A Drink Before Battle [M/M] ✅

9: Is That What You Think? (NSFW)

"Kahan..."

"My name is Yeresym."

"Now, that is a beautiful name. Fitting for such a beautiful face."

Sevei pressed his chest to Kahan... Yeresym's back, their bare skin infused with heat everywhere they touched. He slid his hands down... Yeresym's sides, grasped his hips and pulled them back, grinding himself against those solid buttocks. Low, mocking laughter sounded from the other man.

"You should have done that when you had the chance."

"I'll do it now," Sevei murmured against his shoulder, teasing the tip of his tongue over skin that tasted very faintly of coppery blood. The man in his arms suddenly disappeared.

Sevei felt as if he were spinning around, and a split second later, came face to face again with Kahan... Yeresym... damn it.

"Is that what you think?" Yeresym said softly. He advanced, and Sevei was pushed back until he unexpectedly sat down on something behind him.

Those eyes had caught him again. They seemed to glow with a flickering green fire, as if they had the northern lights dancing around within them. He couldn't look away. He needed to look away. This was... General Urskatha... his colleague. Kahan... no, Kahan was a completely different person, right? This person... this mind-numbingly intoxicating person...

...was pushing his legs apart and inserting himself between them. Yeresym entered him, fitting himself inside Sevei with very slow deliberation.

"Ahh..." Sevei moaned in ecstasy as Yeresym grasped his hips in his vice-like hands and began to move in an almost lazy and casual rhythm, all the while staring into his soul from above with icy indifference.

Sevei touched Yeresym's fingers on his hip and pulled at them.

"Put your hand on me," he pleaded.

"Do it yourself," the other said dismissively.

Sevei scowled with dissatisfaction, but obeyed, taking hold of his own member and sliding his fingers along the length as Yeresym continued his languid invasion.

There was something missing.

"It's not enough," Sevei panted. "I need... your hands... I can't forget..."

"It's best that you do."

Sevei's eyes peeked open. His hand was in his trousers, slowly working himself over. The sun was already lighting up the white canvas of his tent. The camp outside was alive with calling voices and rushing business and so much clanging metal. Someone was hammering something somewhere nearby.

Best make this quick. He sped up his movements, and peered to his left, grabbing a small towel from the bedside table to catch the mess he was about to make. He got the towel in place just in time.

Struggling to control his labored breathing, he choked back a moan that knotted painfully in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the darkness in his mind seemed alive with green fire. As all the tension fled his body and he settled down into a warm and fuzzy haze, almost wanting to fall asleep again, he remembered lying nose to nose with Kahan – no, General Urskatha.

Shit. Get it together, Vei.

He lay staring at the ceiling of the tent, at some shadows made by fallen leaves against the white canvas.

They'd been in camp for a few days now. Sevei hadn't seen much of Urskatha recently, save for a few fleeting glimpses of the man coming and going from his tent across the courtyard. The day after their arrival, there'd been a silent and very awkward ride to the port to meet with the Brins, during which he learned that Sergeant Kahan was not Urskatha's second. There were four more Alchemists, which made sense. It was the Martial Line after all; couldn't be a line with only one Alchemist. The General's second was one of them, a Lieutenant Thelan, and he was the creepiest of all of them – too quiet, and seemed to be in some kind of dream-daze half the time. No one ever saw him around camp, which suited the Third Cavalry just fine.