Archive of Our Own

It is hideously, unbearably hot. Zanka's skin is slick with sweat, sticking his shirt to his back. Riyo twisted and swayed in the crowd to his right, clearly in the same state. There's a fine sheen over her face, skin dewy and flushed. Or maybe that was the glitter? It's hard to tell under the pulsing, shifting neon colors of the lights high above them.

The bass reverberates heavily throughout his body. It shakes the sticky, paint splattered floor, travels up to his chest, pulses inside like a second heartbeat. He feels good. Sweaty and a little claustrophobic in the crowd crush, but also light, oddly weightless. It sparkles in his veins like the fizzy drink Riyo had slipped him earlier, blood replaced with cherry syrup. His joints all feel a little too loose in their sockets.

Riyo looks up at him, grins wide at whatever it is that she sees. It's a nice expression on her. Free, easy, more open than the usual smirk she wears. Her eyes are wide and green and glittering; she looks devastatingly lovely in the multicolored flashes of light. He reaches out to pet her hair, fingertips stroking featherlight over the strands. She's got it styled differently tonight, arranged in two thick plaits studded with glittery silver cuffs and strands of ribbon. He shivers at the feel of all the different textures, jaw snapping shut at the sudden wave of sensation. Riyo only laughs, grabs his hand in hers and guides him to sway along with the music.

"You're really feelin' it, huh?" she asks, standing on tiptoe to speak in his ear. He can still only barely hear her, the music and voices and human noise mixing into a rolling wave of sound.

"Feelin' what?" His tongue feels thick in his mouth ask he speaks. He wants to grind his teeth together again, but he settles for bringing his and Riyo's joined hands to his face and nuzzling against her wrist. Her skin is so soft, and she smells nice, faintly floral and sugary.

Riyo squeals, laughing as she tries to escape his cuddling. "You're like a cat, Zanka! So cute!" She pinches at his cheek with her free hand, then runs it through his hair, her nails scritching over his scalp. The sensation draws a happy trill from him, has him shivering all over.

"So good, Riyo— I feel so, so nice. 'N your hands feel nice, an' you're so pretty— Oh!" His words cut off when she gives a gentle tug on his hair, pulling him a bit lower so that they're eye level. It also has heat pooling low in his tummy, dripping syrup-slow down his spine like honey. He doesn't like Riyo like that, but his body doesn't seem to get the memo.

"Hey, hey! Come on, Zanka, focus for me, 'kay?" She seems to be trying for stern, but keeps breaking down into helpless giggles. "You good? Need anything?"

"Thirsty," he says into the thin skin of her wrist, and when did he press his mouth against it? "Can I have another drink? Like the pink one earlier?"

Riyo untangles herself from him, laughing when he whines at the loss of contact. His teeth feel funny, like he needs to bite something. He must have said this out loud, because Riyo pops a silicone something in his mouth and loops the cord tied through it over his head so he won't lose it.

"No more pink drinks, but you can have water." Riyo grabs his hand, starts hauling him through the crowd. "Come on, Zan-zan," she sing-songs, "Maybe we can find you a snack, too."

He trails behind her, connected by linked fingers and the bright beacon of her red hair. Everything is rendered in watercolor smears around him. He laughs, almost losing the chew toy Riyo had popped in his mouth. It feels good to bite into it, grounding, but he can also feel the slick slide of his tongue and the way it presses against his lips, and his mouth is so sensitive, has he always had this many nerve endings inside? The thought overtakes him in a flash— the ghost sensation of tattooed fingers pressing inside instead of silicone, petting over his tongue and coaxing him to suck. He shivers, goosebumps overtaking his skin despite the heat.

"Okay, come on! Water time, drink up," Riyo laughs. She tugs the little crystal-shaped silicone charm from his mouth by its cord and brings a water bottle to his lips instead. She tips it back, helps him take small sips. It's cold and delicious, bringing him back to himself a bit, more firmly anchored in his body. He is so dizzy.

"Riyo," he moans, leaning back against a wall, "I feel weird." The pleasurable looseness is a little jarring now, anxiety creeping in at the edges. What was in that pill she had him take? He rubs at his cheek, trying to unstick his sweaty hair from his face, and his hand comes away sparkling. Right— makeup.

"Ah, maybe I gave you too much," she says to herself. She magics a handkercheif from somewhere and dabs at his sweaty forehead, gets him to slowly drink the rest of the water. "You're doing a great job for your first time. Fun, right?" She grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"I can feel my teeth," is all he can manage in reply. His body is buzzing, skin charged and tingling all over.

Riyo laughs, rubs briskly at his arms. It helps, for a moment, but then she's gone again, tapping at her choker. He wonders distantly who she's calling, but gets distracted when she helps him find the charm around his neck to chew on.

"Enjin!" Riyo chirps, voice bubblegum bright over the thudding bass. "Hi! Nah, we're good— well, I'm good." She pauses, listening. Zanka can't make out what's being said over the noise. "No! He's fine, promise, just a little out of it. He had a drink earlier and—" a burst of sound from her choker cuts her off. Her brow furrows, lips pursed. "Enjin, it was one drink, a little girly one, and like one itty bitty pill and I—" she's cut of again, an even louder objection from her choker.

Zanka thinks he can make out a few words, "irresponsible" and "lightweight," but the music is so loud and his thoughts dissolve and reform like clouds before he can puzzle out any meaning.

"Okay, okay! Yeah, fine, we'll wait right by the door. Come scoop up your princess, mister white knight," Riyo huffs, tapping at her choker again to break the connection.

She turns to face him fully again with a big smile, looping her arm through his and pulling him in the direction of the club's entrance. "Okay, Zan-zan! Your favorite person is going to come and take you home— let's go wait by the door, 'kay?"

He nods, letting out a slightly slurred "'Kay," around the charm in his mouth. The noise of the crowd recedes like a wave the closer they get to the outside world, aleveiating some of the buzzing under his skin. The air cools significantly, no longer sweltering from close-pressed bodies.

He melts back against the wall when they exit, hoping vaguely that the mural he's leaned against isn't still wet. The air is drier, the barest breeze brushing over his sweaty skin. It's so nice he moans aloud, stretching luxuriantly now that he's not packed in tight amid a crowd.

Riyo laughs again, delicate hand coming up to cover her mouth and muffle it slightly. "It's nice seein' you all relaxed," she says eventually, looking him up and down. "You're so tense all the time, this is better."

"Yeah," he nods, "Yeah, 's nice. My skin feels weird though." He runs his fingertips down the inside of his forearm, holds it out so Riyo can see the goosebumps that bloom. Even the gentle drag of his own fingers makes him shiver all over.

"Awww, you're so sensitive," she teases. She reaches up to tug at an errant section of his hair, laughs when he makes an embarassing noise in response. "That's normal, you're fine." She looks off into the distance for a moment, cocks her head in the birdy way she often does. "Enjin's gonna love that," she says after a moment, so quietly that Zanka nearly doesn't catch it.

"Enjin's comin'?" he asks, perking up from his slouch.

"Yeah, Zanka, he's comin' to take you back home." Riyo smiles in a way that makes him nervous, radiating smug satisfaction.

He doesn't let it bother him for long. The locks he keeps on his emotions and expressions are gone, melted into glittery silver liquid, and he knows he's smiling like a fool. Enjin is coming to take me home, he thinks, turning the thought over and over in his mind. It's the only thing his addled brain can latch onto right now, or wants to latch onto, anyway. Enjin is going to come take him home, back to his soft bed and familiar sheets, where he can shower off the sweat drying tacky on his skin.

Thinking about Enjin and showers and beds in the same context makes his face glow pink with a blush, mind filling with images of damp tattooed skin and big hands helping him shuck off his too-tight clothes. He's beyond ready to get rid of these clothes.

Riyo pokes him in the side, startling an undignified squawk from him as he's wrenched from his Enjin-centric daydream. The sudden glare of approaching headlights makes him woozy, he has to raise a hand and squint against the brightness. Mercifully, they turn off after a few more seconds, plunging the street into neon-tinged gloom again. The shift leaves him feeling off balance, disoriented, and he leans onto Riyo to try and regain some equilibrium. She's a little bit too sharp all over to be cuddly, but it's nice all the same.

"Zanka! How is my favorite protégé?" calls a voice from the same direction as those offending headlights.

It takes a moment to register. Zanka perks up, sways a bit before righting himself. Enjin. He feels a blush burn across his cheeks, but he's too excited to care. Enjin's favorite, the man had never called him that before.

"Enjin! You came!" He sounds much, much too excited right now, but shame is a very distant memory at the moment; the concept itself feels abstract. How can he feel anything but a burst of butterflies swarming in his belly?

"Of course I came! How could I abandon you to stay with this demon?" Enjin laughs, strolling up to them and twirling Umbreaker around in his hand. He's smiling, relaxed, easy as always, but the look he shoots Riyo is poisonous. Zanka can't imagine why.

"Don't be mean to Riyo!" Zanka protests, grabbing for her hand. "She's been so nice 't me all night— she gave me a really good drink that didn't taste bad like the ones you drink, an' she gave me this little smiley pill that made me feel so good, and she danced with me—"

"What the fuck did you give him?" Enjin snaps at Riyo, cutting him off.

Zanka huffs, put out that he's being ignored.

"It was just one! Like, a really really small one, too! The girl I buy from said he'd be fine, and look at him!" She holds up their joined hands, waving them for emphasis. "He's great! He's having so much fun! Aren't you, Zan-zan?" She unlinks their hands, instead reaching up to pet his hair again.

Zanka moans, wracked by a full body shudder at the feel of her nails scraping gently over his scalp. "Yeah," he agrees, pushing into her touch for more. His voice sounds breathy and strange, but Riyo's hand feels too good for him to care. She takes up a handful of his hair and tugs, just a little. "Yeah! Feels— fuck, feels so good," he pants, teeth clicking together audibly as he grinds them, needing some outlet for all of the sensory overload.

Enjin makes a strangled noise, hands coming up to rub briskly at his face.

"Shit! Hang on, hang on, don't do that- here, open," Riyo fusses, grabbing for the little chewing charm and pressing it to his lips.

He opens his mouth, trying to be good. He doesn't want Riyo to be upset with him, her smile is so nice. She lets him take it between his teeth again, patting his cheek when he settles. She turns back to Enjin, makes a large sweeping gesture at Zanka.

"See? He's having a great time!" she chirps brightly.

"He's high out of his fucking mind," Enjin says in reply, voice flat.

"It's good for him! Y'know how he is, he could stand to loosen up every once n' awhile," she argues.

Zanka is still buzzing, but pleasantly so. He wishes Riyo would pet his hair again— that was nice. He tugs at her sleeve to get her attention, but stalls, trying to talk around the charm in his mouth. He tucks it into his cheek, making it bulge out on one side. Enjin makes another choking noise, but Zanka feels quite proud of himself for figuring it out.

"Pet me more?" he asks once Riyo looks back up at him. "'S really nice. I'll be good?" he tries to sound convincing, but it comes out more like a question.

Riyo grins, but shakes her head no. Zanka is devastated, lets out a pitiful little whine at her response.

"I need to head back inside, Zan-Zan, sorry," she apologizes. "But I bet Enjin will pet you, hm?" She looks over at Enjin, who is standing stiffly with his arms crossed. His eyebrow is twitching in a way Zanka has never seen before.

Zanka turns hopeful eyes to Enjin, trying his best to chose his words carefully before they come tumbling out of his mouth. "Will you pet me, Enjin? Riyo has'ta go back inside, but can you? She said my hair's really soft when she was fixin' it earlier." There. An excellent argument.

Enjin's face contorts for a moment like he's in pain, and he turns away. Zanka thinks he can see him scrub his hands over his face, maybe, and take several deep breaths. He can hear Enjin talking to himself, but his head is too fuzzy to pick out any details— it's probably fine.

Enjin eventually turns back to him and Riyo, his usual lazy grin back in place. "Okay, kiddo, time to go home. Into the car, let's go." He gestures to the rear passenger's side door, opens it for Zanka to get in.

Zanka frowns. "I can't sit with you?"

"Nope, you're a hazard to yourself and especially to me right now. Into the back you go!" Enjin's voice is teasing, but there's something oddly brittle about it, Zanka thinks. Like he's trying too hard for lightness.

He allows himself to do what he normally never, ever would, and pouts. Crosses his arms, huffs, and turns to Riyo— fullblown tantrum. "Can't I stay with you? Enjin's bein' mean, he doesn't wanna talk to me."

Riyo looks like she is trying very, very hard not to laugh. "I bet you can crack him, Zan-Zan. Maybe if you ask nicely he'll let you sit up front?" She leans in, pulls him down a little so she can speak closer to his ear. "He's weak for your puppy dog eyes," she says in an amused whisper-yell, like she wants Enjin to hear.

He nods seriously all the same, giving Riyo an exaggerated wink so she knows he gets it. He doesn't, but that's okay; Riyo wouldn't steer him wrong. He gives her a hug, startling a peal of laughter from her. "Thanks, Riyo," he says into the mess of her hair. "I think 'm gonna kiss him later."

Riyo shakes with laughter in his arms, helpless giggles spilling out into the nighttime air. He forgets how small she is sometimes. For all her strength, she fits in his arms neatly, all her little bird bones gathered close against his chest. She wiggles in his grip, pries herself free from his clinging. "Okay, okay, go get him," she says, gasping through her laughter. She shoos him toward Enjin, giving one more wave and a cheeky smile before she slips back into the club, and then they are alone.

Zanka's face heats immediately. Enjin looks more than a little frayed at the edges. He hadn't realized before, but Enjin is in lounge clothes under his uniform coat. Riyo must have caught him while he was enjoying some downtime. The collar of his red pullover is stretched wide from wear, exposing his collarbones and more of his chest than Zanka normally sees, tattoos laid stark over his skin. The inky patterns are mesmerizing, especially now with his head spinning from Riyo's little smiley pill.

"Ready to go?"

Enjin's quiet question breaks him out of his trance. He feels hot all over, ears burning with embarrassment and belly tight with nervous excitement. Enjin's gold eyes are soft, crinkled at the corners with a fond smile. Zanka manages a nod, and walks quickly to the car, hopping into the front passenger's seat before Enjin can corral him into the back.

He hears Enjin heave a sigh as he shuts the rear door. A few beats of silence, and then he slides into the driver's seat, shoots a wry smile at Zanka. "Alright, kid, let's go home." His voice is low, rough from his constant smoking, warm like a favorite blanket.

The smell of him wraps around Zanka, seeming amplified like every other sense is right now: cigarettes - ever present - and some lingering cologne that he wants to lick from the hollow of Enjin's throat. What the fuck, he thinks, taken aback by his own hunger. It startles a laugh from him.

Enjin starts the car, music coming on to fill the space, and raises an eyebrow. "You good? Gonna let me in on the joke?"

Holy shit, his voice is nice, is all Zanka's mind can supply for the moment. More nervous laughter. He wants to grind his teeth again. He tries to gather his scattered thoughts, think of anything to say that isn't 'please keep talking to me so I can think about you later'. "Jus' nervous," he eventually gets out. "An' I'm cold, my skin's tingly."

Enjin chuckles quietly, the sound doing funny things to Zanka's insides. "What're you nervous for?" He glances sidelong at Zanka where he's curled into himself in the passenger's seat, limbs tangled to try and hold himself together. He doesn't comment on the tingly-ness of Zanka's skin.

"Dunno," Zanka lies. He paws at himself with clumsy fingers, trying to find the necklace Riyo had given him with the little chewing charm. He can't seem to sort it out from the other necklaces she'd draped around him in the dark of the car. He lets out a frustrated whine, starts biting at the skin around his nails instead. It's an old habit, one he'd kicked years ago after leaving his family, but it still creeps up on him when he's overwhelmed.

"What're you…" Enjin starts, but he trails off when he sees Zanka chewing at his cuticles. He makes a soft, soothing noise, low in his chest, and reaches out to brush careful fingers over his shoulder. He moves slow, like Zanka is a small animal he doesn't want to frighten away. "Hey, c'mon, you're alright." He keeps his eyes on the road, feeling his way down from Zanka's shoulder, to his elbow, up to his wrist. He circles it gently, and Zanka wants to moan aloud at the feeling of Enjin's big, calloused fingers brushing over the soft skin of his inner wrist.

"Enjin?" Zanka asks into the quiet, and his voice sounds so small.

Enjin just keeps hold of his wrist, pulls it slowly away so that he can't keep chewing at his fingers. He mumbles something quietly, and Zanka doesn't catch all of it, but he thinks Enjin is grousing about Riyo and her pills from the sound of it.

Zanka makes a fractious little sound, pulling against his grip, but Enjin holds him fast. Not hard, not cruel, but firm enough that Zanka knows he won't be able to tug his wrist free. Not that he wants to, not really.

"Hey, hey, shhh. You're alright, baby, settle down for me," Enjin murmurs, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a slow arc over Zanka's inner wrist.

Zanka shivers, lets out a soft, hurt noise. That little point of contact has him slumping bonelessly back into the seat, eyes closing as he tries to remember how to breathe. Baby floats through his mind, glowing neon. He called me baby.

"Good boy, that's better, huh? No chewing your fingers." Enjin gives his wrist a little squeeze, moves to pull away.

"No!" Zanka grabs his hand, places Enjin's open palm against his own cheek. "Touch me, s'nice." His voice is breathy, high, more than a little whiny. He sounds spoiled, and he feels it, demanding Enjin's attention - his touch.

"This is fucked," Enjin says quietly, laughing. But he doesn't pull away.

Zanka hums, turns his face to press into that wide, rough palm. He'll take it. Whatever Enjin is willing to give, Zanka will lick it up and beg for scraps. Riyo did say he's weak for puppy dog eyes, he thinks, and does his best to employ them now.

He shifts in his seat, angling his body toward Enjin. One hand stays wrapped around Enjin's wrist, the other he tucks beneath his legs, not trusting himself to behave. He gazes up at Enjin, darts his tongue out to wet his suddenly dry lips. He has a brief thought, a more sober version of himself popping in to say that he's going to regret this in the morning, but he can't bring himself to care.

"I've always liked your hands," he says quietly, still cuddling into Enjin's palm like a cat. "They're so nice… the tattoos…"

Enjin groans, his free hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. The line of his jaw is sharp, muscle flexing like he's got his teeth clenched.

Zanka squeezes gently at his wrist. Riyo had been very clear that Zanka wasn't supposed grind his teeth like that, so Enjin shouldn't either, he reasons. "Does your mouth feel funny too?" is what comes out.

"What?" Enjin asks, brow furrowed.

"Clenchin' your teeth," Zanka explains, still half hidden in Enjin's hand. "Riyo gave me a necklace t' chew on, 'cause my mouth was all sensitive." He frowns, looking down at the tangled mess of jewelry around his neck. "Can't find it though," he sighs, put out. It would be so nice to have something in his mouth while Enjin's hand was on him.

"I am so, so fucked," is all Enjin says in reply.

His voice shakes, and Zanka can't figure out why. He whines again, fidgeting, wanting to chew at his fingers. But Enjin had said to stop… Zanka is so sleepy, and that flash of a daydream from earlier comes back- tattooed fingers petting over his lips, then his tongue, settling inside to keep his jaw relaxed, give him something to suck on.

"Enjin?" he asks, eyes half lidded. He tries for puppy-dog, thinks he may be too sleepy, probably ends up looking more sad-cat.

Enjin finally looks over at him again. "What is it, baby?" His voice is more than a little pained.

Zanka rubs his cheek against Enjin's palm, squeezes at his wrist for just a moment. "Can I?"

Enjin seems to relax at that, gives him a tight smile. "Yeah, sweetheart, you're fine. We're almost there."

Zanka hums happily, and licks over the pad of Enjin's thumb before taking it gently into his mouth.

Enjin tenses up immediately, fingers curling, nails scratching at his scalp where they were resting. "Zanka," he groans, and pulls his thumb free, breathing hard. He doesn't pull away completely, rests it just on the curve of Zanka's bottom lip.

"You said I could," Zanka pouts, lets his tongue peek out to give a tiny kitten lick.

"I didn't think—" Enjin's voice is rough, so rough and so strained that he sounds like he's in pain. "I didn't know— I— fuck!" He takes in a great, heaving breath, stomps hard on the accelerator. "Fine, okay. Shit, just— it's alright." He brushes his thumb over Zanka's lower lip, presses down to feel the give of it. Another deep breath. "It's fine, baby," he says, voice more level now. "Go ahead."

Zanka's brow furrows, trying to understand what's happening. He can't figure out what it is that Enjin's so upset about— Zanka had asked permission first, hadn't just licked him out of nowhere.

Enjin looks over at him again, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he catches sight of Zanka's confused frown. "It's okay, I promise." Another sweep of his thumb over Zanka's lower lip. "You just need some grounding, right baby? Mouth feels all funny?" His voice is soft, slipping back into that low rumble that makes Zanka's stomach flip.

Zanka only nods, opens his mouth to let Enjin inside when he presses a little firmer. The relief is immediate, mind quieting as he lets Enjin pet slowly over his tongue, feel his lower teeth. Zanka gives a tentative suck, takes his thumb a tiny bit deeper.

Enjin lets out a stream of whispered curses, starts to slide slowly in and out of Zanka's slick mouth. "Almost there, sweetheart, you're being so good."

That is what shatters him. He moans, loud and shameless, shivers all over in pleasure. How many times had he imagined this? Enjin talking to him in that low, husky voice, telling him how good he was being, petting over him and letting him lick at bands tattooed on his fingers. He lets himself get lost in it - so easy thanks to Riyo's pill - and sucks a little firmer, tucks his teeth out of the way, drooling messily down his chin.

More grit-teeth swearing from Enjin. That was fine— as long as he didn't pull away, Zanka was happy. He registers distantly that he's hard, probably leaking, definitely going to touch himself later. He shifts, but can't get any actual friction or pressure.

Enjin is talking to him, Zanka realizes, and the car has stopped. He opens his mouth, gives one last messy lick, and kisses the pad of Enjin's thumb. He grins, feeling bold and more than a little reckless. "That felt good," he says, blinking up at Enjin.

Enjin stares at him, mouth slightly open. He takes a breath in, unbuckles Zanka's seatbelt for him, but doesn't pull back. Instead, he crowds closer, slides his hand into Zanka's hair, grabs a handful, and pulls.

Zanka arches, eyes drooping as he moans. Enjin is so close, breathing in his space, looming over him, and Zanka loves how small it makes him feel. Caged in, trapped, ready to be devoured.

"Look at you," Enjin groans, dropping his forehead to rest against Zanka's. "So fuckin' cute, aren't you? Suckin' on my thumb, moanin' when I pull your hair-" he does, again, and Zanka writhes. "So fuckin' hungry for it."

Zanka can't move, can't think, can only gasp out a desperate little, "Yeah, please, fuck—" as Enjin holds him in place by the hair. His body feels like it's on fire, brain dissolved to glitter.

"Been tryin' so hard to be good, shit—" Enjin leans in, bites at the shell of Zanka's ear. "You let Riyo get you all dressed up just for me, baby? Huh?" A kiss to the sensitive skin just behind his ear, and then the sharp sting of a bite. "Gonna let me ruin your pretty makeup?"

Zanka's skin prickles, goosebumps all over. "Whatever you want," he gasps. He remembers his hands, brings them up to grip desperately at the lapels of Enjin's coat. "Anything, anythin', want you so bad," Zanka's voice is thin, so much higher than normal, gone all soft and thready.

Enjin groans, lets his right hand wander to the bare expanse of Zanka's waist. He slides his hand up, slips his fingers under the hem of the stupidly tight shirt Riyo had put him in, digs in hard enough to bruise. "You're gonna fuckin' kill me, babydoll," he pants against Zanka's neck. "Can't say shit like that to me, s'too much."

Zanka is going to die, he's going to die if Enjin keeps touching him like this, saying all the things Zanka's ever wanted to hear. "Your hands feel so good," is what he says instead. "Touch me, touch me touchme, Enjin—" he gasps, chokes on his words when Enjin rucks the stupid little crop top up to grope at his chest.

"Look at you, baby, goddamn." Enjin releases his hold on Zanka's hair to better paw at his chest, squeezing at the small amount of muscle there. "Pretty little tits," he says quietly, like he's talking to himself.

It does funny things to Zanka, hearing him say…that. Hot all over from shame. He wants to cover himself, shy away, but Enjin's hands feel so good, kneading at him, brushing over sensitive skin. Enjin trails his mouth back up the column of Zanka's throat, licks at his Adam's apple, places biting kisses everywhere he can.

"Can I kiss you, sweetheart?" he asks right against Zanka's ear, breathing heavy. "Let me give you a kiss and take you to bed?"

Zanka doesn't answer. He turns his face to meet Enjin's, yanks him in by his jacket, and kisses him.

It's good, so much better than any of Zanka's daydreams or late night masturbation fantasies. Enjin's mouth is soft and hot against his own, his hands coming up to cradle Zanka's face, twist into his hair. He can feel everything, every nerve ending on fire, and he's going to have to thank Riyo for this somehow when he's sober.

Enjin hums against his mouth, and he sounds hungry. Zanka would let him, if he wanted— would let Enjin eat him up and lick the plate clean down to the last morsel.

A break for breath, just for a moment, and then Enjin is licking at his bottom lip, sucking on it, worrying it between sharp white teeth. Zanka whines, tugging at Enjin's jacket because he can't focus enough to do anything else, not with Enjin's hands and mouth on him like this.

"Let me in, babydoll, c'mon," Enjin breathes against him. "Let me give you a grown-up kiss and I'll take you inside."

He isn't going to survive this. He nods, and when Enjin kisses him again, his tongue brushes soft against the seam of Zanka's closed lips. Zanka lets him in.

It's hot, so unbelievably hot, and slick, and strange, having Enjin lick into his mouth. Zanka moans, can't help it, when Enjin sucks briefly on his tongue. All he can do is yield and try to keep up. He isn't good at this, can tell that he's clumsy and off-rhythm compared to Enjin, but can't bring himself to care. He's so hard that it hurts, and he's sure that he could cum like this, from Enjin kissing him and groping his chest and telling him how good he is, how pretty he looks all messy and begging for it.

Enjin pulls back, holds him in place when he tries to follow. Zanka whines, out of breath but desperately wanting more, whatever Enjin will give him.

"No, no more, baby, just gimme a minute," he says as he fends off Zanka's weak attempts to pull him back for more kisses.

Belatedly, Zanka realizes that Enjin is adjusting himself, hissing as he tries to hide the very obvious erection tenting his sweats. He looks big, Zanka thinks, all but drooling.

Enjin notices him watching and grins, gives himself a squeeze and lets his head loll back for a moment in pleasure just to hear Zanka moan. "S'okay, pretty boy, you'll get it soon. C'mon, let's get you inside."

Zanka is still trying to recover from the brief sight of Enjin touching himself when his door is opened and he's scooped into warm, strong arms. He lets out an indignant squeak, wraps his arms around Enjin's neck to steady himself.

Enjin just laughs, shushing him. "Be a good boy for me and be still, 'kay? We just need to make it back to my room," he murmurs against the top of Zanka's head.

Zanka nods, hoping Enjin can feel it. He doesn't trust himself to speak, not while he's busy trying to memorize the feel of being held tight like this, Enjin's arms around him in a princess carry. Like this, he can breathe in the scent of Enjin's skin and cologne and tobacco, face pressed against his neck. He's going to think about this later, he knows, so he tries to absorb as many details as he can. Enjin's heartbeat, the solid warmth of him, his arm under Zanka's knees, all of it.

He can feel the shift when they enter HQ again, the quiet sounds of other Cleaners and support workers wrapping up their night, but he keeps his eyes closed. He won't be able to bear it if someone he's close to sees him like this.

Enjin is stopped only once, by Semiu. Zanka recognizes her from the soft waft of her perfume, the quiet clack of her heels on the tiles. He keeps his eyes closed, tries to feign sleep as best as he can. It's difficult, when all he wants to do is rub his face against the warmth of Enjin's skin.

"Riyo finally got him?" she asks quietly, and Zanka can hear the smile in her voice.

"Mmm, she called for a pickup— not sure what she gave him."

"He looks lovely, don't you think?"

"Don't start, Semiu. I'm not going to let this go any further."

"Do what you want, Enjin. Zanka is a big boy, no one here would think less of you. Our lives art short, we may as well enjoy them."

Enjin scoffs, and Semiu walks away with a quiet laugh, the echo of her steps fading.

A gentle squeeze around him, Enjin shifting him a little closer, and then he's moving again. Zanka rolls their words around, picks at the meaning behind them. It's all too much. He's still achingly hard, his head is spinning, and it's taking nearly all of his available brain power to keep from leaning up the slightest bit to kiss and lick at Enjin's throat. When he peeks through his lashes, he can see Enjin's pulse fluttering under the skin, the barest hint of sweat at the hollow.

Finally, finally, Enjin is shifting Zanka in his arms, reaching to open a door. Low light, familiar smell— they're in Enjin's room. Zanka is laid down a bed. He feels Enjin tugging at the laces of his boots to get them off. He sits up on his elbows, looks down at where Enjin is kneeling by the bedside, blonde hair a wreck, coat discarded. He reaches out to run his fingers through the golden mess of Enjin's hair, taken aback for a moment at the glittering blue nail polish on his own fingers. It looks pretty against the blonde, he thinks, twirling the strands absently.

Enjin groans and butts his head harder into Zanka's hand like a great spoiled beast. He tugs Zanka's boots the rest of the way off, throws them haphazardly into some corner of the room, and snatches Zanka's wrist, halting his clumsy petting.

Enjin examines his hand, rubs the back of it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth for a soft kiss. It's so gentlemanly, so chaste, that it startles Zanka into a fit of helpless giggles.

"What's so funny, pretty boy?" Enjin asks, gazing up at him with a smile that makes Zanka's insides twist. He kisses the back of his hand again, a dozen soft, wet pecks all over, down each finger.

"Enjin!" is all he can manage, still breathless with laughter.

"Am I not allowed to, baby? Can't kiss you here?" Another kiss, then his hand is flipped so that Enjin can bite at the base of his thumb. "Riyo did such a good job on your nails."

Zanka makes a disgruntled noise at that, snatches his hand away. He can feel his cheeks heating— maybe his blush around Enjin is becoming permanent. "She wanted to try out a new color," he mumbles, looking down at the dark, glittery blue.

Enjin rises from his crouch, and before Zanka can register what's happened, he's caged in against the mattress, flat on his back. Enjin looms above him, around him, pinning him under his body and his gaze.

"No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. You look so good like this." He leans in to nose at Zanka's cheekbone, then down to kiss at the curve of his jaw. "But I do like it when you blush for me."

Zanka makes a high, desperate noise in the back of his throat. He is so, so dizzy. He grips at Enjin's shirt, twists it in his hands until he can slide them underneath, warm skin under his palms.

Enjin hisses like he's been burned. "Careful," panting against his throat, breath hot. "I'm tryin' to be good, baby, jus' wanna take care of you and then let you sleep."

Zanka cannot let that stand. His thoughts are barely more than sugar syrup, slow and liquid, but he's trained his body for years, and Enjin is distracted. Zanka flips them. Leg around the back of Enjin's knee, palm shoved against his shoulder, push-pull until he's seated in Enjin's lap, flushed and triumphant.

Enjin looks dazed beneath him, like he's the one swimming through a smiley-pill cotton haze instead of Zanka. His pupils are enormous, black eating up the gold of his irises. Zanka shifts, moving until he can feel the hard line of Enjin's cock beneath him, rolls his hips and shudders at the feel of it. He plants his palms on Enjin's chest, leans in close to speak directly into his ear.

"I want this." His voice is shaking, but that's alright; he doubts it will matter much to Enjin if the hitch in his breath is anything to go by. "Wanted this for so long." Kiss to the shell of his ear, tug at the hoop threaded through his gauge. "Touch me, Enjin. Fuck me, make me take it. Wanna feel you on me, inside me, everything." Enjin is gasping under him like he can't get enough air, like he's dying. Zanka bites at the side of his neck, hard and vicious, and it feels so good to sink his teeth in that his eyes roll back. He lets go, soft kiss to ease the sting. "I'll be good, I promise."

And then Enjin's hand is in his hair, pulling him away just far enough to stare him down. Enjin looks feral.

"You'll be good for me?" Enjin asks, and his voice is soft and dangerous. "What d'you think that means, sweetheart?" His other hand slides up Zanka's thigh, rests on his hip to keep him in place when Enjin grinds up against him.

"Letting you t-touch me," Zanka gasps, mouth falling open when he feels Enjin twitch beneath him.

"Mmm, what else?"

Zanka hadn't thought this far. He'd wanted to prove that he was, as Semiu had said, a big boy, capable of making his own choices. He didn't feel capable of much of anything now.

"Um- maybe," heat races up to his ears, trying to force the words out around the embarrassment, "I could… um, s-suck you off." He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, pulls a little against the hold on his hair. Enjin doesn't let him hide. "…You can cum in my mouth," he says it so quietly he isn't sure that Enjin has heard him, the only sign is the way that the hand in his hair pulls harder, the one on his hip digging in bruise-tight.

Enjin breathes in deep, exhales slow. "Fuck it," he says, and pulls Zanka into a kiss. It's slow, languid, so different from the frantic heat of their kiss in the car. Enjin takes his time, kisses Zanka deep until it feels like all his bones have gone liquid. Zanka can't stop the quiet, hungry sounds spilling out between kisses, can't keep from rutting against the hard plane of Enjin's stomach.

Enjin pulls back, just enough to get at Zanka's neck. Teeth against his skin, teasing, before they sink in hard. A matching bite for the one he gave Enjin. Zanka pants, open mouthed, lets out an embarrassing little "Ah!" when the biting turns to sucking, Enjin making a mark that will bloom purple-black on his skin tomorrow.

"Never would've guessed you'd be such a slut, baby," Enjin rasps against his throat. "Offerin' to suck me, drink it all down when I finish. Grindin' against me like you're in heat."

"I-ah! 'M not a slut." The words sound weak, no real force behind the protest. Zanka can't quite bring himself to fight too hard; he feels like a slut right now.

"But you sound like a slut," Enjin teases, sucking more bruises onto his throat. "And you're dressed like one." Enjin runs a hand up to the hem of Zanka's shirt, pushes it underneath to grope at his chest again.

"That's only 'cause—," Zanka starts, but trails off when Enjin pinches cruelly at his nipple. He pants, open mouthed, trying to scrape his thoughts back together. More harsh, sucking kisses to his neck, Enjin's left hand still gripping the jut of Zanka's hip while his right tugs and pinches hard beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

"What was that?" Enjin asks, teasing, before licking at Zanka's collarbone. "Can't hear you, sweetheart, you've gotta speak up."

"It's 'cause Riyo— oh, that feels good— 'cause Riyo picked it out," he finally manages.

"Feels good, sweet thing? Like it when I play with your little tits?" Enjin nuzzles into the side of Zanka's throat, lets his other hand drag up Zanka's waist and shove the crop top up, bunching it above Zanka's chest. He squeezes, rolls Zanka's nipples with his thumbs. "Gonna have to thank Riyo later," he murmurs, and leans in to lave his tongue over a nipple.

Zanka squeals, hands scrambling for purchase against Enjin's chest. He wants to push the man away, cover himself, alleviate the heat crawling up his neck and spreading hot across his face. "Don't say that," he whines, twisting until he can thread a hand through the mess of Enjin's hair. He pulls, tries to get some distance, but it only makes Enjin moan, loud and shameless. "You can't, 'm not a girl."

Enjin just laughs, bucks his hips up to grind against Zanka's ass. "You moan like one, 'specially when I do this," he says, and bites down on Zanka's nipple gently, tugging just a bit with his teeth.

Zanka keens, high in the back of his throat. He tries to speak, but all that he manages is a breathy little whine and a weak tug on Enjin's hair. He doesn't want Enjin to stop, not really. He feels himself arching into the hands and mouth toying with his chest, his tits, resolve crumbling because it feels so mind-numbingly good.

"See?" Enjin mumbles, still kissing and biting, switching to lavish Zanka's other nipple with attention now. "Fuck, knew you'd be sensitive. Wanted to do this for so long." He squeezes at Zanka's pecs, pushes them together until a crease forms, until Zanka nearly chokes when he looks down.

Like this, with Enjin's kneading, squeezing hands groping at him, it does look like he has small, perky breasts. Enjin grins up at him, sticks his tongue out to lick along the line of cleavage he's made. Zanka is so overwhelmed, nerves so fried, that he nearly doesn't register what Enjin's said.

"You h-ah-ave?" Zanka slurs. The thought that Enjin has wanted this, wanted him, has never occurred to him before. It was a one-sided crush, safe because it couldn't be reciprocated, fuel for daydreams and furtive touching in the dark of his room.

"So much," Enjin moans against him, busy sucking bruises onto the pale flesh of Zanka's chest. "Wanted you so fucking much, made me feel crazy. So fucking pretty, blushing every time you talked 't me, getting all cute 'n shy when I'd tell you what a good job you did, what a good boy you are." Zanka whines at that, can't help it, the praise making him just as dizzy as Enjin's touch.

Enjin pulls back, and Zanka wonders if maybe whatever Riyo gave him is transmissible through skin, through saliva. Enjin's pupils are blown wide, the gold of his irises reduced to a thin ring, and a hectic flush stains his cheeks, trails down his neck and up to his ears. His hands never stop moving— squeezing at Zanka's chest, then sliding down to palm the dip of his waist, rubbing at the vulnerable expanse of his belly, thumbing the sharp angle of his hip.

Zanka throws his head back, lets his eyes slide closed to soak it all in, skin tingling all over from the constant movement of Enjin's hands on him. "Wanted you too," Zanka says, voice barely above a whisper. "Thought about this so much, all the time. Thought about what it'd be like to let you k-kiss me." The words keep spilling from him, interrupted by gasping breaths whenever Enjin touches him somewhere particularly sensitive. "Thought about your hands." At that, Enjin slides a hand down to grope at Zanka's ass. "Couldn't h-help it. I'd watch you 'n start thinkin' about your fingers in my mouth, or your hands in my h-hair." Zanka arches into the hand squeezing at his asscheek, moans when he feels Enjin's cock twitch beneath him. "I'd touch myself 'n think about you. 'Bout how good your fingers would feel in- Ah! - inside me, 'cause your hands are so much bigger than mine."

Enjin groans like he's in pain, pulls Zanka down by the hair for a kiss. It's sloppy, uncoordinated, like Enjin is drunk too. He licks into Zanka's mouth, messy, tounge sliding slick and hot along Zanka's own, running over the points of his eyeteeth and the sensitive inside of his upper lip. Zanka feels like he's drowning, heat and spit and Enjin's wandering hands pulling him in too many directions at once.

Zanka pulls away, gasping, rolling his hips to try and get any relief for the aching, twisting pulse of want coiled low in his belly. He hides his face against the side of Enjin's neck, lets out a quiet, strangled whine when he can't quite get the angle of his hips right.

"I can't," Zanka pants, squirming in Enjin's grip, torn between pushing back into the hand on his ass and grinding down to put more pressure on his twitching, leaking dick. "Enjin, please, I can't, I need—," he can't finish the thought. He stays there, face tucked against the warm skin of Enjin's neck, panting and shivering, and sobs.

"Oh sweetheart," Enjin's voice is wrecked, low and husky. "Shhh, it's alright, pretty boy. Teased you too much, huh? You need me to make you cum?" Enjin runs a hand up and down Zanka's back, firm and soothing.

Zanka nods, still trembling all over. The steady pressure of Enjin's hands is soothing, brings him back to his body from where he'd begun to spin away. He huffs when Enjin shifts, maneuvering them until Zanka is flat on his back and Enjin is knelt between his spread thighs. He feels so exposed like this, spread out and vulnerable, shirt still rucked up under his arms.

"C'mon, baby, let's get you undressed." Enjin murmurs, leaning down to ease Zanka out of his shirt, then his pants, hands petting over his bare skin as it's revealed. "So pretty, sweetheart, being so good for me."

Zanka hides his face in his hands, tries not to hyperventilate when Enjin eases him out of the last of his clothing. Big, warm hands slide up the backs of his thighs, spread his legs wide until he's fully exposed.

"Fuck." Enjin's voice is quiet, his hands shaking a little as he pets the inside of Zanka's thighs, up and down, edging closer and closer to the join of them on each pass. Zanka peeks between his fingers, shame burning too hot to fully uncover his face.

"You're so fucking pretty, babydoll, you know that?" Enjin tears his gaze from Zanka's hips to meet his eyes. He smiles, and there is something dark and hungry in his expression. "Pretty all over, 'specially here," he trails a single fingertip up the underside of Zanks's dick, grins when it twitches.

"Enjin," Zanka pleads, high and whiny. He's so terribly sensitive, still riding the burning, spinning high of Riyo's pill, and that single touch feels better than anything he's ever done to himself.

"Sensitive, baby? You're alright, I'll take care of you," Enjin soothes. He pets over Zanka's dick again, grips it gently and rubs at the leaking head with his thumb. "So wet for me," he breathes, sliding his thumb through the mess, using it to ease the slide of his palm, slick his grip. "So fuckin' cute, fit so nicely in my hand. Like it when I play with your clit, baby? This how you touch yourself?"

Zanka squirms, tries to close his legs. He can't, not with Enjin's bulk settled between them and one of the man's stupidly large hands keeping a grip on his thigh. "Enji-in," Zanka's voice is broken, gasping, "you can't, 'm not a girl, 's mean." His protests are weak. He can't hide the way his thighs tense when Enjin treats him like this — like he's some soft, precious thing, a spoiled princess in need of tending.

"Oh, Zan-zan, you don't have to pretend you don't like it," Enjin hushes him, keeps working his dick slow and gentle, paying too much attention to his oversensitive crown. "Let me," he says, leaning down to spit into his hand. The sound is obscene, his stroking now filling the hush of the room with a soft shlick shlick to accompany Zanka's ever more labored breathing. "Let me take care of you like you need. Let me spoil you, play with your cute little clit and your pretty pussy until you're crying. Doesn't that sound good, sweetheart? C'mon, say yes."

Enjin squeezes just right, grip slick and tight and perfect, and Zanka breaks. "Yes! Fuck, please, don' stop—" he shudders all over, hips rolling into Enjin's grip, and feels that cord drawn so tight for so long now snap. He cums, back arching, hands fisting the sheets, thighs trembling at the force of it. Enjin humms above him, works him through it, stroking him and then just holding until he stops shaking.

Zanka's chest heaves, trying to catch his breath. He gazes up at the ceiling, throws an arm over his eyes and lets out a whine when Enjin won't let him close his legs, still splayed wide around the man's kneeling body. He shivers when he feel's Enjin remove his hand, partly in relief that he's finished his relentless petting and partly at the cool air hitting his oversensitive skin. He peeks out from under his arm, just in time to see Enjin bring his cum-covered hand up to his own mouth and lick it. Zanka makes a horrible choking sound, sits bolt upright to try and do something, not sure at all what that would be.

"What?" Enjin asks, smirking at Zanka's flustered fussing. "You taste good, baby. Buuut…" He trails off, smirk widening in a way that makes Zanka immediately nervous. "If you wanna be sweet and clean me up, I won't say no."

Zanka flounders, head spinning from sitting up too fast after he's just had the best orgasm of his life. "Uhh, I— you, I mean it's—" he stammers. His tongue feels too large in his mouth, and he can't form a full sentence while wathching Enjin slowly, teasingly lick Zanka's cum from his palm.

"Tell you what," Enjin says, quieting Zanka's babbling, "I'll take you up on your offer from earlier. You can return the favor, babydoll." Enjin stands, stretching languidly until Zanka hears a soft crack from somewhere in the older man's body, and undresses.

He isn't showy, doesn't linger or tease, but Zanka is enamored all the same. All of those tattoos, the ones Zanka is always, always trying to get a better view of, are spread out for him to see. Zanka drinks them all in, lets out an embarassing little sound when enjin bends to remove his joggers and underwear and he sees the full, uninterrupted extent of them. Spirals and clouds and abstract forms in black and red cover both arms and either side of his chest, splay over his muscled abdomen, snake down to curl around his thighs and calves. He flounders when Enjin turns to face him and he's confronted with the last, hidden piece of his artwork: two tattoed bands, one thick and black, one thinner and red, circling the base of Enjin's cock just like the ones that adorn his fingers.

Enjin lets out a quiet chuckle at Zanka's open-mouthed staring. He slides a hand down over his stomach to grip the base of his cock, giving a few slow, teasing strokes as Zanka watches. "Like 'em?" he asks, running his thumb over the inked bands.

Zanka can only nod. He wants to touch, to kiss, to run his tongue over every part of those tattoos until he has them memorized, mapped out by feel alone. Enjin is big, long and thick and curved ever so slightly upward, and Zanka wants so, so badly to get his mouth around it. Zanks shifts, sliding off the bed to stand in front of Enjin so that he can slide his palms up the man's chest, to his shoulders, and gently push until the backs of Enjin's knees hit the mattress, and he sits. Zanka moves to stand between his legs, urging them wider so that he can sink down to his knees in between them, settling gracefully into a perfect seiza. It's sort of funny, he thinks as he gazes up at Enjin's hungry expression, that kneeling prettily like this is muscle memory.

Enjin reaches past him to the nightstand, not once taking his eyes off of Zanka, and retrieves a small bottle from the drawer. He drops it onto the bed, but slides a hand into Zanka's hair before he can get a good look at it. "Look at you," he breathes, other hand cupping Zanka's cheek, "so beautiful on your knees. Such a good girl for me, didn't even have to help you." His thumb sweeps back and forth over Zanka's cheekbone, eyes tracking the full body shudder that those words pull from Zanka's traitorous body. "Oh, you love that, huh?"

Zanka doesn't care anymore. Enjin's hand in his hair feels so good, and he is so, so close to getting what he wants, and, worst of all, he does like it. He would never admit it sober, not even to himself, but here, still coasting on the cotton candy ease of Riyo's drugs and the high of Enjin's affection, he lets go.

"Enjin?" he whispers, eyes wide.

"Yeah? What is it, sweetheart?" Enjin's voice is soft, and he leans in close.

Zanka gathers his courage, takes a big breath in. "I like this."

Enjin seems to understand what he means, makes a soothing noise and nuzzles his face against the top of Zanka's head. "Good. Good, Zanka, I like it too."

Zanka melts, lets his posture slump until he's leaned against Enjin's thigh. "Can I suck you now?" he mumbles, a little slurred. "I promise it'll be good, 'm really good with my mouth."

Enjin laughs, draws back but keeps a hand in Zanka's hair, still carding absently through the mess of it. "Yeah, babydoll, you can. Show me how good you are with your mouth, princess."

Zanka does. He leans in, wraps a hand around the base of Enjin's cock, over those tattooed bands he's going to be thinking about forever now. He gives one slow stroke, watches the way Enjin's foreskin slides back to reveal the fat head of his cock, red and beading precum at the slit. He looks up, makes sure Enjin is watching as he sticks his tongue out and licks wet and filthy at the crown with the flat of his tongue. Enjin groans, hand tightening in Zanka's hair for a moment before he relaxes. Zanka keeps going, puts his other hand on Enjin's thigh to get better leverage as he licks a fat stripe from base to tip, running his tongue languidly over the prominent vein on the umderside. He strokes, kissing messy and open mouthed at the side, coating Enjin's cock in spit until the slide is perfectly slick and his hand glides with ease.

"Shit, baby, that feels good," Enjin pants above him, a burning flush creeping all the way down to his chest.

Zanka hums, soaking up the praise, and takes Enjin's cock into his mouth. He sucks at the head, teases the slit with his tongue until he tastes a bitter burst of precum, stroking at the length with his hand. Enjin hisses, tugs a little at Zanka's hair to encourage him to take more. He does, tries to sink into the feeling, relax his throat and breathe through his nose. Zanka shifts, feels his own dick begin to harden at the sensation of Enjin's cock gliding over his tongue and teasing at the back of his throat. Zanka feels like he might float away, or dissolve into shimmery blue nothing if Enjin releases his grip on Zanka's hair. He feels so good, jaw stretched wide, tongue pressing and stroking as he tries to take Enjin deeper.

"Holy shit, baby, just like that, good fuckin' girl," Enjin growls, panting harsh and fast above.

Zanka humms, hips twitching at the praise. He lets go of Enjin's cock, braces his hand on the hard plane of Enjin's stomach instead, so that he can sink down further. He's close, so close to reaching those tattoos.

"God, your mouth." Enjin has both hands in Zanka's hair now, drags him back and forth, all but fucking his face.

Zanka whines, wiggles until he can get a hand around himself. The flood of pleasure is instant and overwhelming, so much so that he goes limp for a moment, leting Enjin use his mouth while Zanka's eyes roll back and drool drips down his chin. He chokes, throat spasming as Enjin pushes harder, the head of his cock finally breaching that resistance and setling deep inside. Zanka can't breathe, feels tears gather and begin to drip, clumping his lashes together and no doubt ruining Riyo's careful work on his makeup.

Enjin eases back, lets his cock slip from Zanka's bruised mouth so that the boy can breathe. Zanka coughs, heaves for just a moment, leans his head against Enjin's thigh and tries to gather himself. His throat hurts. Enjin is stupidly big, and he wasn't gentle.

"Oh sweetheart, shhh, it's alright," Enjin's voice is coaxing even as he heaves for breath, big hand brushing Zanka's sweaty hair off of his forehead. "Too much? Did I go too hard, baby?" He lifts Zanka's chin, tilts his face up and examines him like he's checking for damage.

Zanka makes a noise in the negative, a big dopey smile on his face. "Was good, felt good, yer jus' so big, felt it all the way down here." He grabs one of Enjin's hands, presses it to the base of his throat to show him.

Enjin's face does something funny, expression oscillating between amusement and hunger, like he can't decide whether to kiss Zanka's nose or shove his cock down his throat again. "Maybe it would feel better somewhere else, hmm?" Enjin's hand, still settled at the base of Zanka's throat, squeezes softly, pets over the lines of his collarbone. "You were so good for me, baby, and princesses should be spoiled, right?"

Zanka tilts his head, thinks it over. He does like being spoiled, likes it when Enjin makes him feel pretty and soft and delicate. His thoughts are still so scattered, tendrils of smoke he can't quite hold on to. "Where?" He tilts his head, tries to puzzle it out.

Enjin laughs, a little mean, and helps Zanka up from his spot on the floor. He lifts Zanka easily, like it's something he does every day, and that does very funny things to the butterflies that seem to permanently live in Zanka's belly now. When Zanka is settled on his back again among the pillows, Enjin kneels between his spread thighs, hands petting over the downy dusting of hair there.

"Can I kiss you again, babydoll?" Enjin asks. He says it like a joke, like Zanka should think it's funny, but he's hard again and Enjin is naked and there's too much sensory input for him to try and solve puzzles right now.

"Uh huh," Zanka mumbles, nodding eagerly so Enjin knows he means it.

Enjin grins, and settles onto his stomach. "Hand me a pillow, honey," he says, and reaches a hand out because he knows Zanka will listen.

Zanka, of course, does. He grabs the one nearest his head and hands it down, face heating at Enjin's murmured 'atta girl'. He doesn't have time to dwell on it, because Enjin is urging him to lift his hips like he would for a bridge, and that takes nearly all of his brain power at the moment. When he settles back down, the pillow is under his hips, propping him up and making his thighs fall open in a way that makes him squirm.

"Ready for your kiss, pretty thing?" Enjin asks, that bad-wolf smile back in place, the one that shows a few too many teeth.

Enjin doesn't wait for an answer. He kisses first at the crease of Zanka's thigh, hot and soft, the thin skin there so sensitive that Zanka tries to close his legs. Enjin doesn't let him. He keeps kissing, now on Zanka's inner thigh, then presses his leg back so he can kiss and nip at his hamstring. He keeps kissing, drawing soft little whines and sighs from Zanka, new noises he didn't know he could make with every new place that's kissed and licked and petted over.

Zanka chokes when Enjin, with no warning, kisses over his hole. He tenses all over, tries to get his mouth to catch up with his brain. "Enjin!" He squeaks, breathless. "You can't— that's— it's dirty, stop it, you—"

Enjin ignores him. He puts his hands on the back of Zanka's thighs, presses them back and open, knees toward his chest, and stops kissing only long enough to mumble, "Hold your legs like this for me, baby," before he starts again. And Zanka, because he is shocked and appalled and still very, very high, does.

Enjin takes advantage of the new, horribly lewd angle to spread Zanka's cheeks with his hands so he can lick. His tongue is hot and slick and feels so fucking good that Zanka whines, high and loud and embarassing, the sound spurring Enjin on to lick him again, and again, deeper and messier.

"Enjiiin—" Zanka gasps, draws the name out because he's having trouble finding any other word right now.

Enjin humms against him, flicking and circling his tongue over Zanka's rim, teasing and kissing like he's making out with it. "Feel good, princess? Like having your pretty little pussy eaten?"

Zanka's brain short-circuits. He can't answer, can't do anything but pull his knees back further, use all of his flexibility to give Enjin better access. He can feel Enjin laugh against him.

"Too shy? C'mon, pretty girl, I need to hear you say it. Don't you want me to keep going?"

Enjin is so fucking mean, and Zanka hates him. And then he tugs at Zanka's rim with his thumbs and licks inside, and it feels so obscenely good that his eyes roll back and he makes a squeaky sound he's never once made before. "Yes, fuck, feels good, please keep— Oh, oh, fuck, keep going."

Enjin seems satisfied with Zanka's incoherent pleading, and does. He keeps licking and petting over Zanka's rim, dipping his tongue and his fingertips inside, teasing until Zanka goes soft and loose and pliant for him. He moans, seeming just as out of it as Zanka is, just as hungry, and slips his tongue and his first two fingers inside, working him open.

"Please!" Zanka moans, begs, squirms as Enjin fucks him with his tongue and his fingers and it's so good and not nearly enough. "Wan' it, in-inside, I'll be g-good—" He tugs at Enjin's hair, tries to get him to stop, to listen.

"But I'm already inside, babydoll," Enjin says, curling his fingers to demonstrate.

"Noooooo," Zanka whines, tugging harder at Enjin's hair. "Wan' you to fuck me."

Enjin slides his fingers out, slow, before shoving back in hard and mean. "Like this, baby? Want it harder?"

Zanka growls in frustration, scowling at him, Enjin so fucking smug as he kisses and nips over Zanka's inner thigh. Zanka is going to die of embarrassment or edging or both, but then Enjin crooks his fingers just right and rubs, and Zanka snaps.

"No!" he all but sobs, trying force the words out as Enjin plays with his prostate. "Need you to fuck me, want your cock inside, in— Oh my god— need it in my pussy." Zanka covers his face with his hands, can't quite believe he actually said any of it, but peeks through his fingers when Enjin makes a low, punched out sound, like it was dragged out of him.

"Yeah, sweetheart? Need me inside?" Enjin withdraws his fingers, looks slightly feral, as he crawls up the bed, bracketing Zanka in beneath him.

Zanka can only nod, tears pricking in his eyes. "Y-yes…please?"

Enjin groans, leans in and nuzzles at Zanka's neck, bites down hard on the slight swell of his trap. It hurts, makes the tears already welling in Zanka's eyes spill over. It feels like Enjin has decided that maybe he'll eat Zanka instead, down to the bone, not a scrap left behind.

"Perfect, perfect, so goddamn cute, makes me wanna do awful fucking things to you." Enjin's voice is slightly muffled against Zanka's throat, the barest hint of stubble scratching Zanka's skin.

Zanka just whines, still so fucking hard, his dick leaking a tiny puddle of precum onto his tummy. The noise is enough to drag Enjin back to the task at hand, stop him sucking bruises onto Zanka's skin and focus.

"Sorry honey, I know, I know it hurts," he soothes, feeling around on the bed for something. "Be patient for just a little bit longer, yeah?"

Enjin seems to find what he's looking for, sitting back on his heels. Zanka tries to focus, fighting through the fog of want and Riyo's drugs. Enjin is swigging water from a bottle, drinking deep before tipping a little into Zanka's mouth. 'Close, swallow, that's it, good boy.' He looks up and Enjin is holding a different bottle, the little one he grabbed earlier, pouring something over his fingers, and then they're on him and inside of him and it's cold. Zanka makes a noise of complaint, scrunches up his face and squirms at the chill of it.

Enjin just laughs, calls him cute, keeps working slick fingers into Zanka's hole until the chill fades and it's just pleasure again. When Zanka relaxes, pulls a leg back toward his chest so Enjin can get deeper, he stops.

"Ready, princess? Gonna let me have your pretty little cunt?" Enjin coos, hooking Zanka's legs over his shoulders. He slicks up his cock, the sight of it making Zanka's mouth water, and the shame of it all only makes him burn hotter.

Zanka has barely let out a breathy little 'please' when Enjin presses inside. Even after being thoroughly worked over by Enjin's clever tongue and fingers, it's a stretch. Enjin is hot and throbbing and feels so fucking good inside of him that Zanka nearly starts crying again. He gentles Zanka through it, murmuring nonsense or maybe words, petting his hair and kissing the delicate bones of his ankle and rocking in and out slow and slick and perfect.

When he bottoms out, hips pressed flush to Zanka's ass, he groans, leaning forward and bracing himself with a hand like he might collapse.

Zanka can't catch his breath, keeps gasping and mewling and flexing his hands in the sheets. He is so, so full— Enjin keeps grinding in, rolling his hips like he's trying to get deeper, like Zanka can't already feel him in his throat. He reaches blindly for Enjin's wrist, clinging, trying to breathe.

Enjin makes another one of those soft sounds, coaxing, and twines their fingers together on the bed, and that makes Zanka's head swim more than anything they've done all night. Enjin looks down at him, hair falling into his eyes instead of pushed back like normal, sweat slicking his skin, shining in the hollow of his throat, tattoos seeming to move in the low light. Zanka pushes up, craning his neck to kiss him.

It's soft and messy and Zanka is losing coordination, focus razor split between the kiss, Enjin inside him, their hands still twined together, the way Enjin's other hand is petting slow and heavy over the outside of Zanka's thigh. Too much, too good, all of his senses taken over and his mind full of nothing but Enjin Enjin Enjin.

Zanka shivers, falls back down to the mattress. "You can move, want you to," he pants, arching a little. "'M ready, please."

Enjin is panting, looks maybe more wrecked than Zanka does, but he moves. Draws his hips back slow, then pushes in deep, a solid thump that makes Zanka's back arch off of the mattress completely on its own. Zanka brings his free hand to his belly, can feel it under his fingers when Enjin thrusts in. The evidence of it under his hand, the very slight bulge visible when Zanka breathes in, gasping, has his eyes rolling back, a broken little sob slipping out.

"Zanka, sweetheart, what's wrong? Too much?" Enjin pets over Zanka's cheek, tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. He doesn't stop moving, keeps that same deep, steady rhythm.

"N-no, 's good, it's— Oh, 's good, jus' deep," Zanka slurs, words spilling out fast, tripping over each other. "I can feel it, here." He grabs Enjin's hand, presses it down under his own, lets Enjin feel the shape of himself moving inside, sucks in his tummy to make it show.

"Fuck, Zanka—," Enjin says it like it hurts, like Zanka has pulled it out of him, low and growling. His hand flexes on Zanka's belly, pushes down just shy of too hard. "So tight, taking me so well, knew you would, knew you'd have the sweetest fuckin' pussy."

Zanka can't stand it. Enjin is fucking into him like he needs it, driving in deep, bending low to fold Zanka in half, just to get closer. Just so he can lean in and lick up the side of Zanka's throat, taste his sweat, nip at his earlobe and make the soft tassels he's still wearing tickle his skin— and then he starts talking.

"Gonna take such good care of you, pretty thing, keep you full, rub your little clit and make you cum on my cock whenever you want it," he breathes, quiet, right into Zanka's ear like it's a secret just for them. "Would you like that, Zanka? Gonna let me touch you, let me play with your pretty tits and eat your pussy whenever I want?"

Zanka can't speak, just nods fast and frantic, soft little ah ah ah's punched out of him every time Enjin thrusts in.

"Say it, Zan-zan, wanna hear you, c'mon— be a good girl, tell me you want it."

"W-wan' it," Zanka sniffles, little hiccuping sobs spilling out as he tries to be good, tries to scoop his thoughts together from the mess of sparkling cherry syrup inside his head. "So— ah— so bad, want your cock, want you to t-touch me, wanna be a good— please, please, wanna be a good girl for you."

Zanka feels Enjin's rhythm falter for just a moment, hears his teeth click together, jaw snapping shut. "Fuck yes, you are, my best girl, so fuckin' cute, so good for me." Enjin shifts, reaches a hand down to palm over Zanka's straining, leaking dick. "C'mon, Zan-zan, wanna feel you cum," he rasps. "Can you do that for me babydoll? Cum on my cock, lemme feel your little cunt squeeze me, you can do it—"

Zanka wails. He digs his nails into Enjin's shoulder, clawing, gasping, body locking tight as he cums, Enjin stroking him, fucking him through it. He sobs, goes limp as a ragdoll, trembling all over, still clenching around Enjin's cock, milking him.

"Just like that, beautiful— So perfect, always so good for me, so sweet," Enjin's voice is wrecked. He's dripping sweat, lower lip caught between his teeth, pulling back and rearranging Zanka's body so he can get a better angle.

"Gonna fill you up, sweetheart, give you my cum, make sure you're dripping with it—" Enjin grips his hips hard, enough that Zanka will have pretty purple finger-shaped bruises tomorrow, his rhythm going sloppy and fast, chasing his own orgasm. He lasts only a few thrusts more, and Zanka watches his face go blissfully lax in pleasure, feels the sudden flood of warmth, the way Enjin's movements are easier, slicker. The blatant ownership of it makes him shiver, the muscles in his thighs twitching.

Enjin rocks into him a little while longer, grinds in lazy just for the pleasure of it and lets himself go soft inside before he pulls out. Slick warmth seeps from him, cum spilling between his thighs until Enjin tuts, uses his fingers to press it back inside. Zanka feels Enjin moving, settling his still-trembling body back onto the bed. He's too blissed out to keep his eyes open, content to let Enjin do whatever it is he wants.

He feels a soft, damp cloth on his face, then his chest, rubbing him down and cleaning off the bulk of the tears, sweat, cum, and whatever else is on him— residual glitter from Riyo, probably. The thought makes him giggle, high on endorphins more than the drugs now.

"Do I get to hear the joke too, Zan-zan?" Enjin's voice is soft, deeply fond, as he gently wipes Zanka down.

"How much glitter is still on me?" Zanka giggles, fucking giggles, and rolls over, burying his face in one of Enjin's pillows.

Enjin snorts, lets out a low, raspy chuckle— one of Zanka's favorite sounds. "Enough," he replies, which probably means 'a fuckton'. Firm, soothing strokes down his back, between his thighs where he's messiest.

Zanka feels Enjin's weight settle onto the bed beside him. He pulls Zanka close, tucks him against his chest, gathered up like he could fold Zanka inside of his ribs and keep him there.

"So warm," Zanka mumbles, pressing his face to Enjin's chest. He brings his fingertips up to trace over the whorls of black and red on Enjin's skin, tracing featherlight over the ink.

Enjin makes a quiet, sleepy sound, and gives Zanka a brief squeeze. "Too hot?" he mumbles against the top of Zanka's head, into the mess of his hair.

"No, 's nice." Zanka curls closer, nuzzles his face against the smooth warmth of Enjin's skin. He's so comfortable. All of the tension that normally keeps his muscles knotted tight has been fucked out of him, leaving him soft and pliant. The thought of moving, of going back to his own bed, is intolerable. "Am I sleeping here?"

Enjin's arms stiffen around him. Zanka can hear his heart speed up, the beat of it loud where his ear is pressed to Enjin's chest. "Do you want to?" Enjin asks. "You can," he adds carefully, like he might frighten Zanka away if he speaks too loudly, makes any sudden moves. "I'd like it if you did."

Zanka makes a happy noise in reply and presses a soft kiss to the center of Enjin's chest. "'Kay, 'm staying."

Enjin's arms relax. He huffs a soft laugh into Zanka's hair. "Don't think I wanna let you leave, Zanka." His voice is low, sleep raspy, impossibly warm just like the rest of him. "No going back, sweetheart. I'm not sharin' you with anyone else."

"S'okay," Zanka says sleepily, "don't want anyone else, anyway. Jus' you." He thinks that maybe he will regret cracking open the fragile shell of his heart like this in the morning. Right now, it feels important to say it while he's still feeling brave, still soft and cherry-sweet from Enjin's attention. "S'been you, since forever."

Enjin sucks in a breath, lets it out slow. He gathers Zanka a little tighter in his arms, runs a hand up and down his side, from his ribs to the sharp cut of his hip, heavy-handed like he's trying to make sure Zanka is real, won't disappear if he looks away.

"Yeah Zan-zan, I know it," he says into the quiet of their little bubble. "S'been you for me, too."

The soft rasp of Enjin's voice is the last thing that Zanka hears before sleep finally pulls him under, warm and sated and safe in the cage of Enjin's arms, red and black patterns on the backs of his eyelids.