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Enjin knew this was a bad idea. The location was bad, the plan was bad, and worst of all, the members assigned to this job were bad. After hearing about it from Rudo, the first thing Enjin did was try to convince the boss to reconsider his decision.
It’s too risky, Enjin had said. They’re still too young and inexperienced. Can’t you just swap out the members? I’ll go, even. And the boss had listened to him, partly—except Corvus had come up with the fantastic idea of assigning Enjin to accompany them instead.
Now he’s here, in the middle of the desert with a dumbfounded Dear and Rudo and a writhing Zanka who’s just been infected by the one extremely rare parasite-type trash beast. The worst part is that it injects its victims with a deadly aphrodisiac, and unless the injection site is neutralized by human semen, the victim will quickly succumb to madness before mutilating themselves from the inside out.
So yeah, great. Fan-fucking-tastic. This is exactly why Enjin wanted the members to be reassigned in the first place.
Zanka’s face is flushed and slick with sweat. He pants on the ground, clutching fervently at his clothes and squirming like a worm against the hot sand. His mouth hangs open, teal eyes half-lidded with the pupils all dark and dilated, and when he groans, the unfamiliar pitch of it makes the hairs on Enjin’s neck stand on edge.
Rudo, naive as he is, starts to move toward Zanka when Enjin stops him with a firm grab on the shoulder.
“Hey. Can you take Dear back to the base?”
Enjin phrases it like a question to appear friendly and casual, but it’s a command more than anything else. Rudo looks as if he’s about to refuse—face all scrunched up and mouth ready to chew him out and complain—but the grave expression on Enjin’s face must have convinced him otherwise because the kid visibly deflates. Rudo stares at him, then glances at Zanka, and then turns towards Enjin again.
“You’re… gonna bring Zanka back, right?”
“Yep. I’ll bring him back safe and sound, promise,” Enjin says with a big cheeky smile and a thumbs up for extra reassurance.
Rudo still seems hesitant, but he eventually grabs Dear and they head back in the direction they came from. The wind erases their footsteps from the sand as their figures become nothing more than distant smudges against the hazy sky.
So now it’s just him and Zanka.
Enjin sighs.
Fuck.
If this was Gris or Delmon or even Tamsy, Enjin might have been able to proceed with a clearer head. It’s not like he hasn’t been in shitty situations before; they live in a world where one misstep could be their last, after all. Enjin fights against the looming threat of death day by day, but this situation feels different—more dire, somehow. Maybe because fucking your mentee so he doesn’t kill himself doesn’t exactly sound good-spirited or heroic.
It has to be done, though. Enjin fights trash beasts and protects his teammates, that’s all Enjin does, and he can do it now, too.
His Umbreaker won't help him here, so he posts it on the ground a little ways above Zanka's head to provide some relief from the sun. Enjin sheds his jacket next and sets it down beside Zanka before kneeling at the boy's side. He flips him over onto his back as gently as he can.
“Enjin… ‘s that you…?”
Zanka’s pupils are so large now they completely eclipse the color of his eyes. That's not good.
Through pants, he continues: "Why’s it… so hot? Feels like... 'm gonna die…”
Enjin reaches over to angle the Umbreaker down when Zanka latches onto his wrist, resting Enjin's hand across his burning forehead. The kid sighs contentedly.
“Finally... Nice an’ cool…”
All Enjin has to do is come on the site of the infection. Whichever hole was infected will be marked with a glowing red plus sign, near impossible to miss—easy, right? He reaches for Zanka’s jaw with his free hand and pulls down his chin to check the inside of his mouth.
No plus. Just his luck. That means…
“Sorry, Zanka. Forgive me. I have no other choice."
He releases himself from Zanka’s grasp and pulls the boy's pants down swiftly, only to be met with confused murmurs of dissent.
Zanka stares up at him with those big, round eyes of his. Any sharpness to them is completely gone now. "Enjin...? What're you..."
Zanka holds onto his wrists again, both of them this time, his hands smaller than Enjin's own and balled into loose fists. The implication of what Enjin has to do only really hits him now.
He hadn't considered that Zanka would resist. Of course he would, and he has every right to, but Enjin hadn't considered that he would have to fuck Zanka against his will. Isn't that rape? He hadn't considered it that far, yet. It hadn't felt real, yet. It sure feels real now.
He reminds himself he's doing this to save Zanka's life. Better him than Dear or Rudo, who are both too young. If anyone should have to play the bad guy here it should be Enjin. But at the end of the day, Zanka's just a kid, too. What if he would have preferred Rudo instead? Would that have been less traumatizing?
Snap out of it. There's no time for this. If he's not fast enough, the parasite will eat away at Zanka.
He shakes off Zanka's hands and hates how easy it is to do so. It feels completely wrong as he brushes a thumb past Zanka's hole, pulling at the skin there and failing to ignore the kid's choked gasp as the red plus sign inside pulses, mocking him.
Spit's all Enjin's got. He wets his fingers and can barely get a single digit inside. Zanka's tense, closing up as if to keep him out. Enjin grits his teeth and massages at Zanka's inner thigh in a silent apology. What will open him up? What's the fastest way? Is there even a method that's as uninvasive as possible?
Everything seems too intimate and wrong in a situation like this. Kissing him and holding him and handling him are all off the table; he wants to be in and out as cleanly as possible, no marks left behind. The less territory charted, the better.
But he didn't think it'd be so hard to even just prepare him. That was supposed to be the easy part. He figures he can't take his time and be considerate. He has to sacrifice one or the other, and he doesn't have the luxury of time.
Enjin spreads Zanka's cheeks apart and leans in closer to his ass, mouth centimeters away from his opening, and spits directly on it. He rubs quick, harsh circles on the rim, teasing in and out of his hole with just the tip of his finger, working at it until it gives and he can start to go down to his knuckle. Even then, the give is nowhere near as smooth as he'd like. He tests a second finger; Zanka groans. The aphrodisiac must be progressing.
When he tries for a third finger Zanka stammers, murmuring wait and stop and hold on, all of which doesn't fall on deaf ears because Enjin hears it all in disturbingly close clarity. A deep-rooted sorry is all he manages to say as he pries Zanka's legs apart.
Zanka's stuttered noises turn into moans as Enjin continues to work at his hole, and despite the fact the aphrodisiac is helping to loosen him up, it also signals Enjin has less time than he'd like.
He isn't hard yet.
Getting hard isn't the problem, it's staying hard. Will he even be able to finish?
He catches a glimpse of Zanka's face and immediately regrets it. Here lies his mentee who's over ten years his junior, sprawled out beneath him and half-naked with an eager, leaking dick, his expression entirely wrong. Fucked up. Zanka has a fucked-up grin on his face; way too enthusiastic. His cheeks beam red like he's feverish and every once in a while his tongue will loll out as drool drips down past his chin. There's nothing dignified about it. Enjin rolls up Zanka's sash and stuffs the tail end of it into the kid's mouth so he won't bite off his tongue.
He finally pulls his own cock out. It takes longer than usual but he strokes himself to full hardness, thinking about ass and tits and everything but Zanka as he lines himself up, and if a god exists out there he hopes that despite the overwhelming evidence, this isn't Zanka's first time.
The stretch has to be painful. He knows it is, can tell it is just from the way he can barely move, cock all backed up and stuttering like a car in a traffic jam, but if Zanka's in any pain at all he doesn't show it. Instead, all Enjin hears is maniacal laughter.
Enjin tries not to think about why he can start moving and just does it. Strands of hair stick to his forehead and he can feel his clothes clinging to his back. It's hot. His Umbreaker helps alleviate the heat somewhat but it doesn't spare him from the beads of sweat dribbling down his face and onto Zanka.
In the moment he figured missionary would be the most comfortable for Zanka but he hates the idea of it now. He has full view of Zanka's fucked-out eyes and he has to make the conscious effort of looking above him, to the side of him, anywhere but the kid's face.
It's hard when Zanka's hands clamor for purchase, grabbing at Enjin's shoulders and pulling him close. He wraps his legs around Enjin and digs his heels into Enjin's back.
Clammy here, clammy there. When he fucks into Zanka there's a brief moment where their skin meets, unyielding. He tries to fixate on the sound that makes instead of Zanka's muffled moans against his ear.
A growing pressure builds in Enjin's gut, hot and coiled and uncomfortable, and he can't tell if it's from the stimulation or from the situation he's found himself in now. He figures it doesn't matter, whichever one it is, so long as he finishes. So long as he doesn't think about it, the body below him is just another body, tight and warm. He doesn't need to think to move.
He can do this: shut his eyes and just move on autopilot, saving the day the way he's done multiple times before.
Zanka mumbles something eerily close to "Enjin" and all pretense of delusion shatters on the spot right then and there.
He'll save Zanka and Zanka will wake up sore and aching. Even if he doesn't remember all the collective parts, surely he'll remember the beginning. And even if he comes to understand why Enjin had to do this, would he agree? How is Enjin still supposed to face him after this?
Because the truth of the matter is that Enjin knew this was a possibility. It was a plausibility. He knew this was likely to happen and could have done more to prevent it. He could have pushed further when discussing with Corvus. He could have put up a stronger fight. He knew which members were following along on the trip and could have tried harder to push back against it, but didn't. He didn't do enough, and now Zanka is paying the price for his inadequacies.
Enjin licks his own salty lips. Wind blows sand into his eyes and he blinks away the burn as Zanka's hands roam his body. It doesn't feel nearly as terrible as it should, which only serves to make him feel worse.
Zanka's nails start to rake down Enjin's back and the sting alerts him. If his skin is all raised and red later, that's all good and fine with Enjin. Better him than Zanka. So long as he can minimize as much damage to Zanka as possible, Enjin doesn't care whatever injuries he himself will walk away with. He'll survive. He always has.
Zanka will too—although whether he'll forgive him for this is less certain, but Enjin will willingly take the blame for that.
The aphrodisiac must be at full throttle by now; he's not sure how much time has passed. Every minute feels like a century. Enjin fucks like a robot, all mechanical and lifeless with no heart to his movements. Zanka's arms are wrapped tightly around him in a vice grip such that Enjin's forehead hovers just barely above Zanka's. He tries to maintain that fine line of distance, however small it may be, until Zanka spits out the cloth stuffed in his mouth and leans in to give Enjin a kiss.
Enjin evades it at the last second, flinching away. It doesn't seem right to kiss him when Zanka's obviously being influenced by the aphrodisiac. When Zanka attempts it a second time using his own arms as leverage, Enjin pins his hands above his head and picks up the pace.
With his eyes closed Enjin's senses are heightened. Hot here, hot there, hot everywhere. He chases after that feeling burning beneath his core, dim at first like distant starlight until it grows in intensity, hotter and brighter and set to burst.
When Enjin finally comes, relief isn't the emotion that first floods him. Zanka's body relaxes as he drifts off to sleep, fluid spilling out between his legs and onto Enjin's jacket.
His life has been saved, but at what cost?