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Robin
stepped forward while yanking down the other half of his underarmor
so that his arousal could finally breathe. Samael's eyes betrayed him
twice as hard as they locked onto the turgid, pink flesh that
throbbed with Robin's lingering adrenaline. "You look like you
wanna fuck," Robin commented mildly, taking another step so that
his freed malehood bobbed invitingly.
Samael
let out a short laugh drenched in honesty and eagerness alike.
"Yeah...yeah, a'right, I kinda do," he admitted as
his hands hesitated only a moment before swiftly undoing his own
supply packs and belt. "Yer...kinda fucked up, though," he
added with a concerned glance toward the various punctures and
slashes across Robin's body, some that hadn't yet stopped their slow
trickle of blood.
"So
are you," Robin retorted before he advanced again with a heavier
huff. "Ain't gonna take long. Patch up after."
Samael's
movements became harried, his shorts flying down across his
trunk-like legs as his own breathing accelerated. Robin made a mental
note. Good to know one of this guy's weaknesses. But the needy
behavior didn't reduce any of Robin's own momentary desire...hell,
the thick, teal erection bouncing between Samael's legs served as
Sirca's least necessary aphrodisiac. Samael licked his lips again,
appearing to lose the battle to continue staring intently at Robin's
stiff excitement. "Mah arm's kinda fucked, ain't sure how good
I'mma--"
"Fuck
you, Shorty," Robin interrupted with a half-smirk. "You hit
me with a fuckin' crowbar. You ain't gonna hafta do shit, 'cuz I owe
you." He took one more step and then let a full grin
illuminate the crackling night air between them while pointing past
Samael's shoulder. "Right over there."
The
rebel twisted his head around, his eyebrows rising with intrigue at
the massive log sprawled sideways further in the treeline. Samael
didn't balk at the command, nor did he transform into a quivering
mass of submissive energy. Goddamn, though, the eager expression he
flashed was electric. "Heh...fair's fair, I suppose,"
Samael panted as he turned to stumble toward the log. Robin guessed
the slight limp had been acquired somewhere on the train; guy seemed
to have almost as many injuries as Robin. Then again, it probably
took a special kind of crazy to join up with the Movement.
Robin's
eyes were pulled up past Samael's shapely ass to the large tattoo
burned into the lower half of his back. An Army magnum crossed with a
large blade. Bold, a lot like the chupa sporting it. It was framed
neatly by his broad hips below and the stab wound above, the latter
courtesy of Robin himself. Eh, little guy would be fine. Seemed just
as tough as Robin...and the way his tail swayed back and forth with
every step toward the log might as well have been a signed waiver.
Each jingle of the crimson piercing below his tuft urged a steely
twitch from Robin's malehood, promising a much better post-combat
session than he usually got.
Suddenly,
desertion seemed like the best fucking idea he'd had all year.
Robin
could tell Samael was putting on a show, whether or not it was a
conscious decision. His wide, curvy hips swung in time with his tail,
his eyes kept flashing needy looks over a shoulder. Only issue was
that Robin didn't need convincing, and he certainly wasn't in the
mood for foreplay. As soon as Samael's hands pressed gently atop the
log, Robin rushed forward with a low growl in his throat. He wanted
to sate this physical need, give his body something to feel while the
rush yet pulsed through him.
Samael
gasped what might have been genuine surprise when Robin managed to
plunge himself halfway in with no preparation, their bodies colliding
as the smaller chupa yielded smoothly to the unexpected penetration.
Robin groaned his satisfaction and took his incidentally-perfect aim
into stride, immediately shoving one hand against the nape of his
no-longer-enemy's neck to force him over the log as the other hand
grasped firmly into a hip.
Samael's
chest slammed atop the log a moment before Robin bucked his hips and
nearly hilted himself, his teeth clenching as his claws dug into
Samael's fluffy hide. Samael cried out softly, his tail switching to
and fro as the hoop-and-bar piercing jangled erratically. "Hnnngh,
that's good," Robin muttered, bowing his head forward and
planting one knee against the log as the other prosthetic anchored
into a solid patch of ground. "Let's do this, Shorty..."
Samael's
only response came in the form of his fingers clutching tightly into
the log, tearing furrows through the dead bark as his hips quivered
anxiously against Robin's. "Think you need this more than me,
gatito," Robin commented. He wasn't complaining, however,
tightening his fingers into Samael's hips and moving his other hand
to grip into a thickly-muscled shoulder. With his squirming partner
now held in place, Robin relinquished the reins and allowed his
instincts to take control.
He
pulled back by several centimeters, giving them both a chance to
inhale before his hips punched forward. Samael cried out blissfully
as Robin growled his pleasure and broke into a swift, pounding
rhythm. The deadwood beneath them creaked under their weight, further
desecrated by the shameless scrabble of Samael's claws through the
flaking bark. Robin panted hotly with each powerful slam, tasting a
brief sliver of wonder for the way his new partner's body seemed to
relish the rough, impersonal entangling.
Maybe
Robin needed this, too.
Or
maybe Shorty was just a whore.
Robin
leaned over the smaller chupa as each thrust drove his length harder
and faster, his teeth gritting painfully with the need to maximize
the sensation. His limbs ached, his nerves were frayed, but in this
moment, the void showed submission. He didn't have to shun his past,
he didn't have to sanitize his future. He was free to feel the joy of
exertion, the strain of pushing his body to the limit. It was the
most intimate of sparring matches, capable of joining even the souls
of complete strangers for a few minutes of escape.
He
heard Pauline's voice, whispering approval for his spontaneous turn
to heresy. He clenched his jaw harder in denial and dug his claws
deeper into Samael before hitching a leg up to plant the steel
prosthetic into the log. A quavering mewl trickled up from his
partner and tempted his heart, leaving Robin no choice but to snarl
and rock his hips forward with all his might.
His
thighs crashed into Samael's a moment before his knot plunged home,
eliciting a sharp yelp from below him. Robin gurgled and gave himself
fully to the urgent desire, wrenching himself backward and freeing
himself with an audible pop only to smash forward again. His
partner's body was crushed into the log as a more piercing wail
twisted up to the dark foliage. Robin had no hope of slowing his
hips, his muzzle mashing into Samael's spine with the effort of
yanking his arousal out only to bury it again with even greater
force.
"O-h-hoo...fuh-fuck,
h-hon," Samael whined, only to yowl again as Robin drew only
every remaining bit of his energy to rocket back and forth, forcing
the still-burgeoning base of his malehood in and out of its
spasm-riddled host. Samael's punctuated cries filled the forest and
curled around Robin's guarded emotions, urging him on for the sake of
hearing them just a little bit longer. "Sh-shit, ahh, hngh, mmf,
f-fuck, fuck!"
As
the keening moans became tinged with discomfort, Robin lowered his
head further still and then clamped his maw around his partner's free
shoulder. His jaws locked tightly and he tasted blood and heard a
squeal and pounded his hips one final, ponderous time. His arousal
buried beyond the hilt, a satisfied shout muffled by Samael's
shoulder while his legs flexed to the point of trembling. The log
shook beneath them as he hammered upward in tiny, rapid motions to
unload his climax deep inside the squirming rebel.
Samael's
tail jangled weakly, pinned as it was between their heaving torsos,
only coming to a tinkling halt after Robin's jagged thrusts did.
Robin exhaled slowly around the fur and blood and saliva, barely
finding the strength to unclench his jaws enough to release the
brutalized shoulder. Samael winced when his fangs pulled free, then
emitted a soft whimper when Robin collapsed atop his back as his leg
slipped from the log.
Normally
Robin would have yanked himself free to avoid the misty afterglow for
longer than he dared, but he couldn't recall the last time his body
was so thoroughly spent. Plus it felt kinda nice while it lasted,
anyway, lodged as he was within another of Sirca's unfortunate souls.
It
was an assumption he was willing to put money on. Just because Shorty
was full of passion didn't mean he could hide the beast beneath his
friendly demeanor and smiling facade. He could have killed Robin more
than once during their tussle, and grit like that wasn't something
you got for free. Robin figured he could be a bit more polite than
usual with that in mind.
"Yo,
you get off?"
Samael
twitched beneath him before he let out a warbling chuckle as he
rubbed one of his thighs against the inside of Robin's. "Yer...yer,
cute...Robin, right?" Samael panted, flicking a blue eye
backward to glance at Robin's muzzle resting on his bleeding
shoulder. Robin didn't bother to acknowledge, knowing full and well
the rebel cared too much to get it wrong. "Don't, ah...don't
worry 'bout me. But them jokes...'bout me bein' one with
nature...guess I proved 'em right, heh..."
Robin
snorted his amusement and scraped up his reserves to curl one arm
beneath the smaller chupa before rolling to the side. They both
hissed softly as Robin remained buried, but then sighed in relief
when they dropped together against the log sideways. "If ya
sure," Robin commented while letting his head rest against
Samael's. "Ain't offended, gatito, I ain't lasted too
long."
"Heh..."
Samael settled back against him and reached down to pat Robin's hip
while he caught his breath. "Mebbe I'll take you up on that once
I pick all the tree outta my dick..." |