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· · ─ ·𓆩𓆪· ─ · ·
Ororon stared at the green mushroom in front of him. It looked like the ones he'd seen on a scroll in the Collective of Plenty. Granny had told him the story about the self-proclaimed Sage-Lord of Fungi and his subordinates and how important it was to get rid of them.
Of course, they were now in Sumeru, the origin of the said Fungi God's legend, but Ororon would not be Granny Itzli's favorite student (she'd definitely deny that) if he didn't heed the advice of their ancestors. And right now they said, "This mushroom has to be taken care of."
Determination swelled in Ororon's chest.
I can do this!
Ifa had been but a mere observer of Ororon's unusual actions so far. Now, his brows furrowed in thought.
"Bro, are you trying to brawl with that mushroom? Is it insulting you?" he joked as Ororon took one last look at the menacing shroom, before turning around to his best friend.
"Look at it, Bro. It's clearly evil!"
Narrowing his eyes, Ifa approached to take a closer look at the supposedly evil mushroom that dared threaten his mate. He huffed, blowing air in the direction of the wicked plant.
"Vicious green. Very suspicious."
Ororon raised his eyebrow. He could tell by the bright timbre of Ifa's voice that he didn't take him seriously. But that was okay. Ifa knew more about saurians than legends anyway. It was Ororon's job to guard the stories of old.
"Time to say goodbye," he muttered, and soon after, a thunderbolt shot down from the sky, roasting the offspring of evil. Steam rose from the burnt remains as Ororon crouched to pick the now mushy plant up and bit into it.
Strange, it tasted horrid.
Caught off guard by Ororon's sudden move, Ifa took a leap back.
"What the heck, Bro?! Seriously? You could have just said that you're hungry!" and burst out laughing at the ridiculous expression on his bro's face. "Pretty awful taste, huh?"
"It's disgusting... but I guess that's the taste of evil." Ororon grimaced, swallowing the rest of the mushroom, trying hard not to gag the wretched plant back up.
The things I do for Natlan, he thought.
—
After his quarrel with the wicked fungi—he wasn't sure he'd won, but that was another story—they journeyed on.
Ororon had filled Ifa in on the legend of the Mushroom God. His laughter had died abruptly upon hearing it. Since then, the vet couldn’t help but sneak glances at him from time to time, possibly worried that Ororon might suddenly face the Sage-Lord in his subconscious like the Traveler had back then.
Silly bro.
The sun hung low over the canopy of the Avidya Forest as they settled around a campfire on Gandha Hill. Ifa whistled a song while cooking and Cacucu joined in most eagerly.
As Cacucu's croaking rose, Ororon's vision started to blur, and his heartbeat suddenly thundered in his head erratically. A startled gasp left his lips at the notion of his body growing warmer. It began in his belly and slowly spread to his limbs. With every breath he took, the heat grew stronger, languidly flowing through his veins like the magma of the Great Volcano of Tollan. Sweat gathered on his forehead. Voice weak and trembling, he called for his friend.
"Ifa—something's off— "
Within seconds, the vet was hovering over him. "What's wrong, Bro?" the deep voice said, and Ororon shuddered as the man's scent washed over him. Thick and pressing, filled with the fragrance of herbs he carried on him to treat sick saurians. And right now, Ororon wanted nothing more than to be such a saurian under Ifa's gentle care.
He choked down a whine of desperation and turned towards the source of heat next to him. His hands reached for something to hold onto, wanting that warmth near him.
Ifa's hand, in the meantime, had caught his, holding it tight while the other was gently placed on his forehead.
"You're burning up, Bro! We need to get you to a doctor."
Ah, but I don't need a doctor. Ifa is enough, Ororon thought and tried to get the other hand near his face. A frustrated groan left his lips when the hand didn't budge.
"Hand!" he pleaded, and Ifa looked confused.
"I've got you, Bro. I've got you," he said reassuringly as he stroked his friend's cheek. Relieved, Ororon brought the hand to his nose, inhaling deeply. The smell was stronger there, especially around the wrist.
"You smell nice," he heard himself dully say. Ororon was aware that he was not in his right mind anymore but he didn't particularly care. The scent of Ifa was right, it was reassuring, it was safe.
Ifa chuckled and patted his head. "That's a first, but we really should get you to a doctor now. Your pupils are as big as Cacucu and as a veterinarian I can assure you, that's not a good sign."
"Oh dear! Oh dear!" Cacucu added, frantically flapping near them.
Ororon huffed, but not because of the statement or Cacucu. While he liked having his head patted, he'd rather have those sunkissed hands near his ears, where he felt increasingly sensitive.
"You're fine. You're all I need," he said, voice breathy, trying to nuzzle his head (especially his ears) where Ifa's hand had touched him before.
"Listen. I know my share about human anatomy but I'd rather have you looked up by a professional. Fevers are no joke, Bro!"
He tried to lift Ororon up, removing his hand from the clutch of Ororon's fingers; but the young man of the Masters of the Night-Wind apparently wanted none of it. A soft cry left his mouth, hands darting after the warmth that had suddenly vanished. Ifa fell backwards and with him his friend who landed on top of him.
Excitement rolled through Ororon as the scent grew stronger. He buried his face next to Ifa's neck. The strong pulse of his best friend fluttered behind dark skin.
"So good!" he moaned and licked over the expanse of Ifa's neckline.
At that, his friend practically jumped upright, holding Ororon at bay with one hand.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Bro, are you turning into a vampire? Are you experiencing bloodlust?" Ifa blurted out, a traitorous red reaching his ears.
"I-", Ororon stopped himself, biting back the words that nearly escaped.
"We need to figure out what's wrong so we can treat it. You need a human doctor. Once that's done, I promise—you can do whatever you want!" Ifa's voice wavered, laced with a desperate kind of pleading.
Ororon was dissatisfied with Ifa's warmth slipping from his grasp and leaving him in the care of the cold ground.
"It's… just, that you smell so nice, Bro!" He tried again to convince his friend.
Thinking, Ifa tilted his head. Then suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, he darted toward their bags, snatched them up, and took a few leaps away from Ororon.
"Hey, Bro!" he called out, a grin spreading all over his face as he waved.
"This!" he pointed at his neck, voice almost teasing with a playful spark to it. "You want it, right?"
Ororon's eyes blew wide, pupils dilating like a predator locking onto prey. Quick, eager nods followed. There was nothing Ororon wanted more at this moment than snuggling up to Ifa's neck. Feeling his skin, tasting it and filling his lungs with that oh-so-alluring smell.
"Thought so," Ifa purred, slowly backing away, "Well then… come and get it, Bro. Right here~"
The reaction was instant. Ororon surged forward, drawn in as if enchanted, his entire focus locked on Ifa.
"Gooood boy! That's it, almost there~" Ifa cooed, retreating step by step, luring Ororon exactly where he wanted him to go—towards the next village where hopefully a doctor resided.
· · ─ ·𓅨· ─ · ·
The road to Gandharva Ville was like an obstacle race, not because of the path, but because Ororon desperately sought Ifa's warmth—his touch, his smell. It did nothing to stifle the growing flame in Ifa's gut.
Fortunately, finding a human doctor turned out to be child's play. Apparently, the clinic was the only place in the whole village that kept a curtain, which, judging by how many people mentioned it, had become somewhat of a legend.
"Mind the curtain."
"Check the curtain."
"Be attentive to the curtain."
Curtain, curtain, curtain—it echoed in Ifa's head like a skipping record.
And then, there it was. A rather modest house, marked by that famous curtain, their long-awaited salvation.
Without a second thought, Ifa swept the fabric aside, flung the door open, and dragged Ororon in alongside.
"Oh—" was the only thing he managed to say when his eyes caught the two people inside. The one with long upright ears and black-green hair looked flushed. Perhaps a patient with a fever? The other—well, the murderous glare flashing their way said enough. Hopefully, he was not the doctor.
Ifa snapped out of his daze and stepped forward urgently.
"I—we need your help! It's an emergency!"
The white-haired man looked more than ready to toss them right back out of the door they'd just barged through. But before he could speak up, the fox-eared one intervened. Quickly pressing his hands over the other's mouth to stop whatever angry snarl was about to erupt.
"Cyno. No." He said firmly, his gentle but firm voice leaving no room for an argument.
Cyno's eyes shifted to the one forbidding his mouth to run. A flicker of amusement and defiance sparked in them—sharp, elevated, yet mischievous. He casually lifted a small pink device into view, and the fox's ears instantly drooped.
"Nonono!" he breathed, but Cyno didn't stop. Grinning from ear to ear as his thumb nonchalantly pressed the pink button. The hybrid's hands flew away from Cyno's mouth, as if zapped by an electric current.
Was it pain? A new way of treatment?
The pretty fox's face flushed redder than a strawberry, lips clenching tightly, fighting to suppress whatever reaction threatened to bubble up.
Ifa stared blankly at the scene unfolding before him. This was the place where Ororon was supposed to get help? He prayed to the Wayob that Cyno was not the doctor. He looked far more like a tormentor than an actual healer. But before Ifa could turn around and look for their luck elsewhere, Ororon suddenly latched onto his neck, again, biting the tender skin.
A surprised moan slipped past Ifa's lips. He tried to shove his friend away. But as his hands connected with his bro's face, Ororon took one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked hard. Fire flared through Ifa's body like a live wire, and he struggled to maintain his composure.
Has Ororon always been this attractive? This appealing? Or did a missing puzzle piece in Ifa's view just snap into place? The confusion tangled with his rising arousal only made things worse. He had never felt this way about his bro.
How was he supposed to deal with this and Dr. Torment?
Ifa tugged his hat lower over his flushed face—another attempt to hide the heat that curled inside of him.
'Calm down. Calm down. Your bro needs you. He's in bloodlust—or whatever the hell this is.'
Ifa repeated the words in his mind like a prayer for focus. Trying to steady himself, drawing in slow, deliberate breaths… nearly forgetting that Ororon still had his fingers in his mouth.
"I'm sorry for interrupting, but my bro here needs help. He has a high fever and keeps going after my n—, neck." Ororon's ears perked up at that, letting go of Ifa's digits only to try to latch onto Ifa's throat again.
Cyno chuckled and tried to say something, but got interrupted by the fox-person.
"Please take a seat over there," he said, suddenly sounding very collected while he pointed at a bed in the relatively small room. "I'm Tighnari, the doctor."
Ifa, relieved by the unexpected doctor reveal, nodded and quickly moved to the bed. Since Ororon's mind was clearly distracted, Ifa sat down on the bed, hoping his friend would join him. To his surprise, Ororon did—eagerly like a puppy.
Even though Tighnari looked rather feverish, he retrieved some utensils for the check-up. A spatula and a small flashlight, things Ifa knew all too well from his own medical equipment. "Give him something to calm down so I can check his pulse," the fox said, voice strained, sweat glistening on his forehead. Ifa begrudgingly stripped his coat off and offered Ororon his wrist again. The Master of the Night-Wind happily took the offered limb into its hands and buried his nose into it.
"Pulse and temperature are elevated. When did the symptoms start? Did you encounter any weird plants, like pulsing red flowers or mushrooms perhaps?"
Ah…the Mushroom God! What was his name again?
Ifa explained their adventure from the beginning. How his friend was adamant in having found one of the god's subordinates and had swiftly dealt with it; but collapsed later that night. The doctor asked him a few more questions: How did the mushroom look? What Ororon had done with it, and how much he had eaten? When Ifa was finished, a long sigh escaped Tighnari's mouth.
"My guess is they shouldn't have truffled with the shroom?" Cyno snorted from the sidelines and earned himself an evil glare from the doctor.
"I hate to admit it, but yes, your friend is currently under the influence of said mushroom. It has nothing to do with the Sage-Lord of Fungi, but its effect is nonetheless very potent when consumed. Especially if not cooked properly for over 30 minutes."
Ifa swallowed in concern. "Does it cause bloodlust?"
"What?" Tighnari exclaimed and looked at the outlander, confused. Then his eyes found the tag on the discarded coat. "You're a vet, aren't you?"
Ifa nodded. "Well, that makes it easier, since you're familiar with the behaviors of saurians and animals. Simply put, the mushroom induces a strong aphrodisiac which does not cause trouble for humans. Hybrids, on the other hand—" he trailed off and watched Ororon's ears flapping forth and back excitedly while nibbling and licking on Ifa's arm. "It causes them to fall into a state similar to heat."
Ifa stared at Tighnari and then glanced at his bro. Heat? No, that can't be true. In that moment, Ororon's eyes searched his. The face looked flushed, pupils blown, and gaze heated—clear signs that what the doctor said was true.
Reluctantly, he asked his next question.
"How do we deal with it?"
Tighnari tried to explain, but Cyno's voice cut through their conversation. "How about you take care of that shroom down there before it takes too mushroom in his pants?"
Ororon abruptly looked up and stared at the white-haired guy, who was apparently very much into bad jokes.
"Gramps!" he exclaimed.
This time, Ifa groaned, but before he could start explaining, Cyno let out a disapproving grunt. "I may have white hair," he snapped, "but I am not that old!"
A snicker followed. "You sure about that?" came Tighnari's mocking voice from the side. "Your dad jokes aren't helping in making you look any younger."
The tension inside the room became instantly heated. Cyno's eyes narrowed, and a wicked smile spread over his lips. "Aren't you forgetting something, my dear Tighnari?"
Once more, the small pink device from earlier emerged into view, halting Tighnari in his tracks. His lips clenched into a tense line as a fierce blush bloomed across his cheeks.
Their bickering, however, got interrupted by a choked groan from Ororon. The man's fingers clamped around Ifa's arms in trembling urgency, eyes clouded and unfocused. His burning heat seemingly raging inside of him.
"I feel weird, Ifa! This funny feeling won't stop."
Ifa turned to Tighnari, his eyes written in a silent plea. He wanted to help, needed to do something to ease Ororon's suffering, but helplessness glued him to the spot.
"The symptoms will pass within the next ten to twenty hours. There is a way to help him ease the pain and shorten the time. But that task depends on you and your patient's willingness to participate."
Help? Of course, he would do anything for his bro! But how?
Ifa's puzzled expression must have shown as Tighnari let go of another disgruntled sigh.
"Archons, do I need to spell it out for you?"
"I don't understand, how can I—"
"For starters, make love," Cyno said, emphasizing on the word "love" with an excruciating eye roll.
"Huh? Lo—"
"Have sex. Intercourse. Mate. Fuck. Whatever you want to call it!" Tighnari snapped, almost losing his temper. He was clearly growing impatient, shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other.
Ifa was at a loss for words. Heat rose to his face, almost bursting like an overheated thermometer, just thinking about what Tighnari had said.
"Do you guys need some dick-spiration?" Cyno exclaimed with a bright grin, lifting up the remote in his hand.
Tighnari's not very convincing 'don't you dare' barely reached Ifa through the haze. His focus finally settled on the trembling Ororon in his arms, the understanding of the situation taking shape in his mind.
Ifa looked Ororon over worriedly. It wasn't that he didn't find Ororon attractive, quite the opposite actually. But he wasn't sure this was what his bro wanted—wanted in that way.
"Ororon.." Ifa whispered, his breath ghosting over Ororon's cheek like the tender touch of a lover, making him shiver. Ororon's mouth was slightly open, breathing fast and shallow, a clear sign of discomfort.
"Listen to me for a second. I need you to answer a few questions for me. Can you do that?" Ifa asked, deeply concerned by the situation.
It took a moment, but Ororon's eyes finally focused on his friend, followed by a slow nod.
"Alright. Who is the chief of the Masters of the Night-Wind?"
"Biram?" he said after a long pause.
"Good. And what's the name of the baby saurian that helps me in the clinic?"
Ororon's brow furrowed. "Cacucu?"
Satisfied, Ifa smiled. "Are you sure you're ok with this? With me touching you…? To… feel me in that way? "
His eyes searched Ororon's heterochromic irises for something that was not lust, arousal, or yearning—something that would signal him a clear yes. No confusion, but certainty. He needed his friend's consent.
To Ifa's surprise, Ororon didn't nod right away. He was thinking—trying to push through the waves of arousal, which seemingly crashed against his mind constantly. Blurring his thinking, dulling common sense and judgment.
Slowly, Ororon lifted a hand, almost shaking yet deliberate. It reached for Ifa's cheek, caressed him, felt him. In this moment, his seemingly lucid mind took control. He leaned forward only to halt inches away from Ifa's lips.
"Yes." Ororon's hot breath fanned against Ifa's mouth, voice low and trembling. "I wouldn't want anyone but you."
Ifa's breath caught momentarily.
He hesitated just a moment longer before letting go of the chains—of the doubt, the caution that had held him at bay, and closed the distance. With it, breaking the fragile thread that had kept them just bros, until now.
Ororon's lips were warm—warmer than they should be—and oh-so-incredibly-soft. They had Ifa in awe, his heartbeat excitedly dancing in his chest. The urge to taste more of him, to feel him, touch him, ran like a lit fuse through his body, igniting a raging fire in his gut. Everything else—Tighnari, Cyno, the clinic— blurred and drained of color, fading into distant sounds. The world narrowed, becoming only them.
With a gentle yet commanding strength, Ifa pulled Ororon upwards until he rested with his back against Ifa's chest. He refused to release the sweetness of his mouth, deepening the kiss as Ifa parted the man's lips to taste him fully.
The flavor that flooded the vet's senses was like something Ororon had mentioned before in a random conversation. Ifa chuckled—a soft, surprised sound against Ororon's mouth.
Warm, like toasted marshmallows.
Ororon was pushing backwards with growing urgency, his body grinding almost desperately against Ifa's—an attempt to ease his arousal. A low moan escaped Ifa's lips, muffled by the kiss.
He could feel Ororon's need, the growing ache and pressure. But something about rushing it didn't feel right. For him, this wasn't just a box to check or something to cross off a list. Ororon wasn't someone he just wanted to sleep with on a whim.
He was… more.
With a reluctant sigh, Ifa unwillingly pulled away from those tender, alluring lips before him. "I know, you're in a hurry. But let me do this right."
"Ifa, please…" Ororon's voice cracked, laced with pleading and a hint of despair.
"Alright, alright!" Ifa said with a slightly amused smile. His hand wandered down, brushing over Ororon's bulge, a very hard and eager bulge, to be noted.
"Bro…" Ifa breathed in disbelief. "You're really hard! Like—rock hard! I mean actual Obsidian-levels of hard right now! Are you okay?"
Seemingly, Ororon couldn't care less, looking more than ready for Ifa to continue. Impatient, he pressed his hips forward, silently pleading for Ifa to increase the pressure. In response, Ifa didn't falter any longer. Nimble fingers undid Ororon's trousers, freeing his throbbing length from its confinement. A low, relieved moan slipped from Ororon's throat in return.
Desire heavily danced in the air, flooding Ifa's lungs, lighting little sparks of desire along his spine.
His hand wrapped around Ororon's stiffness, gently giving it a deliberate stroke. The trembling beneath his palm was undeniable, the pulse thrumming fast and strong through the thick veins.
Ororon leaned back against Ifa, burying his face in the sun-kissed skin of Ifa's neckline. His breaths came in hot uneven waves, each exhale trembling with need. Helpless moans further enriched the rhythm, with a soft low voice. Ororon was in a fragile state, but Ifa slipped his other arm around him, steadying him and offering him the safety he needed.
His fingertips traced over sensitive ridges, seeking spots that would draw further sharp and sudden gasps from Ororon. One place was at the top, where his tiny hole was leaking. Spreading the moisture over the soft peachy skin, he carefully ran his nails over the edge, eliciting a lovely whine from Ororon's lips.
Ororon was shaking and clutching at Ifa's legs, burying his fingers into his flesh, almost painfully. Still, Ifa didn't stop him, didn't budge. Partially because Ifa wanted to steady Ororon further and partly because the ache in his body was mingling with his own excitement, causing his arousal to twitch against the fabric that separated him from Ororon's back.
"Ororon," Ifa whispered, voice thick with anticipation. "Let me undress you," he murmured, his words laced with a slow, seductive note. Ifa's teeth grazed against the sensitive skin, softly nibbling, sending electric shivers through Ororon's system.
Art by the talented Aoi_kiiro and Beicon.
The Master of the Night-Wind shuddered, his body responding almost instinctively to the intensity of the moment—he nodded. Ifa, with a calm and steady demeanor, guided Ororon's uncoordinated, trembling hands, his touch gentle, yet firm. In contrast to the calm mask Ifa was wearing, a storm raged inside of him, commanding him to hurry up, to finally be buried deep inside the twitching flesh. Flesh that he still had to prepare for what was to come.
For a fleeting moment, Ifa's gaze fell upon Cyno and Tighnari—a moment that made him freeze in his tracks. The sight ignited a jolt within him, like an electric arrow piercing through his body, amplifying the shimmering fire coiling in his gut. It was as though pure elemental energy was poured on a flame, causing it to erupt with an intensity that took his breath away.
Tighnari was being tenderly—or rather thoroughly—taken care of by Cyno, his expression unmistakably one of raw desire. The flush on the doctor's cheeks was vivid and his eyes sparkled with a mix of lust and yearning, the corners glimmering with unshed tears of passion. His voice, steady mere minutes ago, cracked as he whimpered softly, each plea blooming from his lips like flowers, begging for more of whatever sparks Cyno was igniting deep inside of him.
In that heated moment, Ifa's and Cyno's eyes met. A silent yet very powerful exchange—a command from the Mahamatra, urging Ifa to show his lover the same care and devotion. The intensity made Ifa flinch, almost shudder, pulling him back to the tornado of feelings circling around him—care, concern, and lust.
His eyes and his mind were now locked on Ororon, and Ororon alone.
A fresh wave of curiosity surged through Ifa, creating ideas and questions he had never dared to ponder before. Were his bro's nipples sensitive to the touch? Did he revel in the thrill of bites and playful teasing from teeth? He found himself wondering about the shade of Ororon's lovely hole—and how it would feel to be buried deep within him. Would Ororon's breath hitch in pleasure, or would he let soft whimpers slip, begging for more? Like Tighnari, who was lost in his own world with Cyno on the other side of the room?
Ifa's fingertips tenderly stroked over Ororon's bare chest, their warmth eliciting a shiver as he gently urged him down onto the bed with a blend of softness and strength. His gaze swept over Ororon's flushed cheeks, concern and desire flickering in Ifa's eyes. A faint kiss, barely a whisper of contact, brushed against Ororon's lips.
"I'm going to take good care of you now, bro." Ifa's breath was a warm breeze, caressing Ororon's skin, each word wrapped in an exciting promise, thick with anticipation.
Before Ororon could seize Ifa into an embrace, he grabbed his friend's legs and pressed them upward. Then, in a slow deliberate motion, his hands ran along their skin, spreading them open for his view. The display of his rosy entrance sent an excited shiver down Ifa's spine, his teeth biting down on his lower lip in tension. All the while, his own excitement was still caged in his trousers. He feared freeing it, for he could lose the tiny fragments of self-control he had left. He didn't want to ravish the beautiful body in front of him—he wanted to savor it.
Ifa's eyes, heavy with yearning, drank up the feast that was on display before him. An undeniable hunger welling up from deep within him, craving to taste Ororon—his tongue all too eager to partake in the ritual that was about to unfold. Ifa leaned in, his tongue gliding in a slow, long stroke over the twitching rosiness beneath him.
A hoarse moan, hot and thick with lust, was his reward, combined with an ecstatic tremble running through Ororon's body. Encouraged, Ifa's tongue nudged against the entrance with increasing pressure, until he gently parted the tight ring, driving deep inside of him. Ifa's hands held Ororon's legs, massaging them, his fingers occasionally digging into the soft flesh, as his tongue picked up a slow rhythm.
Once the firm muscle eased, Ifa's right hand shortly grabbed at the soft flesh of Ororon's backside. His middle finger tapped against the rosy bud before it dove into the welcoming walls that clenched eagerly around him.
Uhh. Self-control. This was hard. Just like Ifa's dick, hard and throbbing with the need to be buried in his friend’s twitching hole.
Ororon, of course, was already unraveling—impatient and incredibly needy, his voice a trembling mess as he begged for more. Each word, each sound, was tinted with desperation, a raw edge to his tone that underlined how deeply the state of heat had overtaken him.
At one point, he even choked out a "Breed me"—a phrase so unlike Ororon, it momentarily made Ifa pause. But he knew better than to rush this. He had to take his time to prepare his friend properly. Especially if they still intended to walk the next day. He didn't want Ororon waking up aching, bruised, or filled with regret.
What he didn't know, however, was how much the mushroom's effects would influence Ororon's memory. Would it twist and bend what was happening? Making this night hazy or disappear altogether? Could they ever return to being just friends?
Whatever would happen after, Ifa was certain of one thing: right now, in this moment, he wanted Ororon to feel nothing but marvelous, unclouded bliss.
A second finger joined the moist warm insides of Ororon, spreading and preparing him. Ifa's eyes shifted from the filled hole to the neglected length of Ororon, leaking its need onto the man's stomach. Bending over, Ifa latched onto Ororon's twitching dick, sucking along the length, until he reached the soft, shiny tip. His tongue licked over the tiny gap, lapping at the juice, letting its taste spread throughout his mouth—salty with a slight sweet note to it. The flavor worked like an aphrodisiac on Ifa—the world around him shifted, his heart thrummed furiously, vibrating in his ears like the heavy drums of the Children of Echos, eliciting a needy moan from his mouth. Greedy for more, he sucked at the tip, his fingers thrusting deep into Ororon.
In that instant, something rolled over Ororon making him whimper. His body trembled, muscles tensing, ears flapping frantically back and forth. His insides were violently clenching down on Ifa's digits, trying to suck them in further. Strong fingers reached for Ifa's silky strands, pressing his face down on the expanse of Ororon's dick. Suddenly, a surge of salty sweetness flooded Ifa's mouth, trickling down his throat. It took Ifa by surprise and he almost choked. Yet, he let it happen and waited patiently, unmoving, until the earthquake running through Ororon subsided, and his fast, but steady breathing took over.
"I-Ifa… I need more… I need you!" Ororon's voice was hoarse, raw with still-growing need.
How on Teyvat was Ifa supposed to refrain from giving him what he needed?
"I've got you, bro," Ifa murmured, grabbing Ororon's hands, pulling him up. He turned him, guiding the smaller frame back into the sheets with his chest first. They were now facing in Cyno's and Tighnari's direction, but Ifa was too focused on Ororon to take note of the ravenous moans, groans between clenched teeth, and clashing bodies.
Ifa's hands brushed over the soft skin of Ororon's backside, lifting it up higher, spreading the cheeks to reveal his eager hole. It was coated in the mingling wetness of Ifa's saliva and Ororon's needy juices. Eagerly, he pushed his round bottom towards Ifa. Hands curled in the white sheets, glancing back at him with eyes coated in lust. His mouth was slightly open in anticipation, a mixture of whines and moans leaving it in a constant song of arousal.
A sharp, satisfying click echoed through the room, quickly followed by the swift hiss of a zipper being drawn down. At last, Ifa's rigid arousal was freed, throbbing in anticipation to be welcomed by the tight, irresistible heat of Ororon. In a tormentingly slow motion, Ifa brushed the full extent of his dick over Ororon's entrance. Rubbing against the softness that met him there, coating his erection with the lubricant that still glistened between Ororon's round buttcheeks. Only after it was sliding along smoothly, did his tip come to a halt at the entrance. Then, inch by inch, he surged forward, conquering the insides that were gripping him oh-so firmly.
Ororon clenched his fingers into the bedsheets, moaning against the fabric while he pressed himself eagerly towards their united midriff.
"Damn, you're so tight," Ifa groaned, pushing forward, filling him to the brim. He paused, wanting to make sure Ororon was alright. Though it seemed his concern was unnecessary, as Ororon moved his body, urging Ifa to continue. Chuckling, Ifa's hands took a firm grip of Ororon's hips. But instead of thrusting into him, he did the opposite—he withdrew. He retreated until his hot cock was barely connected to his friend's twitching hole. Halting, teasing Ororon, making him beg and whimper to not leave him to the emptiness after he had the short pleasure of feeling Ifa fully.
Ifa drew in one long, deliberate breath before his hips snapped forward, burying himself deep into Ororon's heated flesh. It was not enough, by far not. He repeated the tormenting motion for at least three more times, making Ororon helplessly quiver beneath him, ripping out a guttural moan, before pleading and whining again for more. Once Ifa had filled his heart to the brim with Ororon's lovely begging, he picked up a fast rhythm, thrusting into him repeatedly.
He leaned forward, arms slipping around Ororon's chest with deliberate intent—his hands seeking out the hard buds of his nipples. This was more than mere curiosity. It was a purposeful exploration. His fingertips traced slow circles over the soft peaks, drawing out a visible shudder, rippling through Ororon's body. Then came pinches, teasing tugs, and gentle pulls—each touch aimed to provoke a reaction, amplifying his lust. Ifa noticed how Ororon's moans changed in tone and pitch, approving of his methods.
And then, with one deep deliberate thrust, something unexpected happened—Ororon's patterns flared. A sudden glow illuminated his skin for a second. It overlapped with an ecstatic cry torn from the man's lips, body trembling, legs threatening to give out. Ifa immediately released his grip on Ororon's chest, putting his hands back on his friend's hips, supporting to keep them up.
His rhythm remained steady, but the angle had shifted. Another cry and another tremble later, Ororon's back glowed anew—shining brightly against Ifa's darker skin.
That was it.
Ifa had found the spot—and he didn't intend on letting it slip away again. He locked into that perfect angle, starting his onslaught. Each thrust aimed at that hypersensitive place deep inside Ororon, drawing out wave after wave of shaking, glowing, and incoherent sounds tumbling out from his bro's pretty mouth.
Ifa was barely aware of what was going on around him, but with each wet slap against Ororon's tight little bum, he swore he could hear an echo from the side. A clap, followed by another. He turned his head only to see Tighnari bent over the table, eyes hooded with ecstasy. Cyno had his gaze fixed on Ifa, copying every thrust, every twist of his hips, letting Ororon's and Tighnari's voices mix into an ecstatic song that almost drove Ifa over the edge.
With each thrust, the pull of Ororon's insides increased, making Ifa's fingers dig into his hips and clenching his teeth in an attempt to keep going. Finally, Ororon cried out in ecstasy as he tumbled over the edge of an immense orgasm. His patterns flickered, mimicking the twitching of his walls, which clenched down hard on Ifa's dick.
Ifa barely managed another thrust before he let go of the reins of restraint. The heat of the climax erupted from his gut like a volcano, flooding his nerves with liquid lava, igniting every fiber of his body. His vision blurred, almost turning black, while his pulsing length filled Ororon with all the love (and hot seed) he had to offer, unmistakably marking him as his, and only his.
Yes, that's what this had awakened inside of him. Ifa wanted Ororon to belong to him. Not as a friend, not as a bro, something more than just mere companions. He wanted to be part of Ororon's everyday life.
On another day, they would have probably laughed at this sudden burst of possessiveness. But today, he just wanted to feel Ororon, to cherish him, and possibly to mark his claim on him some more.
Gawd, he sounded like an animal. Maybe the saurians had finally rubbed off on him.
Ororon's breathing slowly subsided, and with it the glow that had so beautifully underlined the blissed-out state the man had been in. Or so, Ifa presumed. He slowly bent down and turned the now relaxed body around, stroking over Ororon's fading pattern below his eye.
"You are beautiful," he whispered before placing a soft kiss on his temple, then his cheeks, and finally on pink lips.
Ororon groaned, eyelids fluttering until he slowly managed to open them, finally locking eyes with the vet.
"Ifa?" he said, as if momentarily confused as to what his bro was doing on top of him. His body twitched, and the young Master of the Night-Wind released a soft yet confused moan. His eyes wandered down along his naked body until he saw cum splattered all over his abdomen and further below—Ifa's very exposed manhood. A blush as scarlet as the Flower-Feather clan's emblem bloomed on Ororon's face. It was so cute, it made Ifa's heart swell with adoration.
"What—?" Ororon started only to be interrupted by steady hands, cradling his face. "It's okay. You were sick. Apparently, the mushroom you ate yesterday induced some kind of heat-like symptoms. We were looking for a doctor to help. Do you remember?"
Ororon's brows furled in confusion, trying to remember what his bro had just said. The emotions that followed on the man's face had Ifa in a chokehold. How was he so cute? He could see the wheels turning until realisation flooded that pretty face of his bro, boyfriend, he corrected himself. It was probably a better term, but he had to wait for now, before calling him that.
Ororon looked positively flustered, trying to hide behind his hands. "No need to be shy now."
Ifa grinned, kissing the back of the man's hand. Curious eyes peeked between his fingers and looked at Ifa more closely. He must have noticed the red marks on Ifa's sun-kissed skin.
He lifted one of his hands and gently traced the dark patterns on Ifa's neck, arm, and fingers, letting out a sound suspiciously close to a whine. Ororon's ears flicked back, and embarrassed eyes looked into green ones. "I'm sorry— but I—" he hesitated.
"I don't remember…" he finally said, turning his head around, a soft pink painting his cheeks.
"Oh…" was all Ifa managed to say. He had hoped, better yet, wished for Ororon to have been at least partially lucid. But to hear his friend didn't remember made his blood run cold. It doesn't matter that he had successfully elevated the symptoms with their coupling. If Ororon hadn't been lucid, Ifa had basically assaulted him. And that was something he never wanted to do, let alone have Ororon experience that.
His chest tightened, and the shock and remorse he felt must have shown on his face because Ororon looked startled. Before Ifa could turn away, slender arms held him tight.
"Ororon?"
The midnight blue strands were buried in the crook of his neck. Ifa tried to retreat, but Ororon clung even tighter to him, making it hard to leave.
"Don't go," Ororon whispered.
"I don't understand. You said you don't re—ah!" Ororon had taken his earlobe into his mouth and gently sucked on it. The motion went straight to Ifa's dick, twitching with interest against Ororon's stomach.
"It's all a bit fuzzy," the man continued, "but I think I'm slowly starting to remember things." Long fingers slid from his hairline over the tattoo on his neck to the collarbone. Ororon gently but surely pulled the vet's shirt aside, revealing more dark bruises. "I think I bit you here," he said and licked over the marked skin, to which Ifa let go a startled moan.
"Ororon, please, we shouldn't—ugh." Sharp fangs grazed his throat, making their way up towards his chin. The beautiful heterochromia eyes stared at him, and Ifa didn't know what to say or what to do next.
"I think if we repeat what we did, I will remember. But I need your help with that."
Ifa stared at the enigma that apparently lay below him. His face flushed, ears nervously flickering, but his eyes had that gleam. A warmth Ifa wanted to drown in, yet an uncertainty that made him wonder. What if—?
He bent down and kissed Ororon, languidly licking into his mouth that parted so willingly under the soft touch of Ifa's tongue.
Once they parted, Ororon's eyes fluttered open. "We kissed?" he asked, looking slightly confused but clearly flustered.
Ifa nodded reassuringly. "We definitely did that. After I asked you some very crucial questions."
"Which were?" Ororon gasped as Ifa locked onto his throat and gently nibbled there. "Chief of your Tribe is?"
"Biram—ah," Ororon huffed and buried his finger in silver strands.
"Name of my little saurian companion?" he bit down on the tender flesh and let his hands wander lower, remembering how sweetly Ororon had reacted to his administration of his nipples.
"Ca-Cu—oh!"
With a grin, he took the pink knosp between his fingers before asking the last and most important question.
"Will you be my boyfriend?" he whispered after flicking the little bud.
Ororon's back bent upwards, pressing into Ifa with a breathy "Archons—yes!"
With a chortled laugh, Ifa continued tormenting his lovely boyfriend. Knowing fully well that Ororon probably remembered more than he let on, but Ifa could live with that. Besides, neither Tighnari nor Cyno seemed to mind the continuation of their little play, entirely focused on their own.
The rest of their love-making "treatment" continued well into the afternoon, as Ororon kept feigning ignorance, saying he doesn't fully remember yet. And Ifa, the love-struck fool he was, happily indulged in the man's demand to remind him.
If the forest ranger on sight heard any of the noises coming from the little doctor's hut, they chose to ignore it.
The curtain was drawn after all.
· · ─ ·𓆩𓅨𓆪· ─ · ·
Thank you so much for reading our little Ifaron story 💕
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