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Mithrun’s desire was returning. Slowly, so slowly, and impossibly inconsistent, but surely, it was coming back. He wanted food. He wanted to go to the bathroom. He wanted the blue robes, not the green. He wanted to lay on the right side of the bed, not the left, even though he wasn’t even tired and— He was asleep.
So it was hit or miss. Some days he got hungry, others he didn’t. Sometimes he had opinions on things, other times he didn’t. Some days he wanted, and some days he was nothing but an empty husk. In other words, Kabru’s job wasn’t done yet.
They’d been in the dungeon earlier. Kabru didn’t know why he kept going, but Mithrun had wanted to earlier, and Kabru was following a hunch that said the more he gave in to Mithrun’s desires, the more they would build, grow in something stable and rooted and constant. So they’d gone.
And, of course, encountered a pack of dire rats the size of fucking horses that swarmed through the rubble towards them. Kabru imagined that even Laios, in all his insanity, wouldn’t want to eat them, especially not the mess he and Mithrun had made of them.
They’d returned to the castle covered in blood and more than a few bites and scratches that would inevitably have to be looked at by someone who knew something about medicine, but Mithrun’d had this little… not a smile, but something close, and for some reason it had warded off the heavy-limbed exhaustion that had been weighing Kabru down.
“Baths,” Kabru said firmly as they headed into the castle and Mithrun started towards their shared room (there were plenty of rooms, they didn’t need to keep sharing, it was just… easier). They were dripping gore onto the floor, but Kabru didn’t worry about it. Monster blood stains would probably brighten Laios’s day if he saw them in the morning.
Ever obedient, Mithrun changed his course and let Kabru herd him towards the baths reserved for Laios’s party and allies. There were a small handful of large rooms with big, steaming pools in the center and faucets around the edges that would pour the same hot water down over your head if you pulled the chain down.
Ever since Marcille had taken up luxury soap making, each room had been more than stocked with soaps and creams of all kinds. Kabru would admit the baths were a luxury he couldn’t deny himself. At this point, he was probably the cleanest citizen of the Island/No-longer-Golden Kingdom.
The same could not be said for Mithrun. Baths were not something he had developed any kind of desire for; in fact, Mithrun had at times strongly desired to not bathe, and Kabru, as stated, had been trying to give in to his whims when they struck. He could make Mithrun bathe when he had no desire at all, so he let him get away with it when he did.
It meant, though, that their bathing routine was… a bit different. When Kabru bathed with Mithrun, Kabru bathed Mithrun. They were both used to it by now, though it’d been a while since either, much less both of them had been quite so… filthy.
Kabru led them over to the showers lining the wall in the room that had become his favorite for how little it was used and how Marcille always seemed to put her most interesting smelling soaps there. He took his own clothes off first, grimacing at the cold blood coagulating on its surface, and then reached for Mithrun to undress him as well.
Mithrun was well used to the routine by now. He lifted his hands when Kabru lifted his shirt, though Kabru made him squeeze his eyes and mouth shut this time too, and stepped obediently out of his pants when Kabru pulled them down, holding daintily onto Kabru’s shoulders for balance.
He’d put on some weight since leaving the dungeon; he still had that elf-like tenuity to him, but he looked less fragile than before ever since he’d started eating real food more regularly, sometimes even of his own volition. It made seeing him like this a little less concerning and a little more… concerning in other ways (for Kabru’s sanity, mainly). He pushed those thoughts out of his mind for now as he pulled Mithrun over to a shower nearest the drain in the floor.
Their clothes would probably need to be burned or something, but as for the rest of them—the blood caked over their skin, Mithrun’s hair matted into a red-brown mess—there was nothing for it but good soap, hot water, and at least an hour in the baths.
Mithrun flinched slightly at the first dump of hot water over his head and they both watched absently as, with a few more pulls of the chain, the blood in his hair started trailing down his body in bright red rivulets. Mithrun’s one eye just followed the trails down to the drain by his feet. Kabru’s eyes got stuck somewhere above halfway, just- just because. The red against the paleness of Mithrun’s skin was… striking, to say the least, though Kabru should have been used to that by now.
A few more dumps of water to get most of it loosened up and Kabru reached for a soap nearby: something with little black specks of charcoal and a harsh not-quite-minty smell that Kabru thought was tea tree from the Southern Central Continent. It looked promising enough, and it had a little hole through the center with a rope tied for easy handling, which was good considering how much scrubbing Kabru would be subjecting it to.
Mithrun didn’t really have to bow his head or anything for Kabru to wash his hair, but Kabru made him tilt his head back all the same, not wanting any oils from the strong smelling soap to drip into his eyes, seeing or otherwise. Mithrun was, as always, pliant and obedient as Kabru handled him, as he harshly worked the clumped gore from his silvery hair and forced his fingers through the tangles. He made little sounds if Kabru tugged too harshly at his scalp, but that was it and Kabru did his best to ignore them.
It was getting harder to ignore the blood on his own body, tacky now from the steam of the room, so once he’d given Mithrun’s hair two thorough scrubbings, he pushed him slightly out of the way and let the water fall over his own body.
Mithrun, tactless as ever, watched him silently as he began to quickly scrub at himself, doing his best to get most of the grime off himself as efficiently as possible. Kabru had gotten used to his gaze by now. There was nothing to it, not like- Not like his own when he watched Mithrun.
The water at their feet was a pinking swirl of soap and blood. The hot water and soap stung his wounds, but there was nothing so urgent on either of them that they couldn’t wash up first.
They took turns under the shower, scrubbing, then waiting while the other scrubbed, then scrubbing some more. The pale ends of Mithrun’s hair were a rusty color that didn’t seem to want to fade, but other than that, the blood was mostly gone by the time Kabru declared them done, save for the fresher wounds they’d incurred.
Mithrun had a few scratches on his shoulders, one on the side of his neck that had sent Kabru’s heart flying into his throat when he watched it happen, but seconds later after he’d… rather messily dispatched the attacking rats, he’d been able to ascertain it’s severity (mild) and depth (very shallow). Kabru unfortunately had a mess of scratches on his stomach from where he’d had to wrestle a rat to the ground and its back feet had scrabbled at his guts before he’d won the fight. In other words, Mithrun could go soak in the bath for a while as long as he sat up, but Kabru should probably not do that.
He took one of the cloth towels instead and folded it on the bath’s edge. Sat down on it and let his weary feet soak in the water. Mithrun, at his instruction, sat on the tiled bench that ran the bath’s circumference. Of his own volition, he sat between Kabru’s naked legs.
With the height of the bench, he could lean back if he wanted and rest his arms over Kabru’s thighs, lean his head back against Kabru’s chest. He didn’t, he just sat there, though he did tilt his head back to look up at Kabru over his shoulder. Looking for direction probably, Kabru thought over the unsteady rush of blood through his veins.
“Let me wash you,” he said, instead of anything else that could slip out of his mouth unwarranted. Mithrun was clean, sure, scrubbed pink and raw, but he smelled harsh, like tea tree. It didn’t suit him.
Mithrun didn’t even bother nodding, he just relaxed back a little and waited.
Kabru picked a soap from a tray by the bath’s edge. It was a faint purpley-blue and pale pink and smelled of lavender and lemon and summer peaches, fresh and wild and soft. It was buttery soft to the touch, no doubt full of rich, moisturizing ingredients that Marcille had procured from any of the countless people from various lands that were still taking residence in the castle or on its grounds. This one suited Mithrun much more.
It made the wounds on his stomach hurt to bend over but Kabru ignored them as he wet the soap in the warm water and lathered it between his palms. Mithrun watched his motions silently. Kabru set the soap aside.
Mithrun’s skin was warm and soft under his touch; it had been before too, he just hadn’t had the chance to appreciate it while working so hard to scrub the blood away. Now he could work slowly, carefully, lathering the soap in gentle circles over the already clean skin. Mithrun leaned into his touch ever so slightly.
Kabru started on his back, washing carefully over the wounds on his shoulders and working his way down as Mithrun tilted forward. He massaged the soap over the knobs of his spine, obvious to the touch but no longer visible the way they’d been before in the dungeon, and down the lean muscles of his back to the slight dimples at the base of it, perfect shallow divots for his thumbs to rest when he let his hands open, his fingers falling away from the column of his spine to cage his narrow hips.
He didn’t linger there, though he took note of how comfortably and easily his larger hands curled around Mithrun’s slight body. Instead, he slid his hands around to Mithrun’s stomach and pushed slightly. Mithrun went where he said, tucking his arms in close to his body to let Kabru’s encircle him as he leaned back. His hair, wet and cool compared to the steam of the room, pressed against Kabru’s collarbones. Their faces were so close like this, but Kabru ignored that too. The water was soapy white around Mithrun, but the bath was large and there wasn’t enough soap to obscure his body from Kabru’s eyes. Pale and slight against the brown of Kabru’s own skin, the sinew of his arms.
It should have been strange, holding Mithrun like this. It would have been strange were it anyone but Mithrun, but even like this, both naked, Mithrun tucked under Kabru’s arms with his hands on his stomach, there was no strangeness. No strangeness, but- but other things, maybe.
Kabru reached for the soap with one hand, leaving the other where it was. Not possessive, but something similar perhaps. He brought the soap to Mithrun’s skin and dragged it down as he brought his free hand up to meet in the middle, somewhere shy of Mithrun’s sternum. Mithrun exhaled at the touch and Kabru echoed it without meaning to.
Kabru slowed as he lathered the soap on Mithrun’s chest and set it aside once more. He had none of his earlier rush as he washed him now, letting his hands linger as he massaged the soap in. Mithrun was deceptively solid, muscle and sinew under skin so pale it looked translucent. The shallow wounds on his shoulders were faint red lines and scrapes, but below that, his nipples were a soft, dusty pink. The soapy water lapped softly against his stomach, into the hollow of his belly button and the soft lines of his muscles.
Kabru traced those lines with soapy fingers, the scent of lemon finally overtaking the harsh scent of tea tree. He went up and up to- to wash Mithrun’s chest. His nipples pebbled under Kabru’s touch, a soft pressure under his fingertips as he pressed a little harder than he should, swiped his fingers with a little too much purpose.
He was- He didn’t really know what he was doing, just that it felt- It seemed right, and Mithrun was so… He just accepted it so easily, so willingly. His head was lolled back on Kabru’s shoulder. Kabru could hear his breath, quick and soft, feel his heartbeat, tripping over itself under his touch.
Kabru pushed one hand down until his fingertips, then his knuckles, then the rest of his hand were submerged. Mithrun shivered ever so slightly as Kabru’s fingertips slipped to the crease of his thigh. It wasn’t much but-
“Tell me,” Kabru whispered. His voice was thick, though he chose to blame it on the steam.
“Tell you what?” Mithrun asked after a moment. His voice was also quiet, shakier than usual.
Kabru didn’t know. “Tell me what you want.”
Mithrun shook his head, once and then again. “I don’t-”
“You do,” Kabru breathed, because he could feel it in every tremble of his breath, every twitch of his skin. “You- You want something.”
“I do, I- But I don’t- I don’t know,” Mithrun admitted. “It’s not…”
Kabru understood. “You don’t know what you want,” he murmured. “It’s not something you’ve wanted before. Not even… before?”
Mithrun shook his head. “It’s like I’m hungry,” he said carefully. His leg, barely brushing the tops of Kabru’s knuckles, jolted inward.
“I know.” Kabru felt his fingers twitch in response. “I- I know what you want. Can I show you?”
Mithrun didn’t nod, he just melted into Kabru, open and trusting and obedient as ever. His legs opened. floating apart in the warmth of the bath. Kabru-
Kabru slipped his hand between them. Even as the soap clouded the water’s surface, he could see what laid beneath it. With his eyes, but also in his mind, in the memories he’d committed of Mithrun’s body every time he’d seen it laid bare to him.
And what he couldn’t see, he could feel. He could feel the way Mithrun’s muscled jumped, the softness of his skin and the softness of his-
Mithrun gasped, almost silent, as Kabru curled his palm over his cock. He was flaccid, but that didn’t matter. He was warm and present in Kabru’s hand, so… contentedly vulnerable. Mithrun didn’t so much as move. He let out a quiet breath as Kabru touched him, but that was all.
“Is this it?” Kabru asked quietly, giving him pressure, gently, soapy friction. “Is this what you want?”
Mithrun’s head moved against his shoulder, some mix of a nod and a shake. Kabru understood it even if Mithrun didn’t. Yes, he wanted to say. More.
He was beginning to stir under Kabru’s fondling, growing firmer with every press of the ball of Kabru’s palm. As he stiffened, Kabru slipped his fingers between his cock and his balls, lifting it into his cupped hand and curling his fingers gently around it, knuckles teasing the taut skin of Mithrun’s sac.
“Better,” he sighed, giving voice to the way Mithrun’s back arched as Kabru began to slowly move his hand. It wasn’t a question, but Mithrun nodded anyway and Kabru couldn’t help the way his hand tightened at the admission. It was hard to believe he was the first person to ever touch him like this—including even Mithrun himself, if he’d been so lost as to his own wants—but it was a privilege Kabru intended to take full advantage of.
After all, he wasn’t in the habit of denying Mithrun his desires.
As the water and friction washed the last of the soap off of Kabru’s hand, he reached for more to slick the way. His free hand moved down to Mithrun’s thigh, holding it open though it showed no signs of closing around him anyway. He rubbed leisurely circles into his skin with the bar of soap, but his focus was clearly elsewhere.
Even as his cock hardened, Mithrun was still silky soft to the touch. The soap eased the way, but that alone couldn’t make up for the smoothness of his skin. He was smooth and soft in the way Kabru imagined only elves were, hairless and free of any wrinkles or curves or texture of any sort, really. His cock didn’t grow large, it just stiffened into a pink and perfect version of itself, as beautiful as Kabru imagined any cock could be.
Despite the sweet, fresh smell of the soap, Kabru half regretted using it; it was muddling the water, blocking his sight. But Mithrun was starting to… shift, here and there, twitch ever so slightly, moan under his breath. Things like that. Kabru couldn’t bring himself to stop for anything.
It wasn’t long before he had Mithrun as hard as he could go, hot and pulsing between his tightened grasp, and Mithrun was clearly feeling it. His head no longer rested easily against Kabru’s shoulder, instead it tossed this way and that, sometimes lifting ever so slightly only to collapse back. Under Kabru’s soapy hand, his thigh kept twitching and tensing like he couldn’t hold still anymore. Out of his mouth fell the sweetest, neediest noises Kabru had ever heard.
Mithrun- One thing about Mithrun was that the same way he lacked desire, he lacked shame. Maybe he’d get that back in time too, but at the moment, he only possessed a single-minded desire to be touched, to feel good from Kabru’s touch. The rest of it—his reactions, his noises, his movements—didn’t matter to him. Not enough to embarrass him, and certainly not enough to affect him as much as they affected Kabru.
And they were affecting Kabru, that much was for certain. Between his own legs, far too close to Mithrun’s innocent back, Kabru’s own cock had grown increasingly harder. He was grateful for the forethought to put the towel between himself and the damp tiles once his cock grew full enough to fall heavy between his spread thighs and touch the soft fabric as it bobbed under its own weight.
Some part of him wanted to touch himself, but the larger part reminded him that that could wait. How many times had he gotten himself off late at night to fantasies of Mithrun, of his lean body and velvety skin, his silvery hair and the depth of his gaze? What was one more time, one more evening in his bed, Mithrun asleep beside him because he refused to even try to sleep otherwise, his hand wrapped around himself as images of Mithrun’s pale lips in a vague frown played in his mind?
He was giving Mithrun what he wanted right now, as he’d promised to do when he’d taken responsibility for him all those weeks ago. Mithrun and his slowly blossoming desire were Kabru’s burden to bear, and if the cost was coming into his own fist again, then that was a small price to pay.
He focused on committing all those sounds of his to memory instead, studying all his reactions like a cleric studied their holy scriptures. Though this was far more important than some old scrolls could ever hope to be, certainly.
It was only when one of Mithrun’s gasps came out sounding less like “ah,” and more like “more!” that Kabru decided to be a little greedier. He finally set the soap aside, but only to open a jar of a cream Marcille had made from certain oils and butters. It smelled vaguely nutty, but it had no real scent to it; Marcille had insisted on it being hydrating and nourishing for even the most delicate of skin. Most importantly, it would melt in the warmth of the bath, but the oil wouldn’t disappear into the water the way the soap did.
Kabru dipped his fingers into it, coating them thoroughly. Mithrun, from his spot between Kabru’s arms, watched absently, his chest rising and falling at double tempo from the slow pace of Kabru’s other hand.
“You want more, don’t you?” Kabru asked, rubbing the oily lotion between his fingers and smiling as it began to melt almost instantly, the steam and friction making quick work of it. Mithrun nodded, no hint of hesitation or fear in him. Kabru hummed quietly in response and slipped his hand back into the water.
Realizing Kabru had no intentions to lotion his thigh, Mithrun opened his legs wider on instinct, hips twitching up, hungry for something he couldn’t yet predict. That was fine, good even. He was relaxed and eager, his body craving. It would make it easier, though Kabru had a feeling that Mithrun would take it well no matter what. It’d be crude to say that he was made for it, but…
Kabru brushed his slick fingertips past his balls as he went, partially in warning, partially to feel his cock jolt in his other hand. He pressed those same fingers to his taint, massaging the skin there briefly, letting the last of the cream melt into oil. Then finally, he found Mithrun’s entrance.
Mithrun didn’t tense or anything. He trusted Kabru to give him what he wanted, and knowing that, witnessing that, gave Kabru a rush unlike anything else. Mithrun’s mouth just fell open into a little ‘o’ and his working eye shuttered down to follow Kabru’s hand under the sudsy water.
Kabru didn’t stop moving his other hand, though he loosened his grip, slowed his pace. He didn’t want Mithrun coming before they were finished. Mithrun wanted more, but Kabru didn’t want to give him too much. Not yet, anyway.
He spent a few long moments massaging Mithrun’s rim, awed by how small and tight it felt, yet how willingly it seemed to give way whenever he pressed at it a little harder. He supposed he could explain it away as prepping him, but he was fairly convinced that as long as the way was slick, Mithrun would accommodate whatever he gave him.
Really, he just kind of wanted to take his time, make the most of every step, every first experience he got to give Mithrun, this disillusioned elf who’d lived many times his own lifetime. And yet, he was the one innocent and vulnerable in Kabru’s arms, and Kabru was the one showing him everything.
Finally though, he couldn’t wait anymore. He pushed one finger in, and upon feeling just how easily Mithrun made space for him, slid a second one in beside it. The noise Mithrun made was enough of a reward. Kabru would be hearing it every time he touched himself from now on, envisioning Mithrun opening up for him with an eager body and a shameless mouth.
“More?” Kabru asked, even as he started moving, fucking his fingers in slow, curling them in deep, pulling them apart to make room. Mithrun felt tight around him, but not quite restrictive, like Kabru could just play with him however he saw fit and he would just take it all. He was truly something else.
And despite having more, despite having Kabru’s fist around his cock and his fingers knuckle deep inside his virgin hole, Mithrun still nodded. “I want more,” he swore, and Kabru-
Kabru was selfish. He was selfish and greedy and just a man, and maybe Mithrun had lost his desires, but Kabru had never claimed such a thing. He’d always been horribly guilty of wanting. So he gave Mithrun more of the same for as long as he could stand it, and then when Mithrun began to fidget and whine, Kabru abruptly stopped, letting him go and pulling his fingers free.
“What-” Mithrun gasped, his body bowstring-tense in the cradle of Kabru’s.
“You wanted more,” Kabru said, slipping his hands under Mithrun’s arms and tugging slightly, urging him up. Mithrun helped him, lifting himself onto his feet on the bench along the bath, facing Kabru and looking down at him. From there, his cock was at Kabru’s eye level, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward to nuzzle it, kissing the skin around it softly, open mouthed.
Mithrun gasped, his hands finding Kabru’s shoulder for balance, his cock twitching by Kabru’s cheek. Some other day, Kabru would probably take it into his mouth, spend as long as Mithrun would let him suckling on it, feeling the weight of it on his tongue, tasting the little pearl of translucent liquid that beaded at the tip now that there was no water to wash it away.
For now, he had another plan. If Mithrun wanted, of course. With his hands around Mithrun’s hips, Kabru tugged him forward until he had to put his knees on the towel to catch himself. He landed atop Kabru’s lap with his lean legs framing his hips, his cock bobbing between them, flushed pink and leaking from Kabru’s earlier attention.
Kabru wanted to kiss him, he couldn’t stop staring at Mithrun’s mouth, so small and pink and practically pleading for attention- He leaned forward, but didn’t let their lips touch, not yet. He nosed his way up Mithrun’s jaw instead, the soft skin of his cheek. He was close enough to mouth ever so gently at him, especially when Mithrun unwittingly tilted his head, offering himself up so easily.
Kabru let his tongue flick out to trace the line of Mithrun’s jaw, to feel the corner of his mouth part open when he tasted it. “Do you trust me?” he asked against the far edge of Mithrun’s lips, his mouth trailing heat that had Mithrun searching like a moth for a flame. Kabru’s heart was racing, his pulse rapid. He could feel his heartbeat in his fucking cock, hot and desperate.
Mithrun nodded without hesitation, his body still as pliant as a doll’s in Kabru’s hold. It sent a shock of arousal through Kabru, the speed with which he agreed, the knowledge that he’d just let Kabru do… anything, probably, to him.
“I can- I can give you more. You liked it, right? My fingers?”
Mithrun nodded again, his hips kicking ever so slightly as if searching for a touch that was no longer there. Kabru’s cock twitched in response. He was not going to last very long, but at least Mithrun probably wouldn’t either, and Kabru already knew this would be lingering in his mind for probably the rest of his life should he need the memory for… any reason.
He didn’t try to talk Mithrun through it, didn’t really see a point to that when they were both already waiting for it, knowingly or not. He nudged Mithrun to sit up a bit, biting his own lip at the way it brought their bodies even closer together. Mithrun’s neck was by Kabru’s mouth, his peaked nipples brushing Kabru’s collarbones, his cock dragging wet and hot against Kabru’s stomach, just centimeters from the raw mess of injured skin below. Probably bad for his health, but it was definitely doing something for the circulation of his dick.
The dick that he took in hand once Mithrun left him space, hissing out a breath as he got his first taste of pressure since this whole thing had somehow started. He held himself in place, refusing to give himself any friction lest he-
“Slow,” he murmured, his other hand tight on Mithrun’s hip. He eased him back until his cock was pressed against Mithrun’s slick hole, and then Mithrun seemed to piece it together. Looking up, Kabru watched his eye widen slightly, flicker down towards Kabru.
Kabru couldn’t say anything more, not with the promise of heat kissing the tip of his cock, with Mithrun’s body right there for the taking, for the giving. He just stared back, knowing full well the blue of his eyes was probably swallowed whole by now, his mouth parted around his ragged, hungry breaths. Mithrun studied him for a moment, his tongue darting out to lick his petal-pink lips, and then he gave the slightest nod of his head and-
Kabru bit his lip hard as Mithrun sank down. He was still tight—two fingers may not have been enough, not really, but an elf could take it, Mithrun could take it—but he went steadily, slow but unceasing as he lowered himself on Kabru’s cock. There was no hint of pain on his face, just this unusually glazed look in his eyes as he stared at Kabru, his breaths quick and unsteady
Kabru wanted to praise him, wanted to tell him that he was doing so well, taking him so well, taking what he wanted- But he couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t find much at all as Mithrun’s bony ass met his hips and all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room all at once.
With both hands free, it was all Kabru could do to just- just hold him, his hands grabbing and groping at Mithrun, keeping him still as he did his best to- to not come yet. With the way Mithrun was trembling silently in his arms, he needed a moment too, just to adjust or- or adapt or whatever. Kabru took advantage of the moment, of the closeness, to finally do what he’d been wanting to.
He didn’t know if Mithrun knew how to kiss, if he’d know to expect it or or grow to like it or what, but Kabru wanted to, and he was clearly having trouble… controlling himself tonight. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the dungeon, or the traces of blood still coloring Mithrun’s hair, or the thin red scab across his throat, reminding Kabru of the fear and- and blinding, desperate rage he’d felt for that moment. It didn’t matter what it was that had his self control dangling by a thread, what mattered was that Mithrun’s mouth was right there and Kabru was going to kiss it.
He didn’t expect Mithrun to anticipate it. To lean forward as he did, his thin fingers claw-like on the back of Kabru’s neck, and let out a breathy moan as his parted lips found Kabru’s. So Mithrun had never touched, never been touched, but he’d kissed before. Possibly plenty from the way his tongue slipped into Kabru’s mouth so familiarly and found his own, teasing it into a push and pull much too heated for someone with no experience.
Much too heated, Kabru realized with a jolt of nearly painful arousal, for someone with no desire. Mithrun wanted this, he wanted to kiss Kabru like this, wanted to drag him close and be joined with him in far too many ways and-
Kabru’s hips twitched without his meaning to and pain flared in his gut where the wounds pulled at his skin and the muscle below. He groaned—and not the pleasant kind—into the kiss, falling back and having to let go of Mithrun with one arm to catch himself. They separated quickly and messily at the action, connected by a string of spit that should under no circumstances be as fucking hot as it was.
Mithrun studied him silently, then his gaze traveled down to Kabru’s stomach and his brows furrowed in a frown. Kabru fought the urge to sit upright as a faint panic rang in the back of his mind.
“It’s fine,” he said quickly. It’s fine, don’t stop, don’t stop. “We’ll get it all fixed up right after. It’s- I’m fine.”
Mithrun’s brows were still low, concentrated. Then he nodded, tightened his grip again on Kabru’s neck, and slowly shifted his weight back up onto his knees.
The hand Kabru still had on him clenched instinctively, not enough to drag him back down, but something of a desperate plea to not pull off. But it wasn’t necessary it seemed. Mithrun only rocked up about halfway before sitting firmly back down again with enough force to punch a groan—the good kind, this time—from Kabru’s open mouth.
Mithrun took the moment to lean forward and kiss him again, stealing the breath from his lungs as the bath’s steam caught sticky in between them. When he pulled back, just enough to speak, his voice was rough as anything. “Stay there. I’ll do it.”
“Mithrun-”
“I want it,” Mithrun said easily. He knew, he had to know by now, that Kabru would let him get away with anything if it meant he got to do what he wanted, if it meant feeding that desire of his, stoking it from a weak spark back into a full flame.
And Kabru did. He let him do exactly what he wanted without another word. Partially because he couldn’t argue with that, and mostly because Mithrun was kissing him again and there was really very little else happening in Kabru’s head for once, beyond: he wants this.
Mithrun was slow to move at first and Kabru wondered if he was also distracted by the way their mouths just- the way they- fuck. It was really good, the way they kissed. The way Mithrun kissed him. The way they held onto each other so tightly and ignored the way their wounds stung, the way fresh droplets of blood prickled at cuts and scrapes that should definitely be taken care of. All of it, not least of all the unceasing heat of Mithrun’s body around him, was so good it was dizzying.
Mithrun began to move finally, but Kabru couldn’t fault him for the moment’s stillness. He’d needed it too, and he still didn’t know how long he’d be able to last, especially as Mithrun started to experimentally set a pace.
Their mouths slowly came to a stop as their focuses shifted downwards, but neither of them really broke the kiss. They just stayed there, mouth to mouth and hip to hip, and felt every breath and heartbeat that filled the silence. The only other sounds were the faint lapping of water around Kabru’s shins and the slick slap of Mithrun’s rise and fall on his cock.
Mithrun may not have had the experience for it, but his desire showed in the way he kept pushing even once his thighs started to tremble around Kabru’s hips, the way he hiccuped out moans against Kabru’s lips every time he angled his hips just so, the way every downward drop seemed heavier and less purposeful than the last.
Some other person may have complained about the sharpness of Mithrun’s ass against his hip bones when he bottomed out of Kabru’s cock, but Kabru couldn’t bring himself to mind. Mithrun was bony and lithe, a graceful willow-whip of an elf, much less a man, and Kabru kind of hoped he’d have proof of this all tomorrow in the shape of bruises on his hip bones. Besides, with the hot trickle of blood slowly rolling down his abdomen, the rhythmic drop of Mithrun’s ass was the least of his pain.
That didn’t stop Kabru’s breath from going ragged or his fingertips from digging into the cold, damp tile and Mithrun’s knobby spine. It wasn’t even the pain so much as how it was making him feel; the fact that not even the sting of scabs splitting could take away from the ever-growing heat in his gut as Mithrun rode him sloppier and hungrier by the second, chasing enough for both of them.
Mithrun was making real noise now with almost every roll and bounce of his hips. He was panting for breath, his forehead plastered to Kabru’s, but every exhale was a deep, whiney moan, and Kabru could feel himself twitching, pulsing with each one.
He wanted to hear more, He wanted to hear what Mithrun sounded like as he came, as he fell apart for- maybe for the first time ever, untouched as he was. He wanted to hear Mithrun get what he wanted, wanted to bear witness to that muted desire sparking back to life.
He couldn’t thrust up, no matter how much his thighs trembled in anticipation, no matter how badly he wanted to give Mithrun a break to just let him bask in the moment without having to think about anything at all, but that didn’t mean he was useless.
He was loath to let his hand fall away from Mithrun’s back, but he made up for it by finding his cock instead, nearly red now with arousal after having been teased for so long without release. Mithrun’s hips jumped violently at the unexpected touch, a long keen falling from his lips, but Kabru didn’t let him go.
Mithrun’s cock was small and fit well in his hand, so all he had to do was curl his fist around it and hold it still, and soon Mithrun’s pace was desperate, fucking back and forth between Kabru’s hand and cock.
“You’re close,” Kabru told him. Mithrun could surely feel it, that imminent sensation that something big was about to happen, but he maybe didn’t know what it was. That was fine. “Just- Just let go,” Kabru said, and he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t a plea, no matter how close he was. He would last long enough, he declared to himself, whatever that meant.
Thankfully, Mithrun didn’t make him wait too long. His fingers curled against Kabru’s nape, nails digging in and probably leaving scratches that matched his own, and his mouth opened and closed against Kabru’s like he had something to say but just couldn’t find the words, or didn’t know. Kabru didn’t care. The senseless movement and gasped out moans were enough for him as Mithrun’s hips shuddered to a stop, his ass clenching around the fucking tip of Kabru’s cock like he was trying to milk him even as he spilled into Kabru’s waiting fist.
That was fucking it. Kabru came without a warning, his orgasm flooding over him with enough force to have his muscles tensing, his stomach shrieking with easily forgettable pain as he tore more scabs open. Mithrun gasped at the sensation of sudden heat inside him, and Kabru took the opportunity to finally kiss him again.
Just as he felt Mithrun’s thighs about to give out, Kabru finally pulled him up off his cock the rest of the way and let him drop onto his lap normally instead, his body trembling and heaving with panted breaths.
The steam of the bathroom still smelled like tea tree and lemons and lavender, but Kabru could hardly focus on that right now. Though they would have to shower again before leaving, this time with the soft peach soap to get rid of anything that was better off gone.
For now, though, Kabru finally let himself split his weight between both arms as he leaned back to relieve some of the pain. He couldn’t hold onto Mithrun like this, but if Mithrun had any desire left in him after all that, none of it seemed to be for running off, so that was fine. Mithrun just leaned against him anyway, his head tucked against Kabru’s chest, his wet hair pressed to Kabru’s neck. Present and heavy and close.
When they finally got up several long minutes later, Mithrun winced at the pain of his knees and Kabru winced at the trails of tacky blood drying on his lower stomach. They washed again under the shower, the smell of lavender, lemon, and peaches slowly bringing them back to the present, and then they wrapped themselves in towels, wrapped their filthy clothes in the towel they’d sat on by the bath’s edge, and left in search of someone to patch them up.
In the end, they stole a medicine kit from the kitchens and made their way back to their room. Maybe tomorrow they could bother Falin for some healing spells, but neither of them seemed eager for a game of hide and seek in the still unfamiliar castle.
Despite his own wounds being more serious, Kabru made Mithrun sit so he could take care of him first. Mithrun did, obedient as ever. He sat patiently as Kabru cleaned the scratches with a potion, sealed them with an ointment, and bandaged any that looked deeper or more worrisome than the rest. He was relieved once again that the cut on his neck wasn’t even deep enough to warrant a bandage, though the red line across his pale skin was frightening on its own.
Finally, when he was done, he stepped back to wipe his hands and admire his work. Before he could get far, though, Mithrun’s hands were suddenly flying up, grabbing him by the hips and holding him in place. Kabru froze and stared, unprepared and unaccustomed to such sudden… well, anything from Mithrun, really. After all he’d wanted today, Kabru had been sure there’d be nothing left in him.
And yet, Mithrun was looking up at him with a shockingly complicated expression. Kabru didn’t move a single step as Mithrun slowly stood, he just watched him rise until they were both up. Then Mithrun tugged him one way, and Kabru realized he was… swapping their places.
Silently, he took a seat himself, his breath caught in his throat. Mithrun reached for the kit with practiced hands. This, unlike what they’d done before, must be something he was familiar with.
“Mithrun, what-” Kabru started, but Mithrun cut him off with a sharp look.
“Let me,” he said firmly, dabbing the cleaning potion onto a clean cloth. Kabru hissed when he patted it against his raw and bloody wound. “I want to,” Mithrun murmured, and Kabru couldn’t deny him a fucking thing.