Light fills the room, streaming in from the uncovered glassless windows, bathing everything in the humid heat that is usually associated with midday rather than early morning, the time when the generals are supposed to wake. Masrur twitches as a sunbeam falls on his face, waking him with a start, and immediately he recognises that something is very different today.
First off, it's the fact that he's managed to sleep well past the time that Ja'far sees fit for him to lie in without having the man personally come to see why he's not up yet. Secondly, it's that he's in his bedroom rather than out in Sindria's forests. Thirdly, it's that Sharrkan is between his legs, naked, hair obviously washed from the way its flat on top and glistening in the sunlight.
"Morning," Sharrkan grins, his palms firm on the top of Masrur's thighs as the bigger man just looks at him, speechless - Sharrkan is still here, he had consciously chosen to stay with him even after waking. A thrill of warmth courses up Masrur's spine as Sharrkan continues. "You're up late, aren't you? I've been awake for hours; your snoring did the trick. I used your bathroom by the way; I threw up and then had a bath. Alcohol doesn't agree with me the morning after, y'see. Oh but don't worry, I've cleaned my teeth since - I used your toothbrush, sorry."
Well there goes his warm feeling.
"I didn't need to know that," Masrur says, his eyes narrowing slightly as the other general's grip on his thighs tightened, squeezing him gently, "you could have just left out the part about you being sick." At least now he doesn't need to worry about nursing a hungover general back to health, he supposes.
Hands slide up his legs now, their pace slow as tanned thumbs press into his skin deliciously. They come to a halt at his hips, the thumbs pressing small circles into the jutting out bones there. Sharrkan smirks, his eyes lidded, his expression far too sexy for the words he says. "Hey, I'm just letting you know; no harm in that, right?" Masrur's hips twitch up involuntarily as Sharrkan leans forward, laying a slow kiss to the inside of where his right thigh joins his groin. He sucks lightly on the skin, nipping at it before laving his tongue over the area, enjoying the ripple of arousal of that shudders through the Fanalist.
There's no denying that even when entirely sober, Masrur finds Sharrkan impossibly attractive and enticing; after their tryst the night before, he has absolutely no problems admitting that much to himself now. The sunlight catches the well-defined curves of the white haired man's shoulders and the length of his exposed back as he presses more suckling kisses to the inside of Masrur's thigh.
Something's slightly off, though. He's aware of it even as warmth spreads to every nerve in his body, responding to Sharrkan's mouth dragging over the sensitive skin of his thigh.
"Are we going to do it again?" He asks, getting straight to the point. Sharrkan snorts at his lack of tact.
"So charming, Mas," he says, moving away from his thigh now; he sits up a little, eyeing Masrur's slowly hardening cock before running a single finger up the long shaft, earning a twitch from it's owner. "Yeah, we're gonna do it again, if you're up for it; that's what I was aiming for, in case you couldn't tell."
"Are we not going to talk about what happened last night first?" Masrur asks, a certain shy edge to his tone, as if he's not sure if he wants to hear the answer, despite the fact that Sharrkan is very much naked and touching his cock. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Are you OK?" He catches sight of the bruised column of neck, devoid of the golden chain from last night, and he barely stops himself from wincing at the sight. "Your neck's bruised."
Sharrkan sighs lightly through his nose, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He's not used to Masrur being openly concerned about him, but seeing as it was actually him who inflicted all of his injuries, he guesses its pretty normal for the bigger man to voice his worries. "Yeah, it's bruised," he says calmly, the fingers at Masrur's member never halting in their gentle strokes up and down, "but have you seen your own? You've got your own fair share of love bites, y'know. As for last night, I don't know why you're fretting like that; I came on to you. I knew what I was doing, I can remember everything that happened, and it was fucking good. You know I've wanted to sleep with you for ages - I just never had the balls to address it. Getting drunk was just a good excuse to get the courage to climb all over you, so calm down and stop thinking about it."
Masrur is suitably silenced as Sharrkan lowers his head now, replacing his fingers with his tongue and licking a long, hard line up the now fully erect cock. Masrur's fingers slide into his still damp hair as he does it again and again, lapping at the large member eagerly as if he could do it forever, pausing to suckle at the thick vein on the underside occasionally. Masrur doesn't bother holding back the deep, guttural groan that issues from his mouth at the divine feeling of Sharrkan's tongue on him; his hips roll up into the wet pressure, wanting to feel himself in that warm mouth, wanting to bury himself so deep that Sharrkan can do nothing more than swallow him whole.
If he doesn't keep a tight control on his lust, he might just actually injure his friend this time round - the very thought should worry him, but the feel of the other general's lips encircling the head of his cock is plenty enough to banish his concerns.
Those ones, anyway.
"Don't," he grunts, despite how much he wants him to do it, his hands sliding down to Sharrkan's shoulders as he sits up as best he can, "I'm too big, I'll choke you."
"Listen," Sharrkan says shortly, holding him by the base of his erection and squeezing just a little too hard, "if you can fit in my ass, you can definitely fit in my mouth. You gave me the best head I've had for a while last night, and I want to return the favour for you. I don't suck cock, just so you know, so consider yourself privileged."
Common sense tells him to hold his tongue, but Masrur can't help but say, "does that mean you've not done it before?"
Sharrkan balks. "Of course I have!" He frowns, although the blush that dapples his tanned cheeks suggest he's not being entirely truthful, "now stop it, unless you want me to bite your dick off."
He lays back down, his legs spreading a little wider to better accommodate the man between them as Sharrkan tentatively licks at his sensitive underside again, pressing a light kiss to it before sweeping his tongue over the slit of the head, getting his first taste of Masrur's precome. He swallows the droplets, not finding himself entirely fond of the salty taste; did he taste like this too? If so, how did Masrur act like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted last night?
Slowly, with one hand pressed flat against Masrur's hard stomach and the other gripping the base of his cock, Sharrkan sucks him in again, bobbing along the length at an agonisingly slow pace as he accustoms himself to the texture, weight and flavour. The moan he draws out of the usually quiet Fanalist is all the reward he needs, and the fuel he requires to suck that little bit harder, to go that little bit quicker.
Masrur's fingers lace through those damp strands once again as Sharrkan works him over; it feels incredible, quite unlike anything he was expecting to experience that morning, and those soft sucking sounds mixed with the odd little moan issuing from the man are just far too erotic to be real. It's the first blowjob he's had in years, and although Sharrkan is borderline sloppy and already trying to take him faster than he's ready to, it feels so amazing, so intensely mind-blowing to be sucked on by someone like his senior.
The sensation of Sharrkan's fingers gently cupping his sac makes him jerk up into that hot mouth around him, his brow furrowing in concentration to not do it again when Sharrkan's body convulses as he gags on the length hitting the back of his throat. He lets out a shaky groan as he's fondled as well as sucked, unable to help the way he pushes on the back of Sharrkan's head now, guiding him down a little rougher than before, careful to not push too hard lest he chokes him again.
The pressure to the base of his cock increases, and with a sharp intake of breath Masrur feels his senior's nose press into the coarse hair above his cock, deep-throating him. He raises himself up on his elbows and watches now, watches how Sharrkan's lips are pulled tight around his girth, how he takes him in all the way to the root with a hard swallow, tears springing to the corners of his closed eyes as his gag-reflex is assaulted but forced not to react.
That alone is enough to make his eyes roll back in his head and moan loudly, his balls tightening as he feels himself pushed close to his limit.
He's not particularly surprised to find himself so close already, really.
"Fuck, Sharrkan, stop," he grinds out, hating himself for saying it but not wanting it all to end so soon, "stop it."
Sharrkan releases him with a hard suck and a swirl of his tongue against the head of his cock; he sits up on his knees, wiping at the drool that had escaped down the side of his mouth as he admires his handiwork. Masrur's cock stands to attention, flushed dark from his ministrations while the man himself is visibly aroused, eyeing him like he's something succulent waiting to be devoured.
Without saying a word Sharrkan slides up against him, their hard cocks rubbing together as their chests are pressed flush together, both men slightly breathless already. Masrur ruts up into Sharrkan's hips and sparks of pleasure shoot through them both; he grips the Heliohaptian by the hips and grinds him down into him, gasping against his neck at the feel of it. Sharrkan feels just as incredible in his hands this morning as he did last night, his taut body still so captivating, his mouth sinfully hot against his own as they kiss for the first time that morning, their tongues immediately caught up in a fiercely passionate dance for dominance.
It really is absurd that they haven't done this before the night before; Sharrkan hasn't been the only one who's wanted it for a long time. For Masrur, at least, his excuse for avoiding this kind of relationship with the tanned man lies in Yamuraiha; he is sure, so completely confident in thinking that she and Sharrkan liked each other that he has never wanted to get in the middle of that, instead settling for winding up his senior and taking advantage of his gullible nature wherever possible as his way of being close to him. He knows what buttons to best press to get the best reaction out of the swordsman, and he would always do what he could to keep him close, keep them together.
But now, with Sharrkan in his arms, pressed against his body so hard that they may as well be melding into one person, he's not so sure he's read the man's relationship with the magician correctly after all. Maybe they shared nothing more than sibling-like rivalry, as Hinahoho had suggested once, after all.
But now is not the time to be thinking about that.
With a final suck on Masrur's lower lip, Sharrkan pulls himself away and sits up, straddling the Fanalist's hips in a highly suggestive manner, grinning lewdly at him.
"You know that thing I said last night about riding you?" He asks, earning a vigorous nod from the other man. "How about we do it now?"
Masrur closes his eyes briefly, thanking any and every deity that this is happening to him. He had been dubious about this ever happening again, if he was honest with himself, working under the assumption that Sharrkan would have lost his nerve after becoming sober again.
He has never been happier to be so wrong in his life.
And if that's not enough for him, Sharrkan adds to it immediately; two tanned fingers slide into his own mouth, his tongue working over them quickly as he moans quietly around the intruding digits for Masrur's benefit, coating them in saliva before he removes them and presses one to his own entrance, all the while still on top of Masrur. A naughty grin stretches his lips as he rubs back and forth over his tight hole, relishing in the way Masrur's eyes widen slightly and his cock twitches hard under him.
"Something wrong?" He asks lightly, knowing perfectly well what was wrong, if it could be described as such.
Masrur swallows thickly, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight in front of him. He shakes his head, mumbling, "no," as he does. It should be him doing that, him feeling that soft, tight ring of muscle yield to him and allow him entrance into that burning hot body.
However, this is too good a show to tell his friend to stop and let him take over.
With a self-satisfied smile Sharrkan lays a hand on Masrur's stomach, steadying himself as he breaches himself, pushing one finger in slowly. It burns, hurts just like the night before as his muscles clamp around him obscenely hard, but this time he's got total control over how fast and what angle it moves at; it's with a shuddering breath that he pushes harder into himself, curling the single digit in search of that spot. With a jerk of his hips he finds it, pressing hard against it and moaning loudly, unable to stop himself as white-hot pleasure rockets up his spine and consumes his brain.
"Oh, god," Sharrkan moans, fucking himself with a single finger, moving it inside himself harder and harder as precome beads at the head of his cock, "Mas, I need you inside me so bad."
He should not have said that.
As Sharrkan slowly presses the second finger in Masrur has to bite the inside of his cheek so hard that he almost bites it off - fuck Sharrkan for being so hot like that. He squirms below him, growling out, "get on with it then." Sharrkan laughs lightly, sweat beading on his brow as he works himself open, scissoring his fingers as best he can at his angle. He wants to just slam himself on that huge cock right now, feel it push impossibly slowly up inside his body before hammering into him with all the force of the Fanalist behind it, but he knows better than to rush this.
"Patience," he whispers, rolling his hips forward, his cock just dragging along Masrur's, raising a pained moan from within him, "I don't want you tearing my asshole open."
He presses a third finger in at last, finding it easier to slide in and out now that he's getting used to the feel; the only thing distracting him is Masrur's lustful watch and the way he's chewing on his piercing from the inside. Heat pools in the pit of Sharrkan's groin as he watches, fingers frantically stroking at his prostate - he gasps and twitches his hips forward when Masrur curls a large hand around his dripping cock, running his thumb over his slit and spreading the sticky liquid there over himself.
"Shit," Sharrkan gasps, arching into Masrur's hold, his thighs trembling at the double stimulation he's subjected to so suddenly, "feels good, Mas, please, please, let's do this all the time, everyday, please."
Before Masrur can answer Sharrkan's removed his fingers and is grabbing at the Fanalist's cock, guiding it to his entrance eagerly. A thrill of excitement runs through both of them; in this position they can see each other clearly, unlike the night before. It's a little more sensual this time round, more befitting of their sober states.
Despite Sharrkan's somewhat hasty preparation, there is still a fair bit of resistance as Masrur slides into him, pushing in somewhat harder than he would have liked to. He grips Sharrkan's hips as hard as he dares to, once again struggling to keep his inhumane strength at bay as Sharrkan writhes on top of him, a pained groan leaving him as he sinks onto that long, thick length, spreading his legs that little bit wider around the other general's hips to alleviate the pain as best he can.
It feels like he's being sucked in, like Sharrkan's body itself needs him in it more than anything, and he submits to the feeling.
Sharrkan is soft, hot and tight inside, tighter than the night before if Masrur remembers correctly, their position not allowing him to be as open this time; Masrur can't bring himself to honestly care, not when he's constricted just so inside by the lithe man's muscles. He thrusts up into the tanned man, fully seating himself before dropping his hips a little faster than he would have liked, Sharrkan rising on his knees as he does. The action draws deep, guttural moans from the pair of them as they repeat, Sharrkan keeping himself balanced by spreading his hands over Masrur's stomach once again. He arches his back, making the cock inside him rub him just right, and Sharrkan sees stars, the pain all but subsiding into something much more manageable.
"Right there," he breathes, picking up the pace as he fucks himself on the younger man's erection, his eyes rolling back at the impossibly delicious feel of being taken like that, "that's it there Mas, aim there."
He doesn't need telling twice.
Masrur guides him down onto his cock, his breath short and sharp as Sharrkan's head drops back at the feel of him within his body, and it's all he can do to not lose it there and then.
Sharrkan's stretched obscenely wide, reveling in the feel of it and shit shouldn't he be embarrassed, riding another man so needily like this? He doesn't care right now, though.
Small, eager whimpers issue from him as he feels his thighs quiver from the strain of repeatedly rising and falling so quickly.
With a tug of his hair he's guided down over Masrur's body and pulled into a searing kiss, the Fanalist's tongue pressed in immediately and encouraging his own into play, not that he needs it. His body spasms as he's kissed thoroughly at the same time as Masrur rubs against his prostate with a well aimed thrust, making his vision go white. He groans into the bigger man's mouth, shuddering as his body goes weak, allowing himself to be rocked atop of Masrur's cock as Masrur pleases, pulling his hips down to meet his own at a fast pace.
It starts feeling too good, far too good far too soon, and Sharrkan sits back up again, palming his own cock as he whines in need. He's never been stretched so obscenely wide in all his life, has never ridden another man and felt good while doing it before, either. No one has ever filled him up like this, has reduced him to a quivering mess of over-stimulated nerves, like the Fanalist.
"You make me so hard," he grinds out, slamming his hips down with almost bruising force, raising a breathy groan from Masrur, "you're so fucking fit and you have no idea. I could gladly get fucked by you all day, Mas."
Coherent words are beyond him at this point, but Masrur wholeheartedly agrees with the other general.
It's with a cry, a scream of pleasure that Sharrkan comes, his orgasm thundering through his body as he spills over Masrur's stomach and chest, his legs locking and trembling under the intensity he's subjected to. He jerks into his fist around his cock, milking himself of his last few drops as he whines at the feel of Masrur pounding his ass harder now, desperate to reach his own end now that his partner has come.
With a squeak that he'll deny for the rest of his life, Sharrkan finds himself rolled over onto his back, his legs spread and held up by the ankles as Masrur thrusts into him impossibly hard, barely having the presence of mind to not cross the point of seriously hurting his friend. He writhes there into the pillows, moaning in protest as well as heightened pleasure as his senses are completely overloaded.
"Don't come inside," Sharrkan says suddenly, grabbing around Masrur's neck and hauling him close, almost bending himself in half at the process, "I've already had a bath, Mas, I don't want another."
It's with an apologetic look that Masrur loses himself, closing his eyes soon after to the intense orgasm that rips through him and fills Sharrkan. He is deaf to Sharrkan's irritated sigh, his entire body singing with the buzz of his climax as he thrusts shallowly into the other general's body, the way he's being squeezed not helping him finish.
With a huge sigh he collapses to the side of Sharrkan, face-first into a pillow. Sharrkan gives him a moment to regain himself before saying quietly, "you came inside."
"It's running down my leg and onto your bed, Mas."
"You didn't give me enough warning."
That much is true.
They fall silent for a couple of minutes, Sharrkan watching Masrur and Masrur just lying there, unmoving, fighting off sleep again as it threatens to take over his body.
Suddenly, Sharrkan hauls himself up, wincing at the pain in his ass. He runs his fingers through Masrur's short hair, fluffing it up at the back before stroking it down flat again.
"Shall we go have a bath together, then?"
He perks up at this and sits up, coming face to face with the other general. Masrur relaxes at the expression on his face; Sharrkan's smiling gently, looking wornout but thoroughly sated. Hesitantly, slowly, the Fanalist leans in, tilting his head slightly as he presses a kiss to the Heliohaptian's lips, warmth flooding his body as Sharrkan kisses him back. He cups the tanned man's face in his large hands, laying their foreheads together as he breaks the kiss. He can't explain it, but the notion of doing something intimate with the other man without it being sexual made him feel...
"I'm telling you, they were in there together!" Ja'far insists, getting thoroughly wound up by that obnoxious smirk Sinbad is giving him. "Sharrkan and Masrur were asleep in bed together, naked. Their clothes were everywhere."
"Remind me of why you were in Masrur's room so early in the morning?" Sinbad asks, laughter in his eyes as Ja'far scowls at him.
"To wake him up, as always. You know full well he's never on time unless someone gets him."
"So why were Masrur and Sharrkan missing this morning, despite them conveniently being in the same place, thus making it easier to scold them both at the same time and deliver them to the meeting together?"
Ja'far pauses, his cheeks going a lovely shade of pink as he undoubtedly recalls the sight he found earlier. "Well, I didn't want to wake them," he says quietly, "it would have been horribly embarrassing for them both to be discovered in such a situation. I had hoped that they would wake by themselves at a reasonable time... Or at least that Sharrkan would, and then wake Masrur."
He can't help but laugh now, at how proper Ja'far is, and how he thinks those two would be. "My guess is that once they woke, the last thing on their minds was coming to a meeting that neither of them wanted to be at in the first place. They probably had better things to do."
Ja'far sighs as Sinbad laughs at his own implications, rubbing a palm over his forehead as a headache threatens to start. These men really were something else.
A/N: much shorter and less detailed chapter this time, just done to wrap things up a little, I guess! I originally wrote this as a massive fluff-fest, but figured that if you see an update for a PWP, you're gonna want PWP, not fluff. I'll try and adapt the fluff into a nice oneshot or something instead. Enjoy!