Ah, this was not good at all.

Really, really not good.

Sinbad had coerced him into drinking far too much once again. OK, granted, Sinbad had actually done nothing more than hand him the first drink, but for that he should be held responsible for the state his general had ended up in, right?

Sharrkan certainly thought so, for what it was worth.

But ah, he is so drunk he can't focus on anything beyond the thought of I am not drunk, nope. The festival has been so much fun so far that he couldn't help but enjoy himself to his fullest, drinking, eating and flirting with the kingdom's beautiful women for all he was worth; he'd even helped out Alibaba with a woman or two, insisting that he let go and have fun too, to which his student had fervently agreed and thanked him gleefully.

Ja'far is no fun tonight, having declined any of Sin's advances with the wine (and otherwise - Sharrkan doesn't want to think about the groping he'd witnessed earlier). Pisti is nowhere to be seen now - probably in the company of a young man or two, knowing her. Yamuraiha is out of the question, seeing as she had insulted both his sword and his manhood earlier ("is your sword compensating for something, Sharr? It's awfully long, isn't it?"). Spartos just no, Drakon and Hinahoho are lingering around Sinbad as usual...

After much deliberation, Masrur is to be his best friend tonight.

The Fanalis has been drinking too, but still able to walk in a straight line and keep his eyes focused, much unlike the other general who approached now. He looks up at Sharrkan from his seat beside a bonfire, noting how the white haired man seemed to be trying to lean on thin air.

"Evening, Mas," Sharrkan slurs happily at his friend, plonking himself down beside the bigger man heavily, sitting much too close, "you enjoying yourself? S'good isn' it?"

Masrur nods, not reacting to the hand placed on his leg to steady it's owner. Sharrkan lays his cheek on Masrur's shoulder, grinning up at him as his vision swims a little. Ah, so it's going to be one of those nights where Sharrkan seemingly can't keep his entire person away from anyone.

"Those women I was with," Sharrkan continues loudly, "they left with Alibaba. I gave them to 'im," he puffs out his chest as if he has committed an act of great charity, "he needs 'em more n' I do, y'know? Poor kid, all talk and no play, if you get me. He seems really unlucky with the ladies."

Masrur nods again, not entirely sure where this is going, and equally not entirely sure if Sharrkan knows either. He opts for keeping his mouth shut for now, lest he say something stupid and drunk. He thinks he's got a good hold of himself, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

"Not like me," Sharrkan grins, lurching forwards much faster than he means to and settling his elbows on Masrur's thigh as he sits on the floor now; it's easier to look at the Fanalis man this way, he reasons, "I know what to do and how a woman likes to be treated, you get me? 'Course you do Mas, you get me well."

Masrur's not confident he does.

"What 'bout you man?" Sharrkan pushes him lightly in the stomach and Masrur barely feels a thing. "You need a hand getting a few women? They'll do anything you want so don't worry 'bout that."

"No," he says, ignoring the way Sharrkan now lays the side of his face on the top of his thigh and concentrating on speaking, "I don't want women."

"What, tonight?"

"No, ever."

Women, Masrur has found, are frightened of his sheer size and strength, and his stoic appearance probably doesn't help things either. He doesn't concern himself with such things now after learning the hard way when he was a teenager - pleading you'll be gentle and then bruising her like that, despite how hard you had tried to be good, apparently suggests to other women that you are not one to go to bed with.

Sharrkan, however, takes it the wrong way. "Since when are you gay?"

Masrur frowns a little at him, wondering how he came to that conclusion. "I didn't say I was."

"Because that's fine with me, man," Sharrkan slurs happily, raising his drink to his friend as he sits up straight now beside Masrur on the floor, "whatever floats your boat, makes you happy, ain't got shit to do with me."

"You're talking like a fool, Sharrkan."

It was intended to inform, not to insult.

"Am not," Sharrkan replies stupidly. He downs the rest of his wine and sets the goblet on the floor heavily before drawing himself up and perching on Masrur's lap, linking his fingers behind his neck. Masrur swallows thickly; this is not good. He's well accustomed to Sharrkan's drunken need to climb on everyone within reach, but that doesn't mean to say he's comfortable with the man doing it to him, especially when they're surrounded by just about every adult in Sindria. Sharrkan, with all his smooth grace (when not stinking drunk), his taut muscles and those tantalisingly bare shoulders, should not be allowed to sit on people, Masrur thinks.

"When was the las' time you had sex, Mas?"

He honestly can't remember, and that saddens him a little. Even when he has been alone with women in foreign countries on their travels, they never want him to actually fuck them due to his size. He's used to it now, used to them giving him a handjob and declining any form of pleasure for themselves once they feel his many muscles, the size of his cock and mistake his narrowed eyes for those of a man they should not open themselves up to.

"I don't know."

"Like, a week ago? A month? Gimme an estimate."

"Why do you even want to know this?"

Maybe the drink is slowing him down, but Masrur can't fathom where Sharrkan is going with this. If he had just come here to gloat, then he was going to leave with a punch or two.

"I'm interested," the Heliohapt man grins, his face much too close as he sways, eyes lidded, "because you're the only fucker here I can't figure out. Ja'far doesn't shout 'is mouth off about 'is bedroom life, but Sin does it for him, the poor bastard. Pisti is a dirty little whore. Spartos is celibate. Hinahoho, one can only imagine, and Drakon has 'is wife. Yamuraiha can't get any," he finishes with a hearty laugh at the female general's misfortune, "she needs to go man-hunting with Pisti. But you, my friend, you keep everything way too quiet. Even Sin hasn't got anything to tell us about you when he's drunk in a gutter."

Masrur can't help but feel pleased about this. The gold chain around Sharrkan's throat glitters in the fire light and he starts to feel a little light-headed.

Suddenly Sharrkan is shifting in his lap, moving to straddle him instead on sitting side-saddle, his tanned limber legs draping over the Fanalis' powerful ones as he keeps his hands locked behind Masrur's head, a playful smile on his lips.

And suddenly, it all clicks much later than it really should have, and Masrur can't help but place his hands on the shorter man's hips, holding him steady in his drunken haze.

"All the good-looking women are gone," Sharrkan says breathily, one hand snaking up into the Fanalis' short hair, his mouth going to an ear, "and you look like you'd be a good fuck, Mas. I've always thought so." He groans lightly as he rolls his hips atop of the other general's, rubbing their slowly hardening cocks together and feeling Masrur's shoulders stiffen at the sensation. "I get fucking horny when I drink, as you probably know. You've not fucked someone for a while, have you?"

His throat is dry and his tongue feels foreign in his mouth. Of course he knew full well what Sharrkan was like when intoxicated, all the more reason to kick himself for not seeing this coming sooner. He holds in a groan of his own as Sharrkan grinds against him again; it really has been too long. "I don't want to take advantage."

Sharrkan snorts loudly and pulls back to look him in the face. "Take advantage?" He asks incredulously. "You wouldn't be taking advantage, you idiot. I may be drunk as shit but I'm no quivering woman, Mas. If you don't want this then jus' say, I won't take offense and I'll leave you in peace."

Ah, but Sharrkan already feels too good in his hands, on his lap, for him to even contemplate telling him to go away. Why would he want to do that? He can't remember already.

"Not here, then," he says quietly, tightening his grip on Sharrkan's hips momentarily before letting go entirely, "not where people can see."

Sharrkan laughs lightly and clambers off his lap with as little grace as an elephant, taking his hand in his own as he straightens up.

"'Course not," he grins, "as if I'd want to put on a show out here. No, let's go to your room, on the ground floor, no stairs." He cannot get his sentences quite right anymore, but he doesn't care as he staggers off with the other general in hand, waving goodbye merrily to Aladdin and Morgiana, who are blissfully ignorant to what was going to happen.

They manage to reach Masrur's room with relative ease, despite Sharrkan's newly found habit of trying to suck on the Fanalis' fingers all the way there. With a crash they're inside, wrapped around each other so tightly they may as well have merged, Sharrkan's tongue in Masrur's mouth faster than he can recall ever acting with someone; their need is too great for formalities tonight. Sharrkan tastes like fine wine against his tongue and he loves it.

"How do you want to do this?" Masrur asks as Sharrkan tugs at his armor, apparently under the impression that the harder he pulls the more likely it is to come off. "Here, let me do it."

"Don't care," Sharrkan huffs out, instead stripping himself of his clothes as Masrur undresses himself, "you can fuck me if you like, haven't done that in a while."

"If this is pity sex, then-"

"Please don't insult yourself, Mas."

He goes silent, following the white haired man to his bed, his nerves alive with anticipation and worries of will it even fit. If Sharrkan hasn't taken it in a while, then getting it in will be all the more hard considering his large length and girth.

"Do you have some kind of lubricant? It won't go in without it."

Sharrkan raises an eyebrow at him. "Mas, this is your room. Why the fuck would I have lube in here?"

Right, thinking before speaking was still a thing he needed to do.

"I have hand cream, is that OK?"

Sharrkan can't help but snort as he lies back on the plush mattress, spreading his legs wide in a most alluring manner, ready and eager to accept the other man. "Hand cream? You?"

Masrur fails to see the humour in that statement. "Yamuraiha gave it to me. I get dry hands." He has never had the heart to tell the magician that the little ornate hand cream container lies collecting dust on his window sill, all but completely forgotten until now.

"Sure, sure, princess Fanalis," Sharrkan laughs at the absurdity of the nickname as Masrur joins him on the bed again after retrieving the cream from the other side of the room, "hurry up and get between my legs, god knows you'll look good there."

Masrur does as he's told, palms sliding up the insides of Sharrkan's thighs, thumbs stopping just short of the dripping hard cock between them. It's been such a long time since he's been with a man, but he doesn't stop to think, doesn't stop to ask what Sharrkan wants or what he likes; the Fanalis licks at the weeping head of the other general's cock and oh, god, the noise Sharrkan makes and the way he arches up in his need to feel more just isn't fair. It's almost obscene how Sharrkan spreads his legs wider and threads the fingers of one hand into Masrur's hair again, silently urging him to do it again, do more, anything more, anything at all so long as he gets his cock in that delicious mouth.

Masrur obliges.

He sucks the Heliohapt man's cock in slowly, hands on the backs of his tan thighs now to prevent Sharrkan from slamming them shut on his head in pleasure; Sharrkan bucks into that wet, warm tunnel, his eyes rolling back and his mouth dropping open as Masrur sucks on him in ernest, bobbing his head along his length, pressing his tongue against the underside hard before stopping at the head to lave his tongue over it, lapping at the precome that beads there as if he loves it.

"H-How are you so good at this?" Sharrkan moans as Masrur goes back down on him, and he has to clamp a hand to his mouth when Masrur releases one of his legs to fondle his balls now too. It shouldn't feel this good so soon, shouldn't be so sinfully divine in the other man's mouth, but the feel of it coupled with the obscene sucking sounds Masrur is making is almost too much for him.

Honestly, Masrur doesn't know if he's good or not, but the compliment isn't missed despite the fact he can't reply when his mouth is filled with cock. He glances up at Sharrkan's face and he actually does groan now, the swordsman's look of deep arousal going straight to his cock.

This isn't going to last long and they can both feel it.

Masrur releases the other general's cock with a soft pop (much to Sharrkan's dismay), and begins covering his fingers with the hand cream beside him. He's so hard, so damn in need of fucking the gorgeous body beneath him that he can't remember why he thought going without sex for so long was no great loss.

He just about has the presence of mind to warn Sharrkan about what he's going to do. "I'm going to put a finger in," he says, his voice ragged with lust as he rubs his middle finger over the tight hole slowly, letting Sharrkan get used to the feel of it.

"Hurry up," Sharrkan whispers, not sure if he wants Masrur to hear him or not. Damn, he might actually lose himself to just a single finger at this rate; he'd had his cock sucked by plenty of women and the odd man, but with Masrur it had effected him worse than those before him. Dimly, he was aware that it was probably because the people before had been nobodies to him, just warm bodies to rut into for a night, whereas Masrur was someone that he actually cared about, was attracted to on a deeper level than 'hey he's good looking'.

He hisses at that initial burning stretch of Masrur's thick finger breaching him, his muscles instinctively clenching down on the intruding digit, bunching tight and making it all the more difficult. Damn, it has been a long time. He reaches out and holds onto the bigger man's shoulders for support, gasping in pain as Masrur starts to gently slide his finger out and then back in again, wriggling beneath him and spreading his legs that little bit wider to try and lessen the stretch, but to no avail.

Masrur can see his friend is in pain and stops, horribly aware that he has a finger inside Sharrkan and that Sharrkan is hurting and he has to stop that. "Do you want me to stop?" He asks, butting his forehead against Sharrkan's tanned one lightly, far too affectionately. "You're hurting."

Affection isn't what Sharrkan needs right now.

"No," Sharrkan grinds out, writhing beneath him, trying to find it, that one delicious spot that he knows is inside him if he can just find it, "try curling your finger back in on itself, yeah, that's- ahh!"

Sharrkan can't stop the arching of his back anymore than he can stop the moan escaping his lips as Masrur presses against his prostate, his hips rolling down onto the finger within him eagerly, his vision going momentarily white with pleasure. Oh, that hasn't been touched in a while.

"That's it," he moans breathily, "right there, focus on there when you- feels so good, Mas, god, keep doing it just like that."

Again Masrur does as he's told, rubbing at that spot within his friend as gently as he can manage, trying so hard not to hurt him more than possible in this situation, watching Sharrkan's face with lidded eyes as the tanned man squirms on his finger, moaning and gasping and being far too enticing for his own good.

Perhaps he is gay, he thinks for a fraction of a second as his cock pulses and throbs as Sharrkan's nails drag down his forearms, perhaps he should seek out the company of men more often if they're anything like Sharrkan; delicious, alluring and so fucking hot, riding a single finger like he needs nothing else in the world.

Slowly, carefully, biting his lip in concentration to be gentle, Masrur slides another finger into the white haired man and oh, that's so much easier to maneuver inside now, no longer feels like he's going to lose a finger to the tight, soft heat of the general as he's stretched open that little bit more. He lets go of the leg he was still holding open, trusting Sharrkan to keep both dark legs spread by himself now, and he runs a finger over the impossibly tight stretch of Sharrkan's hole, his breath hitching in his chest as he feels the other man accepting him in so eagerly, so needily.

Fuck, if he had been just a little bit younger, Masrur is sure he would have come just from that.

"You feel really good," he mumbles, trailing his hand up Sharrkan's body now, caressing his hip, his stomach, his nipple on his way up, "I had no idea."

Sharrkan is panting and writhing all the more now and actually cries out when a third finger is eased in. It's too much, too much of a stretch for someone who's not accustomed to this, but he doesn't dislike it, would even go as far to say that he would want to do this again and very soon. The white-hot pleasure he gets from being touched so perfectly inside is plenty enough to compensate for the ache of being stretched out.

"We should have done this ages ago," Sharrkan all but whines, wrapping his legs around Masrur's big waist and pulling him in hard, desperate for him, "I knew you'd be good, Mas." His head swims pleasantly from both the alcohol and sexual hunger as Masrur nips at his collarbone now, sucking hard and biting just hard enough to mark, but not enough to break the skin. No one ever handles him like this, marking him up where anyone could see, always believing his skin to be too beautiful to mar. Oh, how he wishes he'd told them otherwise in the past.

Masrur catches Sharrkan's hand in his own as the heliohapt reaches for the gold chain around his throat, intent on taking it off so that the Fanalis can bite and suck at his neck too. "No," Masrur murmurs, his voice low and rumbling with desire, his eyes clearly dark with lust even in the dimly moonlit room, "leave it on. I like it."

"Oh," the other general grins at his friend now, bucking his hips up and shit he can feel how rock-hard Masrur is above him, "you like a bit of bondage do you, Mas? Bit of erotic asphyxiation? You wanna choke me as you fuck me hard?" He rolls his hips down into the Fanalis' touch hard, inhaling sharply as he's rubbed perfectly once again. The look of unbridled lust in the man above him is exactly what he'd been hoping for, and is sure that his own hungry expression matches. "You wanna watch me struggle for breath, be broken by you? Can you imagine it, how I'd look?"

He can, so clearly that he's beginning to worry about his sanity. Yes, a thousand times yes, he's thought about it in passing occasionally, wondering whether Sharrkan has ever done it before, whether his chain could serve a purpose like that or not.

Clearly, it can.

He's a much bigger pervert than he'd ever thought he was, apparently.

He nods once. "If you let me do that," Masrur says, his breath heavy as he slowly slides his slick fingers out of the other man now, wiping them quickly on his bedcovers, "then you'll have to make it clear how much you can take. I could actually kill you, Sharrkan."

"Don't care, just want you to do it."

That really doesn't help.

As if it has been silently communicated, Sharrkan scrabbles onto his hands and knees as Masrur lathers hand cream onto his cock, willing his thighs to stop shaking as he lines himself up, sliding slick and sticky up the cleft of the smaller man's ass, taking hold of his hips and exhaling slowly, willing himself to calm down, to remember to go slow, to not hurt his friend if he can help it.

Sharrkan has very different ideas.

Too long has it been since he's had a decent fuck, since he's been able to lose himself to pleasure and know that he's going to feel completely sated and exhausted by the end of the night. Women, he had discovered early on into his teenage years, were not the best choices for partners when in need of a good, hard fuck, such as the kind he often found himself needing after drinking too much. They didn't like to be bruised, pulled around or slammed into. They liked soft-spoken words, gentle touches and kisses, all of which Sharrkan isn't always ready to provide.

"Oi, come on Mas, put it in before I get too old," he whines in need, rocking back and feeling the head of that big, thick cock press against his entrance, "let me feel you."

The chain around his neck catches in the moonlight, and coherent thought all but leaves the Fanalis man as desire begins to take over.

He does as he's instructed, holding onto Sharrkan's hips tight enough to bruise as he pushes in slowly, grunting in the effort of not just slamming into the smaller body and fucking him for all he's worth. But shit, Sharrkan is tight, so fucking tight around the head of his cock as he pushes it in, his brow furrowing and sweat beading there as he steadies himself.

Sharrkan's head lolls forwards and his legs spread wider as he tries to lessen the intense ache and burn; Masrur feels a hundred times bigger inside him than out, and shit, that's just not on, he can't take it but he wants to, has to, has to get past the pain in order to get to the body-wracking pleasure he knows is going to follow. He pushes back with his knees, a low whine issuing from his clenched mouth as he sinks further onto that impossibly thick cock, thanking every single djinn he can think of that Masrur had prepared him well beforehand, because he is sure he would have ripped in half by now if not.

"Are you OK?" Masrur asks, not stopping despite voicing his concerns, sliding slowly into Sharrkan still, leaning over him and planting an open-mouthed kiss to the space in-between his shoulder blades. "Should I go slower?"

"If you go any slower I'll kill you, mate."

Ah.

With one smooth, fluid motion he's slid all the way in, fully seated inside Sharrkan as he feels the man's muscles clench ridiculously hard, twitching for all they're worth around the thick member, and Masrur cannot suppress the groan that climbs up his throat. Sharrkan feels too good, too soft and warm and squeezing him and oh god so tight. His cock throbs hard as Sharrkan moans too, arching his back once more, white hair messy at the back from where he had been writhing into the pillows. No, his friend is not meant to look this delicious.

He starts slowly despite Sharrkan's previous warning, pulling out and thrusting back in again in one movement, shuddering hard as he finds himself seated to the root inside the other general again. His brain conveniently shuts off and suddenly he cannot stop himself from thrusting into Sharrkan hard, pulling him back onto his cock each time, the sounds of their balls slapping together filling the room along with Sharrkan's arousingly loud moans and whines and mewls of 'oh, Mas.'

It just isn't fair on the heliohapt when he feels Masrur tug on the chain around his neck lightly, testing him out, gauging how hard he can take it.

"Feels good," he pants, looking back at the Fanalis and revelling in the wild look in his eyes at the power he's been granted, "feels good getting fucked so hard by you, Mas. You- you can pull it harder than that, it ain't gonna snap-" his eyes roll back and he whimpers as Masrur hits that spot inside him at such an angle that he sees stars. "S'good," he moans like a common whore, rocking back hard to meet Masrur's hips eagerly, obscenely, "way too good, I'm gonna come soon, just- put your hand on my- on my cock, Mas, jerk me off-"

He almost comes right then as he feels that big hand enclose around his tight, almost achingly hard cock, pumping him in time with the Fanalis' thrusts and fuck him to hell and back he is not letting this be a one time thing, not when Masrur stretches him open so sickeningly wide, rubs him so perfectly inside, makes his body feel like it's on fire.

He can tell Masrur feels the same by the way he pulls at that gold chain, pulling him back so his spine is a taut bow, the angle making the the cock inside him strike him that much deeper, that much harder that he almost doesn't register that he can barely breathe now. Sharrkan tries breathing but can't get the oxygen that he needs, yet he fights every nerve in his body crying for him to rip Masrur's hand away; all too suddenly, with no warning at all he's coming harder than he ever remembers coming before, no sound escaping him as he is choked, his body trembling violently as he comes all over the bedsheets under him, his vision going black at the edges but not caring at this point and shit god fucking hell this must be what heaven feels like.

Masrur feels Sharrkan's orgasm rather than sees it, his hand slick with the tanned man's come as he lets go now, placing his hand open-palmed on Sharrkan's back to steady himself, his face alive with raw hunger as he feels himself pulse, giving the gold chain in his fingers an extra pull as he releases inside the other general, burying himself deep, so impossibly deep, his breath coming out in short, sharp gasps, his nerves alive with ecstasy as he lets go. Why had he ever thought it OK to not fuck anyone?

He pulls out slowly, noting how Sharrkan winces as he does, and flops gracelessly down beside the heliohapt with a content grunt. "That was..." he starts to say, but words seem to be failing him and he can't choose between amazing, incredible, exceptional and a vast array of other colourful words he doesn't often use. Sharrkan chuckles and flings an arm over his broad chest, apparently not caring that he's lying in his own come or that Masrur's is trickling steadily down his legs; baths can apparently wait.

"Yeah," he agrees happily, his voice a little hoarse, his body aching all over and he knows he's going to feel it in the morning when he wakes up, knows his neck is going to be lovely shades of purple and red and that will be fun to explain away, "really." What it 'really' was neither knew, and yet at the same time understood exactly. He snuggles in close, breathing in the mixture of the other man's sweat and alcohol as he does. "Mind if I sleep here tonight? My room's like... Too far away for me in this state. Wanna sleep."

Masrur shifts so that his arm is under Sharrkan's head, wrapping around his shoulders as the white haired man lays his face to the bigger man's chest, sighing in content. "I don't mind," he says quietly; he can feel sleep creeping up on him (more like sprinting, he thinks) and his eyelids are heavy after their short workout. "Let's do that again."

Sharrkan laughs, grabbing for the corner of the bedcover and pulling it around them, wrapping them up in some kind of cocoon. "Definitely," he agrees, "maybe next time I'll tie you up to the headboard and ride you hard."

Masrur smiles a rare smile, nestling his face into Sharrkan's soft hair. That would be nice...