Work Text:
Well, shit.
Enjin had long given up.
His wrists were already aching and probably bruised from his initial struggle against the handcuffs that held his arms up, and the metal pole of the shelf wasn't budging. Too thick to saw through. Worse, Umbreaker was stored safely in his room, and Semiu was the one guarding the key (he scowled at the memory, her drunken and sly smile as she dropped the key into her bra). He'd been not far from wasted when he'd first settled in, but there must be something sobering about being locked in a room by yourself, or about sharp metal digging against skin, because his mind was as clear as day. That, or maybe he'd been in here for hours already - was he going to be stuck all night? Surely, Semiu would remember. That woman liked to sober up before bed if she had work the next day, usually with a cold shower. He just had to wait.
Enjin slumped further against the wall, unable to find a comfortable position with his arms sore and shoulder blades pinched together. If only he could fall asleep, but that never came easy to him without the comforting sound of someone nearby, or a body on top of his, or even just a strong shoulder to lean on. He groaned. He was pinned to a corner, his long legs unable to stretch all the way, one nearly squished against his chest - he readjusted as best as possible to try to extend his legs out towards the open space that showed the door, far beyond his reach. Even if he straightened his whole body, he wasn't sure if his feet would touch the door. Close, maybe, very close, but not quite.
He sighed. If it came to it, he could always start screaming for help.
A thump against the door startled him, quickly replaced by a flash of hope as the door knob slowly turned. The door creaked open, and Enjin grinned, expecting Gris or Bro or whoever else Semiu might have drunkenly babbled to. But that wasn't the case - ashy blond hair, pale but flushed skin, drowsy, down-turned eyes.
"Zanka?" The name fell from his lips unintentionally. Gentle blue eyes looked at him, twisting with confusion. Zanka's head tilted, tapping the doorframe. He wasn't moving to help. Waiting for an explanation, maybe? "Ah, Semiu's just pranking me." He tugged on the handcuffs, forgetting about the bruises and wincing from the pain. "Think you can pick the lock?"
Zanka, however, only stumbled a little further in, temple still pressed against the wall. "Mmmm," he mumbled, rubbing the fabric of his sleeve between his fingers. Nervous? Enjin scanned him, through and through, hardly noticing the closet door fall shut behind him. Slightly sweaty, just on the face, pink-tinted cheeks, dazed eyes that narrowed in on him with... something...
"Are you drunk?!" The realization hit. He sat up suddenly, or at least tried to before his wrists strained, and he reluctantly rested back. Zanka only let out another murmur, swaying slightly as he still leaned against the wall. "Who gave you a... nevermind that. C'mon, can you get the lock? I'll get you to bed."
The blond boy continued staring, blinking a few times as he seemed to process the statement. Finally, he nodded, slowly approaching with shaky steps. Unfortunately, he was far too unbalanced - just how much had he had to drink? - and fell to his knees before him, straddling the single outstretched leg.
"You okay?" Enjin watched, wide-eyed as Zanka’s breathing quickened. Oh, god, was he going to throw up? He grimaced at the thought, but any disgust was quickly replaced by concern. "It's okay, it's okay. Take it easy. We'll get you some water in a bit."
The eyes that glanced up at him were not what he expected. Far from it. Half-lidded, lined with fatigue, but gazing at him like he was heaven-sent. Something deeply desperate swirled within those blue irises, something longing, something that may have been there for way too many years. Something on the edge of desire, with a confidence fueled by alcohol - lust.
Enjin swallowed dryly. This was bad. Like, really bad. It wasn't that he was entirely oblivious to the boy's feelings, but he had convinced himself it was hardly romantic, only admiration that he didn't know what to do with. Nothing physical, not like this - Zanka crawled forward, a palm landing flat against the ground between his legs, just barely avoiding contact.
"W-Woah, woah!" Zanka lifted himself up to his knees, provokingly slow, that one hand brushing against him as it went for his shirt. "Zanka, wait," Enjin tried to lean away, but his back was already flat against the wall. Only a muted yelp partially left his mouth before Zanka swallowed the rest up, lips firm against his. Already, his lips parted, desperately trying to get Enjin's to do the same, but he protested about as much as he could and kept them sealed shut, trying not to think about how soft those lips were, how his long eyelashes fluttered with each twitch of his eye. Enjin tried to sneak a quick breath, lips falling apart for just a moment, and Zanka seized it, tongue slipping into his mouth. The taste of alcohol confirmed Enjin's suspicions. On instinct, he nearly reciprocated, trying to get an idea of just what he'd been given to drink. Something with vodka, he concluded. Maybe someone spiked his drink? ...Multiple drinks?
Enjin snapped out of the trance at the friction against his thigh, followed by a breathy moan that he could almost taste. With the small space in between him and the wall, Enjin pulled his head back, hitting the back of it hard enough to bruise. "Zanka," he panted, "Zanka, hold on now. Hey, hey, Zanka?" His voice might've become something like a plea as he tried to get Zanka to look at him, but the boy's eyes remained unfocused, fingers only gripping his shirt harder as he used it for leverage to grind onto his thigh. Another moan, and Enjin tried to ignore the twitching between his legs. "Zanka-"
Zanka took the opportunity to steal another kiss, tongue pressed against his again. Enjin groaned in frustration, nothing else, and let his eyes shut as he stiffened. He wouldn't give him anything, but he couldn't fight back - not without hurting him. He knew he could knee him, kick him out of the way, but - no, he wouldn’t. His heart twisted at even considering it, even as he swallowed hard when Zanka humped his leg and buried his face into his neck with a whimper. Against his thigh, he could feel Zanka's growing erection, paired with every desperate thrust. He sighed, letting his body fall almost limp, even adjusting a bit to give him a better angle. Surely, once Zanka finished chasing that release, he'd help Enjin get out, right? His mind was only clouded by alcohol and desire. He'd regain his inhibitions soon, or at least some sense.
Against his jaw, Zanka whined, mouthing lazily. The feeling of hot breath on his skin made Enjin shiver, finding it increasingly difficult to ignore his own physical arousal. He made the mistake of letting out a deep groan, eyes falling shut as his head hit the wall again. Zanka paused, and Enjin bounced back, hopeful - but Zanka's eyes were elsewhere.
A delicate hand slipped between his legs, fingers brushing against his inner thighs. Enjin’s eyes widened, and he closed his legs tight, knees nearly knocking together, but Zanka suddenly cried out. His leg was being crushed by Enjin’s thighs, face contorted in pain, and Enjin instantly released him. “Shit, Zanka, I’m - I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to shift and very gently readjust him. He hadn’t heard anything break, right?
Panting, Zanka slipped between his legs, slender frame allowing him in, and Enjin flinched at the sudden, new contact. Zanka’s hands were dangerously close to his now obvious erection that he’d tried so hard to suppress. Two fingers firmly followed the bulge up, then back down, as if trying to trace its outline over and over. Enjin hissed, trying not to force his legs shut again now that Zanka had settled between them. Zanka was far from frail, but Enjin knew his own strength was enough to fracture some bones if he really tried. He couldn’t risk it; he didn’t want to hurt him.
The fingers moved up, popping open the button and pulling the zipper down. Enjin squirmed, blinking fast, still straining against his handcuffs. “Woah there, hey, hey, wait a minute,” he stuttered, hips trying to pull away, but the hand slipped beneath the waistband and wrapped around the base of his cock to pull the length out. Enjin froze, mind racing as he tried to think of something to do, something to stop him -
The cold, stale air of the closet hit him, and a shiver rolled from his shoulders down his spine, only making Zanka squeeze him tighter. “Zan-“ Enjin started, but a quick stroke cut him off. He bit his lip, hard, energy reserved for controlling his breathing as Zanka’s hand pumped him up and down, twisting and squeezing in ways he can only assume he learned on himself. He shivered again, a sigh that meant to sound frustrated coming out far too breathy, too pleased - Enjin grit his teeth.
Really, what could he do? Zanka was relentless, and Enjin was losing himself far too easily. He groaned in his throat, head thrown back just enough to hopefully conceal his face from the boy beneath him. For a bit, he seemed to sink into comfort, or something close to it, letting out a deep, shaky breath every few seconds, forgetting how wrong it was as he soaked in the physical pleasure - he stopped, reeling back to his body at the feeling of something far too warm against his tip.
It was a sight to behold. Enjin tugged at the handcuffs, bruising his wrists further like he deserved it for thinking so. Zanka lapped at the flushed tip, eyes low as his hands rested around the base, then licked up from the base to lick up every bit of precum that leaked out of him. Enjin forcefully repressed a moan, but it came out in a pathetic breath, he may as well have whimpered. "Fuck, Zanka..." he groaned, head falling back again, hopefully hard enough to bruise. Maybe he should give himself a concussion and forget about all of this.
Zanka's lips pressed against his tip, and his jaw clenched in preparation as a shy heat wrapped around him. He tried to suppress it, but his hips jolted forward at the sensation, feeling teeth scrape against a sensitive vein and press hard against the roof of his mouth. Enjin hissed, and Zanka recoiled with a harsh cough, the back of one hand coming up to wipe his mouth, but not his teary eyes. The guilt hit like a truck, even though Enjin knew the tears weren't from sadness - he slumped back against the wall, a shuddering apology leaving his lips.
But Zanka only tucked his hair behind his ear and went back for more, and Enjin wished he was imagining it, but he seemed a little more eager. He was far more successful this time. Eyes still down, lips carefully wrapped around his teeth, tongue licking like he was starved. A few times, he would suck his cheeks in and nearly make Enjin finish right then and there, but the strain proved to be a little too much. Zanka would always make a muffled noise before pulling off and rubbing his jaw. Still, Enjin was getting dangerously close, keeping his mind as blank as he could manage - Zanka would be satisfied soon. "Zanka," he murmured and squeezed his eyes shut, half-conscious, "please."
Only a few moments later, Zanka pulled off, panting over his saliva-slick dick. Enjin let out a groan of some sort, glancing and blinking fast to re-ground himself. Before he could do so, Zanka's head pressed hard against his chest, one hand gripping at his shirt like a lifeline, still heaving. "Zanka?" Of course, the boy didn't reply with anything more than a swift exhale. He heard the shuffling of fabric, then a zipper, then something...
Zanka moaned, and Enjin froze. He was fingering himself, wasn't he? The blow job was just to lube him up. Zanka was seriously planning on taking this all the way. "Wait, wait, wait, wait," Enjin suddenly got some fight in him back, panic rising. Absolutely no way he could do that with his junior. Absolutely not. "Zanka, hey, let's take a step back," he struggled against the handcuffs again, shifting his torso to throw the boy off-center. Zanka only whimpered into him and grasped at his shirt tighter. That damn determination was just what Enjin adored about him, unfortunately. "Here, h-how about you just use my thigh again? I don't wanna hurt ya, so just..."
At last, Zanka stilled against him. The hand pulled, lifting himself face-to-face with Enjin. Saliva dribbled down his chin. Lips pink and swollen and parted with exhales that just barely resembled Enjin's name, eyes dazed with more than just alcohol, more than just lust. There was something else in that drink. There's no way Zanka's this out of control from a few cups spiked with vodka. Who the hell drugged him?
Anger coursed throughout him, subconsciously straining at the handcuffs until the pain was too much to bear, until Zanka's lips pressed against his, and it hit him then - he should be grateful Zanka wasn't taken advantage of by anyone else, that Zanka wasn't the one restrained and hurting. This was the best possible outcome, for Zanka to be the one taking control, pacing as he needed. A little discomfort was a sacrifice Enjin was willing to make. Enjin relaxed, slowly, turning his head to let Zanka's tongue explore as he wanted, hearing the movement of fabric as Zanka discarded his pants, feeling their bodies close, closer, until Zanka finally dropped down.
Faster than expected. Zanka's moan was loud and uncontrolled, one hand on each shoulder to steady himself. He rolled his hips forward with only a moment’s break, then back, then stuttered as they went forward again. Zanka, so pent up, was quick to find a rhythm, whining every time it hit deep. Enjin swallowed hard at every clench, unbearable sensitive from earlier, but desperate to hold out for Zanka to get what he needed. A slight shift to get more comfortable made Zanka roll forward, knees hitting the ground with a clack he barely heard over the sudden "ngh" he let out.
"Shit, sorry," Enjin murmured, lip trembling as he tried to keep his voice calm and composed. "I got you, I got you." Zanka panted, hands still clutching him, back arching frantically as he pressed down into him. A whimper, then another when hips rolled again. He could feel as he pressed deep inside of Zanka, tight and hot and clenching as hard as the grip on his shoulders. He wasn't going to last, fuck, not for much longer, barely through a few more thrusts - Zanka cried out, grinding more frantically, and Enjin was almost done for. The way his jaw hung open with every moan, occasionally bracing his teeth with a squeak when it hits a little heavier, only to fall back ajar with another perfect roll.
"...'M coming," Zanka choked out, a hand slipping from his shirt and instead scratching hard at his neck, ripe pain and blood blooming against dark ink. The orgasm followed within an instant (Zanka's, too), crashing throughout their bodies fiercely, loosening every strained muscle and aching joint with the rush. It was so, so wrong, and tears prickled Enjin's eyes just barely, but he blamed it on the pressure of the handcuffs threatening to sever his wrists. He'd completely let loose inside of Zanka, who had collapsed on top of him at some point during the high, twitching and gasping for air.
Enjin caught his breath but remained still. He waited for Zanka to come to, not like he could really do anything else, still completely bound by the cuffs. Zanka seemed to slowly catch his own, the heaving breaths no longer covering his shoulder, only lightly brushing it instead. Bitten lips, slightly wet with drool grazed his skin, and Enjin hated the way some sort of warmth rose up in him again, shutting it down instantly with years of practice. But, to his dismay, Zanka seemed to slump against him further, chests flush. His cock had long slipped out, now soft(...er) against him, but still in quite the position. With only his hips capable of jostling movements, the only way to get Zanka's attention would be, well... to thrust up into him.
Nope, he wasn't doing that. Zanka's soft breaths turned into calm snores.
...Well, shit.