Set The Pace

"Linion," He gasps and clenches his fingers on black armour that's softer than it looks, throws his head back and tries not to encourage Linion with a moan.

Linion is big, and strong. His hair is a faint silvery colour that Crica can almost feel if he closes his eyes and imagines it in his fingers. Linion is a sura, a light sura as he'd heard the strange new breed being called, a /weapon/ sura, and he'd taken Crica down so, so easily! A well-placed grasp that left him feeling consumed and for a moment all he'd seen was violent red all around him before he was at his knees, defeated in front of Linion.

"Crica," Linion pants back, his devil hand holding onto black steel armour and almost piercing it to the flesh beneath, his other hand on Crica's cock, sliding up and down slowly, slowly. Almost as slowly as he's making Crica ride him, in a far-out western corner of Mount Sohan.

Crica is just a warrior, and he'd been convinced he was a strong warrior until today. He'd been not impressively tall, but he'd been quite broad - not quite as broad as Linion - and he'd defeated kings in the past! But now he's just drawing shaky, panting breaths, feeling full and stretched as Linion proves his cock as is big as his loud mouth had been.

"Please," Crica begs softly, hands on the chest beneath him and thighs straining to keep the rhythm Linion had set for them. "Faster."

But all he gets is a smile and a headshake, a shuddering breath full of cold air and a hand leaving his cock to slide two long, slim fingers between his lips. He sucks eagerly, draws his tongue over and between them in an effort to make them falter and speed up in their rhythm. He fails dramatically as instead a slow smile curves soft lips. Soft, he knows, because he'd tasted them. Or more, they'd tasted him, devoured him completely and left him wanting more.

"Ah, Crica, you are so splendid when you look like this," Linion purrs, low and sensual. He can't help it; he shivers and drives himself down on Linion's cock a little harder than before. His rhythm hasn't gone past Linion's boundaries, but the ferocity he displayed had even taken himself by surprise.

A reply is muffled by those long fingers probing around his mouth and trying to get deeper. Crica can't help but think that anything Linion penetrates his body with acts the same way.

The fingers withdraw, slick and shiny, trails down his back to his tailbone. They slide in and he cries out, too loud for such a deserted, open space. Too loud for a warrior to be heard uttering.

The wicked smirk he receives is enough to drive him over the edge, and when he recovers he's empty and sore, aching; staring Linion's cock down and a faint nudge is all he needs to take it into his mouth and suck as eagerly as he'd sucked on those splendid fingers.

Linion makes noises that makes it all worth it, betraying his country and his comrades. Linion is what's worth it, he realizes, sucks with an enthusiasm he would once have been ashamed of and swallows down all the hot semen flowing into his mouth soon enough.

"Crica..." He trails off and drags him up to cuddle. "Stay with me."

The words are pleading but the small bites to his neck and jawline are not. They are demanding and firm and represent their owner fully.

"Yes, Linion," Crica says just as softly, ready to beg for the opportunity if he needs to. But he doesn't, because Linion /wants/ him. "I'd love nothing more."

Nothing more is said as Linion tilts up his face and kissed him long and deep, and heartstoppingly softly.