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A Shudderkin Tribute

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The Dead Men were a close unit: they knew each other better than brothers, the best of friends, and after several hundred years they’d even managed, by and large, to get past the squabbling stage. It stood to reason, then, of course, they’d experiment with each other romantically and sexually. Some relationships lasted much longer than others, but it had been accepted for a decade now that Anton and Larrikin were the golden pair. They were perfect together, adorably sweet, and provided the perfect support for each other in these troubling times. They were romantic and pure, and Anton even smiled, but as you’d expect, when the others were asleep with one man a mile out on watch, they indulged themselves in sin.

And Shudder’s magic was made of sin and darkness, so he was really quite good at it.

Larrikin’s breathing stuttered every time Anton moved and his eyes were wide and watering. The two lay on the ground on their sides, Anton’s front pressed against Larrikin’s back, and the larger man enveloped his boy almost entirely. Anton had to admit, Larrikin was doing a better job at keeping quiet than he had anticipated: he knew this had been risky, for soldiers slept incredibly lightly, but the cheeky smile Larrikin had given him at dinner ruined the carefully-built resistance in Shudder’s mind and before he knew it, night had fallen and he had fingered Larrikin hard and fast to the background of the even breathing of their companions, whispers of filthy pet names occasionally falling past the lips of them both. Now, Anton was driving his cock as deep as he could into Larrikin over and over, lube seeping out of his hole and onto Anton’s thighs. Larrikin sighed out loud and Anton stilled for a second, listening for any sign it had alerted their friends, but Larrikin wriggled insistently and Anton couldn’t help himself from carrying on before he was sure. Before this annoying brat had become a Dead Man, Shudder has been formidable for both his skill in battle and his iron resistance; Larrikin’s spirit and love burned so hot it could melt that in a second, filling Anton with a warmth he’d never before experienced.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world, but the thought of love only crossed his mind briefly as Larrikin’s body jerked slightly and he clenched around Anton’s dick. Anton felt scrabbling against his free wrist, the one resting on Larrikin’s hip, and he allowed the ginger man to put both of their free hands against his own dick, and Anton obliged, continuing to fuck his boyfriend as he began to jerk him off. Anton himself made a low noise as Larrikin began to tremble, squirming and pushing back against the larger man, breathing as hard as he did in battle. Anton didn’t care by now. This was amazing, pleasurable, and so what if someone did come over and see them? They’d see how beautiful Larrikin was. How much he gave himself to Anton. Anton stopped thrusting for a moment, although he kept his hand moving on Larrikin’s cock, and moved to put his lips against Larrikin’s ear.
“Saracen is awake,” Anton lied, barely more than a whisper. Larrikin whipped his head to the side to look at Anton, almost bumping his head in his haste. His eyes were wide and brimming with tears, not from upset, but from the intenseness of the feelings.
“He is? Did we wake him?”
“Mm. If he comes over, he’ll see you like this.” Larrikin’s eyes widened even more for a second, and he kissed Anton quickly.
“He’ll see you taking me so well. See how good you are for me. How well-behaved you’re being. Would you like that?” Larrikin nodded vigorously and bucked up against Anton’s hand, but when he settled back he made a choked noise. If he did that, he’d be fucking himself on Anton’s cock.

So Larrikin, obviously, did it again. He whimpered softly and now Anton’s eyes widened, keeping Larrikin’s gaze even as his eyes glazed over with pleasure.
“Saracen is coming over,” Anton lied again. Larrikin moaned softly.
“I want him to see me, Sir. Want him to see what you do to me.”
Anton leant down again and kissed Larrikin, dominant but still sweet, and Larrikin kissed back like he’d die if he didn’t. He made a strangled noise into Anton’s mouth and dropped his head back to the ground, bucking faster and with a little less rhythm.
“Sir, please-“
“Shush, Larrikin.”
“I’m-I’m so sorry, please, Sir, squeeze my dick harder, please Sir I’m going to come-“ Anton obliged, tightening his fingers around Larrikin and it was exactly what Larrikin wanted. He keened and fucked Anton’s hand erratically a few more times before he came, filling the condom he was wearing (Anton had reasoned that otherwise, there’d be a cold damp patch on the bedroll for the rest of the night, and Larrikin agreed wholeheartedly, because apparently his favourite emotion was being warm as he slept) and slumping against Anton. Anton heard the noise of Larrikin’s wail but didn’t care, didn’t register the noise as he felt Larrikin collapse softly into his arms and held him tightly as he fucked into him hard, chasing his own orgasm. Larrikin whimpered, squirming, and Anton relished in it, the cute little noises and sighs as Larrikin felt so overstimulated but so good. It was a few minutes later when Anton’s orgasm crashed over him, and he didn’t have the breath to tell Larrikin, so he just clutched his lover hard and drove himself deeply into Larrikin, who resumed his louder kind of whimper. Anton thrusted a few more times before falling still, loosening his death grip on Larrikin and turning it more into a hug.

The pair lay panting for maybe thirty seconds before Anton eased himself out of Larrikin with an obscene noise, partially obscured by another moan from Larrikin. He cut it off as fast as he could, as Anton was careful not to let his lube-covered dick touch any of the fabric. He pulled off his own condom, ignoring the warm and sticky jelly that transferred to his fingers and nudged Larrikin, who came back from a world of his own for a second to pull off his own. The two spent rubbers were dropped into a scrap of newspaper near to their pushed-together bedrolls which Anton folded in on itself to throw away in the morning. As much as he wanted to just sleep there and then, they needed to put some more clothes back on, in case the temperature dropped more in the night, so he helped Larrikin pull his underwear back on and then his trousers, with Larrikin complaining softly the whole time of aching. Anton redressed himself and finally settled down, helping Larrikin flip himself over so his face was buried into the crook of Anton’s neck.
“‘at was s’ g’d,” Larrikin whispered, very muffled. Anton smiled slightly and leaned back so he could look down at his boyfriend, who looked up at him and grinned with the light of the sun.
“Just so you definitely know, we didn’t wake Saracen.”
“I know. It was hot in the moment, but I would have died at breakfast. I was crying, Anton. You’re so good I was crying, really really good tears.”
“It surprises me there are such thing as good tears.”
“Well, you make me cry them. And if you ever leave me, then I’ll cry bad tears.”
“I’d hate to do that.”
“So don’t leave.”
“I won’t,” Anton said, allowing Larrikin to snuggle back up against him and holding his warmth close, happier and more contented than he’d ever been before.