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“Zanka, can you put this on for me?”
Enjin says one day, while both of them are in his room, holding up an outfit that makes Zanka's brain short-circuit.
On the clothes hanger that Enjin is holding hangs a modified black kimono, the sleeve is long and has the normal cut of a man’s kimono, with a white obi around the waist - thinner than a woman’s but thicker than a man’s. But its hem…it's cut so short that it likely stops around the upper thigh like a mini skirt, the collar opens wide and hangs so low in the back, it’ll barely cover the chest of the wearer and leave the back below the nape exposed. The only thing that’s not trying to show skin is the pair of stockings Enjin is holding in his other hand. It’s a modified, thigh-high tabi made with black translucent fabric. But Zanka doubts its length - seeming to end around mid thigh with lace trimming - is meant to offer any coverage; if anything, it seems to attract even more attention. There's a black ribbon hanging around the hanger’s hook, which will presumably go around the neck.
As he wills his brain to continue running and processing the skimpy garment, Zanka can only reply with incoherent words, “What…That…that's a…”
“It's an erotic outfit, honey.” Enjin explains slowly.
“I know what it is, I’m not blind!” Zanka exclaims with a blush, “Why are you telling me to wear it, and where did you get it?”
“Well…”
About a week ago, while Enjin was idling in the common room and sipping canned tea, he randomly remembered reading in a book that boredom was one of the things that drove people to make impulsive decisions. Boredom makes people seek entertainment and stimulation, it triggers the most innovative of inventions or the worst of ideas, so one should be careful with their wandering mind. It was from a book that he had taken from Zanka's room and kept forgetting to return. Although he supposed it made no difference whether he returned it or not. These days, they leave a bunch of each other’s stuff in one another's rooms after spending time there.
Anyway, Enjin was bored. He was playing poker with some of the supporters, but he was still mentally bored. Or maybe he was sulking, because he had left for a mission for three days now, and was looking forward to seeing his boyfriend when he got back, then he returned to the HQ just to find out Zanka had been dispatched to somewhere on a different, two-day mission.
That said, a lot of things had changed since he started dating Zanka. From them seeing each other so often that their schedules had started to match, to them adapting to one another's habits. Enjin had even developed a taste for tea. Never in his lifetime did he think he would choose tea over a can of beer or a shot of whiskey if he didn’t happen to be there at Zanka's tea time. Yet, there he was, getting canned tea because he missed the taste, and disliking how fake the artificial flavors felt on his tongue. Then he understood why he never got into tea, it was because he had never tasted good tea until then. He’d ask Zanka to brew him some actual tea with real tea leaves later to make up for it.
Zanka wouldn't be back from his mission until the next day, though, and Enjin didn't know the nuanced techniques of handling tea leaves so he couldn't have good tea yet, and the thought of having to wait for almost a day until he got to see Zanka again demotivated Enjin from doing his paperwork, an excuse which Semiu would tell him was bullshit.
Speaking of how his day-to-day life had changed, Enjin felt even his perception had changed. While he has learned to appreciate Zanka's personal aesthetic of a stoic, virtuous man, it sometimes reminds him that if someone asked him three years ago if he would date someone like Zanka, he would likely say no. His type back then was curvy women who were smarter than him, receptive, and a little naughty. So after the fateful day that Zanka had confessed to him, had turned Enjin's perception of their relationship upside down and forced him to confront his own feelings for the young Nijiku, leading to them dating a while later, Enjin was surprised by how being in love can change a person's perspective. No matter how one looks at it, Zanka is not Enjin's type, and yet, these days whenever he looks into Zanka’s crystalline blue eyes that seem to hold the ocean, he doesn't give a fuck about his type anymore.
When his mind decided that it was very into Zanka, he didn't have much time to rationalize the whole reason for it, of how he had ended up with the most aloof, blunt, unromantic guy in the whole HQ, or how he was still so turned on by him in bed despite it all. It absolutely had to do with his feelings altering his whole perception, but also because Zanka was objectively attractive, with his graceful poise, sharp wit, silky hair, and porcelain skin. Even though Zanka didn't completely fit his previous idea of a lover, Enjin still thought he was cute in bed, in his own very Zanka-ish way, becoming all shy and easily flustered when things got hot and heavy.
But sometimes, just sometimes, he wanted Zanka to be a bit bolder.
Of course, in a relationship, it's healthy to communicate about each other's desires and fantasies. Zanka isn't very naughty, but he is very negotiable when it comes to Enjin. And Enjin knew this.
So, in his moment of boredom that led to an impulsive thought, Enjin brought his musing to August. He didn't say outright that this was about his sex life with Zanka; they just had an indirect, subtle, absolutely normal conversation with no allusion to what he wanted to happen in bed.
“I’m not usually one to ask questions because even I’m aware that my common sense is severely lacking, but sometimes my senses get knocked back into me when others are somehow weirder than myself, such as now.” August turned to Enjin, his characteristic wide smile still on his face but slightly stiffer than usual, “Why are you asking me to design a salacious outfit for Zanka?”
“So I can't?” Enjin asked.
“It's not that you can't, but whether he’ll wear it,” August held up an index finger, “And whether he’ll beat me up after he finds out I designed and tailored it, is a different story.”
Enjin blinked.
“Oh, sorry for putting you in a tough spot, man.” He said, “So anyway, are you doing it, or do I have to order in?”
“Of course I’m doing it!” August exclaimed, “How can you even think of settling for off-the-rack mediocrity when you have an in-house genius such as I!”
And so, thanks to Enjin's shameless nonchalance and August’s lack of common sense, the request went smoothly.
After hearing the story, Zanka pinches his nose bridge, squeezing his eyes shut tiredly while his boyfriend sees nothing wrong with the whole thing.
“Didn’t August tell you not to tell me he made this?”
“He didn't specifically tell me that. Besides, honesty’s important in a relationship.” Enjin shrugs, “I can take a hit for him if you are going to beat him up.”
“You know I’m not goin’ to hit ya,” Zanka frowns.
“I do.” Enjin grins proudly.
“And I’m not hittin’ him, either. Even though he tests my patience often, I’m aware it's not out of ill will.”
“Anyway, back to the important stuff. Can you try this on?”
Zanka looks around, seeming to think really hard about it, “You just bring something like this back and ask me to wear it…”
“So I can't?” Enjin asks.
“Um…” Zanka says in a small, hesitating voice, “I’m not…mentally prepared…”
“Hmm…” Enjin looks down at the garment in his hands, then shrugs, “Oh, well.”
While Zanka is still confused, Enjin just opens the wardrobe and hangs the outfit inside, then closes it. After that, he flops down onto the bed, putting his head in Zanka's lap.
“...That's it?” Zanka asks, looking down at Enjin who's making himself comfortable, “You're just gonna put it away like that?”
“And what am I supposed to do with it? I mean I guess I can wear it myself, but it's the wrong size so it won't be very comfortable.”
“It's not that…” Zanka says, mentally noting how, at the idea of putting on a skimpy set of clothing, comfort is the first thing that comes to Enjin's mind and not that it's not a fitting aesthetic for him, “I thought you'd put in more persuasion.”
“You made a valid point, I should've asked you first before bringing it back,” Enjin reaches a hand up, caressing Zanka's cheek, “Also, you’re always going along with me even when I don't try to make you do anything, so I’m not gonna force you into something you don't like.”
Now, Zanka not going along with his wish isn't the end of the world. While it was a shame, it's not like Enjin is going to die from not having some kinky sex. He still enjoys doing it the normal, vanilla way, and Zanka doesn't refuse most of his requests so things are still pretty exciting. Since his lover has always been accommodating to him, it's only fair that he's accommodating back and respects Zanka's boundaries.
Still, it does make Enjin happy when he returns to his room from a mission and is greeted with the sight of Zanka sitting on his bed with that outfit on.
It's the rainy season and Enjin hasn't been in the best of moods, always waking up feeling drowsy for longer than usual due to a lack of sunlight, going out to do missions under heavy rainfall, and returning with damp clothes and a slight burning feeling on his skin from the acid in the raindrops. But all of his displeasure disappears the moment he sees Zanka in the full set of the suggestive garment, face downturn, eyes glued to the floor, and cheeks burning red.
Zanka chews on his lips from nervousness, glances up at Enjin once.
“A nice surprise you got for me there.” Enjin comments as he closes the door behind him.
He doesn't walk to Zanka right away, but takes a moment to appreciate the sight - the whole look of his boyfriend - from afar.
Enjin remembers telling August that he wanted something that highlights Zanka's androgyny, something elegant with a hint of eroticism, a little bold but not too zesty because that doesn't suit his personality. Looking at the result, August seemed to understand the assignment very well.
Everything feels like an invitation. The refined, dignified black color scheme contrasts starkly with the risqué design, which offers just enough coverage for Enjin's imagination to wander. The visible skin in the gap between the hem of the kimono and the stocking is almost sacred, daring him to taint it with red marks from his bruising grip. The neck of the garment hangs low around the shoulders and shows off the collar bones’ graceful curve, almost falling off, inviting him to push it off Zanka's shoulders completely and expose everything hidden underneath. The black ribbon wraps around Zanka's neck like a choker, tied into a small bow at the nape, like a present neatly wrapped and waiting to be opened, to be taken apart.
Zanka's knees are pressed together in an attempt at modesty. On those knees, his hands are curled into fists, he’s trying to clench them impossibly tighter as if that can help him steel himself under Enjin's gaze.
“Well…what do you think?” Zanka asks in a small voice, breaking the silence. Apparently, it’s starting to get a little too awkward for him.
At that, Enjin walks up to him. When he reaches Zanka, he brings a hand up to cup the side of his face, caressing it with his thumb.
“It looks good on you.” Enjin compliments with a smile.
Tilting his face to lean into the warmth of Enjin's palm, Zanka looks up shyly, the blush still bright on his cheeks. God, the way he looks so submissive doing that makes Enjin want to do all kinds of unholy things to him.
But he knows Zanka, knows he prefers Enjin touches him intimately after they’ve both showered, so he subdues the kindling desire within him, compresses it down to just a kiss on Zanka's forehead for now.
“I’ll be right back.” He says when he pulls away, then he takes a change of clothes and slips into the bathroom.
In fifteen minutes, Enjin makes quick work of a shower and washes his hair with herbal shampoo, the scent of which he knows Zanka likes. When he steps out of the shower, he checks himself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around him.
Still sitting on the bed, seeming too tense to even think of busying himself with anything, Zanka turns to him, his breath is caught in his throat and a blush creeps up all the way to his ears again.
Enjin smirks, believing he’s quite a welcoming sight for sore eyes himself. Wet hair falling haphazardly around his face, drooping over his eyes yet failing to hide the heated look in them as he stare down Zanka from where he's standing at the door, the water still trickling down from blonde locks falls onto the sculpted muscles of his chest, joining the drops that draw wet contours on his toned pectorals and abdominals, looking like he's the incarnation of a Greek god.
“Sorry for the wait.” He says.
“No, it's…it's fine.” Zanka stammers.
As the bathroom door clicks shut, Zanka gulps when Enjin starts approaching him with calm steps, like he's not at all in a hurry despite the thick desire in the air. Well, technically, Enjin doesn't have to hurry, because where else would his lover run to?
He doesn't need to rush, doesn't want to, either. He wants to savor this while Zanka is allowing him the pleasure, before the younger man snaps out of it as his shame gets the better of him and burns the outfit. He wants to engrave the image of Zanka's alluring appearance into his memory to later retrieve it when they are on different missions, dispatched to different areas, and he has nothing but his own hand wrapped around his hardened dick, until they're reunited and he gets to have his gorgeous lover in his bed again.
When Enjin gets on the bed, placing one knee down, barely climbing on it completely, Zanka instinctively moves back a little, arms bracing by his sides, shoulders tense, seeming both excited and avoidant, like he still isn't completely sure of his decision. Enjin doesn't let him run, leaning down and looming over Zanka's smaller frame, and with one arm, pulling him towards himself by the waist. One of Zanka’s hands comes up, placing against Enjin’s shoulder - a light, startled resistance at his intrusion of personal space.
They exchange an eager gaze, a moment of restrained yearning.
As he leans in for a kiss, Enjin barely feels Zanka's bated breath on his face.
Their lips entangle, part and meet again and again with wet clicks as Enjin continues to seduce Zanka to let go of his restraint. It's not a rough kiss of dominance, it's a slow, enticing invitation. Come to me, offer yourself up, get drunk on my existence.
He caresses along Zanka's thigh as they kiss, palming the patch of exposed skin just above the stocking’s lace that he’s been aching to touch since he first laid eyes on it, kneading the soft flesh that he's touched before, kissed before, bitten possessive marks into before. He wants the outfit to stay on Zanka for the whole duration of things, with these calculated gaps that expose skin areas that only Enjin has the privilege to see.
When he trails kisses down Zanka's neck, which his lover always seems to enjoy, craning his neck back to give Enjin more access, Enjin can hear his breath pick up ever so slightly. Wanting to quicken that breathing even more and turn them into audible vowels, Enjin slips a hand under the fabric and reaches in to explore what's hidden underneath, he’s surprised when his fingers feel lace around his lover's hips.
He pulls away to look at the front edge of the outfit, now slightly parted and revealing Zanka's thigh and crotch, and sees a pair of black lace panties. Enjin knows it's included in the set, but didn't think Zanka would actually put it on.
“...I thought you might want me to wear it,” Zanka averts his eyes, speaks with hesitance and a deep blush that burns his face, ears, and neck, “I can take it off if you don't…”
Enjin kisses Zanka's temple, pulling him out of his insecurity, “I love it,” He trails kisses down to Zanka's ear, nibbling around the earlobe, “I fucking love it. I love you.”
To testify to his words, Enjin bites and pulls at his boyfriend’s ear like he can’t wait to devour him, at the same time his hand kneads and squeezes his ass through the lingerie, at which Zanka keens weakly.
Palming Zanka's dick, Enjin gives it a few slow strokes that he knows get Zanka arching up into his touch. He lightly pushes Zanka down on the bed, getting in between his legs, but not to fuck him, not yet. He wants to continue the foreplay and build up tension in both their bodies.
He builds it up gradually, takes his time, with his lips on Zanka's toned chest, his hand pushing one side of the garment off Zanka's shoulder, his tongue sweeping on Zanka's nipple, and his other hand provoking his erection, hard and eager underneath the lace.
Zanka's breath picks up, each inhalation stutters as Enjin slowly moves downward, further down until he reaches his groin. He kisses the shaft, mouthing along Zanka's length, nibbling once, twice, thrice, and getting a breathy, restrained moan out of him. Enjin is careful not to tease him too much and makes him come prematurely, his stroking hand is reduced to two fingers tickling under the base, his tongue darts out to lick the precum soaking through the lace.
The sounds Zanka is making are so nice to his ears, more wanton now, but still closed off behind his lips as he bites down into them, still with the fear of coming undone, even when it's before Enjin.
Deciding that he has teased Zanka enough for now, Enjin pushes himself up and crawls up again, kissing Zanka once before moving to his ear.
“Blow me.” He breathes into Zanka's ear.
Sitting up, leaning back, pulling Zanka up and guiding his hand to the towel, Enjin lets Zanka do as he pleases. He sits back, and watches.
There's this particular thrill that comes with nudging Zanka, inviting him to take the active role, coaxing him out of his prim and proper mannerisms and into his own shadowed desire. And Enjin relishes it. In the way Zanka tentatively pulls at the soft white towel around Enjin's lower half, the way a flare of desire starts kindling in him as he gulps nervously, the almost audible sound of his sense and reason being switched off in his head as the towel falls off and Enjin is unveiled before him - Naked. Stripped. His.
Blue irises flick up, meeting gold ones, always with the need to reaffirm permission. Always puts Enjin on a pedestal and obeys him like he's a god. In this moment of intimacy, Enjin thinks he can do that for Zanka, being a god. Treating Zanka like his favorite follower, or sacrifice, whichever kind of deity this lost young man’s faith makes him out to be.
“Go on.” Enjin whispers, caressing the side of Zanka's face encouragingly, adoringly.
He sees the excitement and hunger in Zanka's eyes, making his pupil dilate, clouding the usually rational aquatic blue as he lets his gaze wander. Enjin can feel the way his lover wants him through that gaze, through the way it slowly caresses down his well-built figure and tattoos, and he takes pride in it. An arrogant feeling that he rarely allows himself to indulge in. A stroke to his ego that he only allows himself to carelessly show around Zanka. And it feels good, sending pleasure buzzing under his skin, adding to the feeling of Zanka's long, delicate fingers stroking along his half-hard length.
Bending down, Zanka licks the slit at the head where precum pools, then sucks lightly around the head. He trails slow kisses down the length, then drags his tongue back up the head just as slowly. He takes it into his mouth, pulls back, takes it in again, each time a little deeper.
Enjin lets his head fall back, exhaling sharply at the feeling of wet lips, wrapping tenderly around his girth. He notes that Zanka has gotten a lot better at giving head, ever so good at learning. Although years ago, even his past self would have punched the present him in the face, knowing the kind of things he's teaching to Zanka.
Eyes fluttering shut as he finds a rhythm, Zanka takes Enjin's dick all the way to the back of his throat, and is rewarded with a guttural moan from the older man.
Enjin's breathing becomes heavier, he runs a hand through the damp blonde locks of his hair and licks his lips. Then he lets that hand fall onto Zanka's head, gripping his silky hair. The wet heat of Zanka's mouth, and just the sight of him obediently on his knees in clothing that's made to drive Enjin insane, like the hybrid of an angel and an incubus, born out of his ungodly wet dreams, bending down to worship his dick, is enough for Enjin to shoot his load into Zanka's throat right then and there. But he bites back that impulse, gritting his teeth so hard they could have powdered, because he wants to fuck Zanka into oblivion, until the latter forgets himself and everything around him, and only remembers Enjin.
Enjin pulls, almost yanking Zanka off his dick, “That's enough.”
His voice came out lower and more demanding than he intended, making Zanka stiffen, his blue eyes quivering, looking up at Enjin like he's awaiting judgment for his wrongdoing. To make up for his rough tone, Enjin guides Zanka up, pulling him into his lap and kissing his uncertainty away. Zanka mellows out again, becoming pliant in his embrace as their lips chase each other down in a heated kiss, amidst teasing glides of tongues.
When they separate, hot breaths fanning in the barely there gap between their faces, Enjin says huskily, “On your knees.”
Zanka obeys, getting off Enjin's lap and onto his hands and knees while the older man gets the lube from his bedside table.
As much as Enjin enjoys the sight of Zanka in lace panties, the piece of fabric starts to get annoying very soon as he tries to finger the latter through it, so Enjin pulls it off and throws it to the floor. Zanka doesn't seem to like it, anyway.
It's customary, giving Zanka a thorough preparation. It's less of a physical thing and more of a mental one, a method of breaking away more of his inhibitions until the main act. So Enjin is patient with it, adding one finger after the other and slowly massaging Zanka's inside. Then, he finds a certain spot that makes his lover whine behind tightly pressed lips. He brushes the tip of his finger against that spot again, making Zanka moan aloud, unable to muffle it anymore.
“Wait…if ya keep that up…I’m gonna…” Zanka defies weakly. But Enjin pretends he doesn't hear that. He knows how much he can edge Zanka, and continues pushing his fingers in, as if trying to reach the blood vessels within his body and feel their pulse.
As Enjin continues teasing, Zanka writhes, struggling in unfulfilled lust, a feeling that takes over them both, thick and almost tangible, yet is so empty, like a kind of vaporized aphrodisiac. They can only breathe more of it in but never be satisfied by it, making them crave each other more and more to relieve that animalistic thirst.
When Zanka pushes himself back, trying to meet the thrusts of Enjin's fingers and chase his high, Enjin stops his hand. He hears a disappointed whimper when he pulls his fingers out.
“Patient, your highness.” Enjin chuckles as he positions himself.
Leaning down, Enjin strokes his cock a few times. He kisses Zanka's shoulder, his frame envelops the younger man’s lithe one, wide shoulders caging Zanka's slender grace, and he buries inside.
Zanka moans, Enjin's name rolling off his tongue as he fills him, moving unhurriedly, nudging forward until his shaft has settled all the way inside.
Enjin nuzzles his nose into Zanka's neck, savouring the accommodating warmth that connects them both. He lets Zanka get used to the feeling before starting to fuck him in slow, rhythmic thrusts. Their shadows meld into one, thrown on the wall by the nightlight, moving like a disfigured black phantom.
They start out nice and slow, with sweet kisses that Enjin plants on Zanka's nape and ear, and on his lips when he turns around.
When he's being fucked, Zanka always tends to hide his face, like now. He's hanging his head low, chin tucked so far in that his neck is straining, like he's ashamed, like there's someone in the room with them, an invisible observer, watching and judging him for every unseemly sound and contortion he makes, for the debauchery he commits. Somehow, Zanka's mind always manages to spare Enjin that kind of chastisement, as the younger man has never told Enjin to stop being a horny bastard, to stop disrupting his ascetic serenity.
Slipping a hand into the inviting gap of the collar, Enjin finds Zanka's nipple and fondles it, flicks on it, pulls at it, making his lover raise his shoulders in a futile attempt at defense.
To Zanka, Enjin’s existence is somehow free from any kind of judgment. The embodiment of freedom, a spirit that passes any and all containment, be it human or divine. Hence, in the sanctum that is his room, on the stone altar in Zanka's perception, Enjin will absolve him of his guilt.
He stops pinching Zanka's nipple and moves that hand to his jaw, holding it firmly and tilting his head up.
“Let me hear your voice.” He runs his thumb over Zanka's lips, reminding him to stop biting down on them, that he too has freedom to feel this pleasure.
At that, Zanka finally lets out a shaky moan, open and unobstructed.
Satisfied by that reaction, Enjin presses a kiss into Zanka’s neck, smiling against his skin like a silent praise.
As he quickens the pace, starting to get rougher, Enjin shoves three fingers into Zanka's mouth, reaching far in to muffle his lover's moans, almost like he's fucking Zanka's throat with his fingers, wanting to hear him choke on lust. Zanka's eyes water, trying to suppress his gag reflex as the older man toys with the inside of his mouth.
“Feels good, yeah?” Enjin asks into Zanka's ear with a confident smile, while he himself is buzzing all over with the way his lover clenches around him. He gets a muffled, broken and choked “Yes” in response.
When Enjin finally retrieves his hand, Zanka tries to regulate his breathing again, blinking dazedly, a string of saliva following the older man's tattooed fingers.
Wrapping one hand at the side of Zanka's waist, his other hand pushing him down, then holding his wrist and pinning it against the mattress, Enjin holds him in place, and starts to pound inside, making Zanka throw his head back at the increase in pace. Demanding. Intemperate. Ravenous.
The room is now filled with sultry sounds, rising in volume and intensity, drowning out the sound of rain outside, building up closer to an apex. Just when Zanka is close to falling over the edge, letting loose high-pitched moans and incoherent words, Enjin stops moving, then starts pulling out.
At the sudden halt of friction, Zanka turns around, eyes reddened and brimming with tears from the stimulations, blinking up at Enjin and wordlessly asking him why. But Enjin just stays still, regulating his own breathing, doesn't look like he's planning to push back inside. Zanka's confusion starts bordering on fear, frightened that Enjin will abandon him at the edge, hard and aching and pathetic. And yet, there's still no defiance on that face, no fight against Enjin's decree.
Taking hold of Zanka's jaw, Enjin turns his head back forward, refusing to answer his question, refusing to give in to puppy eyes that weaken his resolve. To distract them both, he trails his hand down and wraps it around the side of Zanka's neck, thumb caressing his nape. The low-hanging collar shows off the elegant curve of his upper back, allowing Enjin to slide his fingers down, along the few visible bumps of his vertebrae, in a gentle up and down caress that makes Zanka shudder, and Enjin can feel it through his touch. That exposed skin has been teasing at his eyes for a while now, Enjin leans down, places a kiss, before sucking on the back of Zanka's neck, making a territorial mark.
Pulling back, feeling satisfied with the mark he made, Enjin flips Zanka around so they're facing each other, grabbing his jaw and crashing their lips together. This time, it's not to seduce, it's a kiss of dominance, he's sucking the life out of Zanka and Zanka is going to give it to him. Then, just as abruptly as he has pulled himself out, Enjin buries back inside, knocking a strangled mewl out of Zanka and making him arch his back.
Pressing Zanka into the mattress, putting his weight down like he wants to permanently pin him on his bed, Enjin angles his thrusts, which Zanka cants his hips up to meet. Enjin easily finds his sweet spot again, so practiced through many passionate nights with Zanka that it barely takes him any time to make the latter melt away into a mess of desperation, completely at Enjin's mercy.
He picks up where they left off, where he has edged Zanka and cut off his high, suddenly letting go of the outstretched cloth of orgasm that the younger man wanted him to tear through. All Zanka can do is take it, grasp at the bedsheet and pillow, sobbing out pitiful sounds that ring like a beg, a forlorn beg for Enjin not to leave him unfinished. Through their still connected lips, Enjin swallows the whimpers trailing out from Zanka's mouth, letting out low moans of his own in the process.
After a while, Enjin sits back up and pulls Zanka's legs over his shoulders, trying to find what feels good for both of them. No, he wants to find what feels great. His thrusts become decisive snaps that have longer intervals, but are driven in so deeply that they both shudder from it.
It feels good. So good. So good that it borders on being morally wrong, that Enjin thinks he might have committed a crime doing this to Zanka, now he has to find a way to make the latter his accomplice, get the blood on his slender hands, get his fingerprints all over the scene.
At that same angle and position, Enjin sets up a more brutal pace than before, pulling Zanka along his rein, drawing out more desperate sounds as evidence that Zanka wants this done to him. All of it.
And Zanka does. He wants Enjin, whether gentle or harsh, whether composed like his usual self or ruffled up like he is now. Enjin knows him, knows his body and soul. Zanka entrusts himself to him because he knows Enjin will make him feel good. Enjin makes good on that trust, making his lover melt away further, and further, and further. Into hysteria. Into euphoria.
“E-Enjin…!” Zanka calls with urgency, “I…I’m close…”
“Okay,” Enjin says through ragged breaths, leans down and lets Zanka's legs fall off his shoulders. He kisses Zanka on the lips before tracing kisses down his jawline, slipping an arm under his back and wrapping it around his waist, rubbing soothingly, “I got you. It's okay.”
As Enjin has gotten within reach, showing a gentleness completely unlike the way he's pounding into him, Zanka reaches up and wrap feeble arms around his neck, hooking his legs around Enjin's waist, holding him tightly and hiding his face in the crook of the older man's neck, letting out needy moans that's broken up by uneven breathing as Enjin keeps fucking into him. Faster. Harder.
“You’re so cute,” As he kisses Zanka's ear, Enjin murmurs into it, lips brushing the shell. Zanka likes being complimented, likes being pampered, likes knowing Enjin adores him. “So fucking gorgeous.”
In response, Zanka mewls. Feeling him clench around his cock, Enjin knows he’s hitting the right spot, both physically and mentally.
“You feel so good…I could die,” Enjin says, his voice raspy and heavy, breathing getting more labored, “But I don't fucking care. I don't give a fuck if it's you who kill me…” He bites hard into Zanka's ear. When he releases it, he continues, “Strangle me if you want, I’m yours.”
And that's it. Zanka is done for.
A violent orgasm tears through him, making Zanka's whole body quake, he gasps audibly, arching up from the bed, legs winding tighter around Enjin's waist and nails sinking into his back. He chokes out sounds that feel like both ecstasy and agony, like it feels so good that it hurts him. It's the hardest Enjin has seen Zanka come.
Enjin hisses at the way Zanka clenches tightly around him, using every fiber of his being to refrain from railing the younger man through his climax, waiting until he has calmed down.
As he comes down from the high, trembling from the aftershock, Zanka looks like he has entered a trance. The arms on Enjin's back slacken, fall away like liquid, like Zanka has turned into water on the inside, blue and crystalline like his aqua eyes.
While enjoying the look of delirium on Zanka’s face, Enjin wipes a thumb down his own torso where he feels some of his boyfriend's warm white fluid getting onto it. He licks at the fingertip, tasting Zanka's familiar essence that has landed on his tongue multiple times before when he gave Zanka oral. Enjin wipes the thumb on his lover's face, who still hasn't fully come back to his senses. He tilts Zanka's chin up and plants a tender kiss on his lips.
When Enjin pulls away, he shoves three fingers into the inviting parted slit between Zanka's lips. Then, he picks up the pace again, driving into Zanka's liquid, boneless body.
Enjin feels pliant flesh. Hears overstimulated gasps and whimpered moans that are muffled by his fingers. Tastes saltiness from the sweaty skin that he's kissing, from the leftover taste of Zanka's semen. An earthly mixture of sensations that climbs so high, it must be the closest thing to heaven.
And then, the cloth of awareness rips, a line straight through his perception, fraying at the edge. His mind blanks out, experiencing a momentary loss of identity.
Everything falls out of focus as Enjin shudders hard and comes inside Zanka, burying his face in the crook of his lover's neck, dwelling in the euphoric haze of a fantastic orgasm, groaning as he rides out the climax and milks out the rest of his fluid with a few last thrusts.
While nuzzling his nose into the younger man's neck, Enjin doesn't register himself chanting Zanka's name until the latter asks him what's wrong with a hint of worry in his voice. Enjin laughs breathily and replies that it's nothing, that he's just a little too high on Zanka.
Basking in the afterglow, the comforting scent and warmth of his lover, the smell of sex in the air, he stays atop Zanka for a long while, petting his ruffled hair, mouthing reassuring kisses along the side of his neck, murmuring sweet nothings for Zanka to hear against the sound of rain outside their window.
Enjin thinks that's it, that even he is done for the night, until he regains enough energy to pull away.
Sitting back, he sees Zanka pushing himself up on his elbow, as disheveled as disheveled can be. Glassy eyes, flushed face, wet lips, ragged breath, unsteady and shaking arms, the black garment slipping off his shoulders and falling down his upper arms, pooling around his elbows, exposing angry red hickeys on the porcelain skin of his chest and neck like an undeniable evidence of their carnal tempest. And Enjin can feel himself getting hard once more.
He leans down again, hovering over his boyfriend who looks up at him in dazed confusion, and asks, “Ready to go again?”
It takes Zanka’s hazy mind a moment to process that question before he asks in disbelief, “What…? Are you seri-”
Before he can say anything further, Enjin's lips are pressed against his, shutting him up.
Enjin doesn't usually impose on Zanka, but it's been a while since he was this excited, so he’s hoping his boyfriend will indulge his whim for today. As always, he does. It doesn't take much convincing before Zanka gives up and loses himself in the kiss.
This time, Enjin sits back, pulls Zanka into his lap, into a position where he can move at his own pace, as he knows at this point the younger man has likely shed off all inhibition and will find little shame in fucking himself on Enjin's dick. As they continue to make out, Enjin strips the outfit completely off Zanka for his ease of movement, leaving only the ribbon choker and stocking on. Zanka readily complies, letting the garment fall off his sweaty body as he kisses Enjin's neck.
As Zanka rides him, Enjin pulls him in by the waist and mouths at his chest, gives him praises through wet kisses, and cherishes his slender but toned frame with fondles and caresses that make him shudder.
Zanka's eyes are glazed over. He's stranded, he’s lost, he’s been taken so far away from everything holding him back, it's just him and Enjin and their pleasure now.
They stay wrapped up in each other's presence, like a perfect bubble separated from the rest of the world, until Zanka reaches a second climax at the same time Enjin ejaculates inside him. Then, it's pure bliss.
Afterwards, after they have cleaned themselves to a satisfactory degree - and that means until Zanka has approved that they're clean enough to sleep - Enjin finally gets to lie down and cuddle his boyfriend.
“Thank you for this,” Enjin says, littering pecks on Zanka's forehead, cheeks, and lips while embracing him.
“It's good that you like it.” Zanka replies, still sounding shy in the aftermath of it all.
“I can wear a dress next time, if you want me to return the favor.” Enjin jokes.
“Enjin, go to sleep.” Zanka says, ending all further discussion.