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“Fancy seeing you in my quarters, soldier. Don’t you have anywhere else to be? Watch duty or polishing your spear?” Python’s splayed out on his cot in their shared tent, his head propped up by a hand in a lazy attempt to meet Forsyth’s gaze. He chuckles at his own bad joke, a wolfish grin on his face as his partner goes bright red. Oh, he’s too easy, even weeks into this little arrangement. “Guess you could do that last one here. Though I’m not sure if it’ll aid the war effort.”
“Python!”
“Yeah? That’s my name. Don’t wear it out this early into the night.”
Forsyth is usually so quick to retort, but intimate matters leave him more flustered than usual. The sputtering and stuttering give Python a chance to swing himself up, the blood draining from his own face in a way that dizzies him, but that’s fine. If he has to flop back down, so be it. No skin off his teeth.
“I’ll never understand how forward you can be about this sort of thing.” It’s rich of Forsyth to say, given he’s already stripped out of his armor. Yeah, most knights do that before they retire to bed, but Python’s shared a tent with Forsyth long enough to know he isn’t most knights. Sleeping with a tin can is one thing, but next to one in full getup? Even Python struggles to get his beauty sleep. “Though…you would not be incorrect, on my intent tonight.”
“Always with the euphemisms.” Python grins, tapping the bedroll. “Saying dirty words won’t kill you. If it did, I’d already be–”
Oh! Forsyth has found a way to shut Python up, and he’s not complaining. He kisses just like he does everything else; intensely and with purpose. It’s easy to melt into it and forget about everything else. There’s a little hitch in his breath as Forsyth levers himself properly onto the bed, more specifically onto Python’s lap. Oh, he’s impatient tonight, hardly taking breaks for breath as he pries open their lips with a probing tongue and the buzz of a small moan.
“You’re incorrigible.” Forsyth finally breaks the kiss, panting through his blatant hypocrisy. “We have so much lost time to make up for.”
“Sap…” Python nuzzles their noses together, warmth kindling in his belly. This kind of affection’s harder to return than kissing, searing in its earnestness, but it is so very Forsyth. He giggles, high and airy, running a hand through that carefully-maintained hair. “So, eager beaver. What’s on the sex menu for tonight?”
Forsyth fixes him with an expected withering stare. What Python isn’t quite anticipating, though, is for the man to suddenly stand up, and…oh. Uh oh. He’s walking slowly, but it’s definitely toward the exit of the tent.
“Woah woah woah, hang on.” He’s not actually going to leave, is he? If he isn’t, he’s doing a good enough job feigning it to get Python on his feet. “Listen, I know that was bad, but is it really ‘leave poor ol’ Python hanging’ bad?”
Forsyth pauses, the silence hanging for a long, cuddleless moment. Finally, he shrugs his shoulders, turning around with a sigh.
“I suppose not. Though you’re on thin ice.” There’s that smile he knows and loves. Forsyth is bad at hiding his feelings, and Python wouldn’t have it any other way. The affection gives him flutters, and the hunger in his eyes an anticipatory jolt. “I was thinking of doing something for you, if you behave.”
“Uh-huh?” Watching Forsyth find his confidence is a delightful thing. He puffs his chest out for so many things, but sex is one of few things he starts off shy about. “Use your big boy words.”
“What am I to do with you?” Forsyth moves quickly, kissing Python before he can retort. He shifts to the long arc of his neck, his lips brushing over existing hickies and prompting a gasp. “I’ll be rewarding bad behavior, at this rate. Perhaps I’ve grown too soft…”
A lewd joke’s first syllable turns to a moan on Python’s lips as teeth begin to scrape the sensitive skin of his jawline, strong arms tugging at the hem of his shirt. When Forsyth gets needy, it’s hard to stop the momentum, and Python’ll be damned if he doesn’t like it that way.
“May I?”
“Always the gentleman.” Alas, Forsyth catches himself here. Sometimes, Python wishes he would just let himself act on his impulses, but they’d have to negotiate it ahead of time. He’s too careful for that, and it makes Python's heart ache with fondness. “Take off whatever you need for your plans. Speaking of which, you planning on letting me in on them, stud? I’m a hands-on learner.”
“O-of course!” There goes Python’s shirt, tugged off less carefully than usual. Forsyth doesn’t even tidy it, just tosses it onto the floor, and discards his own shortly thereafter. His pants, too, an impromptu strip tease that shouldn't work as well as it does. “Let me just…”
Forsyth's mouth presses against Python’s collarbone, drawing a breathy groan. He pauses, and when met with no resistance, marches a trail of kisses across Python's chest. He lavishes attention on a nipple, tongue swirling with gusto as his hands scrabble for sensitive perches.
“Shit, Forsyth.” Python curses under his breath, the heat pooling in his belly turning molten. Forsyth’s gotten damned good at this, and he shows no signs of slowing down. He sucks bruising marks lower, lower, until the aspiring knight is on his knees, nearly eye-level with the obvious tent in Python’s pants. “You need me to take this to bed?”
“No, just like this is fine.” Forsyth replies with a confidence that sends a thrill down Python’s spine. Even now, after they’ve been fucking like a pair of touch-starved rabbits, the sheer intensity of Forsyth’s desire is overwhelming. “I want to use my mouth on you. To completion, preferably.”
Well, Mila be damned. Who is Python to deny Forsyth such a simple wish?
“You’re cute when you’re assertive.” A hand finds its way into the meadow of Forsyth’s hair. Fondness has him ruffling it, and desire has him holding a bit tighter than necessary. “C’mon, then. Show me that knightly fervor.”
Forsyth’s face twists in a journey of conflicting emotions; his decorum overwhelmed by lust is exactly what Python wants to see. He gasps as Forsyth yanks down his pants, the tent in his smallclothes visibly wet at the tip. Every time this happens, Forsyth stares in awe, as if he can’t quite believe that he’s the source of Python’s desire. As if Python hasn’t wanted him like this for as long as he can remember.
“Y’know I mean it, right? You’re somethin’ special.” The reverence is just too damn much, so Python does what he does best; run his mouth and rile his partner up. “And I’m not just saying that ‘cause you’re sucking my dick. Well, maybe a–hah–little bit.”
Python’s not the only one who can tease. A kiss is pressed to his clothed length, a hand dips inside his smalls to grasp at his buttocks. Python can hardly stand to watch his oldest friend so methodically map his body, the thorough and deliberate intimacy more searing than the bruising journey before.
“Fors…” Python tilts his head back, growling lowly in his throat. Forsyth rushes into so many things, but it’s here he wants to take his sweet time. Figures. “You getting your revenge?”
“Perhaps.” Forsyth’s smile is audible as his fingers play with the waistband of Python’s smalls, taking a moment to savor his helplessness. Finally they join his pants on the ground, and Forsyth christens the newly-bare skin with a kiss against the crease of his thigh. Python gasps at the motion, unable to stop his hips from rolling forward. “Who’s eager now?”
“Can you blame a guy for getting excited? Not every day a handsome soldier offers to suck you off.” Python grins, the furrow on Forsyth’s brow a welcome familiarity. Even with a dick right next to his face, he’s uptight about crass language. It’s stupidly cute, unmistakably Forsythian. “More days than not, though. You really like it, huh?”
“I…! I like you.” Ah, there it is, that damned earnestness. Combine it with a hand gently cupping his balls and Python’s putty under his grasp, mumbling something unintelligible. If Forsyth is a fool, what is the man who follows him wherever he goes? “Love you.”
Aaaand Forsyth’s mouth is around his cock before he can even think of how to respond, which is probably for the best. Charging in, reckless, bold, Forsyth puts that over-active tongue to use, drawing a hiccupy gasp from Python as he licks a stripe all the way up to the tip before plunging down again.
Forsyth’s got nothing but Python’s hand on his head and cock in his mouth, but still he moans against it, as if the act alone is satisfying him. He’s got that intense gaze going, too, the one he always has when he’s practicing something he wants to get better at. He looks up, those determined eyes soft with affection, and gods, it’s just too much.
“Juuuuust like that.” Easier to deal with the messy stuff than the sappy stuff. Praise always gets Forsyth going, in and out of the sheets. He surges forward, greedy, and Python ruts back with such force he worries he’s overdone it. No, though, that seems to be exactly what Forsyth wanted, as he responds with a renewed vigour that makes Python’s head spin. “Good boy, good boy…”
The praise has the desired effect; Forsyth whines, gripping Python so hard he knows it’ll leave bruises, and his own hips buck against the air. Python understands getting pleasure from your partner’s own, but Forsyth takes it to a whole new level. Gods, if only he could reach Forsyth’s crotch from here. He’s probably so soaked it’d be easy to slip a finger in, maybe even two without having to prep.
Interrupting Forsyth when he’s this focused is a fool’s errand, though. And Python’s just fine continuing one of the best blowjobs of his life, which has gotten to the point where all of this thinking stuff is getting out of reach.
“Right there, keep going. Fuck. So good.” Python’s encouragement grows vaguer, more desperate, but Forsyth responds enthusiastically, holding Python like he’ll never get the chance to do this again. Python can feel a familiar heat building in his gut, not imminent but on the near horizon. Their movements grow faster, sloppier, and Forsyth is so loud against him with every thrust, every word. “Doing so well for me. C’mon, Fors…”
He’s close, and he knows it. The overwhelming pleasure, the brisk and unrelenting pace, but more than anything, the fact that it’s Forsyth. It’s Forsyth who loves him and shows it through the caring, relentless pleasure of his mouth, with such want it almost feels like he could come just from this. It’s better than anything Python could ever conjure on his own.
Oh, oh, oh…!
Forsyth’s latest cry echoes so intensely against Python’s cock that it almost finishes him off then and there, and he’s about to issue a warning. But Forsyth’s come to a standstill all of a sudden, shaking and unsteady, his mouth doing little but controlling his ragged breathing. Well, shit. Did he actually come from that?
“H-hey, big guy.” This close to orgasm himself, it’s hard to find the words, but this is too funny. And something he’s going to think about on his own time for years to come. “Everything alright down there?”
Forsyth actually starts trying to talk with a mouth full of dick, which embarrassingly almost pushes Python over the edge. He detaches, though, flushed so deep it’s a miracle he’s got enough blood in the rest of his body to stay conscious.
“I’m so sorry. I got carried away, you were just so…” Unfortunately Forsyth seems to think he’s done something wrong, instead of one of the hottest things Python has ever experienced. “I can get back to it. Just need a moment.”
“Relax, stud. Save the apologies for the bruises you don’t mean to make.” Python traces soothing circles in Forsyth’s hair, the motions helping ground him in the wait. “For the record, I didn’t even know that could happen. Like if you were humpin’ my leg or something, well duh, but this? Shit.”
“Python! Do you have to…” Forsyth shakes his head, his fondness and lust winning in real time. He dips his head back down, breath ghosting over Python’s needy cock, and ah, there’s lucidity gone again. “We can talk after I fulfill my end of things.”
Python doesn’t even have the chance to warn Forsyth when he comes, almost instantly upon the heat of his mouth encircling him again. Forsyth laps his spend up even as he wrinkles his nose at the taste, and that’s enough to wring one more pulse of pleasure from his wracked body, Forsyth’s mouth and hands guiding him through the afterglow.
“Toldja…” Python steps back just a touch, letting himself flop onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh. He takes Forsyth’s hand, guiding him to just sit together, on the same level. “Next time you gotta let me go first. Give me a chance to compete before the score’s already decided.”
“You? Volunteering for something?” Forsyth leans into him, just like they always have. It’s hard to ignore some of the new additions, though, especially…well, it’s obvious he’s staring, but Forsyth’s smalls are a damned mess. And is that another bulge he sees already? “We definitely should have started doing this sooner.”
“Mm.” Python presses a kiss to Forsyth’s cheek, not even bothering to hide the way his gaze traces up to his mussed lips and down to his ruined boxers again, taking detours all the way to admire the body he’s worked so hard to maintain. “Don’t expect me to wake up early for it, though.”
“A man can dream.”
“And this man is gonna still be dreaming at the crack of dawn, thank you very much. You’re always welcome to join me. Clothes optional.”
Python kicks away the clothes still pooled at his feet, a doofy smile on his face. Forsyth accepts his offer, shedding his boxers and wiping himself off with them before pressing himself oh so close. It’s gross, but the wrinkling of Python’s nose is performative, especially seeing (and feeling) his suspicions were true.
“You sure you’re totally ready to crash?” It’s cute how Forsyth is trying to avoid rubbing his hard-on against Python, but he should know by now that he doesn’t have to do that. “I’m not too tired to take care of your little problem, if ya want.”
“I-I–ah…” The shades of crimson Forsyth can turn are truly impressive. It’s just one thing after another with this guy. Woe is poor Python, forced to assure his partner it’s okay to get off not once but twice tonight. “I suppose, if you don’t mind…”
The same man who sucked Python off with gusto squirms awkwardly in bed, whimpering as he presses his groin a bit firmer than needed against Python’s leg. It’s a slower, gentler thing, Python holding him close as his arm snakes down, fingers curling around his cock as he murmurs quiet encouragement. Forsyth comes apart in his arms, Python’s name on his lips, and for just this moment, everything is right in the world.