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“But isn’t Senior Kaveh more experienced than that?”
Razak’s lips press together briefly, then relax. “Yes,” he says, as if to an idiot child. “That’s why you have to activate it.”
Esmail’s not getting it. His round little face scrunches in on itself, but he’s been around too long to outright accuse Razak of making fun.
Jyoti’s not interested in watching him struggle. He keeps writing in his notebook, cross-referencing the rubbings he’d taken earlier that day with the ones in his book. If he can find one that’s even a little bit different, this whole nasty, sandy trip will have been worth it, but he’s not having any luck.
“Won’t I be the one affected, then?” Esmail finally asks.
“Trust me,” Razak says.
“Why don’t you do it?”
Razak sighs. “Because I’m an alpha,” he repeats for the third time. “It just won’t work the same.”
Because if Senior Kaveh doesn’t do what Razak’s expecting, Razak is still going to have himself a good time. Razak always manages to have himself a good time. Though this plan is certainly more audacious–prone to dangerous uncertainty–than his usual prowling through post-exam parties.
“I’m a beta,” Esmail says. “Isn’t it—wouldn’t it—not work on me either?”
“If that’s so, you have nothing to worry about, don’t you?”
“But then why would Senior Kaveh—"
They’ve gone around in too many loops. How Esmail managed to pass his entry exams, Jyoti has no idea. But maybe Kshahrewar students really aren’t quite as sharp.
Except for Kaveh.
Personally, Jyoti would have picked another student on this expedition to knock down a peg. That arrogant junior Haravatat who never goes to class, for instance. But Razak’s got this thing. It’s either jealousy or a torch. Jyoti’s caught him staring at Kaveh and the junior more than once on this trip alone.
“Look,” Razak says, “I’ll give you the final exam questions from the last three years for your Haravatat elective. They recycle them.”
Esmail worries at his lip, but he’s been caught. The next ten minutes of dithering before he finally agrees is entirely unnecessary.
At least Jyoti’s going to get his dick wet. That’ll be nice.
--
“Hey, don’t touch that!” Kaveh looks genuinely worried—rather than exasperated or angry—when he spins around to shove Esmail out of the way of the beam of concentrated Dendro energy that strikes the plate in front of the ancient mechanism.
Esmail goes stumbling onto his ass on the floor. Kaveh gets nailed with a direct hit. He stays half-crouched for a second, hands on his knees, and Jyoti’s momentarily worried that they’d misidentified the mechanism and he’s actually injured.
“Shit,” he says, straightening up and shaking his head. Little green brushes of light sparkle over his skin. He holds out a hand to Esmail. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes, Senior Kaveh,” Esmail says, eyes wide, and he takes Kaveh’s hand.
Kaveh lets out a tiny gasp. Green sparks where their hands meet. He furrows his brow and tugs Esmail up, eyes fixed on where their hands meet, before abruptly letting go and turning to the mechanism. “Ah, okay,” he says after a pause. His gaze flits over the machine itself, the runes below it, the murals around them. “Okay. Where’s—where’s Alhaitham?”
He already sounds a little drunk.
“The other team’s gone down into the east side of the ruins,” Razak says. He’s come up close. “It’ll be half a day before we can make the round trip. Why do you need Alhaitham? Are you alright?”
“That’s right,” Kaveh says. “That’s—yes. Right. They’re—” He blinks and it takes him too long to open his eyes again. “Alhaitham has a Vision,” he explains, “So he can use his control over Dendro to bleed off the—” he breaks off into a low groan. Razak has caught him around the waist.
He stands behind Kaveh as if supporting him. “Senior? You don’t seem too good.”
Kaveh sinks into his arms. “I’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “Alhaitham—”
“Isn’t here,” Razak snaps. “You’re burning up. We have medication—Esmail, get the pack—”
“N-no,” Kaveh whispers. “There’s—it’s a—it’s an elemental—there’s no medication.” He looks horribly guilty to admit this. “You have to go get him,” he says.
“That can’t be the only thing we can do,” Razak says, guiding him to sit on an almost perfectly preserved stone bench that they’d cleaned and recorded earlier. The smooth mosaic depicts blossoming flowers and luscious fruits. Kaveh slumps against him, then shakes his head and weakly pushes against his chest. Razak doesn’t let go.
“Senior,” he says, “You smell different.”
Kaveh’s eyes open. Close. He licks his lips. “I can’t,” he says.
“Can’t?”
“Can’t ask you to help. Wouldn’t be right.”
Razak smiles. He strokes a hand over Kaveh’s hair. Green light follows his fingers, whispering over gold. Kaveh moans, a tiny sudden thing, and he looks shocked at himself. “So we can help,” Razak says. “Do you want us to help?”
Kaveh shakes his head. “No,” he says, rallying. “No. Just—why don’t you close off the chamber. Get the other team back and—I can—half a day?”
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Razak says. “Senior Kaveh, it’s a fertility ritual, isn’t it?”
“Mmm,” Kaveh nods. “Mmhmm.” His skin is flushed. Knowingly or not, he’s spread his knees, opened them around Razak’s legs: he’s canting his hips up in little twitches with little soft sounds.
Jyoti wonders if this is what he looks like when he’s in heat. A lot of people at the Akademiya would pay to see that. The other members of their half of the research expedition are all gathered around.
“Senior Kaveh?” Razak’s hand trails down to trace over the edge of his collar.
“Don’t,” Kaveh breathes.
“You’re too hot, Senior. Let’s cool you down.”
Off comes the outer jacket, folded and set aside. Off comes the inner robe, laid across the bench beneath them. Off comes the sheer undershirt, tossed away. Kaveh makes some token effort to resist, but he doesn’t quite seem to have control over his limbs where the green light curls around him. Off come the shoes, and Razak pauses.
Kaveh’s chest is heaving. His mouth is half open. He’s dressed in just his collar and light pants. He’s sparkling with sweat and Dendro. He looks obscene. Razak pushes him down onto the bench and he just goes as easy as anything. His jacket gets tucked under his head, and then Razak moves away. Kaveh whimpers.
Jyoti is rock fucking hard.
“—lhaitham?” Kaveh’s eyes look somewhere else, beyond the stone walls.
Rage flashes across Razak’s face before it smooths over. “He’s not here, Senior,” he says. “We’re here. What do you need?”
Kaveh bends his knee and he drags his foot across the bench, wrinkling the robe beneath him, twisting his hips, breathing ragged. “Please,” he cries. “Please.”
“Okay,” Razak says, and reaches two-handed for the hem of his pants, and if Kaveh’s doing anything to stop him it’s only accidental, the whorish spread of his thighs stretching the fabric as it pulls away. He smells like rich grassy Dendro and raw sex. He moans, this time long and pleading. His cock bobs against his stomach and his cunt is red and swollen, hole wet and squeezing around nothing, nothing except sparks of elemental energy that gather and fizzle in tiny shocks, that get bigger and brighter every time.
“Razak…?” One of the students who wasn’t privy to the little scheme.
Razak tears his gaze away from his debauched senior. “The elemental energy from this kind of fertility ritual can be bled off directly, but only by someone with control over the correct element,” he says, offhandedly, “Or indirectly through sexual release. It’s unfortunate, but he could be in danger if we don’t help.”
“…Oh.”
“Did you want to go find the other team instead?” Razak presses. “We can keep him here like this.”
“No,” the student says. “He looks like he’s in pain?” They’re nearly all alphas here, sensitive to an omega in pain, or so they’d like to think. Jyoti’s got no illusions about his own interest.
“Yes,” Razak agrees. He shrugs off his own jacket and hikes his robes up. “Don’t worry, Senior,” he says calmly, and reaches for Kaveh’s hips, tugging him down the bench. Kaveh wriggles and kicks a little but Razak is soon tight between his thighs, and his fat cock is pressing between them, bouncing, dragging across the wet seam of Kaveh’s hole. He realigns his grip, elbows under knees, hands pressing down. The green swirls of Dendro wrap around him where they touch.
Jyoti knows the exact second when Razak forces his way in because Kaveh’s head twists and his hands turn into claws and he shrieks, a high horrid thing that turns into a wet cry, ahh-ahh-ahh in time to Razak’s hips. His knees spread wider and his feet lock against Razak’s back and Jyoti has a great view of his cunt stretched out, pussy lips dragging against the cock that’s invading him like he doesn’t want to let it go. Thick slime drips out, a little more with each thrust, wets his thighs and his robes and the light, fine gold hairs around his hole.
“Oh, ohhhh,” he moans, the Light of the Kshahrewar reduced to a wordless whore. His bright clever eyes are filled with tears. “N’don’t,” he cries, “Stop,” or “don’t stop,” who’s to say?
It doesn’t matter because Razak’s not about to stop, no, he goes harder, almost vicious. His fingers will leave bruises on Kaveh’s pale thighs and Jyoti won’t be surprised if he’s bruised down there after this, too, with the way Razak moves like a man possessed, the way he seems to delight in every squalling noise that comes out of Kaveh’s mouth, the howls that he pulls out of him with each pitiless thrust.
Kaveh seems to like it, or something does, because he shudders and goes taut, arched like a spline forced by the draftsman to curve too tightly, and his cock spurts white and messy and he’s silent for a long time.
Razak isn’t; grunting, squelching, finishing finally, sheathed as deep as he can go. “Wish I could knot you, senior,” he murmurs, as if he’s forgotten there’s an audience, “Wish I was in rut.”
He pulls out and cleans himself off and Kaveh lays there, legs spread open, dripping mess onto the robes and the bench and the floor. His face is turned away. The Dendro light seems almost soothing as it trails along his bare skin.
Jyoti wants a go. He steps up. Kaveh doesn’t resist him either when he sinks in, and it might be sloppy seconds but he’s hot and tight, yielding to Jyoti’s cock as he takes his share, starting up that damnably seductive crying again. His head flops back to face forward and he looks at Jyoti with barely coherent eyes, red irises, redder still from tears.
“Please,” he whimpers and his hips rise to meet Jyoti’s, and unlike with Razak he reaches out, grasps feebly at Jyoti’s shoulder before dropping his hand back down to brush over his own cock, hard again: the hand grazes over the place where they meet, rests on his thigh.
“Fuck,” Jyoti says, “Fucking slut.”
“Fuck yeah he is,” another student says, in awe. “Look at that.”
Kaveh comes again and Jyoti does too–shit, it’s no joke the best lay he’s ever had, fucking his drugged-out senior on a stone bench in the middle of a ruin–and then somebody else steps up while Dendro thickens and brightens and traces around Kaveh’s wrists and neck and waist. They flip him over and take him from behind and press his face into the sweat-soaked jacket and he just moans, moans and sobs while his hole gets absolutely wrecked, his body ruined, immaculately kept hair all in tangles.
Even moon-faced Esmail gets a turn. He’s so stupidly gentle.
The Dendro caresses Kaveh’s belly. It trickles down his thighs and curls around his calves. It tickles his bare feet. It brushes his hair out of his face and slips in underneath his collar.
He’s curled up on his side, weakly struggling to turn back over, when the soft lights harden.
Where tendrils wrapped around his wrists dark green vines grasp him, seize him tight. Even Razak jumps back in fright as more erupt from beneath him, around him, in choking dizzying array tugging his head back holding his waist opening his legs again: they watch as he struggles to breathe, eyes wide mouth gasping as the things writhe around his collar. The vines grow and grow and Jyoti is terrified he’s about to watch Kaveh suffocate before the collar bursts, the simple cloth band replaced by more vines that cover his throat and press against his mating glands.
It’s not a bench, Jyoti realizes at last. Well, what is he, Vahumana?
It’s an altar.
It’s an altar and Kaveh is suspended above it, utterly silent, utterly helpless although he’s fighting at last, muscles straining, as something much larger than an alpha cock weaves between his legs–trapped open at a painful angle–noses at his hole already open and dripping their semen for the thing to taste.
The vines shift and he’s lifted up, up to face them, arms pulled back to press his chest forwards, head wrenched down, legs spread to show them all as he’s pressed down onto the thing, like a root or a rock or a weapon, a thing that strains against the stretched rim of his cunt for a long moment without movement. His eyes are wide and clear and horrified, but he’s not looking at them, he’s looking at himself where the thing is slowly–millimeter by millimeter–bullying its way in.
Something gives. His mouth opens as if to scream.
And then there’s brilliant green light reflecting around the chamber and the flash of metal and the thing retracts, the vines scream like dying animals and Kaveh falls and someone catches him.
The arrogant Haravatat. The Vision-wielder.
“I will have you all held back for years,” Alhaitham snarls, “I will see you driven out of the Akademiya–Kaveh, look at me–look at me–”
“What happened?” cries another member of the other team. “We got a huge Dendro signature coming out of nowhere and decided to come back–is he okay?”
Kaveh clutches onto his junior like he’s shelter in a sandstorm. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he rambles, “It’s my fault. My fault.” He’s shaking. Somebody else is getting out a medkit.
“It’s Esmail’s fault,” somebody in their group says, and others nod, and Esmail looks even more panicked than he already did, if possible.
Razak is standing off to the side, staring at the pair of them. It is jealousy, Jyoti thinks, but not of Kaveh.
“We’ll see,” Alhaitham says, dark. He wraps his own cloak around Kaveh's bare neck. “Somebody get him clothes.”