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"Pffft, yeah. Y'know my type's the strong ones 'nd the hot bitches with somethin' to look at. Ain't choosy there, Semiu, but this one..." The loud blonde reared his head back, looking at the girl their receptionist had pointed out before, across the bar. "... this one really ain't my type'a shit."
Two drinks in, and Enjin had reached the stage where he was going from irritating straight to unbearable, his voice unconsciously raising to the point where a few people around them threw him dirty glances. Cleaners with a penchant for arrogance, and Enjin with his rather shameless list of conquests, weren't unheard of around town. Behind her glasses, the lanky woman rolled her eyes and tipped her own, clear liquid back, leaving only dripping ice blocks in the heavy tumbler.
"Yeah, Enjin. I know. In fact, the whole bar knows that she ain't your type now." She mumbled, rubbing her thumb along the white smear of lipstick that clung to the glass rim. "Although, I wasn't pointin' her out for you. She deserves better than a douchebag, and quite frankly, I doubt you'd be her type, either." Smirking, and with her voice as velvety and composed as any day, Semiu slipped down from her bar stool. "I was lookin' for me." Black heels clicked as she turned, leaving her tip on the bar beneath the dirtied glass. Then, making her way over to shoot her shot, she left a cackling Enjin behind - this was as far as she could endure him tonight, anyway, and if she hadn't gravely misjudged (how could she, Eyes be thanked), she wouldn't even be at HQ for her night off. Possibly not for the next day, either.
Still smirking, Enjin observed the way Semiu strode over, her hips moving with just a tad more of a swing. Even after her fourth - heavy - drink, she didn't lose control, not of her voice, or her step, or her attire. Really worrying, how she held her liquor, though Enjin hadn't had the chance to comment on that today. His grin turned from snarky to pissed when, indeed, Semiu appeared to be successful, the white head soon vanishing between the crowds, alongside her new acquaintance.
Feeling for his cigarettes, he brushed against something he didn't recognise at the bottom of his pocket. Huh. He didn't keep any knick-knack around, so either he'd forgotten a gift for one of the kids, or some asshole had tried to slip him something. Immediately, his palm reached to grab onto Umbreaker's handle, snatching the umbrella tighter towards himself. Felt pretty normal. Listened to him, too. Ridiculous, to think anybody would even be able to snatch another person's jinki, but then again, the past weeks had turned out eventful enough for him to end up wary.
Only that, now his left hand had grasped onto the foreign object, he wanted to face-palm himself for his own paranoia. Between his fingers lay a zinc-plated talisman, as fresh as they came down here. Right, he had indeed forgotten a gift, and found another reason to smack his forehead, damn how forgetful he got whenever work piled up. He raised one finger to order another drink and pushed himself up, elbow placed atop the counter to glance away from the shabby lineup of liquors, searching the room for a pale blonde mullet.
Didn't take him long to spy the supporter, only two chairs away and in his element while he conversed with one of the hotties from outside HQ, Mil-something. Could've been his sister, for all he understood, and he hadn't exactly noticed her before. Enjin raised one hand as if in test, not quite ready to disturb the two, but well, now that Semiu had left them in favour of her tryst he might as well try and get to know what that girl was called at least.
"Ey, old man!" His inked hand landed on Gris' shoulder hard enough to have the man grunt, turning towards him with a pissed look. Not that Enjin cared much, most people were pissed when he came yelling at them, after all. "Semiu's found a hot chick across the room."
"Left you all alone, huh? I wonder why." The nameless girl raised one of her brows, eyeing Enjin up and down before she smirked, giving Gris an undefined look before she snorted. The fuck you see in him, she wondered, but decided to leave Gris to him anyway. "Alright, man. Was nice meetin' y'all again, but I gotta drive the twins back 'nd we've half the night left to go, so I'll leave you to it."
Another grin, and her fist hit her fellow supporter's shoulder while she strode away, long hair swishing behind her in a shock of pale pink. She was turning Enjin's head, in fact, whose jaw slacked while he didn't even try to be secretive about the stare to her backside, eyeing Mildretta while she left.
Gris, warm and steady beneath the green flannel shirt, raised a brow at the man's drooling, his elbow nudging Enjin's side hard enough for him to focus again.
"You done staring at her, man?"
"Hm? Yeah. Yeah, dude. Sorry, you were sayin'?"
"I wasn't saying anything. Jeez, you should see yourself, you're lucky she didn't look back. I wouldn't have carried you to HQ after she messed ya up, Ensign."
"Yeah, yeah. Didn't beat me up, now, did she?" He smirked, his elbow still in place over Gris' shoulder, dirty blonde hair tousled and hanging down into his eyes where he had not cared to style them after his shower. "Is she your sister? Kinda looks like ya."
"Cause supporters with scars all look the same to dickhead givers like you, I presume?" He didn't seem to truly have hit Gris' self-esteem, judging from the way the older man pinched his waist, one arm around Enjin's burgundy shirt to steady the giver's frame.
"Hm-hm. If they're strong, too. Gotta admit, she might even beat ya."
"Maybe. Sure'd beat you, in a fist fight. Which is admittedly easy, you rely on Umbreaker too much." Immediately, Enjin perked up, determined to launch into a tirade on how he could absolutely tank Gris in a fight, and Mildretta as well, possibly with hands-on examples shown right here, right now. In the bar. Which was the precise reason why Gris guided him back towards the counter, gloved hand resting against Enjin's side until the Cleaner was back to the bar, and his third drink for the night.
"Show me in training tomorrow, man. Not here." He scoffed and set his bottle down, ordering a new one while he eased into the bar stool right next to Enjin.
" 'm so gonna make ya regret your shit..." The blonde mumbled, busy with balancing Umbreaker against his knee and dragging a cigarette from his pocket simultaneously. Once he'd lit it up, he reclined into shrimp position, giving a smirk towards his friend. "I got a lil' somethin' for ya."
"Is it your middle finger again?" They'd seen each other all stages between tipsy and wasted multiple times already, and Gris was a little too aware of just how childish Enjin's 'schemes' could become two drinks in. A grown ass man, and yet he was a damn lightweight when it came to nights out.
"Almost." With a flick of his thumb, he sent the new talisman up into the air from his pocket, dim bar light catching on its bronze surface while it tumbled through the air. Snatching the metal piece out of its trajectory, Gris caught onto what the object laid out in his palm was. Enjin sure found himself satisfied to be the one responsible for Gris lagoon eyes to light up. Both surprised and charmed, he didn't have a better word to describe the look. "Needed a new one, for your superstitions. Be a good sport 'nd keep prayin', I wouldn't wanna kick the bucket too soon." (lol)
"Roger that." Where exactly was the catch, Gris wondered, bracing himself for another type of insult from Enjin. One that never happened, Enjin was already busy with combining whiskey and cigarette smoke in his mouth, and Gris didn't even try to explain why that was a risky endeavour. Enjin wouldn't listen, anyway. "Thanks, mate. Look at you, Rudo's turning you into a big ol' softie now."
Gris laughed, running his thumb along the etched surface. Nice haptic, Enjin seemed to have spent quite a bit on the trinket. Dammit, he was getting soft now, too, mellowed with alcohol while Enjin tapped his foot up and down. Enjin, who rolled his eyes and tipped his chin back, facing the grafitti-covered ceiling while smoke left his lips in a giant cloud. For a while, he stayed still, then he suddenly pushed himself up and finished the last sip of his drink, put his glass down heavily and jumped off the bar stool.
"C'mon, Grissly. Lemme get outside before I get barred for smokin' out the club."
He didn't need to ask twice - the air outside was cool, getting beneath his wide shirt, the toxins barely traceable this time of the year, after acidic rain had fallen and washed the streets, roofs, walls from the poison gathered there by the past days and winds carrying them over the giant shields around settlements. Around the back of the club they went, and down the alleyway. Nobody would dare hurt them if they walked together, after all, and there wasn't much to get out of them, anyway.
"Didn't see anyone worth going home with, huh?" Enjin smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette while they strolled in the broad direction of HQ.
"Not tonight, nah. You? Found anybody strong, or a hot bitch with somethin' to look at?", the supporter wiggled his brows snickering as soon as Enjin puffed himself up.
"You been listenin' in, huh?"
"Hardly can be called that when you're yelling about your type through, I dunno, the entire fucking bar."
"Ugh. You're all so thin-skinned today, Gris." He smirked and threw him an oddly warm glance, coming to a halt where they'd passed a pile of trash bags. "Semiu too, jeez. Would've thought the woman who reads literal fuckin' porn on her front desk would have a lil' chill in that regard."
"Hm-hm. Didn't know you were into strong people, man."
"That a surprise?"
"From you? Yeah, I think so. I mean, I've seen ya with pretty much every type under the sun, just didn't think a man like you enjoys bein' tossed around."
Enjin didn't even try to keep himself from grinning like a madman, his forearm draped over Gris' shoulder while his whisky-tainted breath brushed against his nose. "You're in for a treat, Rubion." He slurred, dimples creasing the skin around his lips.
That had the supporter go from a blank face to furrowed brows, his fingers digging into Enjin's waist, hard enough to surely bruise skin. Both of them were feeling the buzz from their drinks, the air around them thickening all of a sudden when the Giver jerked them towards the next more-or-less comfortable wall. No questions asked, no need for them, either, not when Gris squeezed both sides of his hips as soon as he was pushed into the wall.
" 's this part of my treat already?", he hummed, eyes slanted to taunt the blonde. Cockily, Enjin raised his hands, Umbreaker dangling just below his elbow and nudging Gris' side in the process. Skipping his verbal response, he dove into Gris - he'd waited for too long to kiss his lips, soft in contrast to the stubble scratching Enjin's chin.
Almost instantly, Enjin found himself relaxed where Gris tensed, both palms tightening around his waist. Teeth clattered and Enjin could swear he'd been bitten on his tongue, but with the mess of their kiss he missed the cues. Only when his back met red bricks did he notice he'd been fooled, lifted and tossed like he weighed nothing. "Fucker." He gasped, tastes of tobacco and whisky mingling on Gris' tongue when he pushed down again.
"Can't do fair game today, babe." When he licked into his colleague's mouth, Enjin felt a groan rumble through his throat, embarrassingly easy this late into the night. He didn't miss the chance to wrestle for dominance, mapping Gris mouth out with his tongue. Mistaking his own place in their constellation, he thrust himself forward, in an attempt to flip them all over again, but was met with resistance instead.
Gris had dug his knee upward, forearms tight against Enjin's chest, the pressure just enough to cage him. With a puff of air, he fell back into the wall and squirmed. No matter how he tried, the supporter didn't budge, and Enjin could have mewled.
Oh god, he had in fact mewled, he noticed and swallowed the noise that threatened to follow, sucking against Gris' tongue between his teeth instead. Once he let up, Gris retreated with a bare hint of a smirk, lighting up his face and creasing the scar in a way that had Enjin's knees weaken. "Fuck... gotta get to HQ, my room. Fuck, Grissly."
His hand clenched, where he'd rested it above the other man's shoulders, digging down into the mass of muscle underneath short-sleeved flannel to leave marks for the following day. Straight towards HQ it was, from this point on, with Gris' palming his waist while they hurried down the streets. Possibly the longest way home Enjin could remember, impatience boiling his blood even when he'd locked the door behind them. No kids barging in that night, at the very least not unannounced (they all knew Enjin would put one of the youngsters' needs first, even as horny as he was).
His shirt was flung to the desk, haphazardly landing over his chair, and Gris was certain his stomach had curled into knots the second he laid eyes on the black-and-red swirls on his skin. Dirty blonde hair shimmered on his chest and down his abs as soon as he moved, trimmed into place to not take away from the ink. Despite the late hour, Enjin couldn't care less about his bed creaking while he jumped atop his mattress, loose hair pooling around his head where he stretched out on his back. This might be the sight closest to a god he'd ever spy in this life, Gris decided, especially now that Enjin cast a smirk on him. "You're gettin' cold feet, Rubion?"
Oh. He hadn't noticed that he was rooted in place, hands by his sides, entranced by Enjin. Probably feeding into his arrogance, too, god knew the man was aware enough of his looks even without Gris eyefucking him. The taunts always worked, even with the soft guys, and Enjin huffed for air when the supporter pounced on him, from one second to the next. All air left his lungs in a gasp while he parted his thighs without fighting for dominance, this time. Gris slotted against him, a perfect fit in Enjin's opinion, one that had him raise his hips in need of friction.
"Don't underestimate me, Enjin." His voice had lowered in pitch, sending another bout of adrenaline through Enjin. The giver became dizzy once Gris lost his shirt and was left in his casual khaki pants, muscle straining his skin, with light blonde and wiry hair above. Ochre eyes didn't hold back at all while they raked over Gris abs, the trace of his eyes followed by blackened nails which scratched along the man's pecs. He had to admit, he wouldn't have estimated Gris to be as powerful as he was - strong as an ox, but no musclehead. More on the lean side, like himself. Who would have guessed he hid all of that strength underneath, but Enjin sure did not complain.
For the blink of an eye, Enjin expected his pants to be ripped to shreds, but then the supporter stopped once his belt was unbuckled. Oh no. Gris wanted to say something. Check in. He appreciated the gesture, really did, but hell didn't he need the older man to kill the vibe with sweet talk. His ink-ringed fingers clasped over Gris' lips before he could speak, and Enjin shook his head preemptively.
"Nuh-uh, big guy. We gonna skip the foreplay, you hear me? Imma tell you if I am uncomfortable, but so long as that ain't the case, you gonna fuck the hell outta me until I can't walk tomorrow. You gonna fuck me 'til I scream and then some. We clear, Rubion?"
Enjin's lips peeled back to reveal his teeth, predatorily flashed, gaze burning into Gris' eyes which had switched from conflicted into hungry. He could tell his little speech had worked, from the hardness against his thighs and the swiftness with which both his pants and underwear were stripped down and hit the desk. Neither cared for the clatter with which the belt buckle hit the floor.
"We so clear, Enjin." The name fell like a curse from Gris, shortly before his bearded chin scratched Enjin's swirls on his neck. Up until his breath fanned right below his earpiece, where he knew no tattoos lined the skin. Bite mark after bite mark was left while Gris fumbled with his pant zipper, scrambling out of every piece of clothing all at once. The supporter's movements were accompanied by a particularly painful nip above the throat, leaving deep purple that would be difficult to explain by tomorrow.
A moment's hesitation before he thrust between Enjin, gathering wetness on the underside of his cock. Enough for the blonde to inhale sharply, and tense his entire torso the moment Gris nudged forward, the blunt head nestling in between his folds. Even though he was wet as hell, there was resistance. "You okay, 'njin?"
The space between them was sufficient for Enjin to reach him by stretching his chin up, which was exactly what he did, bringing their lips together. Liquid courage sure helped, but he was certain he would have asked the same had he been sober, too, egging his partner on. "Hm-hm, 'm great. Fuckin' break me already, c'mon." He felt his voice break off at the last syllable, which turned into a hoarse whimper when Gris thrust his hips down. Despite having seen the supporter before, he wasn't expecting the stretch, nor his entire sass leaving for a moment when he was speared by that. "Fuuu-ugh. Man."
Enjin wanted to scream and melt at the same time, his abdomen clenching when Gris pushed the last inches in with astounding ease. What he did instead of melting was scratch down against Gris' back, nails digging red stripes against his shoulder blades, once, twice, before his vision returned and he actively felt the sensation of hair beneath his fingertips. Tracing the lines of hard muscle and bone in his back, Enjin didn't fight the sounds that echoed from him at the slow pace the supporter set for them. Too full to nag Gris about his care, he complied in lifting his hips and accepted the pillow shoved in below him. With his hips propped up, he managed to loosen up his muscles, finally.
He didn't hold back his moans, then, as soon as Gris caught on and matched his request for actually fucking into him. Gris' pace switched from gentle and slow into punishing as he decided to show off his strength for real. Rewarded with mesmerised yellow eyes, he tried to burn this image of Enjin into his mind, how his bedhead scrubbed up and down his mattress, thick strands of hair bunching and straightening from the motion of his skull above.
The little shit was teasing him, Gris noticed after a while of keeping pace - Enjin's mouth was framed by the characteristic wrinkles to either side, deep and pronounced in his lazy smirk while he was groaning louder than necessary. Fake moaning, Gris realised, and the tip of his index pushed against Enjin's teeth. Pull, he urged, and Enjin complied. He spat the glove to the side, once Gris had tugged his hand away from the grey cloth he never seemed to take off.
Bending down, the Giver fully expected another pet name. Sweet talk, or some sort of encouragement from Gris, definetly not --
"Fuck you, Enjin."
He was left empty, his smirk dropping for a second while Gris pushed one arm beneath his thighs. Discomfort ensued, when he was suddenly tossed around, but only for a bare second. Enjin could swear he got wetter at the display of strength, at being flipped single-handedly, his chest and face pressing into the damp mattress below.
"Ah!" He yelled in earnest when a good seven inches slammed in without a break, his cries muffled against his pillow. Gris was behind his navel, that's what it felt like at least, all sort of care thrown out the window for once in his life. "Gris, fuck! Gris, please, more, so fuckin' good..."
Still muffled, he listened to the slap of skin against skin and his nethers squelching after every thrust. He'd never imagined Gris to go all out, nor that he had the guts to separate Enjin's knees further, pressing them apart to somehow reach even deeper. He felt how his muscles danced in his back, causing his cloud tattoos to ripple in red waves. Both of his hands creased the sheets which he gripped for support. They did not offer much purchase, but he could at least cling to the illusion while he swore that the circle around his lower abs was bulging from the size inside him. Might as well give a bit of a show, still, he thought - and found that he was unable to. His body was completely out of his reach, with his hair bundled in Gris' hand, his body too enthusiastically spasming around his dick, and his mouth busy with swearing uncontrollably. There was no need for any show, either, not while he was sweaty and bucking back against the supporter like his life depended on his cock, air forced from his cunt every time Gris bottomed out in him.
"Gris, fuck. So goddamn perfect, dude, ugh."
He was full on babbling, he registered somewhere in the back of his mind, singing praises he wouldn't give lightly, had this been a usual one-night stand. Then the supporter's free hand reached down around Enjin to rub his index against his clit, and he didn't even try to retain his curses, nor the amount of decibels in which he hollered them.
"Fuck, man. 'm almost there, dammit, I ain't gonna be able to stand t'morrow... please don't stop, bloody hell." The string of curses, which mainly consisted of different variations of 'fuck', 'yes', and 'shit' didn't break off. However, with time, his voice began to stagger and roughen, the sheets wearing out where he'd dug into them too deeply. One particularly sharp thrust had his head thrown backwards, and paired with a pinch to his clit his eyes became unseeing while his vision blanked. "Gris, fuck!"
The Giver slumped and bit down, leaving an indent on his painted forearm. He knew how pathetic it was to be shaking and twitching while words of praise - and Gris' name - tumbled from his lips, though he did not give a single shit. His orgasm passed, so very loudly that he couldn't help wonder how many of their peers would make sense of what had happened between them come breakfast. He didn't even try to stop the kisses and bites against the back of his neck, where cropped hair grew into skin.
A bunch of bruises were added to his neck before Gris grunted into his nape, sending vibrations directly through his spine once he began twitching, until he stilled, too. Enjin's vision blacked out for a moment, his jaw locked during the seconds in which Gris held his hip in place, all his strength utilised to grip his colleague. Although, there was no need to force him into position - Enjin pressed up against him, of his own volition and with the last waves of aftershock ebbing through him once Gris throbbed with release. He had wished for this, to end up skin to skin, and Enjin actually did feel his face flush upon noticing how desperate he had been for Gris to finish inside.
Another few seconds went by, in which Gris and his messy, platinum blonde mullet tickled the back of Enjin's head and earshell. Through that time Enjin heard only his own blood rushing in his ears. After a while, however, that rush paired with Gris' laboured breaths. Through his back, he felt the other Cleaner's heartbeat, as quick as his own, and with closed eyes his hand began their search along the sheets. He crept along, until he had nudged the supporter, so that Gris' palm was above the back of his own hand. Enjin squeezed, once he'd weaved their fingers together, a gentle motion. Reassurance, really. I'm here. I am fine, this was so, so good, he tried to express, far more tender in action than his words let on. For when his voice returned to his senses, he did in fact use it immediately, never one to feel shame.
"Fuck, Rubion, babe. Didn't think you'd have it in ya."
Croaking, but at least audibly speaking, Enjin raised his free hand to tap the supporter's shoulder. His weight was beginning to hurt, though he relished the feeling of skin sticking to skin once Gris pulled away. As if neither of them wanted to truly let go yet. Just enough strength was left in Enjin to roll over and toss the messed-up pillow from under his hips to the side. That was a problem for tomorrow, just like cleaning up the sweat and stickiness along his body, between his thighs.
He'd already expected Gris to scurry, that man not only supported on the field but in everyday life, too, and he had been right. Gris was already on the verge of lifting himself up. No wonder he was instantly going for aftercare, the big softie, yet Enjin caught his wrist in time. The one still gloved, encircled by his sticky hand, but Enjin couldn't bring himself to feel sorry. "Stay with me, Gris. Grissly. We gonna clean up tomorrow, free day 'n' all. Just stay the night." He slurred, lips barely parted, the halo of tousled hair enough to draw Gris back in on its own.
Tiredness and oxytocin was a dangerous mix, one that brought Gris down within mere seconds. Slumping from where he'd pushed himself up onto his palms, he instead tugged Enjin's blanket above them with one hand, the other gathering Enjin by the hip. Even more cautiously now, he searched for any sign of discomfort in the giver, and found none. Only a very blissed-out grin, dimples carved on either side of his mouth, and half-lidded eyes. If he had to name the expression in his golden eyes, Gris would probably call that smitten, enamoured even, not that he'd say that out loud. That was a conversation for tomorrow, earliest, and for now, Gris gladly settled in next to Enjin. Arm in arm, their breaths mingled, tangled hair tickling each other against the forehead and, for Gris' hair, the neck.
The kiss was meek in comparison to their makeout session pressed up to alleway walls, and yet, the slow, gentle press of Enjin's lips right against Gris' own felt ten times more meaningful. Dark lashes fluttered shut, and when Gris opened them again, he found Enjin's breath had slowed down. Remarkable, really, Gris mused to himself, how he managed the feat without a cigarette after sex. With the Giver asleep in his arms, sharing a bed - able to stay until tomorrow -, Gris could plot together that this had meant more than a little one-night-stand for Enjin, too. Lucky for them, because Gris would not have let this go either way.