It starts in the Garden but that is not where it ends.
One year, three months and two weeks to the day of their final victory, Oscar and Zolf receive a telegram from Cel’s village, informing them that they’ll be relocating to the South coast in short order, with Barnes in tow. Apparently they’ve been working on something that they think might make a good anniversary present, and would like to invite them to dinner once the house is set up.
“What’s this little scribble?” Zolf asks, having refused for months now to accept that he might need reading glasses.
Oscar peers in, looking at the hurried script of their friend. “It’s a little stick figure of Cel. I think they’re winking. And giving a thumbs up.”
“Next to them is one of me. I appear to be aroused and remarkably well-endowed.” He smiles. “How flattering. Remind me to thank them.”
“Yeah, thought I saw as much.”
Oscar laughs, turning his face into Zolf’s neck and enjoying the heat in his husband’s skin. “I think we can guess at least the theme of their gift.”
Despite the unsubtle hints, neither of them are prepared for Cel to invite them into their lab and abruptly thrust two vials of dark, shimmering liquid at them. Zolf frowns at his, while Oscar unstoppers the bottle and sniffs, surprised when there’s barely a hint of a scent to it.
“Remember that ichor back in the Garden, the stuff that came out of the tentacles? Remember how we all got a bit weird after it touched us, but like, only for a minute?” They barely wait for an affirmative from either him or Zolf before continuing. “I took some of it, bottled it up and put it in my pack. Call it natural curiosity. I thought I might be able to make something out of it, and I was right.”
They pause and look expectantly at each of them in turn, almost as if they’re waiting for…
Oscar shrugs, bringing the bottle closer to his mouth. There’s not a lot he fears now, and he trusts Cel more than he can say—.
“No no nonono. Gods, please no don’t drink it here.”
He stoppers the bottle quickly, setting it down on the table with a nervous little flick of his wrist. “What, pray tell, is in it?”
“Well I thought I might be able to experiment with which of the emotions it could particularly affect, you know, perhaps help someone with their lingering rage or, more excitingly, their libido. I got it, and pretty quickly too, actually, we only had to go through a few testing rounds to make sure it worked properly—.”
“We?” Zolf croaks, still clutching his bottle tight.
“Barnes and I, yeah. Where’s the fun in a relationship if you can’t experiment a bit?”
Oscar laughs, unable to stop it bubbling out of him, and covers his face with his hands. He’d nearly taken a very strong aphrodisiac without any hesitation whatsoever. He can’t deny it would have been... interesting, but there’s something to be said for restraint when you’re in a friend’s home.
“So what’s it do, actually?” Zolf asks, setting his own draught down. Side by side they look quite beautiful. It’ll be a shame to drink them.
“You’ll need to both agree to wanting to take them, because once it’s done there’s no coming back - believe me. It’ll lower all of your inhibitions and all you’ll want is each other. I recommend snacks, lots of snacks and plenty of water. The last time we tested it we didn’t sleep for a day. And this one’s more potent by, oh, a factor of… ten, maybe.”
Oscar’s stomach does a silly little flip at the mere thought of it.
It sounds like some of the drugs he might have dabbled with as a younger man, only with a more singular intention and a healthy dose for his husband too. The things they could get up to…
“Alright, Cel.” Zolf says, looking across at Oscar with a lovely bright flush across his cheeks. “Thanks.”
“Oh you are welcome Zolf, both of you. It’s the least I can do. Plus it’s always good to widen your sample group, wherever possible.” They pause, looking between the pair of them. “You will let me know how it goes, won’t you? For my research?”
Zolf’s mouth twists but, unseen, Oscar tips Cel a little wink that has them grinning.
“Excellent, excellent.” They say, clapping their hands together. “I think James might be done with dinner, if you’re both okay to stay, still?”
Before they leave the lab, Oscar notices Zolf carefully putting the bottles in his small bag of holding and tries not to grin too much when their fingers knit together on the way out the door.
Their anniversary dawns with lazy kisses in the mid-morning sun and a delivery of cards and gifts with the morning post.
It would be a lie to say that Oscar has forgotten, exactly, the gift that Cel gave them a few weeks previously, even if he's put them out of mind as much as possible. The bottles have sat in the bathroom cabinet beside all of their other lotions and potions and every time he’s seen them he’s got a little bit turned on.
Even if he had somehow managed to get the thought of a marathon no-inhibitions session with Zolf out of his head, there’s a note at the bottom of the card that Cel and James have signed that wishes them a pleasant experience and reiterates the need for refreshments.
(They have that down, at least - Zolf’s been cooking a series of lovely snacks for them, including some of those little pastries that Oscar remembers from their wedding, and he’s made sure they have some tasty little beverages alongside Zolf’s ability to create water.)
It’s not really a surprise that they don’t even make it to lunch before retiring to their bedroom, the windows wide open so that they can hear the crash of the sea and the call of birds, their sheer curtains floating gently in the wind and lending an ethereal air to the room, entirely at odds with the intent of the two men within it.
“Are you sure about this Zolf? I don’t want you to feel obliged just because of the date.”
Zolf nods, looking up from the bottle in his grip and staring straight into Oscar’s eyes. “More than sure. Can’t deny m’curious about what you’re like without any inhibitions. Figured I’d already seen that.”
Oscar laughs, reaching out to tug on the end of Zolf’s beard in retaliation. “Alright, very clever.” He pauses, then leans in to steal himself a gentle kiss, tingling with anticipation. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Zolf says, cheeks coloured with a lovely flush as he unstoppers the bottle. “See you on the other side?”
Oscar nods, clinking their potions together and bringing it to his lips. “Cheers, darling.”
They swallow it down in perfect unison, putting the bottles off to one side with what remains of their composure.
It doesn’t hit as quickly as he expected, and he’s almost wondering if they stored them wrong when a great rush of heat shoots up his spine, settling heavy and muzzy in his head.
His skin prickles with heat everywhere that Zolf’s hands touch, everywhere his eyes trace.
The press of lips to his throat has him howling and grasping and wrapping his limbs around Zolf with a fierce need to never be more than an inch apart from the warm embrace of his husband ever again.
Zolf grunts and fucks against him, cock already hard despite them doing nothing more than kiss and grope. The noises that his darling husband makes make his head spin and he curses, loud and free, rocking back into the hunger of Zolf’s movements.
There is nothing in his world beyond these four walls. Nothing beyond the feel of Zolf’s weight across his thighs.
He will never need anything other than this again.
He comes twice before any of the skin hunger even slightly abates.
His cock is still full and hard as Zolf licks down his stomach, lips catching up the slick and spend that covers his skin. Oscar grins through the weighty press of two hands to his hips, the warmth of a mouth around his cock, and does his best to stay still when Zolf swallows around him.
“Gods.” He mutters, feeling his heart beating steady and fast, his body riding an adrenaline high fiercer than he’s felt since stealing across Japan in the dead of night...
“Stay with me, Oscar.”
Zolf murmurs into his thigh, and it brings Oscar right back, his eyes going wide and his hips bucking up to smear slick across Zolf’s lips so that they shine in the afternoon sun.
“Messy.” Zolf says, quiet and chastising, before sinking back down and sucking until Oscar shudders through another orgasm.
Zolf fills him so nicely. Always. He’s never needed more.
“Fuck, darling.” He breathes, his cock bouncing against his belly as Zolf moves into him slow and steady. “I need more. More, more. Give me your fingers, give me something.”
Zolf doesn’t pause to ask if he’s sure, just reaches down and teases a thick finger at the slick rim of his body, pressing in and cursing with it. It’s still not enough but it’s better, it’s not quite so empty, quite so stark…
Without letting Zolf go he flails over to the bedside table and yanks the drawer open (they should have laid these out earlier, how did they forget?). He pulls out one of their toys, one of the ones that Cel gave them, and turns the little switch at the bottom so that it’s vibrating in his hand as he presses it into Zolf’s grip.
“This. Put it in me. Do it darling, please.”
Zolf smirks, pouring oil over the toy and dragging it down over Oscar’s cock, his balls, letting it rest at his perineum until he’s gasping, cock jerking and covering his belly in even more spend.
“You look so good like this.” Zolf says, groaning as he slots the toy alongside his cock, the vibrations affecting him just as much. “Covered in your own come. Stretched around me. Too greedy for even my fat cock to satisfy you.”
“Yes, yes.” Oscar whines, feeling his body slowly give in as Zolf moves the toy into him. “Fuck, darling. Only you can make me feel this way. Only you. My body is yours.”
“Wish you could see how you’re opening for me darling. Could fit my fist in you now.” He huffs out a breath, tensing and leaning over him heavily on one arm. “Fuck, you’re tight. Don’t think I can hold out.”
“Don’t. Don’t. Come in me again, darling. Come in me and — gods, the vibrations — keep going. We don’t have to hold out.”
Zolf fucks him through a first orgasm and doesn’t even flag, snarling around a pleased grin as he continues to move, hard and unyielding as the fake cock. Oscars gives up on holding his head aloft, leaning back into the pillows and letting Zolf take and own and have him.
When Zolf comes again, shouting his name in a voice that is getting hoarse and collapses against his chest, heaving in deep breaths, Oscar laughs and tangles a hand in his hair.
Zolf turns his face into Oscar’s belly. “Gods. Please.”
They make it through a bathroom break, a glass of water and some carefully applied healing to ease any soreness, before Oscar finds his fingers straying back to Zolf’s skin. He watches the way it gives to the press of his fingertips, the fat and muscle of his thigh spreading under the press of his fingertips.
It makes him shudder.
It makes Zolf smirk.
And that spells the end of their break.
“Gods Oscar don’t fucking stop.”
Oscar smirks, setting his lips to Zolf’s thigh and sucking hard, worrying the captured skin with his teeth to ensure that his presence will be felt and remembered long after the potion has worn off.
He crooks his fingers, deep and harsh, chasing the arching, grunting pleasure that Zolf gives him. He spreads his fingers, watches the clutching heat of Zolf’s body give to him and whines, biting hard at the muscle of Zolf’s thigh.
Satisfied that Zolf is wound tight enough and open enough, he reaches for one of their thicker plugs and moves it into his husband’s body with a quiet sigh. He takes it so easily, greedy for it, the length of it disappearing until the flared base sits solid between his cheeks.
Oscar satisfies himself with fantasies of pulling it out of Zolf’s body later, slow and steady, and sinking into the grasping heat himself… but that’s not for now. For now, he slides up Zolf’s body, feeling the slick pass of Zolf’s heated cock against his belly.
He snarls into the kiss that Zolf gives him, rocking their cocks together and drawing Zolf’s hands down to cup his ass. He’s still open and slick from earlier and Zolf sinks two fingers into him easily.
“Gonna ride you so well you forget your name.”
Zolf smirks, biting at Oscar’s lip and then letting go, holding his cock so that Oscar can sink onto it.
“So long as I remember yours.”
Drawing a shudder and surprised moan from Zolf is one of his favourite things, earning himself a moment of catching his staid lover off-guard. It’s a testament to how lost both of them are in this that it happens again, and again and he greedily laps each one up with a smirk in the rise of Zolf’s arse.
He’s teasing them both now, pulling the plug out slowly and then shoving it back in, fucking Zolf on the toy in the way that he so desires to do.
Zolf’s hips move in lazy circles against the sheets, his back flexing as he fists the pillows and gasps. Oscar is so desperately weak. So weak and so hungry, in a way that feels like it will never be sated again.
“That’s it darling.”
“Oscar.” His name is uttered on yet another moan, chased with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come.”
“That’s rather my intention.”
Zolf looks back at him with eyes that are so much pupil that only a hint of blue remains. “Want you in me.”
Oscar hums, returning to sucking bruises into the plush hair-dotted rise of Zolf’s backside. “Give me an orgasm first. I want to slide into you while you’re still twitching, ride you through the oversensitivity and beyond it.”
Zolf laughs, tucking his forehead against the mattress. “Fuck.”
He can sense the desperate need of earlier fading into something more like simmering want the likes of which he’s at least more familiar with. He could ride this high for hours, for days if it meant getting to watch the slick give of Zolf’s hole as he pulls the toy out once more, circling it and then rolling it back in against Zolf’s prostate.
True to his words, he watches until Zolf shouts a muffled curse into the mattress and then slides the toy free, slicking himself up and pressing home. He swears, colourful and creative as Zolf surrounds him, the pulsing pulls of his body enough to chase Oscar right up to the edge.
“Gods you’re gonna kill me.” Zolf gasps, rocking back as Oscar smooths his palms over the inked lines on Zolf’s back.
“Maybe.” He murmurs in response. “Then I’ll just bring you back.”
Zolf clenches so hard at those words that Oscar worries for a breathless moment that he might be the one to expire.
“You can’t just say things like that.” Zolf groans, reaching back with one arm to wrap a solid hand around his wrist.
Oscar purrs, rocking forward and circling his hips deep and searching, leaning over the length of Zolf’s back and setting his mouth at the dwarf’s ear.
“I’d come for you. The way you came for me.” He says on a heated exhale. “Chase you to the ends of existence.”
Zolf whines, trying to move back but hampered by the solid weight of Oscar across his back.
Oscar does, going very still and feeling his heart thud uselessly in his chest. “Love?”
“If you’re gonna say shit like that I wanna see you.”
Oscar grins in relief, pulling out of Zolf and delighting in his stifled groan of loss as he heaves himself onto his back. Oscar can’t help but spread his palms all over that gorgeous skin, tugging on Zolf’s chest hair and dipping down to suck at Zolf’s nipples with soft, tender little pulls.
He urges Zolf’s hips up and slides a pillow beneath to support their bodies before they start getting too tired to indulge, hips probing until he slips inside the heat of his husband’s body once more. Their eyes lock and he feels the force of that connection right down to his very soul, the slight quirk to Zolf’s mouth as he starts to thrust making him feel a little unsteady.
“I mean it.” Oscar says, leaning in to brush his lips over Zolf’s. “I’ll find you, anywhere.”
Zolf arches, shuddering and rubbing his hot cock against Oscar’s belly. “Same. Same, gods Oscar.”
Oscar grins through the sticky sensation of Zolf spilling between them and chases his own end, shivering through the feel of Zolf’s orgasm and coming hard and hungry deep in his husband’s body.
With a soft grunt he pulls out, and reaches for the plug once more, pressing it hard into Zolf’s body. “For later.”
Zolf laughs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
He loses count of which break it is when Zolf starts to feed him little treats, somehow not expecting him to lick and suck at the fingers that linger against his lips.
“These are delicious, darling.” He murmurs, catching up Zolf’s wrist between both his hands. “How do you do it?”
“Inspiration.” Zolf says, not trying to move away, eyelids getting all heavy when Oscar captures the tip of a finger between his teeth and nibbles gently.
“If that’s what it takes, then consider me very inspired.”
Zolf watches with heated eyes as he drops to his knees, urging thick thighs apart and pausing to press his fingertips to each and every bruise and scratch.
“Another treat.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss Zolf’s soft cock. “Just for me.”
A laugh reaches his ears and he can’t quite manage to open his eyes.
He grumbles, moving his hips in a tired circle, clutching hard at the plush curve of Zolf’s chest.
He peers down at Zolf through eyelids that feel so damnably heavy. “What.”
“S’alright to be tired you daft thing.” Zolf says, gritting his teeth against a yawn of his own. “We’ve been at this for fucking hours.” Oscar’s lips quirk into a small smirk at that phrasing, but Zolf squeezes hard at the thigh bracketing his hips. “Don’t.”
“I just. Don’t want this last time to be a complete wash, darling.”
Zolf scoffs, lifting Oscar off him with incredible strength given everything they’ve been doing. Oscar moans mournfully but flops back into the pillows, which have never felt better and more supportive. He smiles happily, almost dopily, as Zolf slots between the pulled up length of Oscar’s thighs, fitting their cocks together.
“It’s never a complete wash with you, you fancy idiot.” Zolf murmurs, drawing a bubbling laugh from Oscar’s chest.
“I love you.” Oscar murmurs. “This has been perfect.”
“It has.” Zolf smiles, grinding himself firm and unrelenting, the sparking of sensation in Oscar’s gut growing with each thrust. “Love you too.”
He holds Zolf’s face in his hands as he lets his husband lead them both to a slow, rolling, aching orgasm, smiling brightly at the soft edge to Zolf’s gaze. He doesn’t have the strength left to contort himself for a kiss, so simply stares and drinks in the way Zolf’s faces twists as pleasure floods over them both.
Then, with a grunt, the strength goes out of Zolf’s arms and he falls to lay across Oscar’s belly with a punched-out laugh.
“That’s it. I’m done.” He says.
“Completely fucked out?” Oscar replies, tugging a hand through Zolf’s hair.
“Mrr.” Comes Zolf’s response, followed shortly by a faint snore.
He grins. “I’ll take that as a yes darling. Sleep well.”
He wakes up to a star-filled sky and no awareness of precisely what day it is. It’s disorienting in a way that Cel warned them about, and he pauses for a moment, coming to terms with the fact he won’t really know for sure until the next day’s paper is delivered.
He thinks it’s probably only been a day, but when he lifts his arms to rub at his eyes, every single inch of him shouts in protest.
Gods he aches.
He looks down at a weight on his chest, hoping that he’s not actually hurt himself to feel so tight in that area, only to find Zolf sprawled half on top of him, drooling into his sternum.
Well, at least they’re both a mess.
He prestidigitates them both clean with a gentle hum, the rumbling of it stirring Zolf from his death-like slumber.
“Whassit.” Zolf mumbles, voice hoarse with overuse. “Os-Oscar?”
“I’m here, darling.” He says, impressed by how husky and sexy his voice sounds. If only he could always have it this way. “Think we made it through.”
“Fuck.” Zolf says, not even trying to move. “Fuck. Feel worse than I did when I was shipwrecked.”
“Guess this is the post-orgy hangover they warned us about.” Oscar murmurs, brushing his fingers through Zolf’s hair.
“Is it an orgy if there’s only two of us?” Zolf laughs, though it quickly becomes a quiet cough into the back of his hand. “Fuck. I could sleep for days.”
“We can, darling. At least another six or so hours until morning anyway.”
Zolf nods slowly, pressing up to take some of the weight off of Oscar. His eyes go quietly and comically wide when he looks down, and Oscar follows the line of his gaze with quiet curiosity.
Covering almost every inch of his torso are scratches, bruises and bites. Hickeys dot his pecs and belly, teeth marks lurid and purple around his nipples. When he glances over at Zolf he finds the same, tucked neatly beneath the dusting of his silvering chest hair. Each one of his tattoos is adorned with more artwork courtesy of Oscar’s fingers and mouth, and it is practically possible to trace the path of Oscar’s attentions.
They both look an absolute state.
“Bath, then more sleep?” Zolf asks, hand hovering over a particularly lurid mark on Oscar’s thigh.
Oscar nods quickly, his body already relaxing at the idea of being surrounded by hot water. “Please.”