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Who knows how these all occurred all of the sudden. It’s not like Gris planned this, and a plan doesn’t necessarily come out of Enjin’s mouth.
It was right after a mission. Nothing too bad. Perhaps they were tired. Too tired.
Exhausted.
And a bit drunk, somehow. Which was unlikely for the two with both highest alcohol tolerance, but hey, let the men loose once in a while, they’ve babysit enough younglings through the entire month.
Enjin kept on whining and complaining about how tiring it was having to look out for them all. Moreover the kids (although they are mostly no longer at the age to be considered as such, but there are no other words fitting best) got the tendency to create miracles, and by miracle he meant bringing another arc to his already way too long life. There was no venom in it though. No matter how much he’d try to admit it, Gris would always nod along, sipping and pouring another round just because he knew Enjin cared deeper than he can show. That’s just how he is. Enjin.
Enjin.
The fated one. Yeah.
The part where they stumble back to HQ was long forgotten, although Enjin vaguely remembers seeing the vein tightening on Semiu’s neck, but oh well- Tomorrow him problem.
He may be wasted, but his body still follows Gris like a moth to a lamp. Which is how they ended up here in the cleaner’s room, his vital instrument set aside somewhere around the room.
Right now, his eyes are all on Gris. He moves deeper into the room, familiarized with the arrangement despite his wobbly legs. Arms moving to take off the oversized collared shirt, exposing his defined back, fading scars scattered all across the pale canvas. Gris is taller, boarder, a lot more to see. Enjin might as well be drooling with how his mouth falls open slightly, his eyes travelling down. Way down, even when the man in front of him turned towards him, one eyebrow raised at him.
“Are we going to?” Gris asked with a gentle- almost slurry voice. The hands clenching on his crumpled shirt.
Are they going to? What? Had Enjin told him that he wanted Gris spread out on his bed, hands above his head so the only thing muffling his beautiful sound was his own lips? What?
Gris set aside his clothes before sitting on the bed. Legs slightly spread and boy Enjin didn’t miss how the short stretches with it. The supporter let out a snort, breaking Enjin out of his fantasy. His smile forces the scar on his left eye to move along with it.
“Your eyes are goggling all over me.”
Enjin scoffs, eyes finally meeting Gris’, “Beautiful view, woulda been a waste if I ignore it.”
“Should we sleep off the night?” He asked, no judgement. There never really is when it comes from Gris.
“Rubion. Gris Rubion.”
“Yes?”
Enjin doesn’t directly answer that question. He walked closer to his beacon, one hand caressing over Gris’ shoulder. Firm touch, Enjin makes sure his fingertips scans over his skins even when familiar with how many times they’ve done this already. His palm slowly shifts toward his nape, toward the back of his hair. He grabs a handful of the silk blonde hair, giving it a little tug, prompting the supporter to look up with a yelp. His lips slightly parted.
It does not take long for Enjin to take his chance and lean down, his lips meeting those of his man. One of them tilts their head, allowing both of them to sink deeper into the kiss. The two men spiralling around it, head unclear of the world above and beyond them and only on each other. Enjin bites on his underlips and elicits a staggered gasp from the older man, allowing him to shove his tongue inside.
Gris has always tasted sweet, even without the alcohol.
An addiction Enjin would rather not come clean.
Somewhere along the line, maybe when Enjin barely gives him time to breath and his other hand is kneading on his chest, Gris loses his balance and flop onto the bed with blood rushing to his face. Enjin allows him to get comfortable as he takes off his attire and throws it to who knows where. After that, he swiftly slipped in between Gris’ legs with a smug face, who was actually in the middle of taking off his shorts. Finally.
If there was god, Enjin would straight up pull out a middle finger to it because it’s a fake. He has seen the real one. Gris was perfect. From the tip of his blonde hair, lips red from his kisses, scars all over to his toned skin, to wherever Gris ends. He was perfect, something that Enjin’s not.
Calloused, yet gentle hands came up to touch his face. Dissolving all previous thoughts into mere white noises. He could feel himself sobering up.
“If you keep on staring, morning’s gonna come up.” Gris spoke lightly, betraying his quickened breath, “They are up early when there’s no work.” And they won’t have time by then.
“Right.” Enjin gets to work.
Underneath was a box full of his miniscule-but-too-busy-to-tidy things. Empty lighter, adult magazines, badges, condoms, a lube, you name it. He only grabbed the last two though before shoving the box back with a thud.
Setting the condom aside for now, he poured the lube onto his fingers, warming it up. His eyes never left Gris’ blue.
“It’s been a while.” Gris commented as his hands hooked around his own legs, lifting them up, making space for Enjin to get closer. He smiled seeing the younger one immediately take action.
“Eh.” Enjin shrugs, adjusting his position. He moves his hands downward, the tip of his index finger found Gris’ entrance, teasing the tight rim. Something in Enjin’s mind cleared when a quiet sigh slipped out of that beautiful lips, “You were busy. I was busy. The brats too, I guess.”
“Exactly. A-ah..” A finger slipped in. Then two, because Enjin knows Gris can take it. The third one soon followed, and Enjin finally felt the warm muscle fighting back.
The older man broke down a few moans and groans when Enjin started to move his fingers. At first it was subtle, too subtle, he didn’t even move more than a centimeter. The cleaner lets his partner get used to it. He listened to Gris’ voice, every plea, every calling of his name, using it as an anchor to calculate his next movement.
He loves seeing Gris lost in the pleasure he offers. Etched it to his mind so he can replay this moment. In return, he gets the pride to keep going.
Enjin bended down, his lips trailing kisses and little pecks all over the older’s chest. He remembered well where he put marks and spots when they did this weeks ago, some he frequently left in the same spot because it pulls out the most reaction out of Gris. The bed creaked underneath them from Gris’ sudden movement, and whose fault was that if it weren’t for the Umbreaker wielder jabbing on his prostate just because he knew every inch of his body by heart?
“Get onto it, get onto it– En–” Gris’ blue eyes closed shut, eyebrows knitted when the pleasure sky rocketed. Blood rushing to his cheeks, travelling to the tip of his ears. One of his hands gripped Enjin's bicep. Hard, “Enjin.”
“Ow! What the fuck, you’re gonna break a bone there!”
He won’t. The cleaner pulled out his fingers anyway, ignoring the hiss coming from the other.
Gris managed to jokingly roll his eyes at the hyperbolic (if that’s something you’d call as an eye roll, Enjin would call it looking up and down the ceiling) before fixing up his position, bringing his partner closer, their hips practically molding onto each other from the heat and sweat. He could see, Enjin doesn’t even give a single damn of hiding his raging boner, not like he has any reason to either way.
Gris patted around the bed until he found the packet Enjin had previously put carelessly. Ripping it open and pulling out the condom, “Come here.” He said without meaning, they’re already as close as humanly possible.
Putting it on Enjin was fast, not the first time his fingers trail along the shaft, making sure the elastics don't rip over the piercings, all that… But dealing with his teasing took a while. He was applying the lube when the other’s tattooed fingers sneak all over his hair, disarranging it. He could see him grinning without even looking up. Enjin sure loves to play with his hair when he’s taller than him position wise. Not that Gris ever mind, he finds it endearing, even.
The hands trailed from his hair to his face, passing the stubble to his jaw.
Enjin lifted up Gris’ face, taking in the big blue eyes looking up at him. The dim lamp makes the perfect shine on his face, highlighting the scar running down his left eye and the faint wrinkles on his cheekbones. With those star-struck features, Enjin often wonders what does Gris even see in him? The best answer is to not even ask, because Gris would go on and on. Telling him all about things Enjin doesn’t recognize or refuse to. He could literally write an essay with those ‘facts’ and defend it.
And when Gris let out a toothy smile, Enjin nearly folds.
“Done yet?”
Gris must've seen his yellow eyes widened, because he waited. He waited until Enjin could give him an answer: A nod.
“Yeah.”
And Gris guides him down with him, pulling Enjin into a kiss. He closed his eyes, not needing to see to know Enjin would handle him well. The younger’s hands sneak downward while they were both distracted eating each other out, guiding his erection towards the entrance. It’s been a while, it will probably hurt a bit from the intrusion, but neither of them had the thought of stopping now.
The tip pushed past the tight rim. Gris broke the kiss to let out a startled moan, nails immediately latching onto Enjin’s back once he bent down. He held Gris’ whole body when he finally bottomed out, whispering all good nothing on the older’s ears even when he felt himself melting from sheer heat engulfing his cock. He groaned, “Fuck, fuck… Gris.”
It was not a call, Enjin lost all his words to his name. Yet the owner still answered in silence. His hand moved to the back of Enjin’s fade, almost touching the big scar on his temple.
“I’m here.”
Gris truly is here. Enjin’s holding him close.
For a while, Enjin barely moved. His hips forgot how to function in this situation despite listed years of experience. He turned his head, kissing the tears hanging on the older’s eyelash, his cheek, nose, lips. He swallowed every noise Gris’ made, whimpering and crying. He savored each movement, each twitching from the sore and overstimulated muscles. Nothing felt enough, he might as well go insane, wow.
The golden orbs meet those blues. The sun kissing his sky. Enjin’s body moves on its own.
Slowly, he pulled back, leaving only the tip inside. His ears listening intentively to every moaned, pained twitch Gris makes. The older man tilted his head, looking for an angle that doesn’t make breathing seem like a chore. The smooth blonde hair fell on his face, sticky due to sweat, covering half of his eyes. Pretty eyes.
Enjin’s hand reached out to move the hair away, revealing that oh so beautiful baby blue eyes. Does Gris even know he’s this beautiful? Is it even fair that someone is both admirably strong, kind, and gorgeous? Man. Whatever shall he do. The cleaner ends up kissing the top end of the scar on his partner’s eye.
Without warning, he plunged right in, pushing the oxygen out of Gris’ lungs.
“Enjin!”
-was probably the last coherent and grammatically correct sentence that will come out of Gris’ lips.
Enjin sets out a brutal pace, not giving Gris a chance to protest, only to cling onto him for dear life. It may not appear due to the tattoo all over his back, a shame really, but the stings from his nails digging into his flesh will stay for at least some days. The friction of his walls and those darn piercings only drives the older crazy. He had initially been baffled by the choice a long time ago when Enjin first showed it off, but here he is anyway. Mercilessly fucked beyond his sane mind.
The cleaner rolled out his hips as he gripped the back of the supporter’s legs and guided it forward, almost folding him in two. The side of his lips quirks up seeing Gris’ eyes widen when his own knees come into picture.
The position was fatal (well, at least for Gris), allowing the younger to dive even deeper. More precise.
It’s always like this: Enjin loves making a mess, especially out of Gris.
“F- Fu– Ah, Enjin!”
“Stay with me, Gris Rubion.”
The bastard murmured. Gris is not even sure his soul is still on the Ground or has reached the Sphere. Probably in between, split perhaps. He could only let out a shaky moan as Enjin kept on pounding right on the sensitive nerves. Above anyone else, it is the blonde cleaner that knows too much. Where to touch, where to press to make all the circuits in his brain all fizzed up. He knows damn well of the telltale when Gris is about to reach his climax, legs locking him in a death hug, mouth agape open. It wouldn’t be Enjin if he doesn’t abuse it.
One of his hands travelled down toward Gris’ untouched member, slick with precum pooling on his belly button. Enjin gave a rushed stroke, watching Gris clench his teeth against each other, all too surprised from the sudden other end of pleasure. It doesn’t last long though. Enjin pressed the surface of his thumb on his slit, the rest of his fingers pressing on his base.
It took Gris everything and a little bit of his pulled consciousness to not choke the hell out of the Umbreaker owner.
“With me, kay?” Enjin spoke in that voice, borderline genuine and teasing, “Promise I’ll wash you up if you black out.”
… Just what kind of promise is that?
It was hard to speak when he felt all plugged up. His abdomen burns. His inside feels slushy. Enjin’s movement doesn’t wait for his answer, but it grows rapidly, almost rushing, “I- I can do it myself, Enjin.”
“Pft, whatever you say, Daredevil. You’re shaking like a leaf.”
After that was a blur of motions for both men. For a loud guy such as Enjin, he fell silent. The guy wants to badly blame the alcohol, even though he know he was fully awake during the whole fucking process. Gris was there too, at least part of his consciousness is here. He let his blond partner scream in ecstasy. He let everything unfold one after another. Climax came crashing over him like being jolted awake by a resurrector, the bliss of it blind his senses for a good amount of seconds. The cleaner didn’t realize his grip was tightening around Gris’ member, not until the man let out a pained cry.
Enjin’s head dropped to Gris’ chest, right above his heart. Think of it as a silent apology before his hand lets go.
Gris thought he might have passed out for some seconds there, maybe minutes, because by the time he came to his senses, Enjin was tapping on his cheek lightly. His face is unreadable, but there’s the barely noticeable relief on his golden eyes. His eyes felt puffy, while his body was still numb from the pleasure, the soreness starting to kick in. They are no longer connected, he grimaced at the emptiness. Enjin must’ve pulled out immediately seeing his dear supporter laying like a knocked out man on his own bed. He had jinxed it, that's what his brain said.
“I thought you were dead.”
“What.” Well that took a turn. Gris let out a huff, a beginning of a tired chuckle, “That’s an embarrassing way to die among other reasons here, please no.”
Enjin was about to reason. He did panic a little (read as a lot) hearing a loud thump from Gris’ heart when the older one came, back arching, arms hugging him so tightly before going limp. Like, immediately. That was not supposed to happen, right?
“Don’t even think about it, Enjin.” Gris said in between laughter, tiredness etched on his eyes, yet it still bore the same shine, “You still owe me a bath. I’m waiting.”
Enjin let out a silent ‘Oh.’
Yeah. Bath. That, that, he promised him that.
“Second round?”
“No.”
“Aw.”