Work Text:
Cyno expected very specific particulars when paying a visit to Gandharva Ville. These included (but were not limited to):
A shy greeting from Collei, and an offer to take a packaged lunch if they hadn't already made plans to dine together. Several nervous stares from the forest rangers; he was used to the panic that his presence instilled in others, but it always felt so... unnecessary. If there was someone who merited an intervention of justice, they'd have long since been detained.
He expected to wander into Tighnari's home after four tell-tale taps against the door frame, to find him scribbling furiously or testing the effects of fauna that the forest watcher would undoubtedly yell at anyone else for ingesting. He expected-
“Where the hell is it?”
Not that.
Tighnari was headfirst into a bookcase, tail wagging wildly as he removed book after book from their respective places and tossed them against his desk. Cyno felt his fingers twitch; they ought to be organized later, alphabetized by title if possible. He ignored organizational impulses to address the matter at hand: one very agitated man whose dark brows were heavily weighed with frustration.
“Is this a bad time? Can I help with something?”
“It's always a bad time. When is there ever a good time to deal with my occupation, I'd love to know?”
Ah. Tighnari's words held their usual bite- he'd acclimated to that long ago. If Sumeru roses didn't have thorns, they'd all be picked clean. He supposed there had to be something to keep the scholar's sanity (and kind intentions) away from the hands of the many, lest the demand exceed the supply.
Cyno stood by the edge of the room, closer to the bed, the only place a book had yet to be discarded. Scarlet eyes glanced up at Tighnari from beneath the edge of his helmet; the look would have made most anyone else succumb and either fight for their freedom or submit to the shackles they'd probably earned.
Well? His stance said wordlessly.
“I'm missing one of my...” dark ears flattened against midnight hair, “logs, as it were. I've been looking everywhere, but it's becoming more evident that I probably misplaced it while patrolling, and I certainly don't have the time to look for it now.”
“Is this not something Collei can assist with?”
“They aren't notes I share with the rangers. Even Collei, regardless of how well her training has been going. But they are important to me personally, and-"
Cyno cocked his head. “Shall I take a look around for you? How far did you venture when you last had it?"
How interesting. There was a sheepishness to Tighnari's stance- tail bristling but lowered close to the ground, an edginess to his movements. He was an archer, after all, poised in more ways than one; the general couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the man look this perturbed.
Well, untrue, he could. It had been several years ago, towards the end of their last year as students, in which some unfortunate idiot had eaten one of Tighnari's mushroom specimens on a dare. It had not ended well for them, the verbal lashing they'd gotten was legendary, and if words were venom they'd have perished from corrosion.
Tighnari had been able to collect another, but it had cost him a tremendous amount of effort- he'd clamored back to their dorms with his hair pulled up high, dirt smudged onto his cheeks (and hands, and uniform), baring his fangs.
It was one of the only moments that Cyno could remember seeing his animalistic canines- sharp and capable of worse damage than he knew Tighnari would ever purposefully deal with them.
“Not too far into the forest.” The watcher finally confirmed. “I can always look later tonight, I suppose.”
“This seems important. Let me assist you in searching for it.”
“Fine, yes, but if you happen to locate it I ask that you bring it back at once. It isn't a very large notebook, bound in brown leather, a bit worn.”
What a privileged existence, to exercise enough boldness to casually command the General Mahamatra. Anyone else would have been at the end of a charged polearm.
“Of course. I'll let you get back to work.”
“Thank you, Cyno.”
“Anytime.”
====
Cyno surveyed the lush expanse of the Avidya forest that stretched out before the village. He'd already confirmed that Tighnari hadn't been near the falls or river, so he could exclude that and minimize his search perimeter.
Anything belonging to Tighnari would be sure to have traces of dendro energy wafting from it, especially if the article in question had only just been lost today. Using elemental sight would surely make things much easier.
He walked by several rangers (some of whom did what he'd long since dubbed ‘the thing': made themselves a little smaller, as if it were possible to become invisible to the general through sheer willpower) and avoided a few excited rescue dogs as he trekked into the forest, closer to Gandha Hill. He could hear the rumbling steps of wild sumpter beasts as they grazed nearby, detected no monsters or other unsavory nuisances as he began by following the trail.
'Always stick to the paved path,’ Tighnari's expert advice echoed, 'only a lummox with a death wish would cut through potentially dangerous terrain!’
He'd been hoping for an uneventful evening; he hadn't seen Tighnari in a number of weeks now, exhausted from investigations that led him into the depths of the desert, old ruins, craftily made domains owned by criminals. Was it too much to ask to just put a comforting meal of rice and meat into his belly while chatting lazily with the one person he truly wanted to spend time with?
Cyno's attraction to Tighnari was long-standing; he couldn't quite remember when it had taken root. He supposed it had happened the moment they met, intrigue disguised as distrust and awe veiled as suspicion. Once he'd deemed the other student pure- his intentions, dedication to his work, even his genuine interest in extending help to others- he'd simply accepted that mysteriously warm feeling for what it was, carried the sometimes-crescendo of his heartbeat as easily as he did his weapon.
It came with thoughts the general hadn't been familiar with, notions that had caused his face to burn as he lay alone at night, or made his palms itch as the man's (incredibly soft) tail brushed against his legs on the rare occasion in which circumstance required closer proximity. The sum of those feelings had been nesting within him for so long that it was nearly an organ in its own right, like a second set of lungs made for processing his longing.
Inhale-
Unrequited.
Exhale-
Love.
Simple as that.
A soft mewl came from the direction of one of the twisting roots that sprawled the length of the hill's sheer sides, drawing his attention. Cyno first spied the faintest trace of elemental energy rising from a single sheet of abandoned paper. Then another. And another. Until his sharp eyes caught sight of their origin nestled between a mother tigress... and her cub, an adorable tuft of fur that was making quick work of tearing a single sheet between its teeth, the notebook trampled beneath its paws.
Crap. Whatever important information Tighnari needed to recover would be permanently lost if he didn't put an end to that. But he couldn't (wouldn't) hurt an innocent animal, either. How different would he be from the average poacher if he just ran around disposing of every inconvenient creature that happened to cross his path? He despised such practices, had caught a number of well connected hunters who had crossed the border from Liyue several years ago and had dwindled the spinocrocodile population to dangerously low numbers, all for the limited bright red of their hides.
He knew mother tigers were prone to aggressive fits of protectiveness; if he could bait her anger a bit, surely she would move the cub to safety and leave the notebook behind. The general summoned his weapon, not to maim but to defend against the daggers those cats called teeth if need be. He then carefully picked up a stone and tossed it just close enough to the pair-
The roar was instantaneous as the tigress quickly plucked her cub off of the grassy plain with her mouth. Another rock was tossed, its aim careful so as not to hit either creature, and the feline trotted off, snarling a low warning all the while. He might have been spotted, but the cub was simply too young for its parent to risk leaving it unguarded for the sole sake of tearing him to shreds. Cyno sighed, glad to have spared himself the battle.
He began gathering each page; if he took too long they were likely to get swept away by an ill-timed gust of wind. It took him mere minutes to collect several torn pages and reunite them with the mildly abused book: the leather binding bore a few shallow claw marks, but was otherwise intact. Cyno wasn't sure which pages belonged where, decided it would be most effective to just tuck them into the book and let Tighnari reorder them, perhaps transcribe its contents if needed.
He flipped it open to a random section, content to do just that and take it back to its owner, when-
The general saw his name written in the neat, loosely flourished handwriting that he'd come to recognize from years of exchanging messages from forest to desert and back again.The mind was so very prone to delighting in sameness; once he'd spotted his name on one page, it seemed to leap out at him from nearly everywhere else. A sentence. Then an entire paragraph. And on and on it went.
If blades of grass could whisper secrets, adventurers would know this particular tale of the General Mahamatra, whose eyes gleamed as they took in secrets meant for no one beneath the light of a setting sun.
As Cyno made his way back to the village, that fanciful imaginary organ of his sputtered.
The hand clutching the notebook burned.
====
Three knocks. A fourth, nervously forgotten, added hastily.
Cyno found Tighnari sitting at his desk, the books from the earlier mess stacked in a most inefficient fashion. Some of them had even been placed spine facing inwards towards the shelf- Cyno tried to let his irritation with such literary disarray color his expression, otherwise…
“Anything?” Tighnari asked, unmoving. Cyno knew those keen ears would have heard him approaching even before he reached the threshold of his home.
“Yes, although-"
“You found it?”
Tighnari jumped up so quickly that his chair very nearly fell onto the floor, a delicate balance of physics the only thing that ultimately caused it to topple back onto its four legs with a dull clatter.
Cyno held the book and its reinserted pages out to its owner.
“A pair of tigers was having its way with it, I'm afraid. I collected as much of what was torn out as I could.”
Tighnari said nothing. Gazed at the leather-bound book. Then slowly dragged his eyes up, up- the moment seemed to stretch on endlessly and Cyno briefly wondered if his own gaze held this much power when fixed onto his targets.
He forgot to breathe.
“Did you read it?”
He couldn't lie. There was no honor in that. “Yes.”
Silence. Lashes, black as kohl, aimed at the singular emerald carpet that decorated the floor.
“Tighnari, I didn't know.”
“Well, you certainly know now, don't you? You intrusive-!’ he was whacked with restrained strength, the leather of the book firm against his arm.
“Nosy-!" The other arm, against his elbow.
“I return your feelings,” Cyno announced as he braced himself for another round of punishment that never came.
“...I beg your pardon?”
“All the things I did see... I wouldn't be opposed to any of them. Actually, to be more precise, my opposition has been non-existent for some time.”
Tighnari paused; the general recognized that look, it was one of his favorites- a scrunched nose and knitted brows as that brilliant mind absorbed new information.
“Am I understanding that correctly? You're reciprocating? You... like me?”
“Very much.” Cyno did lie then-
because like was a horrific understatement; that part of him clamored in protest- love and love and love again.
“Tighnari?”
This time he created an occasion in which to close the proximity between them. The forest watcher looked affronted as he was approached but refused to move. Cyno cupped the side of his face in the palm of his hand- such soft skin- and gently clasped one gloved wrist. He leaned in towards one slender ear and murmured, low and gentle, a lilt meant for confessions: “You're under arrest for concealment of information. How do you plead?”
Cyno felt it then; a gentle brush of fur against his thigh.
“... Guilty, I suppose.”
====
Through a decent deal of trial and error, I've finally managed to perfect the ratio of ingredients used in the conditioning balm of my own making. Collei is quite partial to the batch that was tinted with petals. I believe the emollient nature of the beeswax will make a fine humectant and keep any skin it's applied to well-nourished. I prepared a colorless portion for Cyno- I do wonder if the harsh desert sun and winds are hard on his lips. They are comprised of skin of a more permeable, delicate nature after all, and he should take care of himself as best as he can. It will do nicely in a pinch for wounds as well!
I do quite like the specific slope of his labial tubercule; softly rounded, not nearly as pronounced as his presence tends to be.
Hypothesis: Cyno's diet consists primarily of bland rations. If one were to engage him in a kiss, he'd likely taste like nothing at all. Does the General engage in that kind of frivolity? His mouth is probably chapped due to his usual environment, but I don't believe it would render such an action unpleasant.
Result: Unconfirmed
====
Cyno swallowed down his courage before it could abandon him; it was an awful lump in his throat that tasted like trepidation, made his muscles tense as if he were watching his surroundings for danger. He pressed his lips to Tighnari's mouth chastely: they were fuller than his own, top lip a perfect homage to the term 'cupid's bow'.
“I have used that balm, by the way,” he added quickly. “Are the results acceptable?”
Tighnari merely pressed fingers to his mouth. “I'm not sure. You must know that you can't rely on a single result to acquire viable data.”
“I see.”
“Yes. Try again, won't you?”
He felt gloved fingers slide into the pale hair at the nape of his neck, Tighnari's chin tipped up expectantly. Cyno was all too happy to comply. He tested the seam of the forest watcher's mouth with his tongue and was rewarded with the sweetest sigh and immediate compliance.
Cyno slid his tongue against the curves of Tighnari's fangs and decided he was partial to the feeling; they could tear flesh, his mouth was made for it, yet all Tighnari ever did was preserve and prevent and cure.
He grunted as he was tugged closer-
The general wasn't sure where to touch, cupped both hands against either side of Tighnari's neck, fingers warm against thick hair that took the place of where human ears would have been. Tighnari kissed languidly, like there was nothing else to do but map the confines of his mouth. It wavered between sweet and hungry; Cyno debated nipping at the man's lower lip just as Tighnari decided to pull away.
“Not at all unpleasant,” the forest watcher smirked. “What other facets of my private thoughts did you happen to come across?”
“We could review them one by one,” he rasped. Archons, was that really his voice, pitched so low? “Maybe you'll decide to share the others?”
“You expect me to believe that you didn't let curiosity get the better of you?”
“I only read what was on some of the torn pages. Not the entire book. I swear it.”
“Don't be so dramatic. I believe you. How long, then?”
He stared quietly, knew the watcher would understand his confusion and elaborate. Tighnari scoffed, “How long have you felt that way?”
“A while.”
“Oh, by all means, waste my time with a guessing game.”
“Have you got something more important to attend to?” Cyno ran his thumb along the swell of pinkened lips; the urge to bite at them doubled.
“Cyno.”
“A few years."
Tighnari's breath hitched, “Since our akademiya days? Why would you withhold that from me?”
“I had no intention of putting a strain on our friendship by subjecting you to feelings that you might not reciprocate. My position doesn't allow me to be nearby very often, and you should have a partner that can spend enough time with you. Someone that can give you whatever you need and all the things you want, too. That is truly the bare minimum of what you deserve.”
Cyno saw the shift in Tighnari's expression as it bloomed across his face- tenderness hidden just beneath all of the thorns. A smooth, flushed cheek nuzzled against his calloused palm.
“And you think yourself so wise that you get to decide what I deserve, General? Arrogance doesn't really become you.”
He hummed, unsure of how to respond. Of course he hadn't meant it that way.
“I'm no better,” Tighnari continued, “hence our current predicament. Telling you anything would've been selfish, all things considered. How could I demand more than what you've already given me?”
This had to be a dream, some torturous samsara; in what world could Cyno thread his fingers through all that dark, silken hair freely? If it was, all the better. Dreams had no consequences, afforded a recklessness that didn't obey the laws of reality.
“What if I want to give you everything?”
Tighnari's mouth, half-open with a retort at the ready, slipped shut. Then open again; Archons, how could anyone be so wonderful to look at? His cheeks looked like they'd been stained with a henna berry. Tighnari didn't wear embarrassment often, but it suited him.
“How can you just say that aloud without losing your composure?”
“Because I mean it.”
The notebook was tossed against the wooden desk, a few pages ruffling in protest, threatening to scatter as Tighnari leaned in, lips to Cyno's neck. His skin prickled like a live current was being held to that very spot.
“Everything, hm? That might be an ambitious undertaking.”
The way the forest watcher was tucked against him left Cyno's mouth level with vulpine ears. He stopped resisting, nibbled against one gently- the sound that escaped Tighnari nearly undid him. How were they still standing upright? He couldn't feel the wooden floor beneath his feet at all.
“I think I can handle it.”
====
Is it so much to ask for someone to make choices that are both aesthetically pleasing and effective? There are plenty of clothing options that do both; my own daily wear is a perfect example. Cyno had several cuts on his hands that he neglected to treat on the basis of them 'not being deep enough to hurt' (as if that somehow excuses proper hygiene and wound care), which he wouldn't have at all if he wore gloves that properly covered them!
I suppose I can see how that might be stifling in a desert environment, less tactile, perhaps, but, ugh. Forget it. He can do as he pleases. I would lend him a pair of my own if I thought he would use them, but his hands are larger than mine. His fingers are thicker, too. They don't appear to be as rough as he claims, at any rate.
Hypothesis: Cyno's hands are likely minimally callused; I surmise that any roughness would be degraded by near-constant exposure to sand, which would act as a mild exfoliant. Given the breadth of his fingers, I imagine it would be pleasant to be touched by him almost anywhere... everywhere, possibly.
Result: Unconfirmed
====
They'd piled onto Tighnari's bed, led one another there by the mouth; Cyno wondered if wanting to breathe in the entirety of someone's presence was normal. Tighnari smelled so good- earthy and herbal and the tiniest bit floral, perfumed only by nature.
He learned the pulse of his neck, the forehead kept hidden beneath a chartreuse fringe, cheeks and brows and lips, lips, lips.
It wasn't long before Tighnari grew impatient, a soft little growl simmering in his throat as he tugged at his clothing. “Can we...?”
The general said nothing, began stripping whatever layers he could reach, some his own and others not. The sight of skin he'd never seen before left him breathless, dizzy, hard.
Tan fingers traced Tighnari's clavicle, the surprising width of his shoulders, all of it always hidden beneath a turtleneck. He'd wondered more than once if the black cloth was keeping secrets, and in that way had learned how conflicting jealousy could be. In truth, Tighnari's skin was lovely, unmarred. Not a single lover's marking to speak of.
“Mm, let me finish,” the watcher groaned, gripping his belt with both hands.
“I'm not stopping you.”
“Well, you're not aiding me either. Hey!”
The general tipped Tighnari onto the bed, bent a knee back and unlaced a boot with frightening speed. The second one proved a more formidable foe, laces tangling as he gave up and tried to pry the stubborn thing off.
“Is this why you forgo shoes?” Tighnari laughed, airy.
“Hardly. It isn't making a strong case for why I should ever wear-ugh,” he finally pried it off, “the damn things.” He watched as Tighnari wiggled his toes for a few seconds before they seemed to remember where this was headed; the kissing resumed with a newfound ferocity, more clothing shed as they went.
Cyno explored every inch of newly exposed flesh, hadn't registered that the watcher was finally, blessedly naked-
Until he did.
“What is it?” Tighnari lay against the mattress, ears wilted, tail tucked over the curve of his hip. Cyno said nothing, reached out and gently brushed away the dark, mottled fur so he could see all of him.
Archons.
Gently toned muscle, a waist that tapered in just the tiniest bit, slender legs; Tighnari was just as excited, cock flushed rosy and straining up towards a taut belly. He looked like he would feel good to hold- in his hands and against his tongue and clutched in his throat, if it was allowed, Cyno thought feverishly. The painful strain against the final barrier he was wearing- his underwear- was an insignificant price to pay.
“Tighnari.” He crawled over him until they their bodies aligned. The way they contrasted against one another was mesmerizing, bronze and cream, warmth trapped between them as the forest watcher squirmed.
“Mm?”
Eager hands trailed over Tighnari's chest, noted how it caused his back to arch as they teased against his nipples before sliding down the length of his body, heat and friction that only paused to slot against either side of his straining length.
“If I do something you don't like, please tell me.”
Tighnari panted, “Fine. I don't like that you're teasing me. Please, Cyno.”
“Here?” He finally gripped him, stroked once and loved the firm, silky feel of him immediately.
“Yes, everywhere,” thighs fell apart in invitation, “you promised... oh!”
Cyno slicked his palm against his tongue and continued. The sound was obscene, the resulting moans worse (better). A second hand crept further below, sweeping gently along his entrance; toes and tail curled at the same time in response.
Adorable. Unfair, even.
“Do you have-?”
Tighnari groaned- Cyno hadn't paused his movement (and why would he?), palming a plush head, memorizing ridges and categorizing the little movements that would make that lush tail stiffen. “The drawer, desk. There's a vial.”
“Thank you.” He said simply, kissing against a warm belly, strong thigh- Cyno paused as his breath lingered against Tighnari's cock, watched it twitch as he looked up in silent request. It appeared the general’s infamous gaze held some sway over the forest watcher after all, and the reaction was far more indulgent than fear. Tighnari's hands clasped at disheveled sheets as he panted softly- Cyno kissed the tip (and perhaps let a torturously minimal amount of tongue trail against him) before wandering towards the desk.
“You're terrible!” Tighnari groaned and he had to bite back a smile. The man was always so busy taking care of others that it was rare to see him act so downright needy. It was a new trait that he intended to exploit thoroughly.
The vial was very obviously filled with a mixture of slime- he'd overheard more than one matra bragging about their exploits, vulgar tales that involved using the cooling and warming aspects of lubricant made with either cryo or pyro slime condensate to achieve... desired effects, apparently. It's cool stickiness was quickly spread onto his fingers, pressing against the soft give of a clenching hole.
“You've been wanting this, haven't you...”
It wasn't a question. Not really.
====
I still haven't found any kind of botanical combination that lessens the effect of a heat. The quantity of androgens found in lilies was promising, but hardly enough to make a difference. I'm not certain what natural compound, if any, would be able to amplify that effect and disrupt the hormones that trigger that instinct.
This last time was bearable, but only just. I suppose I could take a partner for its duration but the idea of letting anyone else touch me... well, anyone but him, is displeasing. Would he be horrified if he knew I spent several weeks of the year rutting to thoughts of him? I can't help it, and I've tried. He would fill me so much better. I'm not sure that he's aware of how virile his scent is sometimes. Or that I can smell such pheromones for that matter. It's ironic, how easily one can confess such untoward thoughts to a piece of paper. If he knew... the idea of no longer having him as a constant in life... I don't think I could bear it.
Hypothesis: The virility of Cyno's scent is incredibly potent at times. I imagine he's well enough endowed. He'd be far more effective at satisfying my needs during a heat (anytime), but the probability of such an opportunity presenting itself is zero.
Result: Unconfirmed
====
“Cyno.” Tighnari made his name sound positively sugared as he slid a singular finger inside him with agonizing slowness. “You don't have to be gentle,” the hybrid man sighed, whimpering.
“There’s no need to rush either,” Cyno responded simply, a second finger pressing in mercifully. The muscle surrounding them was clutching as he rocked his hand back and forth. “May I ask you something?”
“Now?” Tighnari countered with a peculiar sound. Something like a soft yelp, throaty and very much embedded in the depths of Cyno's memory to revisit at a later time.
“What if I ask nicely?” He dragged his fingers slowly, wondering how he was supposed to put words to any of this- Tighnari's legs were tucking in on either side, toes curling, mouth freeing so many new little sounds.
“Fine. Just- ah - don't stop... it feels so good."
“Your log entries are textbook,” Cyno remarked. Still moving his hand, still watching for the particularity in each of the man's reactions, mind quickly categorizing his favorites. "I know you take excellent notes, but I'd like the unabridged version of what you want from me."
"You're kiddi-" The rest of the word dissolved into the prettiest moan yet, a hesitant buck of hips that Cyno might've missed were he not so keen on their present activity. He pressed his fingers in to the hilt, curled them oh so gently…
"Please?"
He bowed over the man at his mercy- and he was. Being merciful, that is. Cyno just happened to be pursuing two things that conflicted with one another in terms of how they affected Tighnari: the forest watcher's truth, and his utmost pleasure along with it.
"Tighnari," he demanded gently, voice habitually lowering to the tone that was usually reserved for interrogation. "What do you want from me?"
"Everything. You offered that didn't you? That is what I want. Every imaginable thing you can give me. And I won't elaborate further, so do not ask."
"And you're sure about that?" Cyno kissed his cheek, mouthed at it, cut off what would have been an eloquent protest by speeding up his ministrations.
"I've been sure for long enough," the forest watcher panted.
"And what if I want the same in return?"
If the eyes truly were the window to the soul, Tighnari's were wide open, beckoning him for the very first time.
====
It was raining when Cyno arrived to visit us today. We ran into one another on the main road just as I was returning from the forest. He donned his hood, thank goodness- he'd have been soaked to the bone otherwise and likely think nothing of it.
It's rare to see him in anything other than a dry, sunny climate, and he most certainly didn't favor the downpour. He told another one of his jokes, though it was arguably the best of his efforts to date-
'How does a matra avoid the rain? He goes undercover.'
Writing that pains me, but I suppose there should be some proof of his more... tolerable… attempts at humor.
During our walk I observed droplets of water clinging to his lashes. It's quite common for desert-dwellers to have long eyelashes, it's a rather simple adaptation to help keep the constant debris of that environment out of the eyes, after all. But the effect was unexpectedly lovely, not unlike morning dew, and the color of his irises was even brighter against the gray sky. At times I find myself thinking that all of him is lovely.
I think I-
Am I in-
Hypothesis: To be determined
Result: Unconfirmed
====
"There you are," Cyno groaned as he brushed up against that tender little place he'd been seeking. "Tighnari," he breathed.
The name's very flavor blossomed on his tongue, ripe and sweet, adoration. What had it tasted like before? Why had they ever been anything less than this?
Tighnari was keening, had been for the last few minutes as Cyno succumbed to every pent-up thought he'd ever had.
He worked the forest watcher open on his hand, tucked the heel of his wrist against that flushed patch of skin between it and Tighnari's cock. Suckled a little bead of precum off of the tip, licked the very edge of that quivering hole and promised he'd do it with only his tongue next time-
So long, I've wanted you for so long, Cyno thought in a frenzy as he finally retracted his hand, pressing and holding his fingers against it just so he could feel those desperate little twitches.
Tighnari's hands tugged at his shoulders and demanded him back against his lips. If this was some blessed fever dream and he woke up now he would perish; surely the world wouldn't be so cruel…
He rubbed his still-clothed cock against the one below and the friction was eye-watering.
"Please fuck me," Tighnari whispered against his mouth, and it was only through sheer force of will that the general didn't come right then and there.
He had a myriad of nervous thoughts: Too big? Too small? Were all those fantasies more than what he could measure up to?
Tighnari seemed unconcerned with any such thing, moaning as soon as Cyno was completely exposed, shamelessly spreading himself open with his fingers.
Archons, Tighnari, I'm going to ruin you.
Cyno aligned himself and pressed forward, winced as each inch brought them impossibly closer together and moaned once he bottomed out.
They fit together easily. Tighnari was so sweet inside, so tight and warm, and he'd shatter the moon and cleave the sun for him, anything, anything-
"Cyno!" The forest watcher cried out; his name in that way belonged only to Tighnari, and if anyone else ever dared he'd tear it clean from their throats.
The general fucked him thoroughly, grit his teeth and called him beautiful more times than either of them could hope to remember. He was, truly. Ears pulled back, voice breaking against every thrust- deep, hard, harder-
"Want it, want you, Cyno, always wanted-"
"Always?"
He heard the truth in the pit of that perfect, delirious 'yes'. Cyno slowed his pace then. Pounding hips adopted a deliberate, grinding rhythm as legs crossed behind his back to anchor him there.
Let me make love to you instead, he asked wordlessly and Tighnari knew, knew so many things, the wonder that he was…
Did he know just how much he was loved?
They kissed and Cyno grunted when fangs cut into his lower lip, moaned as Tighnari licked at the wound and tugged at his hair and tightened all around him.
"Tighnari…"
Walls fluttering, cock twitching, skin flushed a shade of red to rival his own gaze; the forest watcher only whimpered in response.
"Nari," he tried, and that variation tasted just as good, maybe better, "let go for me. I'm right here."
Strokes became fluid, measured, cock pressing against that vulnerable spot with purpose as Cyno sheltered him in a curtain of pale locks, reverent kisses, and every little thing they had yet to say but knew in the depths of some unquantifiable place.
Tighnari's face twisted from the onslaught of pleasure; the scream he let loose was unexpected, voice high and raw as his body pulled taut and finally gave in. Ribbons of white streaked his belly and heaving chest, cock still twitching, so much-
"In me." Cyno heard his lover beg weakly. Of course he would. He was a slave to every one of the man's whims and would be hereafter.
The general would remember muffling his own moan of completion against damp skin, the blinding heat, the way arms laced around his neck and held him close. Bitten lips and sparkling fluorite eyes… Tighnari was satiation.
But the world went quite dark after that.
Cyno's dreams were vibrant that night, colored by love, shades one could only behold with the heart.
====
The general woke with a start, sunlight glowing bright against his eyelids-
His dreams dissolved around him, faint and soft, whispers of joy that made him nestle into the blankets around him, searching…
Where was he?
Had last night happened, or-
Cyno licked at his lips and felt the sting of a cut; everything that led to it came rushing back. He had. They had. Then why was he alone in bed? Warmth still lingered from the spot beside him. Panic gripped him like a vice just as a pleasantly worn voice spilled into the room.
"I didn't leave," Tighnari called out, "I'm just in the kitchen making tea. Will you want breakfast?"
"... Not yet."
"Suit yourself."
Cyno rose and stretched. He began gathering and donning his scattered belongings, anxiety awakening deep in his belly.
"Cyno... I left something on my desk that I'd like you to review, if you don't mind," the forest watcher instructed.
"Of course."
Cyno yawned and padded over to the workspace. A single torn entry sat by its edge. He picked it up and began reading, noting that it seemed familiar…
====
It was raining when Cyno arrived to visit us today. We ran into one another on the main road just as I was returning from the forest. He donned his hood, thank goodness- he'd have been soaked to the bone otherwise and likely think nothing of it.
It's rare to see him in anything other than a dry, sunny climate, and he most certainly didn't favor the downpour. He told another one of his jokes, though it was arguably the best of his efforts to date-
'How does a matra avoid the rain? He goes undercover.'
Writing that pains me, but I suppose there should be some proof of his more... tolerable… attempts at humor.
During our walk I observed droplets of water clinging to his lashes. It's quite common for desert-dwellers to have long eyelashes, it's a rather simple adaptation to help keep the constant debris of that environment out of the eyes, after all. But the effect was unexpectedly lovely, not unlike morning dew, and the color of his irises was even brighter against the gray sky. At times I find myself thinking that all of him is lovely.
I think I-
Am I in-
Hypothesis: To be determined
I've fallen in love with someone exceptionally dear to me
Result: Unconfirmed
Definitive
====
"I've changed my mind," Cyno declared as he made his way to the kitchen, "I'm famished."
"What would you like to-"
Tighnari found himself unable to finish the question, the sudden press of Cyno's lips far too compelling.
The answer, however, was something they would never run short on now that they both knew it was there.