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nights in the desert are too cold without any shelter, so, before the sun sets, kayn digs a pit in the sand and builds a fire. by the time darkness envelopes the smooth sandy plains, the glowing light and pillar of smoke are a dead giveaway of his location, but hes not really concerned about it. its not like anyone will be able to sneak up in the shadows on him.
so kayn enjoys the warmth of his fire, lounging next to it casually with his legs splayed out and using rhaasts blade as a pillow. its not the most comfortable position, but kayns not used to comfort—if anything, the sand is nice and softer than the times hes had to sleep on rock hard ground.
not that kayns doing much sleeping at the moment. hes laying down, yes, but his mind is occupied, entertaining mindless, lazy thoughts as the fire flickers at the edge of his vision.
tomorrow. if his projections are right, hes slated to catch up to a caravan of noxians trespassing on their territory, a caravan kayn was sent out to “deal with.” the promise of violence in their near future has both kayn and rhaast excited.
tonight, though, is about as exciting as the last three nights of traveling have been. patience is a virtue and all, but kayns grateful for a respite from the sheer monotony that is walking through an endless desert.
with nothing better to do, kayn sighs, through pursed lips, a long breath, and reaches between his legs to palm at himself through layers of cloth.
HUMANS ARE SO VULNERABLE TO PLEASURES OF THE FLESH.
“stop looking,” kayn tells the scythe beneath his head, not even bothering to turn around to know his eye is open and blatantly staring. he still reaches into his pants and cums to the thought of what he’ll accomplish tomorrow.
-
kayn collapses to his knees, tossing rhaast in front of him carelessly. fuck. the hot ionian summer sun beats down on him, hes damp with a light sweat and warm blood that isnt his, and his cock is throbbing in his undergarments, so hard it hurts.
he tries to remember—he wasnt like this, before rhaast came along, hes pretty sure. pretty sure. the sight of blood and gore, the crunch of bones and the splatter of red and the resistance of flesh beneath his weapon never used to do this to him—he thinks. its all rhaasts fault.
DO NOT PROJECT YOUR SICK DESIRES ONTO ME.
no, the violence never got to him like this, never aroused him, the adrenaline and power rushing straight to his head and then down to his other head. his vision is spinning.
a hot gust of wind blows kayns hair around wildly; his braid mustve come undone at some point in the fight. he glances around, but hes only surrounded by dead bodies. bodies of people he killed. slaughtered. the thought makes him lightheaded, giddy almost. he undoes his belt.
DISGUSTING, rhaast comments, but kayn didnt ask. honestly, the degrading comment might add to it. ABSOLUTELY FILTH.
kayn groans, maybe at the words, maybe at the relief of finally freeing his cock and getting a hand around it. hes already so horribly hard, almost dripping but not quite enough yet.
he considers spitting into his hand—the human one—but his mouth is too dry to come up the necessary saliva, so he gathers some of the wet blood gathered on his chest into his palm and lubes his dick up with that instead. it should feel gross, and it would, if the act didnt make kayn harder. he rolls his hips into his hand.
its better than he could have imagined.
his choice of lubricant is still warm, and the curl of his fingers feels akin to fucking into a real hole. close to what he imagines the real thing is like. he tightens his fist, loving the way the red color thins out over his cock and the slick noises it makes as he strokes. kayn moans, but quietly, too used to stifling his noises even though theres no one around to eavesdrop now.
rhaast tisks. DISGUSTING, he says again.
right, almost no one.
“didnt ask for your input, fucking scythe,” kayn tells him. without stopping in his movements, he looks up from his cock to glare at the weapon.
that, of all things, is what gets him to pause.
rhaast does too, a feeling like stunned silence in his mind.
STOP.
somehow, kayn has never noticed, but rhaast’s handle is hollow, the bottom agape in a hole too dark to see far inside of. its a strange feature for a scythe, and rhaast certainly doesnt swing like hes hollow, so kayns never thought to look. but now that he is looking—
DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.
kayn is thinking about it.
waves of emotions—mostly outrage—flow through kayns mind from the demon. he takes them in stride. shock, mostly, at kayns sheer audacity; anger, at that same audacity because how dare he think he can do that to a darkin; disgust, which has been prevalent ever since kayn killed the first man at this camp and reached half chub from that alone; resentment, which, is the intrusive thought of rhaast telling kayn he should off himself thats been in his head from the moment he picked up the scythe.
but beneath it all, kayn senses something hes never felt from the demon before—fear. its so foreign he almost doesnt recognize it, but if theres one thing he knows, its the fear in the hearts of his victims when they realize theyre doomed.
on his knees, with his dick still hanging out, kayn crawls towards his scythe.
YOU’LL REGRET THIS, rhaast says. hes probably going for threatening, but kayn knows better. actually, hes so horny and cockbrained at the moment that he might not know better, but thats not going to stop him.
with his darkin-corrupted hand—the one thats clean, a small act of mercy to rhaast—kayn lifts rhaast up by the handle. as usual, the weapon feels alive in his grip, warm with a soft thrum of rhaasts power, but for once, it feels like its rejecting him, almost fighting against his hold if it could.
unlucky for rhaast, he cant.
PUT ME DOWN, rhaast demands. well, he tries for demand but lands too close to plea. LEAVE ME OUT OF YOUR TWISTED SENSE OF PLEASURE.
oh, but rhaast is already part of the pleasures. afterall, kayn may have been the one dealing the blow, but as the weapon in his hands, he and rhaast killed these men together. they enjoyed it together.
I DONT GET ANY OF THE ENJOYMENT YOU DO FROM THIS—PUT ME DOWN! the more rhaast speaks, the more frantic he sounds, voice an angry growl growing louder in kayns mind. I WANT NO PART IN THIS!
kayn cant help the grin that slips onto his face. since when have they ever cared what the other wanted?
he positions rhaasts opening—a dirty thrill runs up his spine calling it that. rhaast throws another fit—above his cock, perfectly lined up. it looks strange, stupid almost, but also obscene, how wrong it feels. kayns so excited.
in what must be a last ditch effort to fight this, rhaast manages to take control of his arm, the fucked up one and the one holding the scythe. kayn feels the intention in his muscles clearly, hurl the weapon as far as he can, but before rhaast manages to, he grabs onto the handle with his other hand, smearing it with a mixture of blood and precum, and pulls rhaast down onto his cock.
it feels… weird. he probably shouldnt have expected much, actually. the opening is just big enough to fit his cock without any metal bits scraping it, but the inside has a texture almost flesh-like in nature. its just not enough friction for it to get him off.
then, the periodic thrum happens, and kayns eyes almost roll to the back of his skull.
good. it feels good—fucking amazing, like rhaasts insides are clamping down on him, if only for a second. it happens again and again, wildly unpredictable but consistently delicious.
“shit, you—youre doing this on purpose,” kayn accuses, out loud. it doesnt matter; what do the dead care for him speaking to his weapon? “rhaast, oh rhaast—you feel so good.”
rhaast is uncharacteristically quiet. well, not exactly quiet; kayn can still feel him in his mind, a swirling mess of feelings he cant disect more than the fact that kayn likes the feel of it. maybe this is the darkin equivalent of fucked out so hard he cant speak coherently.
kayn moves on. its not like he was looking for a responsive partner when he picked up the scythe.
he still cant feel his left arm, but rhaast has given up his grip and his arm now hangs loosely at his side, useless. finding a good grip with one hand among all the slick, kayn attempts a thrust, lifting the weapon up and dragging it back down.
the result is immediate. rhaasts handle clamps down on him, absolutely gripping his cock, like the darkin can somehow feel this. kayn chokes on a moan. its incredible. hes already lifting the scythe again, ready to use rhaast like the fleshlight kayns made of him.
he moves like a natural. some of the muscle memory from wielding the scythe—or jerking off—must carry over. he thrusts his hips to the quick paced rhythm he set for them, fucking like a crazed lover, or something a little meaner, each beat landing him balls deep inside the scythe. he certainly feels crazed, and he probably is a little more than insane at this point, but kayns too far gone to care now. not when hes so close to the edge.
here he is, in the middle of the desert, caked in gore and surrounded by bloody carnage, fucking the weapon that helped create said carnage, and enjoying every single second of it.
fuck, gods, this isnt—shouldnt—love this, too much—and he cant tell if that came from kayn or rhaast. but theres a moment there where theyre both enjoying themselves. its too much—their combined pleasure makes kayn see stars.
hes chanting under his breath, a combination of, “so good, so good, so good“ and “rhaast, rhaast, rhaast,” as he buries himself into the scythe, grip tight, base to root, pulse roaring in his ears as he shoots his load as deep in rhaast’s opening as he can get.
in the aftermath, once kayn comes down from his high, he feels only a little guilty. he tries not to let it show as he removes his cock and tucks it away, as he gently sets rhaast beside him, as he promises, “ill clean you out when we get back.”
the cleaning is mostly for his own sake; kayns not going to be caught carrying around a scythe gross with cum.
he wipes his hands off in the sand best he can, grateful to have both his arms back. then, he works on tying his hair back up, humming all the while.
throughout, rhaast is silent. kayn hasnt had such blissful silence in a while.