#kaspar

Finally, they had arrived.

They had rented a room in Khorai, overlooking the lake at the foot of the mountains. Private baths, a balcony, a bed larger than either of them knew what to do with—well, thought Azar, that's not entirely accurate, he had some idea—costly beyond belief, but that was the point: they'd traveled on rock and sand so long, and Kaspar wanted somewhere soft to lie, and Azar always gave him what he wanted.

He'd followed Kaspar in, led by the inn owner and given a heavy key pressed into his hand to return before they left. "Enjoy your stay," she had said, then whisked away, all while Kaspar circled the center of the room and hadn't even bothered to turn around.

"Thank you," he said for both of them, and waited until the latch shut to step farther in. Surveying the scene, Azar could understand why it cost as much as it did. Warm stone walls in arches with climbing roses, gossamer curtains, and a view of the sparkling lake beyond. The dancing sunlight kissed Kaspar's silhouette, filtered golden through his hair and his clothes like a halo.

"Well?" Kaspar asked, a note of self-satisfaction in his tone as he lifted his satchel over his head to remove it and unbuttoned his cloak.

"Hm?"

"What do you think?"

Azar looked around, nodding his approval. "It's nice."

"Only that?"

"I said it's nice!" And it was. Very nice.

Kaspar tossed the cloak on a nearby chair. "High praise."

"What is wrong with nice?"

A laugh graced his smile, paired with a wave of his hand. "Nothing. Come, look," and he was gone, disappeared through an archway.

Azar followed.

The baths, it turned out to be. Hot, steaming water filled a large basin carved into the floor, a silver tray of fragrant oils and soaps at the edge. Kaspar stooped to remove his sandals, and stepped in to ankle-deep water at the edge with a long sigh. "This is nice."

Azar smiled.

Kaspar turned back to look at him and beckoned. "Come."

He didn't need to be told twice. Azar bent to remove his own sandals and set about undoing his clothing, as many leather straps and fasteners as it had. Sandals, outerwear, belt, sash, all of it, discarded on the floor. It was then he heard the clink of Kaspar's jewelry strike the stone floor, tossed carelessly aside along with his clothes—but by the time he looked up, the water already encased his friend below the waist, warm and rippling.

Tease.

Kaspar next dunked his whole self completely under the water, and resurfaced with a shake of his head, scattering droplets in all directions. When he wiped his eyes, he noticed Azar watching him, and must have noticed the particular glint in his gaze because he grinned.

"Not until we're clean."

"But then?"

"Then," he promised.

Good, then Azar could wait.

Gingerly, he stepped foot in the bath. The heat was immediate. It nearly seared his skin, but it was a pleasant sort of hot-pain, the kind that promised eased muscles and deep sleep. Another foot in, then slowly, he sank.

The bath was pleasant, and even more necessary than he'd realized. At one point, Kaspar had noticed the water turned brown from the combined dirt hard weeks of travel with only rivers to bathe in had earned them, and with a wave of his hand, he enchanted the water away to refill the basin afresh. Azar heated it.

They'd washed each others' backs, Kaspar had washed Azar's hair. The oils were nice, too: a mix of floral and earthy fragrances, Azar vetoed the florals for himself but then let Kaspar pick what he liked.

Now, he lay naked on his stomach across the expansive mattress, soft and threatening sleep. Kaspar had gone for cakes at the market, but Azar wasn't sure he'd be awake by the time he returned to receive what he'd been promised. He'd tried to stay awake, but his spine sank so nicely into the mattress, his resolve was slipping quite rapidly. If he isn't back by the time I fade, I'm calling it a debt to be repaid in the morning, he promised himself. Kaspar liked morning sex, anyway. Not as much as in the late hours of night, but Azar always woke up first, and he enjoyed the sleep-drunk bliss on Kaspar's face when the first thing he awoke to see was Azar's face buried in his cunt, or his slit, or swallowing his cock, or whatever it was he'd given himself the day before.

Just the image was enough to send dull fire to his loins, tired as they were. Fine, then, yes, that suited him just fine. In the morning.

Given up, he closed his eyes, and with the promise of satisfaction when he'd wake, he let himself drift to sleep.

He awoke to the sound of the door.

"Azar?" Kaspar's voice called, and soft footfalls neared him. "Az— oh," he switched to a whisper. "Are you awake?"

Was he? He debated it.

"No," he eventually grumbled.

"Ah. That's too bad." Some parchment rustled. A bag being set down? "I'm sorry I took so long. There's a new market. I have some sweets, but I suppose we'll have them for breakfast."

Breakfast. He wanted breakfast. He'd promised himself a kind of breakfast, yes, he did. Was he hungry?

A quick check down with his awareness, and he noticed the fire had not gone down.

...Perhaps.

It must have been hours later, for the sun had only just begun to set the last he remembered, but now his eyelids rested closed without the red telltale filter of light seeping through them. It must be proper night, by now. So he'd gotten a few hours of sleep. Was that enough?

The bed sank to his right—Kaspar sitting down. A soft yawn. "Tomorrow, let's explore it together, hm?"

"Mn."

A huff. His weight dipped as Kaspar climbed in beside him.

Yes, it was enough. The fire hadn't gone down at all. Far from it, and if his sleeping hours had been scarce, Azar had since grown used to long nights with little rest for far less desirable reasons. Poor Kaspar. Too bad, indeed.

With summoned strength that surprised him, he pushed himself upright. Kaspar turned to look at him with surprise. "I thought you were asleep," he said.

"I was. I'm rested now."

"Lie back down—"

"You promised me." His voice came out a rasp, heavy with sleep. Upright, it was far easier to be awake. Far easier. He saw now that he was right, it had to be dead of night, and it was moonlight that sparkled on the lake behind Kaspar now. A golden halo in the day, silver at night, crowned in stars. A better one would be black as his hair, splayed over a pillow and tangled from the force of his rocking and ecstasy on his face.

The physical person was watching him now, his eyes glittering in the dark. "I did promise," he murmured.

"And you're late."

"Only because I sought the best breakfast for us both tomorrow."

"I'll eat you for breakfast!" Azar all but growled, and pounced.

Kaspar laughed to be caught, Azar's strong arms encircling his waist with ease and dragging him to the bed.

"Careful! Wait, let me—"

Whatever he wanted to do was lost in a moan as their lips crushed together, careless and hungry. Gods, he tasted divine. Sugar, fig, he must have been snacking as he went, and Azar could taste the honey. He pulled Kaspar closer, pulled him under, crawled on top of him and let his weight settle to gently pin his friend beneath him.

"Greedy," Kaspar rasped between kisses.

"For you? Always."

"Mmm... well, you have me— ahh..."

Azar kissed his way down his neck, his hands sliding up under Kaspar's clothes to rove over his sides, his waist. So narrow. A thousand girls would kill for this waist.

"Azar?"

"Hm?"

"Sit upright for me."

He did not raise his body from where his lips brushed Kaspar's collarbone. "Why?" He pressed another open-mouthed kiss to his skin, smelling of vanilla and jasmine, the oils he'd picked. Soft. Warm, inviting. Fuck sitting up, he wanted to press down, press his hardening cock to Kaspar's sex through his clothes and let him feel how needy he made him. You did this, Azar thought as he did just that, and to his delight he heard the prettiest moan drift up above him. This is your fault, you minx.

"Azar! I want to undress!"

"I can help you with that," Azar rumbled into the crook of his neck.

"Don't you want to see me?"

What a stupid question. "I'd know you blind."

"Azar!" Kaspar made some kind of motion above them, and something cool materialized around Azar's neck, yanking him up with a sudden, choked moan of his own.

A collar, he realized. A golden one, with a chain hanging from it, the end wrapped around Kaspar's hand.

A shiver ran down his back, but he stilled where he was now propped up above Kaspar, staring darkly down at him.

"Behave," hissed Kaspar.

"Or what?" The chain looked so very thin. "You'll deny me? Please. If I reach down..." Before Kaspar could stop him, his hand dove down between Kaspar's legs to slide through his sex—Kaspar tensed out of surprise—soaking.

Azar smirked. You want this as much as I do, and he knew Kaspar knew him well enough to hear the thought as though he'd spoken it aloud.

He was rewarded by another yank of the chain, this time to the side, pulling him off balance to tumble away.

Kaspar sat upright immediately, and Azar righted himself enough to prop himself up on one elbow. He licked his fingers, the ones that had dipped in Kaspar's arousal.

"Let me undress," Kaspar ordered.

Azar willed forth heat, and the edges of Kaspar's clothing glowed bright, the fabric eaten away like dry paper to a flame. Now, what, then?

He'd barely thought the question before Kaspar pushed him over, swung a leg over and was straddling him. Yes— "Ah—"

His thoughts went dull. His head was pulled back by the hair, the pain pleasantly dizzying, his neck pulled forward by the collar, until Kaspar leaned over him with those hypnotic, golden eyes, and there was little he could do but swallow and meet them.

The throbbing in his loins grew near unbearable.

"I liked those clothes," Kaspar whispered.

That was a lie, but Azar dared not point it out.

"I think you owe me new ones."

He'd buy them tomorrow.

"Is there anything else you want to get out of your system before we can continue?"

"Release me and find out."

Kaspar seemed to think about it, then hummed. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"Promise now, darling."

Azar tried to sit up, be closer to his face, but restrained by the hair, only his jaw moved up. Closer to kiss, at least. "Anything."

Familiar, cool metal again formed around his skin, but to Azar's rising dismay, he felt it materialize around his cock. Kaspar let go of him and he scrambled back, and watched the gold bars solidify—painful at first around it, red and angry, but he quickly forced his own magic down to soften it as much as he could before it was locked away, without even a hinge or opening he could break. Still angry, still red, aching, and now straining against the bars, he dared not move a muscle.

Kaspar picked up the end of his chain again and inched closer, then reached down. With his index finger, he brushed Azar's cock through the bars—Azar flinched—and he smiled. "That stays on, until I say so."

No. "Until when?!"

"I told you, love. When I say so."

"Say so now!"

Kaspar's smile was angelic. The picture of innocence, of sweetness, promising heaven and a thousand good things, but Azar could swear his eyes were evil then. Evil and darkly satisfied, for winning. "Please me first."

Azar breathed slow. Fine, then. Fine. "...How," he grumbled.

Kaspar yawned. He stretched wide, then languid as a cat, he lay back against the pillows, one arm bent above his head, the other resting over his abdomen, Azar's chain in hand. "With your fingers," he hummed. His leg angled back to bare his cunt in invitation.

With movements careful not to brush his poor cock, Azar crawled down to his place between Kaspar's legs.

What a pretty cunt it was. He had been here many times before, but he would never tire of it. It was almost reflex by now to lean in, to cover his folds with his mouth and lick where he knew Kaspar liked—but Kaspar asked for fingers, first, so Azar would oblige.

One hand slid beneath Kaspar's thigh, sticky with his own arousal, to rest his leg over one shoulder. The other hand resting atop his mound, his thumb sliding down to put pressure on his clit, and above him, Kaspar sighed, his legs falling a little farther apart, his body relaxing. Azar pressed his mouth to the skin of his inner thigh, kissing reverently. See? I can behave.

Kaspar wasn't watching though, not yet. His head remained on the pillow, and Azar imagined his eyes were closed, lazily enjoying the feeling.

A small part of him bristled, but he couldn't afford that, now. He turned his attention back to his task.

His soaking cunt welcomed Azar's fingers easily, first barely dipping in, then meeting no resistance, sinking to his knuckles immediately. A soft moan drifted from Kaspar's lips, and Azar withdrew his fingers, then slid them back in, stretching him to make way for a third, soon. As it was, it was difficult to angle his hand to continue the movement and rub his clit at the same time, so he took a risk: he lowered his head, wrapped his lips around the top of Kaspar's sex, and sucked.

The effect was immediate. Kaspar's back arched, his hand diving down to tangle in Azar's hair and push him down harder against his clit, the sweetest of moans drawn from him. Azar did it again, and again, he crawled up to apply greater pressure and licked circles around his clit until he had Kaspar gasping, his cunt so wantonly taking three fingers until he was clenching down on them, arousal pooling and thighs trembling by Azar's head. Azar did not wait for instruction, but removed his hand and dove down to replace his fingers with his tongue, his hand now rubbing Kaspar's clit and earning a surprised keen of oversensitive pleasure. "Azar, please!"

Azar couldn't reply, buried as he was in Kaspar's cunt.

He was pulled up by the chain—that damned chain—to face Kaspar's breathless, heated gaze. "Fingers."

Azar made a face. "You enjoyed it."

Kaspar's mouth opened with a mixture of disbelief and endearment, shaking his head. "Switch with me," he said after a moment.

He raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin. "Including the cage?"

"Don't even try it."

Chuckling, Azar did as he was told, until he half-sat half-lay back against the pillows and the headboard.

"Hold your elbows behind your back."

Hold my—

Oh, he was getting tied up. "Is your solution to everything adding more restraints?" But he did as he was told, folding his arms until he found a comfortable position behind his back, per instruction.

"Is your solution to getting out of a hole to dig deeper?" Gold rope wound around his forearms, his biceps, then criss-crossed over his chest to frame his pectorals. The rope in front had no practical value; Azar suspected Kaspar was visually indulging a little bit.

The gold rope didn't stop there, however. Azar quickly realized it was wrapping around him to pin him to the bed entirely. He could not sit up if he wanted to, and even his thighs were held down.

He had little time to wonder what Kaspar planned before he straddled Azar's hips, and Azar's breath caught.

Kaspar's fingertips delicately rested over Azar's pelvis, his other hand warm on the edge of his hip, steadying himself. His bare cunt rested over the cock cage, weight supported by Azar's thighs, but with enough pressure Azar could feel his wetness through the bars. "I think I enjoy you like this," he mused, rocking back and forth. When he heard no reply, he smiled. "Good."

"Kas..."

"Ah-ah-ah." He leaned forward, hands walking up Azar's chest until his fingertips tilted up his chin. "Good toys don't speak."

Oh, fuck him.

His cunt rocked down in earnest, and Azar hissed a sharp intake of breath, the sensation shooting up his spine and straining at the ropes.

Oh, it was almost unbearable. He'd been able to ignore his cock to some extent pleasuring Kaspar with his mouth and hands, but to have attention on it, to have the object of his desires so close and unable to touch, unable to move...

Kaspar's head fell back in a show of his own pleasure, his lithe form canting his hips with the gracefulness of a snake, his mouth falling open and the most musical moans spilling from his lips.

His hands fell down to splay over Azar's chest, fingers conveniently over his nipples. He seemed to only just notice it, and with a grin, tweaked them both and Azar hissed, jolting as much as he was able in the rope.

"I didn't know you liked your nipples played with."

"Kas!"

Kaspar laughed, then sighed again, and removed one hand to slide down his own front. His neck, his collarbones, his chest, his stomach...

The taste of metal from a lip split with the force of his bite filled Azar's mouth.

Wetness fell through the bars of his cock, beading and trickling down the sensitive skin, then smeared when the flesh of his wet heat managed to touch around the metal. Kaspar keened, repositioning his hips to find a good angle to repeatedly hit his clit on the bars, and it seemed to be working.

He couldn't bear it. "Kas, please."

"Please what?"

"Please... let me... hhhah, please let me out."

"Mm... I'm so... I'm so close like this, though... ah..."

"Kaspar!"

"Alright, alright!" With great, or feigned, reluctance, Kaspar stilled. "Say it again," he murmured through heavy breaths.

His cock strained at the bars, aching, leaking, he was going to lose his mind. "Please let me out."

Kaspar stared at him another moment, as though burning this vision into his retinas.

Then, mercy.

Azar's cock sprang free, the ropes gone, only the collar remained but damn if he couldn't care less about that. Have it your way, but have it!

In less than a moment he flipped them, pinning a yelping Kaspar to his stomach beneath him, lining himself up, and thrusting forward.

They both cried out, but it wasn't enough, and Azar pulled back to thrust forward again to the hilt.

Kaspar generally preferred it slow but deep, but there was plenty of time for that later. Not when he'd spent all night—all trip—teasing Azar like this, no, he could reap what he sowed tonight. Hips colliding with Azar's, Azar's fingertips bruising his waist and no time for thought between having his cunt filled again and again with Azar's cock, and more, by the time Azar was done with him. Oh, he would be a mess by then.

"Slow down," he panted.

"No."

"Azar!"

Azar stilled, buried deep in his cunt so their hips were flush, so Kaspar could feel every inch of his angry cock. "Like this?" He rocked, not enough to pull back but enough to press in, while he pushed Kaspar's back down to arch.

"Ngh..."

This was a better angle. He conjured a pillow beneath Kaspar's hips, readjusted his grip, and pushed in again.

Kaspar's cunt took him wonderfully. He'd never tire of the sight of it splitting to take him, of his cock wet with Kaspar's arousal sinking into his heat again and again and again, of his pretty waist and slender back trembling with the pleasure and shoulder blades protruding with the effort of keeping himself upright— oh, he wouldn't last another minute like this, his cock twitched, and his thrusting grew more erratic—

He felt Kaspar convulse, and he groaned.

He fucked him through orgasm, both of theirs, spilling deep inside him and cursing to feel him tighten around his cock like this. He only slowed when they were done to catch his breath, and Kaspar started to push himself up.

Oh, no, he thought they were done?

Azar pulled out only to flip him to his back, his face flushed and eyes dark with post-orgasmic haze, as he began, "Wh—" But by the ankles, Azar pried his legs apart, and sank back in him with a sigh to the sound of Kaspar's higher-pitched moans.

"We aren't done," Azar grumbled, and thrust again.

"Azar... A-Azar, I can't—"

"You can."

Kaspar moaned, his cunt clenching down on Azar's cock, again.

Gravity pulled him down to take Azar's cock deeper, his thighs shaking beneath Azar's hands to nearly giving out. Azar himself had grown somewhat tired, but it looked like Kaspar needed help getting fucked the way he deserved, so he punched his hips up to meet him. Gods, the sight of him, riding cock like this, his graceful body speared again and again, his thighs painted with slick and cum that stuck in sticky, white tendrils between their skin when they parted, the cum that he took already dribbling out whenever he lifted...

Hm, Azar distractedly thought, I'll have to fix that.

He thrust up again, to Kaspar's defeated moaning.

Kaspar lay over his arm, back pressed to his chest, and he leaned over him to kiss him, sweet and reverent. His lover was breathing hard, the rhythm fluttering from time to time, probably because of his other arm draped down his front to idly play with his folds, soaked with their combined fluids and puffy and sensitive. He only circled his clit, occasionally thrumming his fingers lower, maybe dipping the tip of the middle one in, but it was enough to send shivers through Kaspar's exhausted form, and his head tossed and turned. His breathing quickened.

Azar captured his lips again, his focus. "Here," he whispered. Circled his clit with his thumb, relished the hitch of his breath. "Stay here, with me." Kaspar glanced up through pitiful, half-lidded eyes, but then closed them and lifted his chin up to kiss him again. Good, Azar kissed him, fingertips dipping in. Press on his clit, rub— "Ah—"

One more, just one more. The soft release suffused his body, his head turning to press to Azar's neck, back gently arching, and Azar stroked him through it.

When the touches sent shocks and shivers through his body, Azar removed his hand, and dipped his head to press kisses to his shoulders. "There."

Kaspar lay panting for breath, still as anything but for the rise and fall of his chest. "Not another one," he breathed. One hand lifted to reach behind him and touch Azar’s cheek, slide back, hook his finger under the collar and gently pull him closer.

"Not tonight," Azar promised, kissing where he was pulled. His everything ached, he would not last another round himself. "Get some sleep." His eyes closed, content to lie here with Kaspar, and clean themselves tomorrow.

"Azar?"

"Hm?"

"It's morning."

Azar cracked open his eyes.

He hadn't been paying attention, but from where Kaspar lay facing the balcony, he saw he was right: the sky was brightening to the muted hues of a new day.

Azar grumbled and closed his eyes again.

Kaspar didn’t move, anyway, except to hold Azar’s arms around him. Soon, he was breathing deeply.