Work Text:
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ero·to·gen·ic / ɪˌrɒtəˈdʒɛnɪk / adjective
- originating from or causing sexual stimulation; erogenous
Kaveh’s frantic, his heart a thundering clamour in his chest.
This isn’t right, he thinks; wants to protest aloud as he struggles against his bonds, against the arousal and insatiable hunger that’s coursing through his blood, itching through every filament of his being.
It isn’t right, it isn’t good (it shouldn’t feel good), but—
But the only sound he manages past his lips is a strained gasp as he continues to watch—transfixed, enamoured—how Al-Haitham jerks, shivers, when Kaveh slides deep into him again in one easy stroke, one jarring motion.
Al-Haitham groans at the contact, the violation, his voice almost sultry and reverberating low in his chest, thighs spread and trembling, back arching up in a perfect curve beneath Kaveh’s body. And Kaveh can only draw a sharp inhale at the sight; at the rush of heat blooming in his belly and his groin, flaring up his spine.
He releases another ragged breath, tongue flicking over his incisors. Shifts his weight to lean in closer, and adjusts his grip, letting himself be drawn in, to be swallowed further into that slick, slick wetness, and the engulfing warmth of Al-Haitham clenched firmly around the length of his throbbing shaft.
It isn’t right, but it’s necessary, Kaveh thinks—reasons—despairingly to himself. The only way he knows to help, to break this compulsion that continues to overwhelm both their senses, triggered by an ancient curse that had shaped itself into a mass of grotesque vines and tendrils lurking beneath the Ley Lines of the ruins they had been exploring earlier. The only way he knows to remove the wretched spell that’s now branded into Al-Haitham’s damp and flushed skin, a distorted Dendro mark pulsing brightly over the planes of his lower abdomen and just above his stiff cock. The residuals of the curse filters into Al-Haitham’s bloodstream, tingling his frayed nerves; a starburst of sickly green and dark crimson of the mark sitting coiled and festering like venom within his gut, fracturing his resistance, his rationality.
Kaveh has already lost count of the number of times they had orgasmed by now, his head still muzzy from the suffocating heat surrounding them, his reddened skin prickling all over with a heightened sensitivity from overstimulation. Below him, Al-Haitham’s chest heaves with exertion as his pants, short and sharp, pale streaks of come and sweat squelching between their naked bodies with every trembling rise and fall of his ribs.
Before either of them can try to speak, something slithers between them—long, dark, and slimy—and–Al-Haitham coughs; retches when one of the rough vines holding him down forces a tendril past his bruised lips, a translucent slime oozing from its tip into his mouth and down his protesting throat. Kaveh himself had been forced to swallow a mouthful of the thick, cloying slime earlier, the effects of the liquid quickly taking root and surging through him like wildfire, his mind clouding with an aphrodisiac fog and an aching need for more,more,more.
Lust-addled and unable to resist the maddening compulsion to breed, Kaveh drags Al-Haitham’s hips closer, his fingers gripping more contusions into the bruised skin. His swollen cockhead delves past that moist, come-filled rim once more, and Kaveh lets out a low, shaky groan, sinking himself deeper into that tight, inviting heat, and Al-Haitham is choking, gasping at the burning intrusion, his eyes hazed over with pain, with arousal when the sickly appendage finally draws out of his mouth, his wrists, thighs and ankles still held down and splayed apart by the vines twirled fiercely around them.
First times aren’t supposed to feel like this; to ache, to hurt with such visceral desire. To drive Kaveh nearly ill with a gut-wrenching carnality as he thrusts desperately into Al-Haitham again and again, the pleasure growing thick and hot, a coiling molten heat in his veins.
First times are supposed to be special and cherished; to mean something—
—Oh, but this does mean something, the curse drawls at the back of Kaveh’s mind, its grotesque tendrils grasping, twisting at the edges of a deep-seated longing within him, a yearning Kaveh could never dare to voice, even to himself.
It means you want this—you want to claim him as your own. To break and use him until he submits himself wholly to your whims, to every debaucherous need.
The vines wrapped over his hips and thighs tighten their hold, jostling Kaveh to quicken his pace, even as he tries again to break free of the squirming dark mass of tentacle-like appendages keeping them connected and entangled at the seams, forcing him to rut incessantly into Al-Haitham. His breath hitches when he feels a smaller tendril circling the base of his cock, its slimy, bulbous tip seeking entrance to penetrate past Al-Haitham’s slicked rim into his wet engulfing heat alongside Kaveh’s length.
Al-Haitham lets out another pained gasp, shuddering involuntarily at the sudden increased stretch, at the growing pressure of Kaveh’s cock and the ribbed tendril pistoning in and out with obscene squelches. And Kaveh detests himself for that spike of arousal and raw ecstasy, that feverish delirium rushing through him when he feels Al–Haitham’s body seize up and grow taut under him, the muscles of his abdomen twitching from exertion and exhilaration with every rough thrust.
Go on then, the curse’s voice is a dark whisper in Kaveh’s ears, a velvet noose of pleasure curling possessively around his throat, compelling him further. See how we’ve made him so pliant, so yielding for you. Look at how eager he is, impaling himself on your engorged cock—on ours. This is what you yearn for in your dreams every night, isn’t it?”
“Shut up. Get out of my head!” Kaveh hisses, red with anger, with shame, with an aching need for more. He inhales deeply as he shakes himself, struggling to focus, to wrest control from the disembodied voice taunting his mind, his heart. But he’s torn by the mixed sensations of revulsion and white-hot desire, of the pleasure cresting, higher and higher, within him, and Al-Haitham is so slick and hot and tight around him, it’s too much, too easy to succumb and be completely engulfed by it all.
Kaveh can barely stifle the loud keening moan that’s crawling up his throat with each exhale of breath, with every vicious snap of his hips as he increases his pace along with the squirming tendril—in and out, in and out—as he loses himself to the thrill, wild-eyed and desperate, plunging his cock deep, deep, deeper, until he’s wringing a wailing cry from Al-Haitham; until he’s spilling his release just as Al-Haitham convulses, arching up into Kaveh’s frenzied hold as the intense orgasmic rush of pain and pleasure lances through them once again.
※
For a long moment, there is only the sounds of their exhausted pants echoing in the lull, the tremulous beat of their hearts steadying as their breathing gradually evens out. The vines have released their vice-like hold, the tendrils retreating back into the shadows when Kaveh finally finds enough strength to lift himself from Al-Haitham.
Guilt is already curdling at the back of his throat when Kaveh glances down anxiously, taking in the welts and dark contusions scattered all over Al-Haitham’s bare skin. Al-Haitham’s eyes are still closed in exhaustion, the kohl smudged under his damp lashes running in dark streaks over his still-flushed cheeks, his body limp and boneless against the ground. But the cursed Dendro mark no longer glows as wickedly bright over his lower abdomen, the entwining curls in his flesh nearly faded from the intensity of their last copulation.
“Kaveh…” Al-Haitham’s hoarse voice pulls Kaveh away from spiralling further down his morose thoughts. He reaches for Kaveh with a gentle hand, eyes fluttering open despite his weariness as he draws Kaveh close again, bringing both their hands to wrap around his half-erect cock.
“Again…” Al-Haitham gasps softly when Kaveh lays them back down on their sides, aligning their bodies together once more before he lifts Al-Haitham’s left knee and slides himself back inside. Al-Haitham moans again, grinding back against Kaveh’s thickening cock, the heat rising between them. “J-Just once more… should remove the mark entirely… and we…”
“Hush, Al-Haitham… It’s okay, leave it to me.” Kaveh only hums; presses an apologetic and comforting kiss into Al-Haitham’s neck as he begins to move again.
Yes, he promises, a dark vehemence in every word, to the insidious, disembodied curse that’s still lurking, waiting in the shadows. I will break and destroy you.
He will break this wretched spell and find a way back out of the ruins. He will ensure Al-Haitham’s exhaustion and injuries are tended to once they reach the safety of Aaru Village.
Then, Kaveh will return to the ruins once more, and he will destroy this curse thoroughly, setting the abhorrent vines and tendrils alight in flames, ensuring that none would fall into its entrapment ever again.
—End—