost over sensitive skin. "You take what I give you."

And then he took Gurjin into his mouth, deep and slow, with none of the hesitancy of a novice. He knew exactly what he was doing, using his tongue, his lips, the gentle suction that made stars explode behind Gurjin's eyelids. His world narrowed to this point of searing, wet heat, to the obscene, perfect sound of Rian's mouth on him, to the grip on his wrists and the commanding pressure on his thighs.

He was panting, a steady stream of desperate, shattered pleas falling from his lips. "Rian... please... more... don't stop... gods..."

Rian hummed in response, the vibration travelling straight through Gurjin's core, coiling the tension there impossibly tighter. He was a master, drawing out every sensation, building the pleasure until it was a physical ache, a need so profound it was pain. Gurjin was teetering on the very edge, his body strung taut, every muscle screaming for release.

Just as he was about to shatter, Rian pulled off with a wet, soft pop. Gurjin whimpered at the loss, the cold air a cruel shock.

"Not yet," Rian said, his voice rough as he rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were black with desire. "Not like that. I'm not finished with you."

He released Gurjin's wrists, only to spin him around, pressing his chest firmly against the cool stone wall. Gurjin went willingly, pliant, his mind hazy with want. He heard the sound of a vial being uncorked, and then Rian's slick fingers were against him, circling a place no one had ever touched before. Gurjin tensed, a flicker of his old control surfacing in a spike of uncertainty.

Rian stilled, his body a solid, reassuring line against Gurjin's back. "Breathe," he commanded softly, his lips against Gurjin's shoulder blade. "Just breathe, and push back against my hand. Show me you want it."

The command, the permission within it, shattered the last of Gurjin's resistance. He let out a shuddering breath and obeyed, leaning back into the pressure. One slick finger pressed inward, slow, inexorable, stretching him in a way that was alien and dizzying. It burned for a moment, a sharp, bright flash, but Rian was murmuring praise into his skin—"So good, you're taking it so well, Gurjin"—and the burn quickly melted into a deep, filling fullness that made him groan.

A second finger joined the first, the stretch more intense, a delicious, bordering-on-painful friction that made his toes curl. Rian scissored them gently, crooking them, and Gurjin shouted as he brushed against a spot inside him that sent blinding pleasure coursing through his entire body.

"There?" Rian asked, a smirk evident in his voice. He did it again, and Gurjin could only nod desperately, his forehead pressed to the stone, his knuckles white where he braced himself.

"Yes... there... oh, please..."

When Rian withdrew his fingers, the emptiness was a profound agony. But it was fleeting. He replaced them with the blunt, solid head of his own arousal, pressing insistently against Gurjin's entrance.

"Ready?" Rian growled, his own breath coming in short pants.

Gurjin nodded, beyond words, pushing back in answer.

Rian sheathed himself in one long, slow, devastating thrust.

The sensation was all-consuming. The initial, breathtaking stretch gave way to an overwhelming feeling of being filled, possessed, known in a way he never had been. He was pinned between the unyielding stone and the unyielding strength of the man behind him, utterly speared. He felt Rian tremble, a fine shiver running through his entire frame as he held himself deep, buried to the hilt.

"Gurjin..." Rian rasped, his voice fractured with awe. "You feel... incredible."

He began to move.

Chapter Text

The stone floor of the chamber was cool against Gurjin’s bare back, a stark contrast to the feverish heat coiling low in his belly. Rian loomed over him, a silhouette against the flickering torchlight, his breathing a steady, controlled rhythm that spoke of quiet power. His knuckles, clad in soft leather, traced a slow, possessive line from Gurjin’s sternum down to the flat plane of his abdomen.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Rian murmured, his voice a low, gravelly thing that vibrated through Gurjin’s very bones. His thumb hooked under the waistband of Gurjin’s trousers. “No clever retorts? No challenges?”

Gurjin shifted, the rough-hewn stone scraping pleasantly against his skin. He arched his back, a silent answer, offering himself. Words were often a clumsy barrier between them. His body, however, never lied. His touch is everything. The anticipation was a physical ache, a delicious tension tightening every muscle.

Rian’s smile was a sharp, predatory flash in the dim light. He understood. With a single, sharp tug, he ripped the leather ties of Gurjin’s trousers, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silent room. The cold air hit Gurjin’s exposed skin, and he gasped, his hips lifting involuntarily. Rian’s hand came down hard on his inner thigh—not a caress, but a stinging, open-palmed slap.

Yes.

A bright, searing heat blossomed on his skin, followed by a throbbing that spread through his flesh and straight to his cock, which twitched, now fully hard and leaking against his stomach. Gurjin’s breath hitched, a choked, needy sound. He didn’t flinch away; he pressed into the lingering pain, seeking more.

“There it is,” Rian whispered, leaning close, his breath hot against Gurjin’s ear. “That look in your eyes. You don’t want a lover. You want a master.”

Another slap, this one higher, catching the sensitive skin where his thigh met his hip. Gurjin cried out, his head falling back against the stone. The pain was a key, unlocking a deeper, more primal level of his arousal. It wasn’t just the sting; it was the intent behind it. It was the absolute focus in Rian’s eyes, the knowledge that he was the sole architect of Gurjin’s pleasure and his pain. They were two sides of the same coin, and Rian was spending both lavishly.

Rian’s leather-clad fingers wrapped around Gurjin’s aching length, his grip punishingly tight. He stroked him once, a rough, dry friction that made Gurjin see stars, before releasing him. The denial was another kind of torment. He needed more. He needed…

Rian moved with a sudden, fluid grace, his body covering Gurjin’s, pinning him to the cold floor. The weight was immense, suffocating, perfect. He buried his face in the side of Gurjin’s neck, where the delicate, frilled gills lay fluttered with every ragged breath. Gurjin shuddered, a full-body spasm of pure anticipation. This was his most vulnerable place, a nexus of nerve endings and survival instinct.

Rian’s tongue, hot and wet, traced the intricate, hyper-sensitive filigree of one gill. Gurjin whimpered, his fingers digging into Rian’s shoulders. It was an intimate violation, a claiming. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on agony.

Then the tongue was gone.

Rian’s teeth replaced it.

He didn’t nibble. He didn’t play.

He bit down.

Hard.

A white-hot bolt of pure, undiluted sensation shattered Gurjin’s world. It wasn’t pain as he understood it. It was a electric current that arced from the punctured skin, through the cluster of fragile nerves in his gills, and shot directly down his spine. It was a supernova of feeling—a blinding, all-consuming flash of hurt and ecstasy that erased every other thought, every other sense.

His back bowed off the floor, a silent scream caught in his throat. His vision whited out. The world condensed to that single, exquisite point of contact where Rian’s teeth held him, owned him. The sharp, coppery tang of his own blood filled his nostrils, a scent that, coming from Rian, was the most potent aphrodisiac imaginable.

The pain did not subside. It bloomed. It radiated outwards in pulsing, throbbing waves, each one syncing with the frantic beating of his heart. And with every pulse, his orgasm, which had been held at bay, was ripped from him. It was not a gentle cresting wave; it was a tectonic rupture.

Gurjin came with a guttural, broken shout, his release erupting in hot, frantic pulses between their sweat-slicked bodies. His entire being convulsed around the anchor of Rian’s bite, the pleasure so intense it was indistinguishable from the pain, each fueling the other in a feedback loop of overwhelming sensation. He was floating, dissolving, held together only by the pressure of Rian’s jaw.

Slowly, so slowly, Rian released his bite. He lapped gently at the throbbing, wounded skin, the softness of his tongue a shocking contrast to the violence of a moment before. The gentle suction sent fresh, dizzying aftershocks through Gurjin’s spent body.

Rian lifted his head, his lips stained a faint crimson. His eyes, dark and gleaming with primal satisfaction, held Gurjin’s dazed gaze. He brought his thumb up, smearing a drop of Gurjin’s blood across his own lower lip.

“You are mine,” Rian stated, his voice thick with a possessiveness that hollowed out Gurjin’s insides. “Every gasp, every shudder, every drop of blood. Mine.”

Gurjin could only nod, his body humming, his very soul laid bare and utterly sated on the stone floor. He was completely, devastatingly ruined. And he had never felt more whole.

Chapter Text

The steam from the baths curled in thick, warm tendrils, clinging to the vaulted stone ceilings of the bathing caverns. The air was thick with the mineral scent of the hot springs and the low, echoing murmur of other Gelfling’s conversations, a distant hum that Rian found easy to tune out. He leaned back against the smooth, water-worn stone of the pool's edge, his eyes closed, the heat seeping deep into his muscles. A day of patrol duty had left him pleasantly weary, his body aching for exactly this kind of relief.

He heard the soft slosh of water beside him, a presence displacing the warmth. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was Gurjin. He recognized the sound of his movements, the particular warmth of his aura.

“You look like you’re about to melt into the water,” Gurjin’s voice was a low, familiar rumble, laced with amusement.

Rian cracked one eye open. Gurjin was smiling, his dark skin gleaming under the flickering torchlight, the intricate patterns of his drenchen heritage standing out in sharp relief. His gaze was intense, focused, and it sent a completely different kind of heat coiling in Rian’s belly, one that had nothing to do with the thermal springs.

“I might,” Rian murmured, his voice already a little rough. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can see that.” Gurjin’s smile widened, a flash of white teeth. He sank deeper into the water until it lapped at his chin. His eyes never left Rian’s. “You should relax. Really relax.”

The promise in his tone was unmistakable. Rian’s heart began to beat a little faster. He knew that look. It was the look Gurjin got when he had a plan, when he was about to utilize his unique… advantages. The rows of delicate, slitted gills on the sides of his neck were just visible above the waterline, fluttering faintly with his breath.

“What did you have in mind?” Rian asked, though he already knew. The thought alone made his blood thrum.

Instead of answering, Gurjin simply winked. Then he took a deep, obvious breath, and sank beneath the surface of the cloudy, mineral-rich water without a sound.

Rian held his own breath, waiting. The world above became muffled, distant. The only immediate sensations were the enveloping heat and the rapid, excited hammering of his own heart. He could feel the gentle current Gurjin’s body made as he moved closer, a subtle shift in the water pressure against Rian’s legs.

Then he felt it.

A touch, feather-light and impossibly warm, on his inner thigh. Fingers, tracing a path upwards through the water. Rian’s breath hitched. He let his head fall back against the stone, his eyes squeezing shut. This was the game. The exquisite, nerve-shredding game of public secrecy. Anyone could be watching from the other pools, but all they would see was Rian, seemingly alone, his head tilted back in apparent relaxation. They wouldn't see the skilled mouth about to worship him beneath the surface.

Gurjin’s hands settled on Rian’s hips, his thumbs rubbing slow, firm circles into the tense muscles there. It was a claiming gesture, a calming one, and it made Rian’s body go pliant. He spread his legs a fraction wider, an invitation, a plea.

The first lick was a shock of wet, silken heat. A broad, flat stroke from root to tip that made Rian’s stomach clench and a choked sound catch in his throat. He bit down hard on his lip, forcing the moan back. By the Three Suns…

Gurjin didn’t tease for long. He took Rian into his mouth all at once, the suction instantaneous and perfect. The water created a surreal, weightless sensation, amplifying every touch, every movement. Rian could feel the incredible softness of Gurjin’s lips, the firm pressure of his tongue working its magic along his length. But it was the gills that truly undid him.

As Gurjin began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that spoke of endless practice, the delicate fronds of his gills brushed against the hypersensitive skin of Rian’s inner thighs and lower stomach. It wasn't a touch like any other. It was a fluttering, living caress, a thousand tiny, velvety kisses with every bob of Gurjin’s head. A sighing, whispering touch that danced over his flesh, a sensation so unique and overwhelmingly intimate that it short-circuited Rian’s higher thoughts.

He could feel the gentle pulse of water flowing through Gurjin’s gills, a current of warmth that seemed to pull at him, to draw him deeper into that incredible mouth. Rian’s own breathing was ragged now, coming in sharp, quiet gasps that he tried desperately to mask. He dug his fingers into the stone ledge beneath him, his knuckles white. His hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk, a silent request for more, for harder, for everything.

Gurjin answered immediately, taking him deeper. Rian could feel the back of Gurjin’s throat, a tight, welcoming heat, and the simultaneous, maddening flutter of those gills against his very base. The dual sensations were catastrophic. Pleasure, pure and scalding, began to coil tightly at the base of his spine, building with terrifying speed. He was distantly aware of the low, humming murmur of other bathers, a stark contrast to the silent, underwater sin being committed between them. The risk of discovery was a potent spice, a thrill that amplified every sensation a hundredfold.

He let one hand slip beneath the water, his fingers searching. They found Gurjin’s head, the familiar shape of his skull, the wet, braided strands of his hair. He didn’t push, didn’t guide. He just held on, his touch speaking what his voice could not: I’m yours. Don’t stop.

Gurjin’s pace increased. The movements became more urgent, more hungry. The water churned gently around them. Rian could feel the muscles in his own abdomen tightening like drawn wire, a familiar, undeniable pressure building. He was so close, teetering on the very edge. The world had narrowed to this: heat, water, and the devastating skill of the lover who could breathe it.

He was panting openly now, each exhale a shuddering gasp. His back arched, pressing him more firmly into Gurjin’s mouth. The fluttering at his thighs became a constant, delirious vibration.

“G-Gurjin…” he whispered, a strangled, breathy plea that was swallowed by the cavern’s echoes. “I’m… I’m gonna…”

The climax didn’t crest; it detonated. It tore through him with the force of a thunderclap, a silent, shattering release under the water. His body seized, every muscle locking in ecstasy as pleasure, hot and blinding, poured through his veins. He shook, his grip on the stone and on Gurjin’s hair becoming desperate, anchor points in a dissolving world.

Through the hazy, blissful aftershocks, he felt Gurjin’s mouth still working him, gentler now, drawing out every last drop of sensation until it was almost too much, until Rian had to weakly tap his shoulder.

Gurjin surfaced a moment later, water streaming from his hair and down his face. He was breathing deeply, steadily through both mouth and gills, a contented, utterly smug expression on his handsome face. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his lips.

“Did you relax?” he asked, his voice husky.

Chapter Text

The low hum of the climate control was the only sound in Rian’s apartment, a sterile white noise that did nothing to calm the heat simmering under his own skin. He watched Gurjin, shirtless and magnificent, sprawled across his dark grey sofa. A sheen of sweat glistened on the defined planes of his chest, a testament to the summer heat and the… tension that had been building between them for weeks.

“You’re staring,” Gurjin murmured, his voice a low, rough vibration that went straight to Rian’s core.

“Just admiring the view,” Rian replied, his own voice tighter than he intended. His fingers closed around the small, sleek device in his pocket. It was an impulse buy, something he’d seen in a shop window and had to have, the moment he’d pictured it on him.

He pulled it out, the black silicone and chrome gleaming under the apartment’s cool lights. Gurjin’s eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, tracked the movement. A slow, curious smile played on his lips.

“What’s that? Some new tech toy?”

“Something like that,” Rian said, moving to kneel on the floor beside the couch. The air between them crackled, thick and potent. “A ring. For you.”

Gurjin’s eyebrows shot up, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “For me? I’m not really a jewelry guy, Rian.”

“This isn’t for your finger,” Rian said, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

The chuckle died in Gurjin’s throat, replaced by a sharp, audible intake of breath. His gaze flickered from the ring to Rian’s face, his pupils dilating, swallowing the deep brown of his irises. He didn’t speak, but the slow, deliberate way he shifted his hips, making room, was consent enough.

Rian’s hands were steady as he unfastened Gurjin’s jeans, the sound of the zipper obscenely loud. He tugged the denim and briefs down just enough, and Gurjin’s cock sprang free, already half-hard and beautifully thick. Rian’s mouth watered at the sight, but he had other plans. He slicked his palm with a bit of spit, giving Gurjin a few slow, firm strokes until he was fully, impressively erect, the vein along the underside throbbing under his touch.

Then, with a reverence that felt almost religious, he rolled the cool, flexible ring down the length of him, settling it tight at the base. It was a perfect fit.

For a moment, nothing happened. Gurjin just looked down his body, a mix of curiosity and anticipation on his face. Then Rian found the nearly invisible button on the side and pressed it.

A low, deep thrum emanated from the device.

Gurjin’s back immediately arched off the couch cushions, a choked, guttural sound tearing from his lips. “Fuck!”

His hands fisted the fabric of the sofa, his knuckles turning white. The vibration wasn’t surface-level; it was a profound, internal resonance that seemed to travel straight up his shaft and coil deep in his gut.

“Oh, you like that?” Rian whispered, his own cock straining against his jeans. He adjusted the setting, switching it to a faster, more insistent pulse.

“Rian… gods…” Gurjin gasped, his head thrashing from side to side. His whole body was tensing, his abdominal muscles clenching into a hard board. The pleasure was clearly intense, overwhelming, the ring pushing him relentlessly toward the edge without the friction needed to tip him over. It was pure, undiluted stimulation. Teasing. Torment.

Rian watched, utterly captivated. He saw the way Gurjin’s thighs trembled, the way his toes curled. He saw the desperate, wild look in his eyes, a man completely at the mercy of a sensation he couldn’t control.

“You look so good like this,” Rian murmured, leaning close, his breath ghosting over Gurjin’s hip. “So desperate for it.”

He pressed the button again, and a new pattern began, a slow, torturous build to a intense peak before dropping back down, only to begin again. Gurjin whimpered, a broken, pleading sound. His hips began to move in tiny, involuntary thrusts, seeking any kind of relief the unyielding vibration wouldn’t provide.

“Please…” The word was a ragged puff of air.

“Please what?” Rian asked, his voice soft but firm. He placed a hand on Gurjin’s stomach, feeling the muscles jumping and quivering under his palm. The heat there was incredible.

“Please… let me… I need to…” Gurjin couldn’t even form the words, his request lost in another wave of sensation that made his eyes roll back. A pearl of precum beaded at his tip, glistening, begging for attention.

Rian’s control was a thin, fraying wire. He wanted to see him break. He wanted to watch this powerful, composed man come completely undone by his hand, by his toy. He switched the setting to its highest level, a continuous, brutal buzz.

Gurjin cried out, a raw, animalistic sound. His back bowed so severely Rian thought it might snap. His pleas became a frantic, broken mantra. “Cum… need to cum… please, Rian, let me cum… I can’t… I’m right there… please!”

Tears of frustration and unbearable pleasure welled in the corners of his eyes. He was trembling all over, a live wire of pure need. Every muscle was coiled, straining, his entire being focused on the desperate, impossible need for release.

Rian leaned down, his lips inches from Gurjin’s ear, his own breathing shallow. “You want to cum that badly?”

A desperate, sobbing gasp was his only answer. Gurjin’s hand shot out, grabbing Rian’s wrist, his grip bruisingly tight. His eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto Rian’s. The message was clear: Yes. Now. Please.

Rian held his gaze, his thumb hovering over the power button. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex and pure desperation.

Chapter Text

Rian’s breath was a hot, steady rhythm against Gurjin’s throat. They were a tangle of limbs on the soft moss, the aftermath of their frantic undressing a puddle of leather and cloth beside them. The air, thick with the scent of earth and their shared arousal, hummed with anticipation. Gurjin’s cock, hard and leaking, pressed insistently against Rian’s thigh, a blatant demand for attention.

But Rian’s focus was elsewhere.

His fingers, calloused from years of holding a sword, traced the intricate, fluted lines that ran down the sides of Gurjin’s neck. They were not scars, but something far more intimate. Gills. Delicate, sensitive, and, Rian had recently discovered, utterly erogenous.

“Rian…” Gurjin’s voice was a ragged groan, his hips giving an involuntary thrust. “What are you… why are you waiting?”

A slow, predatory smile touched Rian’s lips. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just a hair’s breadth from the pulsating skin. He could feel the warmth radiating from the intricate patterns, could see the fine tremors that ran through Gurjin’s powerful frame. “I’m not waiting,” Rian murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble. “I’m choosing.”

He bypassed the straining length of Gurjin’s cock entirely, his hands moving to frame his lover’s face, holding him steady. Then, he closed the final inch.

The tip of his tongue, wet and warm, flicked against the highest ridge of the left gill slit.

Gurjin’s entire body went rigid. A strangled, guttural sound tore from his throat, part gasp, part sob. It wasn’t a sound of pain. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated sensory overload.

Rian did it again, a little slower this time. A deliberate, languid lap, tracing the unique biological architecture. The texture was unlike anything else on Gurjin’s body—soft as velvet but lined with a subtle, fascinating rigidity. And the taste… it was clean, like ozone after a storm, mixed with the heady, musky scent of Gurjin’s skin.

He flattened his tongue and dragged it slowly down the entire length of the slit.

“Fuck!” Gurjin cried out, his back arching off the moss bed. His hands, which had been gripping Rian’s shoulders, now clawed at them, desperate for an anchor. “Rian, by the… by the crystal…!”

Rian was lost in the discovery. He worshipped the sensitive flesh with his mouth, alternating between broad, wet strokes and pinpoint flicks of his tongue. He suckled gently on the tender skin, and the response was instantaneous and violent. Gurjin shuddered, a full-body convulsion that was almost a seizure of pleasure. A fresh wave of pre-cum slicked Rian’s thigh.

“It’s… it’s too much,” Gurjin panted, his eyes screwed shut. “I can’t… it’s like you’re licking my nerves directly.”

“Shhh,” Rian soothed, before moving to the other side of his neck. His actions were anything but soothing. He nibbled playfully at the edge of the gill, his teeth providing the lightest, most exquisite pressure. He could feel the frantic, rabbiting pulse in Gurjin’s carotid artery against his lips, a drumbeat of the ecstasy he was orchestrating.

He was mapping a new continent of pleasure, and Gurjin was his helpless, willing cartographer, crying out with every new landmark discovered.

Rian intensified his efforts, his mouth working over the hyper-sensitive skin with a focused hunger. He wasn’t just trying to arouse; he was trying to unravel. He wanted to see just how far he could push the magnificent warrior crumbling beneath him. He sucked a dark mark just below the gill line, and Gurjin’s breath hitched, his hips stuttering in a broken, rhythmic grind against nothing.

The air crackled. Gurjin’s moans became continuous, a raw, pleading litany. “Don’t stop… please, please don’t stop… it’s… I’m…”

Rian knew. He could feel the tension coiling at the base of Gurjin’s spine, could feel the way every muscle in his body was drawn taut as a bowstring. He moved back to the left gill, the one that seemed most reactive, and sealed his mouth over it. He drew on it, not roughly, but with a firm, persistent suction, his tongue swirling relentlessly over the epicenter of sensation.

It was the final key turning the lock.

Gurjin’s plea dissolved into a wordless, shattered cry. His eyes flew open, wide and unseeing, reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. His body bowed off the ground with a force that was almost violent, every tendon and muscle standing in stark relief.

He came.

It wasn’t a gentle release. It was a cataclysm.

His cock jerked against Rian’s leg, spilling hot stripes of seed over his own stomach and thigh in powerful, pulsing waves. But the orgasm was clearly centered in his neck, in the place where Rian’s mouth still worked gently, drawing out the last shudders. Gurjin’s hands fell from Rian’s shoulders, his arms going limp as the overwhelming waves of pleasure washed over him, leaving him twitching and gasping.

For a long moment, the only sounds were Gurjin’s ragged, struggling breaths and the quiet hum of the forest. Rian finally lifted his head, a look of awe on his face. He kissed Gurjin’s jaw, then his lips, tasting his own persistence there.

Gurjin’s eyes fluttered, struggling to focus. He looked utterly spent, wrecked in the most beautiful way possible. A slow, dazed smile touched his lips. “I… I didn’t know that was possible.”

Rian grinned, trailing a finger through the spend on Gurjin’s stomach. “Neither did I.” He brought his finger to his mouth, tasting his lover, his own arousal spiking at the salty, musky flavor.

Gurjin watched him, his breath still coming in deep, recovering gulps. The haze in his eyes began to clear, replaced by a dark, simmering heat. A look of pure, predatory intent. He reached up, his hand still trembling slightly, and cupped the back of Rian’s head.

Chapter Text

The door sighed shut behind Rian, sealing him in an unnerving blanket of silence. His muscles ached with a deep, familiar weariness, the kind that seeped right down into the bone. The chamber he shared with Gurjin was never this dark, this still. A single sliver of pale moonlight cut across the floor, failing to penetrate the deep shadows crowding the corners.

Too quiet.

His hand went to the dagger at his belt, not drawing it, but resting his palm on the cool hilt. His own breathing sounded too loud in the absolute hush. He took a slow, cautious step forward, then another, his boots whispering against the stone floor. His eyes were fixed on the lantern on the low table ahead, a beacon in the oppressive dark. Just a few more steps.

He fumbled for the spark-stone and tinderbox he knew were beside it. The scrape of flint was a violent, startling noise. A spark flew, died. Another scrape. Another spark that caught, a tiny flame blooming to life. He carefully touched it to the wick, and a soft, golden glow began to push back the darkness.

It was the only warning he got—the light.

A shape erupted from the shadows behind him. A body, all hard muscle and fierce momentum, slammed into him. The air left his lungs in a pained whoosh as he was thrown forward, crashing onto the firm mattress of the bed. A heavy weight settled on his back, pinning him effortlessly. A strong hand fisted in his hair, mashing his face into the woven fabric of the bedcover. He could smell the familiar scent of sun-warmed linen and something else… something musky and wild.

Adrenaline surged, cold and sharp. He bucked, thrashing against the immovable force holding him down. A low, guttural growl vibrated through the body atop his, a sound of pure dominance that made his stomach clench. He fought harder, a spark of genuine fear igniting.

Then he felt it.

The press of the body shifted, and a hand—calloused and sure—slid down his side. Not to harm. Not to restrain. The fingers found the exact, specific spot just above his hip bone, a place that was ticklish and sensitive, and pinched. Not hard. Just a precise, knowing little squeeze.

That pinch.

The fight drained out of him instantly, replaced by a wave of dizzying heat. Only one person in all of Thra ever did that. Only Gurjin. The fear melted, transforming into a different kind of tension altogether, a thrilling, electric anticipation. He went pliant beneath the weight, a soft, surrendering groan escaping him as he turned his head to the side, gasping for air.

The grip in his hair gentled, becoming almost a caress. The weight on top of him shifted again, and he could feel the rough texture of leather armor against his tunic, the solid ridge of a belt pressing into the small of his back. Hot breath ghosted over the shell of his ear, followed by the scratch of dense, beaded dreadlocks against his cheek. His dreadlocks.

He didn’t need to see the face. The evidence was everywhere. The size, the strength, the scent of him—sun-drenched stone and clean sweat. The possessive, almost aggressive way he held him down. It was all Gurjin.

A thrill, sharp and sweet, shot down Rian’s spine. He pressed his hips back, a deliberate, seeking motion against the solid thigh wedged between his legs. An answer rumbled against his back—a deep, approving hum.

The hand not tangled in his hair roamed, sliding down his back, palming the curve of his ass through his trousers with a frank, greedy possessiveness that made Rian’s breath hitch. Fingers made quick, efficient work of the laces, yanking the fabric down to his thighs in one rough, urgent motion. The cool air of the room hit his exposed skin, a stark contrast to the searing heat of the hand that immediately replaced it, kneading the flesh of his bare ass.

Rian groaned, pushing back into that touch, his own hands fisting the blankets. He was already hard, aching with a need that had utterly vanquished his fatigue. Gurjin’s other hand released his hair, sliding around his hip, dipping low on his abdomen, heading straight for his aching cock.

Oh, thank the sisters.

The touch was electric. Gurjin’s rough, warrior’s hand wrapped around his length, stroking him once, twice, a slow, torturous friction that was both not enough and almost too much. Rian cried out, a ragged, broken sound. He heard a soft, slick sound behind him, the familiar pop of a vial, and then the hand was back, wet and cool, slicking his length generously before returning to its rhythm.

This was different. Not just a quick, frantic coupling. This was a claiming. Every movement was deliberate, intense, overwhelming in its focus. Gurjin was surrounding him, enveloping him, and Rian gave himself over to it completely, his world narrowing to the feel of that hand on his cock and the hard, armoured body caging him in.

The hand on his ass moved, fingers sliding down, through the cleft, pressing against his entrance. Rian shuddered, pushing back against the pressure, a silent, desperate plea. A finger, slick and insistent, pressed inside him, and he gasped at the stretch, the shocking, perfect fullness. It was only one, but it was Gurjin, and it was everything. It crooked inside him, stroking a spot that made stars burst behind his eyelids.

The hand on his cock never stopped its steady, maddening rhythm, and the combination was devastating. He was being unraveled from the inside out, pleasure coiling tight and hot in his gut. He was babbling, begging, words he couldn’t even understand falling from his lips.

The finger withdrew, and he whined at the loss. But it was replaced almost instantly by something much larger, much more. The blunt, thick head of Gurjin’s cock pressed against him, and Rian pushed back, taking him in, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he was filled, stretched, occupied. Gurjin sank into him with one slow, inexorable thrust, until his hips were flush against Rian’s ass.

He stopped, buried to the hilt, both of them trembling with the force of it. Gurjin’s forehead dropped between Rian’s shoulder blades, his breath coming in ragged gusts. The silence was back, but now it was charged, screaming with the tension of their joined bodies.

Then he moved.

It was a brutal, perfect pace. Each thrust was a jolt of pure sensation, driving Rian’s hips into the mattress, the friction on his cock almost unbearable. Gurjin’s grip on him was iron, holding him in place, using him, giving him exactly what he hadn’t known he needed. The sounds were obscene—skin slapping against skin, their ragged breaths, Rian’s choked moans muffled by the bedclothes.

The coil snapped. Pleasure, white-hot and blinding, erupted through him. His orgasm ripped through his body, his cock pulsing in Gurjin’s still-stroking hand as he cried out, his vision whiting out at the edges. He clenched around Gurjin’s length, milking him, and that was all it took. With a ragged, guttural groan that was pure release, Gurjin followed him over, spilling deep inside him, his body shuddering with the force of his own climax.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their heavy, panting breaths. The weight on Rian’s back was a comforting anchor. Gurjin softened inside him but made no move to pull away, his body lax and spent.

A slow grin spread across Rian’s face, his cheek still pressed to the mattress. He reached a trembling hand back, his fingers finding the familiar straps of the simple, carved mask Gurjin always wore. He fumbled with the clasp for a second before it gave way. He pulled it free and let it drop onto the blankets.

He craned his neck to look over his shoulder, getting his first look at his captor, his lover. Gurjin’s face was sheened with sweat, his eyes glazed with sated pleasure, a smug, triumphant smile playing on his lips.

Rian couldn’t help it. A breathless laugh escaped him. “You…”

Gurjin’s smile widened into a familiar, brilliant grin. “You should have seen your face,” he rumbled, his voice rough with use and amusement. “I thought you were going to stab me for a second there.”

Chapter Text

No. More. Moving. The thought was a thick, syrupy sludge in Rian’s mind. Every muscle fiber, every tendon, every bone felt liquified, melted into the profoundly damp sheets beneath him. He was a puddle of a man, spent and utterly claimed.

A low, guttural chuckle rumbled beside him. “Look at you.”

Rian could only manage a breathy sigh in response, a sound that was more air than voice. The weight of Gurjin’s arm was a comforting, heavy blanket across his waist.

A moment later, the warmth left him, and Rian whimpered at the loss of contact, the cool air of the room a shock against his sweat-sheened skin. He heard Gurjin move, his footsteps firm on the stone floor, then the sound of water sloshing in a basin.

He’s not done, Rian thought, a flicker of panic mixing with sheer, exhausted incredulity. He can’t be. I’ll break.

But the touch that returned to his thigh was not demanding. It was warm. And wet. A soft, steaming cloth began to move over his skin, and the tension bled from Rian’s body in a single, shuddering release.

Gurjin was cleaning him.

The gentleness of it was almost more overwhelming than the frantic, consuming passion that had come before.

*

It had started hours ago, the moment the heavy oak door of their shared chambers had slammed shut. The air, once formal and stiff from a tense council meeting, had crackled, electrified by the raw, unspoken thing between them.

Gurjin had pinned him against the door, his body a solid wall of muscle and intent. “All I could think about in there,” he’d growled, his voice a rough scrape against Rian’s ear, “was the look on your face when you finally let go.”

Rian had tried to hold onto his composure, a feeble defense. “We have duties, Gurjin. The trade agreements—”

“Fuck the agreements,” Gurjin had snarled, capturing Rian’s mouth in a searing kiss that tasted of frustration and desperate want. It wasn’t gentle; it was a conquest. His hands, large and calloused from a life wielding a sword, slid down Rian’s back, gripping his rear with a possessive strength that made Rian’s knees buckle.

That was all the invitation Gurjin needed. He’d hoisted Rian up, and Rian’s legs had instinctively wrapped around his waist as he was carried to the large bed, their lips never parting. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and frantic hands tearing at clothes—buttons flying, laces snapping.

There was no slow seduction, no gentle exploration. This was a claiming. Gurjin worshipped his body not with soft caresses but with a voracious hunger, his mouth and teeth leaving a blazing trail down Rian’s throat, over his collarbones, sucking a dark mark onto his pectoral that made Rian cry out. He nipped and licked his way down Rian’s abdomen, his stubble a delicious abrasion on sensitive skin.

When Gurjin’s mouth closed over the aching hardness of his cock, Rian’s back arched off the bed, a broken shout torn from his throat. The heat was unbearable, perfect. Gurjin’s tongue was a wicked, relentless instrument, laving and sucking until Rian was mindless, his fingers tangled in the thick, dark waves of Gurjin’s hair, not guiding, just holding on.

Just when Rian was teetering on the very edge, Gurjin pulled away, leaving him gasping and empty. He flipped Rian onto his stomach with a single, powerful motion. The cool air on his wet skin was a shock. Then Gurjin was over him, around him, his weight a devastating pleasure.

“Mine,” Gurjin whispered, the word a hot promise against the shell of his ear as he pressed a slick, insistent finger inside him. Rian gasped, pushing back against the intrusion, wanting more, needing it to be harder, faster, more.

The preparation was swift, efficient, and utterly maddening. Then Gurjin was sheathing himself inside him in one long, relentless push that stole the air from Rian’s lungs. He was so full, stretched so exquisitely, he saw stars behind his eyelids.

What followed was a furious, driving rhythm. Gurjin held his hips firm, pounding into him with a primal intensity that shook the bed frame. Each thrust was a jolt of pure lightning up his spine. Rian was reduced to a series of raw, ragged sounds, his face pressed into the pillows, his world narrowed to the points of contact: the bruising grip on his hips, the slam of Gurjin’s body against his, the devastating friction that coiled the tension in his gut tighter and tighter.

Gurjin leaned over him, blanketing his body, one arm snaking around his chest to pull him up against that solid, heaving chest. The change in angle was divine, brutal. Gurjin’s other hand found his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts.

It was too much. The sensory overload, the feel of being so completely filled and surrounded—it shattered him.

Rian came with a soundless scream, his release pulsing over Gurjin’s fist in hot, endless waves, his body clamping down around the incredible thickness inside him. The convulsions of his climax milked a guttural roar from Gurjin, who followed him over the edge, his own release flooding into Rian with a final, deep, possessive thrust.

They collapsed, a mess of sweat and spent passion, Gurjin’s weight a welcome anchor pinning Rian to the earth.

*

Now, the memory of that violence made the current tenderness all the more potent. Gurjin’s hands, so brutal before, were now methodical and soft. The warm cloth glided over the curve of Rian’s rear, between his thighs, cleaning the evidence of their joining with a reverence that made Rian’s throat tight.

Once satisfied, Gurjin gently rolled him over. Rian winced as sore muscles protested. “Shhh,” Gurjin soothed, his voice barely a whisper. He proceeded to clean Rian’s chest, his stomach, his softening cock, each stroke of the cloth a silent apology and a reaffirmation.

With a strength that still amazed Rian, Gurjin then scooped him up, cradling him like something precious, and laid him on a chair while he efficiently stripped the soiled sheets and replaced them with fresh, clean linens. He laid Rian back down and propped a dozen pillows behind him.

“Stay,” Gurjin murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead before crossing the room. Rian heard the clink of ceramic, then the quiet pour of water. Gurjin returned with a steaming cup. The sweet, floral scent of his favorite Vapran tea filled the air. Gurjin held the cup to his lips, and Rian took a small sip, the warm liquid a balm to his raw throat.

Before he could even process the kindness, Gurjin was back with a small bowl of stewed songfruit, its sweet and savory aroma making Rian’s stomach growl. Gurjin fed him, spoonful by spoonful, his eyes never leaving Rian’s face.

The food, the tea, the clean sheets—it was all... everything. The careful, deliberate aftercare was a language of its own, speaking of possession and protection more clearly than any rough fuck ever could.

As the last spoonful was eaten, Gurjin set the bowl aside and finally, finally slid into the bed beside him. He didn’t pull Rian into another demanding embrace. Instead, he curled around him, his big body a protective fortress at Rian’s back, one heavy arm draped over his waist, his forehead resting against the back of Rian’s neck.

The deep, even rhythm of Gurjin’s breathing was the only sound. The room was quiet, safe. The frantic energy of before had been transmuted into this: a profound, deafening peace.

Rian felt himself drifting, cocooned in warmth and care, his body humming with a pleasant, dull ache. He was on the precipice of sleep when Gurjin’s voice, low and thick with his own approaching slumber, rumbled against his spine.

“Next time,” Gurjin whispered, his fingers drawing a lazy, possessive circle on Rian’s stomach, “I’m going to taste you for hours. Until you forget your own name.”

Chapter Text

“What in Thra is that, Gurjin? Look at me. Look at me!”

Rian’s voice wasn’t angry. It was laced with a tremor, a raw fear that cut through the playful haze of their grappling. His hand, which had been sliding down Gurjin’s sweat-slicked back, now pressed against a patch of fabric that was unmistakably stiff and damp. Not with sweat. Something darker.

Gurjin flinched, a sharp, involuntary jerk that was all the confirmation Rian needed. He tried to roll away, to cloak himself in the shadows of their dimly lit chamber, but Rian’s grip on his hip was firm, an anchor of concern.

“It’s nothing,” Gurjin grunted, his voice strained. “A scratch from the drills today. Forget it.”

“A scratch doesn’t bleed through a tunic hours later,” Rian countered, his voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper. He shifted his weight, his earlier amorous intent completely evaporated, replaced by a sharp, clinical focus. “Roll over. Now.”

The clang of wooden practice blades had echoed across the training grounds that morning. Gurjin, ever the fierce competitor, had lunged for a disarming strike against a fellow guard. He’d overextended, his boot slipping on the dew-slicked stone. His opponent’s practice sword, coming around in a wide defensive arc, had caught him hard across the lower back. The sound was a sickening thwack of wood against muscle and bone.

A hot, blinding pain had seared through him. He’d grunted, stumbling to one knee as the world swam for a second.

“Gurjin? You alright?” his sparring partner had asked, concern wrinkling his brow.

Pride, that thick-headed, stubborn pride that was both his greatest strength and most glaring weakness, flared instantly. To show weakness, to admit a training injury… unthinkable. He’d pushed himself upright, forcing a grin that felt more like a grimace.

“Fine. Slipped. Let’s go again.”

He’d powered through the rest of the session, the pain a constant, throbbing fire in his back, a secret he wore under his leathers. He’d dodged the healers, claiming he needed to polish his gear. He’d sat through a strategy meeting, jaw clenched so tight it ached, the pain a sharper focus than any battle plan. All day, he carried the hidden wound, a testament to his own foolish endurance.

Back in their room, the air had been different. Lighter. Playful. Rian had been waiting for him, a familiar, hungry look in his eyes. The moment the door clicked shut, Rian was on him, pushing him against the rough-hewn stone wall, his mouth finding Gurjin’s with a possessive intensity that made Gurjin’s earlier pain recede into a dull background hum.

Their kisses were frantic, a language of teeth and tongue and shared breath. Rian’s hands roamed, mapping the familiar territory of Gurjin’s chest, his shoulders, pulling at the fabric of his tunic. Gurjin lost himself in it, in the heat of Rian’s body pressed against his, in the skilled way Rian’s tongue danced with his own. He’d almost succeeded in forgetting.

Then Rian’s hand had slid lower, down the groove of his spine, and his fingers met the cruel, damp evidence of Gurjin’s lie.

Now, pinned under Rian’s worried gaze, the defiance left Gurjin in a rush. His body sagged. “It’s not bad,” he mumbled, but the protest was weak.

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me,” Rian said, the words soft but absolute. His touch gentled, becoming infinitely careful as he helped Gurjin roll onto his stomach on their low bed. The air hissed between Rian’s teeth as he carefully peeled the tunic up. The fabric, stuck to the wound with dried blood and fresh seepage, pulled away with a soft, ugly sound.

Gurjin buried his face in the furs, humiliation warming his cheeks. He heard Rian move away, then return with a basin of water and a clean cloth. The first touch of the wet cloth to his torn skin was cold, then biting, and Gurjin’s whole back tensed.

“Easy,” Rian murmured, his voice a low thrum. “Just breathe through it.”

And then Rian’s hands were on him again, but this time they were methodical, tender. He cleaned the long, angry bruise with a healer’s focus, the purple and black mottling stark against Gurjin’s skin. The care in his touch, the absolute lack of judgment, was somehow more intimate than their passionate kissing moments before. Gurjin felt his body relaxing under the ministrations, the sharp pain subsiding to a manageable ache. A different kind of heat began to spread through him, pooling low in his belly. The feel of Rian’s strong, capable hands on his body, so focused on giving relief, was an unexpected and powerful aphrodisiac.

Rian leaned down, his lips brushing the unmarred skin just beside the injury. The kiss was feather-light, an apology, a benediction. “You scared me,” he whispered against Gurjin’s skin, his breath warm. “Don’t hide from me. Never hide your pain from me.”

The words unlocked something deep within Gurjin. He turned his head, catching Rian’s gaze. The fear was gone from Rian’s eyes, replaced by a smoldering intensity, a deep well of concern that had transformed into pure, unadulterated want. The air crackled between them, thick and heavy.

Without breaking eye contact, Rian’s hands began to move again, but their purpose had changed. They slid from Gurjin’s wounded back, around his hips, his fingers hooking into the waistband of his trousers. He tugged, and Gurjin lifted his hips, allowing Rian to pull the fabric down his legs in one slow, deliberate motion.

The cool air of the chamber kissed Gurjin’s exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Rian’s stare. He was completely bare now, vulnerable not just from his injury, but from the raw vulnerability shining in Rian’s eyes.

Rian’s gaze drank him in, roaming over the powerful lines of his legs, the curve of his buttocks, before finally settling between his legs where Gurjin’s cock lay thick and heavy against his thigh, already half-hard from the strange, potent cocktail of pain, care, and adrenaline.

A slow, wicked smile touched Rian’s lips. “Let me make it better,” he murmured, his voice a husky promise.

He didn’t wait for an answer. He shifted down the bed, his hands smoothing over Gurjin’s thighs, spreading them just enough. He nuzzled the sensitive skin there, a soft scratch of stubble that made Gurjin shudder. Then Rian’s tongue traced a long, slow line from the base of his sac all the way up the length of his shaft.

Gurjin gasped, his fingers twisting into the furs. Oh, by the Crystal…

Rian took his time, worshipping him with his mouth. He licked and teased, tracing veins, swirling around the head, drawing out soft, desperate sounds from Gurjin. Every flick of his tongue was an absolution, every suction a silent vow. He was erasing the memory of the pain, replacing it with something infinitely more consuming.

When Rian finally took him fully into his mouth, it was with a deep, satisfied groan that vibrated through Gurjin’s entire being. The heat was unbearable, wet and perfect. Rian’s head began to bob in a slow, relentless rhythm, his hands gripping Gurjin’s hips, holding him steady. Gurjin could only watch, mesmerized, as his length disappeared between Rian’s eager lips, again and again.

The sight, the sensation, the overwhelming emotion of it all—it was too much. Gurjin’s head fell back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as his hips gave an involuntary jerk, thrusting deeper into that exquisite heat.

Rian just moaned around him, the sound one of pure pleasure, and took him deeper.