Work Text:
Flins loved having something in his mouth.
For someone who found no pleasure in human food, he realized he could compensate with a little compromise: Varka.
It was not much of a compromise, though. He loved sucking Varka’s dick a bit too much for his comfort, going at it until his jaw grew sore. Still, he got a kick out of the dull ache in his knees, the burning pain in his jaw, and the gentle tug at his hair.
Separately, they were great. Together, they made him strain in his pants.
Sometimes, he would get too lost in sucking Varka off to remember that he was allowed to touch himself. Varka never imposed any restrictions on him, not outside of the bedroom, not inside of it. But he liked to torment himself from time to time.
Flins came to the Nod-Krai outpost of the Knights earlier than most. That was entirely deliberate on his part, even though both he and Varka liked to pretend otherwise.
They also liked to pretend that Flins was there on behalf of the Ratniki, even when he pinned Varka down to a chair and fell to his knees.
He had done this long enough to know how to have Varka shoot his cum down his throat in a few moments, and he usually did just that when time wasn’t on their side. That said, Flins wanted to take his time that morning.
It all started pretty methodically and mathematically driven before Varka. A simple way of understanding humanity’s obsession with physical pleasure. Just like with food and drink, he did not understand the appeal instantly, but still engaged in the customs if someone caught his attention.
Despite all his past lackluster experiences, he enjoyed sex with Varka quite a lot. And if he never initiated it before him, he was now a master of refinedly begging for it.
Humans have been rough with him before, and he had been rough in return if they so asked of him. He had been thrown around, bent over, tied up, and pinned down without feeling too strongly about it. As a fae, it did not make much of a difference, and since he was mostly doing it for research purposes, he wanted to understand both sides of the same coin.
With Varka, he did not know what he wanted to learn or what he wanted to do.
He liked the way he carefully held his hair up as Flins worked on his pants and freed his cock. It mellowed something under his ribs, but it also hardened his dick when Varka ribbed him. “Fuck, you’re already drooling, and you didn’t do anything yet.”
There was so much he wanted to do, so much to consider while he pumped Varka to full hardness. He could try opening his throat until he swallowed all of him, seeking after some hot tears to clamp in his lashes, or he could just ask Varka to push his head down and force his throat to open up, and take advantage of the fact that he didn’t need to breathe.
One thing was for sure: he could think about his possibilities while he suckled on Varka’s head, dipping his tongue in his slit to collect some of the cum leaking out.
Varka always pulled at his hair when Flins stuck out his tongue to lap at the head of his cock, the burn in his scalp sending white flames down to his crotch. After that, he loved to follow Varka’s cues and to respond to the hand in his hair pulling at his head.
He swirled his tongue around him, humming at that thrilling taste of flesh, and he flattened his tongue against the underside of his cock, opening his mouth to take in as much as he could without rushing.
Flins liked to be messy about it, to slurp around it and make wet noises as he sucked Varka deeper in, waiting for Varka to lightly thrust his hips and hit the back of his throat. No matter how much he anticipated it, he was still caught by surprise and choked a little, more from the surprise than anything else.
“What do you want me to do?” Flins asked, looking up at him with bright eyes. “I’ll do anything.”
He nuzzled his cheek against Varka’s dick, sighing contentedly when he felt him twitching against his skin. That all-encompassing compulsion to take Varka in his mouth surged through him again, but he settled on licking and kissing the sides of his cock, so he could keep his eyes on him.
Varka clenched his hand in his hair tighter, his breathing picking up, and a rush of heat bloomed in Flins’s chest, thinking that Varka would finally order him to do something, or he would not even ask and keep his head there, pushing himself out of the chair to fuck his—
Then his fingers let go of his hair. “Just do what you usually do.”
The enthusiasm in his chest dimmed like a light running on low oil. It did not throw cold water on his flame, though. Because he still had the ache in his knees, the strain in his jaw, and the heavy feeling of his cock in his mouth to keep him afloat.
Varka could tell from the way the wind split behind him that someone familiar followed him outside The Flagship.
The docks were his least favorite place in Nasha Town. They stank of rotten fish and brine, the air crackled with the headache-inducing whirring of Kuuvahki-powered cargo rails, and there was always some dockman trying to rip him off with a story about a lost shipment and the sudden need for extra hands.
It didn’t help that he arrived at the docks in a state of quiet disorientation and weakness, and the dockmen were quick to exploit.
“I assume you didn’t come here to help me carry back wine bottles.”
“No,” Nefer said, heels clicking on the metal panels of the docks. “Unless you’ve taken a shine to ordering people around.”
Somewhere in the distance, someone unloaded pairs of chains and dragged them with an ear-splitting sound, but the silence that settled around them was all the while louder. “Just another day on the job.”
“Flins doesn’t seem to think like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nefer let out a lightly amused puff of air through her nose, so short and quiet it could’ve been swallowed by the sailors cursing on the ship in front of them.
“Oh, I can fill you in if you want to play dumb with me,” Nefer said. “But I don’t think you need it.”
His observational skills were competent enough and id not require someone else explaining a situation to him, be it on the field or in a random meeting with his squad. And when it came to Flins, no one could add anything substantial to the conversation that Varka hadn’t already noticed. Not even Nefer, who dealt in overlooked information that could act as keys to treasure chests.
There was something about the Ratniki’s modus operandi that began to seep into the behaviors of his Knights. Given that the Lightkeepers were made up of volunteers and all they needed to do to be accepted was to recite an oath, Varka was not surprised that tensions ran high amongst them.
They burned too close to the edge and lacked the discipline of a tight-knit group outside the field. They could coordinate well enough against the Hunt, but put too many of them in the same room, and the arguments started flying.
Varka liked to end his days at The Flagship, since it reminded him of his days in Mondstadt, where every shift ended with a visit to the tavern. From Mondstadt, he also kept the habit of inviting along anyone who happened to cross his path.
He couldn’t tell why they started picking on each other after barely having one drink. A Ratnik complained about the lack of manpower on their part, and a Knight jumped in to point out that they themselves worked on limited numbers for weeks.
Not reacting to the quarrel much, Flins ran his finger along the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Even when his name was mentioned, he paid no mind to whatever they wanted from him.
But Varka felt a throb behind his temples when one of his Vice Captains, seemingly very heated about the route allocation, proposed that Flins should go with him and his unit.
“Slow down,” he cut in for the first time that night. “He stays where I put him. If you’re too tired to go on patrol, just say so.”
Varka had not noticed the way Flins straightened in his chair as if he was given an official order, his hands folding together on his lap and his eyes locking on him without blinking. What he noticed was the way Nefer’s attention sharpened on him when she had the habit of looking everywhere at once, never committing to a single place.
It did not matter to him. Work was work, and banter with friends was only available after all duties were in order.
However small the incident seemed to the rest of the table, Varka could not find the room to relax. The agitation clinging to his Knights like frost to the windows of Nod-Krai frayed his nerves. Partially because he was afraid of overworking them, and partially because they did not take the time to relax that evening when they had the chance to, opting for discussing patrol routes for the second time in a couple of hours.
The drink in his tankard could not lull the tapping of his foot underneath the table. The conversation shifted to something more pleasant after his intervention, but there was something else snagging his brain that he could not put out of the way.
“If you will excuse me,” Flins said, his chair scraping against the floor, cutting the conversation short. “I will return to my room and attend to today’s report.”
And if it weren’t for Varka being caught with something happening outside of him, he would’ve noticed that Flins said it for him only. That he was trying to find an opening for both of them to leave without arising suspicion. But things stood differently.
“No,” Varka said easily, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re done for the night.”
Really, it was because he’d had enough of everyone turning to work when what they needed was to chill out with a glass of Fire-Water. They were at a tavern for fuck’s sake, not on a mission to impress a superior. Varka was certainly not impressed.
He didn’t intend to blow a gasket with Flins either, but his words came out too snappy for his liking, and when he looked at him again, maybe to apologize, he found something that he didn’t know how to explain.
Flins froze mid-movement; the chair dragged back, and fingers gripped around the edge of the table. In his expression, Varka remarked the way it was both tight, and curious as if he was taken aback by something too good to be true.
“Yes?” Flins asked, unmoving. “Am I done for the night?”
That was when something clicked in Varka’s brain. It was in the way his eyes flashed with something he only saw when they were alone, a quiver of his slightly widened eyes and suspenseful need in his voice.
Everything about him brought him back to the moment in the meeting room when he knelt for him and almost purred the words What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything.
Varka could not believe that he was seeing this version on him in public. That others could see it too.
“Yes,” he said, fingers tightening around his tankard. “Stay here.”
Nefer walked until they were shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the full moon. “Did you notice that he refused to move until you confirmed that he could not leave?”
“He listens to everyone,” Varka said, jaw tight. “He’s just fiercely polite.”
“You’re doing a major disservice to yourself,” Nefer snorted. “I don’t think you actually want him to listen to others as he listens to you. What if he acted like the world stopped spinning when your Vice Captain ordered him to change positions?”
Something cold coiled at the bottom of Varka’s stomach, sending icicles through his veins. “He wouldn’t.”
“Obviously,” Nefer said very matter-of-factly. “He only wants you to boss him around.”
“Honestly, what do you want?” Varka said, drawing in a sharp breath without releasing it. “It was work-related speech. Hardly something he hadn’t heard before.”
Nefer turned on her heel and faced him with a cattish smile. “Test it, then. Tell him to do something totally unrelated to work and see how he reacts.”
The dockman finally returned with a small wooden crate engraved with the symbol of the Dawn Winery. Varka waited for him to leave before he spoke again. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Treat it as a confirmation of something you already know,” she shrugged. “Why be so stubborn about it?”
“I won’t be your pawn in your information game,” Varka crouched over and picked up the crate in his arms. “If you wanna find out something, put in the work yourself.”
Nefer waved her hand dismissively and followed him toward the center of the town. “I don’t gain anything out of this.”
“So you’re giving me friendly advice for free?” Varka huffed a genuine laugh. “Yeah, sure.”
“Flins is willing to give himself up to you on a silver platter. You focus on the wrong person.”
Varka rolled his eyes at her diabolical hyperbole, but he had to admit, at least to himself, that Flins listening to him so viscerally had him champing at the bit.
Flins was impervious to the conversation going on around and the way his drink glared at him, untouched, rippling in the midst of elbows and cups crashing down on the table.
The ripples reminded him of Varka dumping oil on the steady flame burning under his ribs. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to the psychological strain of the Ratniki sending them into fiery debates, and he did not blink throughout their arguments with the Knights. He went to the tavern for Varka, worked with them closely for Varka, and his interest in them ended with Varka.
Varka was laid back in his command. Never cruel with his task delegation or ruthlessly perfectionistic at the expense of his soldiers. He was like that in his free time as well. Gentle in authority and attentive to limits.
Working alongside humans demanded gentleness, care, and a careful regard for their limits. Flins could understand that, but he didn’t need it.
Flins had seen this side of him cracking in battle when he embraced a cocky attitude with sprinkles of cold commands and intrusive close-calls. Varka was a proud man, all things considered, especially when he was in his element, sword in hand, ready to fight. Taunting enemies with well-picked words, moving effortlessly across the battlefield as if it were a normal training day for him, making himself bigger than his opponent…
Flins needed that.
When Varka and Nefer returned to the tavern, Flins was still in the same place Varka left him. He did not even touch his drink.
Instead of taking his previous seat across the table, Varka picked a chair from a nearby table without a word.
“Hey! You could’ve at least asked!”
“Or what?” Varka said, not turning to the source of the voice, disregarding it as if it were a mere ant trying to fight him before he inevitably crushed it under his boot.
Flins squirmed in his chair, trying to hide the static in his lamp gathered at the glass, threatening to break out.
The man said something else after that, but Varka did not give him any attention anymore. The Knight who sat next to Flins quickly scrambled to make space for him.
Instinctively, Flins turned to him and waited. For what, he wasn’t so sure, but Varka choosing to sit beside him was reason enough.
Still, Varka didn’t spare him a single look, joining the conversation with the Knights at his side about—Flins had no idea, not when Varka spread his legs in his chair, taking so much space that he needed to tilt his body to hear what the other Knights were saying.
Flins could not tear his eyes away from the gap between his legs. He would fit there so nicely. He could kneel and stay there and rest his cheek on Varka’s thigh if Varka as much as he uttered the word.
Before he could fully topple over into that fantasy, Varka struck his knee with his own and pulled him out of it. It looked like an accident for others, but Flins recognized that lopsided grin on Varka’s face; he guessed what Flins thought of.
Someone popped open two bottles of wine from Varka’s crate and started to fill glasses for everyone. Flins was one of the first, right after Varka, who got h a glass of what smelled like dandelion wine.
The Ratnik next to him was going on about a story that happened at Piramida, and Flins made sure to nod at the right intervals, though his mind wandered to other places.
Out of nothing better to do with his hands, he took the glass and gently swirled it close to his mouth. It smelled so much like Varka that it wouldn’t take more than closing his eyes to feel him on top of his body.
“Are you going to drink or just play with it?”
Flins forgot about the Ratnik instantly and turned around to Varka to make sure that he was speaking with him. Varka finally looked at him, or well, at his glass.
He tried to make out what Varka wanted more of him: to drink or to set it down, and because he couldn’t tell, he let the glass hover in front of his chest.
Before he could say anything, Varka slid his own glass across the table, half-empty, and reached for Flins’s hand, trying to take the glass away. To Flins, though, it felt more like he wanted to wrap his hand around this, and because Flins wanted nothing more than to be close to him, his pinky finger tried to hook itself around Varka’s fingers.
Varka did not entertain him and snatched the glass easily, leaving only the ghosts of his touch pricking Flins’s skin.
His hand was suddenly too empty, and he needed to hold onto something before he did something he would regret right in the middle of the tavern. Flins lifted Varka’s glass, seeking out the remnants of his warmth on the cold glass. Before, he didn’t want to drink because he was already feeling too hot under his collar, but now, rotating the glass between his fingers and finding the place where Varka drank from, the idea appealed to him a lot more.
Still, something stopped him. Something didn’t feel right just yet, and the problem showed itself when Varka’s voice dropped lower, to a pitch that he only used when he teased Flins, in a half-disbelieving and half-serious manner, about how much he liked to be fucked. “Not yet.”
The flame dimmed to nothingness, and Flins plunged into total darkness, freezing on the spot. His eyes found Varka, a little confused but burning, and he waited, waited, and waited some more for him to soften his words by wrapping them into a harmless tease like I just wanted you to hold it for a bit.
And when it never came, and Varka drank from his glass casually and told something inconsequential to the Knight on his side, leaving Flins to hover for something more, Flins felt the shift in his body. The cold and unmoving blue flame simmering under his skin changed colors to a molten fire that could bend anything into any shape.
From the outside, it didn’t look like anything happened. The Ratnik still chattered his ear off, and the Knight still held Varka in a conversation about finding dandelions at the greenhouse in Nasha Town.
The Ratnik and the Knight started talking to each other, too, and Varka took the opportunity to give Flins a once-over, eyes settling on the glass in his hand. “Drink.”
No drink if you want. No give it a try, Dandelion wine is the best. There was no room left for Flins to say no. And frankly, Flins didn’t want to say no anyway.
Flins took a natural sip from the glass; not too much, and not too little. Just enough for his throat to bobble and to draw Varka’s attention to it.
For the first time, he was close enough to what he wanted to hear. Varka might finally shape his movements, his choices, and Flins wanted it. He wanted to surrender his choices to Varka’s hands. He wanted it badly.
Barely having time to swallow all the wine, Flins almost choked on it when Varka slipped his finger under the leather strap around his thigh, picking and letting it slap against his skin.
“You could’ve told me if you wanted to be ordered around,” Varka said, close enough for only Flins to hear it, but far enough for people not question the proximity. “I already knew you liked being pushed around like a rag doll, but I didn’t know you didn’t even want to be asked beforehand.”
His hand closed around Flins’s thigh, his fingers sinking into the fleshiness of his skin. Flins bit down on his tongue to not moan in front of the whole table, but he couldn’t do anything about his cock springing alive in his pants.
"May I…" Flins said, eyes stuck on Varka's mouth. He really, really wanted to kiss him just as much as he wanted to show him that yes, he did want to be ordered around. "May I finish my drink?"
Varka's eyes hooded slightly, and he tilted his head. "No. We're going to finish writing your report, hm?"
Varka managed to enter his room at The Flagship without holding Flins's hand on willpower granted by the Gods alone. The door didn't click behind them properly before Flins pounced on him, sending his back against the door and catching their lips into a kiss as his hands found their way to Varka's neck. And if he had allowed that to happen on a normal night before he realized that he had been doing this thing wrong for so long, never giving Flins exactly what he wanted, Varka had other plans for that night.
But because he was not one to take pleasure in denying himself things, he gave himself exactly ten seconds to kiss Flins; to taste the dandelion wine on his tongue and to give chance to his hands to travel up his back until they caught onto his hair.
Then, he snatched Flins's head back, carefully scanning the reaction in his face for anything that might give a sign of what he felt. Surely enough, Flins had his eyes blown with relish, lips parted in the memory of the kiss they just shared, and his eyebrows were now raised at the innermost tips, making him look like a merely innocent puppy waiting for his next order.
"Gods, you truly are sick," his fingers tightened at his nape. He switched their positions around, harshly pushing Flins against the metal door, sending tremors to the small table stuck to the wall. "I'll give you one chance to say what you want tonight," he said as his hand left the back of Flins's head to caress his jaw. "Use it well."
His thumb stopped at Flins's chin, applying some pressure right under his mouth. Varka slowly parted his lips, feeling heat pooling at the top of his stomach when his thumb caught in Flins's bottom lip. "Speak."
"Fuck me," Flins locked their eyes, and just because he was a menace, he stuck his tongue out and swirled it around Varka's thumb. “Use me how you want.”
Humming in an ambiguous way, Varka dipped his finger inside his mouth. "Beg. Maybe I'll consider," he said, pushing down on his tongue.
Flins tried to close his mouth around it and suck, but Varka pressed down harder, satisfied with the way Flins's jaw went slack and pliant under his touch.
"Oh, I guess you can't do that with something in your mouth,” Varka smiled, leaning down to see him better. “But you love that, don’t you? Of course you like to be told what you do. It gives you more time to be a cock slut.”
When Flins moaned softly around his finger, Varka knew he was done for. He wasn’t stupid; he was well aware that Flins loved sucking him off more than anything. Never in a million years did he think he could use it against him and enjoy it at the same time.
Varka pulled his hand away from him, and pivoted on his heels. “Come with me.”
He dragged the chair from underneath the desk and sat down, looking up at Flins. He was so cute like that, with his hands clasped at his back, dazed eyes, and spit-slicked chin, just waiting for Varka to tell him what to do.
“You’ll go on the bed,” he said, reaching for the strap at Flins’s thigh to pull him closer. “And you’ll open yourself up for me, yeah?”
Reaching for Flins’s pocket, Varka pulled out a vial of oil that he knew Flins always carried with him. For a Lightkeeper, carrying oil on himself was not a big deal for most people, but Varka knew he did not need it for his lamp.
Just the way Flins’s fingers trembled like a candlelight in the soft breeze told him all he needed to know. Flins was always composed, curling inward, mostly an observer than a participant, so Varka had a difficult time breathing when Flins toppled over that image of himself.
He still did things elegantly and unhurriedly; unhooking his lamp and his belt from his waist before pulling his pants off, shrugging off his jacket, but keeping his purple shirt on, folding them together and placing them neatly on the bed like he had all the time in the world.
But his lamp always gave him away, and from the way it flickered wildly on the bedside, he could practically hear Flins buzz with excitement for what he had to do.
Propping his elbow on the armrest, Varka held the side of his face with his hand, trying to look unbothered as Flins knelt on the mattress, slicked his fingers, and spread himself out for Varka.
As it always was with him, there was no moment in which Flins didn’t surprise him either with his words or actions. Varka’s brain had gotten used to him asking to have his mouth fucked or for Varka to randomly pick a surface in the room and just push him down and fuck him senseless, but his cock did not learn anything. It still found Flins as some sort of revelation.
“You’re so loose already,” Varka said, watching Flins slide one finger inside, his hole showing no protest. “We haven’t been together in a while. Did you already find someone else to replace me with?”
“Maybe,” Flins said between a gasp and a moan, sinking his fingernails into his ass cheek and pushing a second finger inside.
“Maybe?” Varka echoed, tapping his finger against his temple, closing his legs to stop his dick from twitching too much.
“Maybe,” Flins said, scissoring his fingers, the oil trailing from his hole down to the matters. Fuck, it was already so red and swollen that Varka had to pin himself to the chair just to not go there and soothe it with his tongue. “Maybe if they knew how to fuck me like you do.”
Varka lifted his eyebrow. “Have you tried?” he asked. “Since we’ve met?”
“Just once, and it was terrible… I had to think of you… bending me over the bar and fucking me in front of everyone, so they knew no one else could have me. I need you to get off,” he added a third finger, squeezing his eyes shut and whining brokenly as if that image turned him on even now. “Now, I just touch myself thinking of you. It feels better.”
Gods, he surely knew how to set the thorny vine of jealousy gripping his chest on fire. “And how often do you do it?”
“Every day, sometimes more,” Flins moaned, almost collapsing on the bed as he pushed four fingers as deeply as he could. “Today, because the thought of seeing you was too much…”
“Enough,” Varka breathed out, not as clearly as he wanted to. “Come here.”
Seeing Flins, all sweaty with a scrunched-up face from suddenly feeling empty, scurry over to him would've been almost endearing if his cock wasn't so hard that sitting was uncomfortable.
“We’ll write your report for the Starshyna,” he said, reaching for a piece of paper from the stack on the table. “You have to turn it in tomorrow, right?”
He spotted the exact moment Flins’s shoulders slumped with disappointment and his eyes turned downward. “Oh, why this face? I already told you this is why I brought you here.”
Truly, Varka believed it would be harder to do this, but he was so into it that he didn’t need to think of his words at all.
“Do you want me to help you with it?” He asked, taking some napkins from the table and cleaning Flins’s fingers. “You’ll finish faster. But you have to do something for me first.”
Flins’s shoulders straightened again, and his eyes sprang back to life—well, as much as it was possible for him. Varka noticed the way they darted to his crotch before he said anything, and really, his eagerness was all the while unexpected and dizzying at the same time.
“But your hands are so cold,” Varka said, helping Flins settle down on his lap. “I don’t think you can help me with this.”
“I can,” Flins said, sitting right above Varka’s bulge and hissing slightly when his cock grazed against Varka’s stomach. “I can make you feel good.”
“Mn, but I don’t want you to do now,” Varka said. “You’ll just keep me warm.”
Flins nuzzled his nose against Varka’s neck, wrapping his arms tighter against his shoulders. “Anything you want.”
Seeing that Varka didn’t stop him, Flins gently nibbled on Varka’s throat, licking and kissing the reddish skin there. Varka used this moment to lift his hips up and free his cock from his pants.
“You won’t move, and you’ll get your hands mostly to yourself, no funny things on your part,” and to make sure that Flins listened to him, he pulled his hair until they could lock eyes. “Understood?”
Flins squirmed in his lap, trying to move himself against Varka’s cock probing at his hole. Nevertheless, he said, “Yes.”
Obviously, he was just talking out of his ass. Flins put all his bets on the fact that Varka was very straightforward with his needs once he realized what they were. Unlike Flins, who preferred to play the long game and waited for Varka to give him what he wanted out of his own volition, Varka did not wait for anyone. And he told himself that he made the right decision once Varka pressed the head of his cock against his hole, clenching his jaw and cramming all his seamy sounds inside.
On Flins's side, things weren't any better, but he had long left behind any restraint for that night. Bracing himself against Varka's shoulder, he sank down on his cock, inch by inch, moan after moan. Preparation did nothing for him, not only because he could take more than the most formidable human out there, but because nothing, nothing ever gave him the mental gratification of being split open on Varka's dick.
Already feeling the need to grind down on Varka—only to seat himself more comfortably, not because his body was pushing him against his will to bounce—Flins took a moment to get used to the feeling of having Varka inside of him and not being allowed to move. But Varka did not give him time, moving to tap him on the back of his hand.
“Get to writing,” he said, sliding the paper closer to him. “And speak out loud. I’m curious to know what you have to say.”
Even on a good day, Flins hated writing these reports and had to trick his brain into drafting them by giving himself some worthless award after that. So when he was on Varka’s lap with his dick inside of him, the last thing he wanted to think was about that idiotic report.
Fortunately, they followed a standard formula, but even that structure was hard to remember when he shifted slowly, enjoying the drag of Varka’s cock inside of him, in order to reach the pen and write.
He stared at the paper, forcing himself to remember what he should note down first—the type of the operation? Did he go on patrol that day? Or did he escort merchants to Nasha Town? Varka was drawing idle circles into his hip, something that should be soothing him, ground him even, but it just made him all the more aware of the position he was in.
“Are you waiting for a special invitation?” Varka said mildly. “Get to work.”
Flins could get to a different kind of work on the spot, very happily too. He shifted his hips again, hoping that if he relieved some of his need for friction, he could think more clearly. It didn’t work.
He hastily scribbled the date, which was probably wrong, just for Varka to slightly rock his hips up and punch a gasp out of him. “I told you to speak up.”
Flins swallowed down, rolling his neck a little. “Time window: Ten thirty to… twelve?”
“Are you asking me?” Varka said, tightening his hold around his waist just because he wanted to. “I wasn’t with you.”
“I can't remember.”
“Try harder,” he moved again, this time making sure to add a little thrust, to see the side of Flins’s face better. “You didn’t have a problem remembering how you used me when someone else was pounding you. Write.”
Flins squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop his cock from leaking. He pressed the pen to the paper again, bullshitting his way through the whole thing, thinking—hoping that Varka would get bored or too hot to keep this up. Applying too much pressure on the pen, it broke in two and cut his writing in half.
Varka tsk-ed behind him, a little disappointment. “What a shame. You’ll have to restart it.”
Flins wanted to tear that paper to pieces and forget that it ever existed, but he was told to restart it, so he would at least try to. But Varka did not seem eager to help him get a new blank paper, forcing him to rise and take it himself. And he did it gladly, especially when he seated himself back on him too forcefully.
Varka had finally reacted to that with a barely contained groan, gripping Flins’s waist with both hands to keep him down. Really, Flins would’ve been a lot happier to see him crack if it weren’t for his own reaction crashing over him in waves. His body answered before his mind could catch up, and he tried to move his hips again, only to realize that he was pinned in place.
“You’re too slow,” Varka said, snatching the paper from him. “I will write for you.”
Having found another cruel way of torturing him by tapping his foot on the ground, Flins could not stop twisting. The small thrusts he got from Varka’s wriggling were enough to make him forget how the common tongue worked.
Babbling away about time-frames, locations, and other assessments, Flins curled up more and more into Varka’s lap, looping his arm around his shoulders and brushing his nose against his neck. Save for his impossibly hard cock, he was rather comfortable there, filled to the brim and with his hand on top of Varka’s heart.
“What did I tell you about touching me?” Varka said, still scrawling away. “Stand straight.”
Despite being at odds with his body, Flins mustered up enough strength to pull himself up and stand there, only with a hand around Varka’s shoulder. To his surprise, he felt Varka’s hand around him loosen as he put the pen down.
“This is so wrong,” he said unconvincingly, craning his neck to leave a kiss on Flins’s jaw. “You shouldn't be letting me do this.”
“I like it,” Flins croaked out, melting under his lips. “I like it when you use me.”
He felt Varka twitch inside of him, and he couldn’t stop himself from clenching around his cock, as if he wanted to catch that movement there. “Varka, please.”
“Sign it,” Varka said, pushing the pen into his hands. “That’s all that’s missing.”
Even as somebody unreverent to the Gods, Flins could say he turned around to sign the report only with the power of the Gods alone. And only with the blessings of the Gods could he survive Varka curling his hands under his thigh and picking him up like he weighed nothing.
At first, he believed that Varka would carry him to the bed, but somewhere in the first seconds of leaving the desk, he realized that the bed was just too far away.
Varka crashed him into the wall with enough force to send all of his muscles trembling. Flins could barely get one embarrassingly high-pitch sound out before he was bent in half as his legs hooked over Varka’s elbows.
It all happened so fast that that he could not register the first rough thrusts into him, Varka’s fingers digging into the skin of his ass.
Being like that was one of his favorite things; he could not move at all, being completely at Varka’s mercy. Truly in the perfect position to be used.
“You feel so good it fucking hurts,” Varka said between thrusts, pressing wet kisses across the column of Flins’s throat. “Don’t ever do this with other people. You hear me?”
“I won’t,” Flins groaned, threading his hair through Varka’s hair. “You broke, ah, you broke me…. no one compares to you.”
Flins would’ve loved to kiss Varka back after he cut him off with a kiss, but between Varka ramming into him so deeply and bending him in half, only short of hurting, he was taken over by small, breathy sounds of pleasure.
His cock was so pathetically red and leaking between their bodies that the only thing he wanted to do was to touch it and cum. But if he let go of Varka’s shoulders, he was afraid it would be akin to letting go of his lifeline.
“Faster, please, please,” Flins said in a hushed tone, hugging Varka closer. “I’ll come untouched if you keep doing this,” he choked around another moan. “It’s too much.”
His words felt fatalistic as soon as Varka pulled out of him entirely and gripped the base of his cock, both feeling like a mix of relief and torture. “Not yet.”
Flins whined in protest, scratching Varka’s back and trying to get him to fuck him again. All too soon, his feet landed on the cold, metallic floor, twirled around, and pushed into the wall again.
Varka hooked his arm around his leg and pushed it up until his knee rested on the wall, and all the remnants of Flins’s protest died in his throat when Varka rammed into him deeper and faster than before. It was as if he had stoked the flames burning in his lower stomach, expanding them all throughout his body and mind.
“Oh,” he managed to say, his fingers scrambling for something to hold onto on the wall.
He could not think straight anymore. Usually, they could go for a few rounds every night, but Flins had been hard for ages now without release. He was surprised that he could still go on like that, pushing back against Varka’s thrusts to get the head of his cock slamming into him as fast as possible, and even more surprised that Varka, too, seemed to be holding together so well.
The grip around his cock excited him; it pushed him to a new edge he had not felt before. Humans were scared of him enough to never deny him anything, and he would never ask them anything, anyway. Once Varka could push the limits he was afraid to cross, Flins knew that he could get anything he ever wanted to explore.
Varka’s hand travelled up his body, never quite touching what Flins wanted to be touched, and it stopped right over his throat, light and unassertive. He liked to do that when he was leaving marks on Flins’s back and fucking him from behind, and Flins was not ashamed to admit that his cock always reacted to it.
One of his biggest disappointments was that he did not need to breathe. He would’ve loved to have Varka close his fingers around his throat.
The motion was quite enough to have him weak in the knees either way. Flins placed his own hand over Varka’s just to keep it there.
“I wish you could choke me,” he said, dizzy. “You make me regret not being fully human.”
Flins noticed the exact moment Varka’s hips stilled before regaining their onslaught. “Fuck, just how many fantasies do you have of me?”
He would not have had any problems relaying them in detail since he tunnel-visioned on him ever since his arrival in Nod-Krai. Still, he could not form any sentences now that Varka was jerking him off roughly.
“With you,” he managed to correct, his legs shaking. “I want you to do a lot of things to me.”
Varka pierced the skin on Flins’s back with his teeth so hard that Flins was sure it would scar, and he wanted it to be imprinted there, all round and beautiful, forever.
“Cum,” Varka said easily with a final tug on Flins’s cock that sent him over the edge.
Flins didn’t know what felt better; finally allowing himself to let go, or Varka filling him up with his cum, so much so that he was put at odds with himself. Instead of going down from his high, being full like that was another type of thrill that he could not explain to anyone. Fucking had him trembling and crying, but being full of cum made him fuzzy and weak.
Collapsing against Varka’s body, he wanted to stay there with Varka’s softening cock inside of him for a while longer. But against his wishes and no way of speaking coherently just yet, Varka pulled out of him and picked him up again, carrying him to the bed.
Flins understood why people called him a titan. After holding him up against the wall and fucking him for so long, Flins could not understand how he could still be so steady and gentle. He was spent.
Varka barely managed to lie down next to him when Flins hooked his leg around his own, placing his head above Varka’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. It was his favorite thing to hear.
Hugging him close to his side, Varka pressed as many quick kisses to Flins’s hairline as he could. There were so many things he wanted to say to him, and the words were too hard to find.
“Are you okay?” he decided on, trailing his fingers across Flins’s cum-stained stomach.
“Almost perfect,” Flins said, then looked up at him with a mischievous smile. “I wish your cum was inside of me. Not on my thighs.”
“Shit, how do you just say things like that?” Varka hid his face in Flins’s hair. “Maybe I miss the days you were overly polite.”
Flins giggled, actually giggled. Varka was still too affected by everything to feel normal about that sound. “You don’t.”
Needing something to do to get back to reality, Varka gave to get up and find something to clean Flins up with. It was one of the rare occasions where he had to be reminded just how strong Flins actually was, because he quickly pulled him back down.
“Stay a while longer.”
Taking a steadying breath of air, Varka settled back down next to him. “I said something I want to clarify.”
Hand under Varka’s shirt, Flins stopped tracing the lines of his abdomen. “Yes?”
“When I said you shouldn’t be with other people…” he started, the words lumping in his throat. “You know, I was not that serious. I mean, I don’t want you to, but I can’t—you know how I feel about freedom.”
Flins didn’t say anything for a second, and Varka felt like he should add something more, be more decisive about his words instead of stumbling so much.
Before he could try that, Flins got on his stomach next to him and tilted his head to kiss him. It was such a simple, gentle kiss that Varka’s heart skipped multiple beats.
“I love how you can’t bring yourself to say it,” Flins said, stroking Varka’s jaw with his thumb. “Please, don’t force yourself to say the right things with me. No one’s watching you. It’s just you and me.”
Something deep settled in his chest, and Varka felt it tug his lips into a soft smile.
He cupped Flins’s cheeks and pulled his face down until their mouths ghosted over each other. “I love it when it’s just you and me.”