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“Oh—shouldn’t have touched that,” Sisyphus shoved himself as far back as he could go in the limited space. He had his cravat covering his nose, desperately to avoid the strange luminous cloud of dust that erupted out of the stone safe the second they tried lifting the slab.
El Cid was beside him, using his hand as a shield to fend off the dust.
Both efforts were in vain. In the minutes it took for the dust to clear, they were coughing and struggling to find clear air.
“Let’s get out of this room.” Sisyphus found El Cid’s shoulder and pushed him towards the door.
His partner didn’t need the nudge. Using the wall as a guide, he led the way out into the next room—a far more spacious and less booby trapped area.
They moved as far away from the door as possible, still coughing and frantically waving the dust away.
“This is bad.” El Cid managed. He was the first to recover his breath, although his voice was hoarse. He found the remains of a pillar and sat down. Sisyphus plopped down next to him, still coughing the remaining dust from his lungs. “If the records were correct (he had to pause to clear his throat) that dust was to test anyone seeking the priest’s tomb. We can’t go on yet. The poison will start to affect us soon.”
“I just don’t understand.” Sisyphus complained. He also read the texts his partner was referring to. “Why would you need such a tactic instead of outright traps and pitfalls?”
“In those times, it was logical to safeguard items precious to the owner. The priest collected ancient artifacts—those were the items most precious to him. Poisons, insects, and rituals to deter and destroy raiders. We have to stay here for some time and wait for the effects of the poison to wear off.”
El Cid didn't like the delay to their mission. This should’ve been a straightforward task. But he was lax in his observations and as a result brought upon this hindrance to both of them.
Already they were starting to feel the base effects of the poison. Heat, sweat, elevated pulse. The room, despite being the size of a throne room—even with the vaulted ceiling—was starting to feel less spacious. The air became stifling.
Sisyphus tugged his collar and coughed again. El Cid rolled up the sleeves of his coat and unbuttoned a third button on his shirt. His cheeks tinted red from the heat. He scanned the area, searching for clues to solve their little problem.
“I mean…well…there is a way to get through the effects faster.” Another uncomfortable tug on his collar—except this was not because of the unbearable heat.
“How? You have a cure?” El Cid was surprised Sisyphus had the foresight to bring an antidote. He never thought something like this would happen. How amazing. The man truly prepared for everything.
“Not a cure…per say. It’s more of…a solution. But only if…only if you’re alright with it. It’s a lot to take in. And it’s a huge jump. We need a lot of trust to see it through.”
“Are you saying…”
Sisyphus blushed furiously. Sweat beaded and dripped down from his brows. He rubbed the back of his hands on his coat, then turned his palms and fisted the fabric of his coat.
“Well. We’re both attractive, I think. You saw what happened when we got to the inn yesterday. It shouldn't be too bad to look at. We’re also friends, so it should be—”
El Cid must have gasped. Or taken a louder than normal breath. Or made some indescribable squawk that interrupted his partner's speech. Or maybe Sisyphus realized he had this horrified expression dawning on his face.
“—oh! But I don’t see you as attractive! I was just saying that we’re friends. That should make us more comfortable together, right? For doing the…thing―that thing, you know...But that’s not to say you’re not attractive. You are attractive. Just not to me—at least, I wouldn’t know. I never—I don't—I don't know what attractive looks like. I mean, that woman at the inn was terribly interested in you. She never spared me a glance except when I asked for a shared room. She even looked disappointed. You are obviously the one she wanted—”
It was the way he spoke, babbling nonsensically while his face turned redder than he ever saw before How he looked so adorable in his attempts to avoid unintentional insults. He had a bad habit of biting his lips when he was nervous. They were chapped from the dry weather of this land. Saliva coated his swollen lips every time he licked them. They glistened in the torchlight and it was the only thing distracting him from fully listening to his partner’s words.
And because he wasn’t listening to what Sisyphus was saying at all, he figured he should put an end to his embarrassment. He talked too much. His pulse was out of control, thrumming violently in his ears and making certain things...throb. His fingers shook. Tapping impatiently against his thighs. He tugged at his cravat to loosen it, popping open a button below by accident. Cool air brushed his inflamed skin.
He popped another button, feeling the heat dissipate a bit. Steadying his breaths.
And then he grabbed his face and smashed their lips together. And Sisyphus was silenced.
At first, Sisyphus was startled. A normal response. His jaw slackened. His hands froze half open, as if he wanted to shove him away. El Cid chose not to pull away. He found he liked kissing Sisyphus. His lips were as plush and moist as he imagined in his not-so-innocent dreams. Maybe even better because this was a real thing. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he liked how wet and hot the man's mouth was. Those dreams he imagined them gently parted, beautiful noises spilling from his tongue as he accepted El Cid's advances. And now that he had this illicit taste, he was sure he didn’t want to pull away and end this so soon.
Sisyphus unfroze a second later—although it felt like an eternity. And instead of pulling away or hiding his face in embarrassment, something in his brain clicked.
El Cid was only pulling away to breathe. Their lips separated for less than a second—not enough for even a full breath—before insistent fingers fell upon his face and yanked him forward as his partner demanded another taste.
A deep, guttural moan from one of them (or both) as they moved together in a rabid frenzy. Soon, Sisyphus was not the only one actively moaning from heated passions. El Cid found he could be quite as vocal as his partner when he was enjoying things.
The man was demanding. Greedy. His tongue intermingled with his as they continued exploring each other’s mouths. Sisyphus wound his arms around his neck, locking them together so he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. Not a problem. El Cid seized Sisyphus’s collar with his left while his right was buried deep within the tangles of his long hair. They could’ve kept this going—maybe for hours, who knows—if there wasn't a reason to stop. Something deep within them broke free of the barriers they so terribly tried to hide behind. Neither of them could settle for a simple kiss now and hope to be satisfied.
Sisyphus was panting when they finally stopped for air. His clothes soaked in sweat and stuck to his skin in an unpleasant sort of way. He wasted no time removing his shirt, tearing it open to expose his skin to the cool air of the temple.
That sight triggered another visceral thought from El Cid. A curling, heated sensation slowly bubbling up from the darkness deep within his soul. He couldn’t stop his tongue from wetting his lips, only becoming aware of the unconscious movement when he realized his jaw was tense from being clenched too tightly.
He leaned forward—drawn in by his partner's heaving shoulders—and planted a crass, open mouth kiss right below his chin.
Sisyphus gasped again. A delicious, high-pitched gasp that made his lungs swell and his eyes widen. Whatever breath he had left remaining turned into a weakened whine when El Cid kissed him again, lips tightening and sucking gently at the same spot.
He felt the man weave fingers through his hair, twirling and pulling at his roots. Sisyphus yanked him closer. And he exposed more of his throat for his partner to ravish.
El Cid was not gentle with this blessed gift. He kissed, sucked, and even nipped every inch of exposed flesh he could reach without injuring his neck. His favorite spot—a small section right above his collar bone, where he could feel Sisyphus’s muscles taunt beneath his lips—was bruised and battered by the time he moved on. His eager victim moaned and held him there—nearly crushing his face against his neck.
The taste of sweat, the smell of warmth, nostalgia, comfort, and everything Sisyphus encouraged him to squeeze the man so tightly he would’ve worried about crushing his ribs if he were in the right state of mind.
Sisyphus had no chance after that. Although he barely put up a fight anyway. He didn't seem to mind him taking the reins away.
His coat hung loosely on his arms, having been shrugged and pulled off from all the commotion. His shirt yanked off one shoulder as El Cid sought more surface area. Encouraged by the breathy moans of his lover, he directed a sharp nip to his shoulder—once again startling the man into wrenching his hair.
A wayward hand left his hair. Sisyphus dragged it across his chest and down to his belly in a sultry, desperate type of way. Lower and lower. Sliding beneath a loosened belt and the parted waistband.
And even lower.
A different kind of moan tickled his ear. A long moan filled with pent up desire and relief. A shudder ran through him. Chilling him in a pleasant way. Probably the same way it aroused Sisyphus enough to take matters into his own hands.
He gave his collarbone a final nip before averting his attention elsewhere. Lower as Sisyphus was now. The rough fabric of the man’s trousers balled beneath his palms. His partner, realizing his not-so-subtle intentions, raised himself up so he could pull them off completely.
There was no time to admire the beautiful sight that greeted him once the cloth barrier was removed. El Cid was much too impatient for that. His nails dragged precariously over his skin before digging in at the softest, most sensitive part of his inner thighs.
Sisyphus sighed and spread his legs, fingers going back to stroking himself. The flushing pink sheen of his shaft only partially visible between his fingers.
El Cid was…jealous? He could feel his annoyance brimming at the surface. He wanted to be the reason why those shaking breaths slipped between parted lips.
He pulled off his trousers, tired of feeling the sweat and fabric clinging to his legs. It was a difficult yet one with instant gratification. Never before had he felt such relief at unclothing himself.
“Oh—” That was all Sisyphus managed to gasp as he caught a glimpse of his partner’s rarely seen body. He’d seen El Cid’s sculpted frame often enough—his tightly wound shoulder blades and rippling muscles along his chest. He witnessed the way the water beaded down his well toned pectorals and his skin gleaned from sweat in the sunlight.
But that was training and El Cid had done so shirtless because he wasn't expecting someone to ogle him behind a tree or oversized rock.
He couldn’t help himself (and who could, really?). He reached out and laid his hand against El Cid’s chest. Feeling the heat of his skin beneath his palm. The thrumming of his heart against his fingertips. The slight shudder of his muscles as the man moved his arms to knead his thighs in an attempt to distract himself away from slicing at Sisyphus's undefended arms.
He leaned over and dragged his tongue over his skin. It was El Cid's turn to gasp. He would’ve liked to have another taste, but his gaze dropped down and distracted him.
He only had the privilege of seeing El Cid during training—but only half his body. The upper half to be specific. This was the first time he was seeing the other half. The best half—so to speak. El Cid had quite the surprise between his legs.
Sisyphus was merely thick. Length wise, he was…average. El Cid was both thick and…well he was fairly large in both ways. He was only half aroused right now, but that was going to change very quickly. It would be an intimidating sight if Sisyphus had taken the moment to think of what he could do with that.
El Cid enjoyed marking up Sisyphus’s thighs. It was a shame he didn't bother marking other parts of his body. But Sisyphus never had to worry with El Cid: he was ready to move further, his trailing hands moving up from his thighs to his waist and downwards until they squeezed (what El Cid thought) his partner’s very attractive asset. At the same time, Sisyphus grabbed his aching member, stroking himself again with a delighted moan as the man kneaded his skin.
El Cid pushed him harshly onto his back. And maybe it was too forceful for someone who just wanted to masturbate at the sight of his exposed body. But he pushed him until he was down: knees bent and thighs spread wide open before him—very tactfully exposing a new area to tease. He ignored that temptation for now and fell over him. Pressing their bodies together to enjoy some bare skin-to-skin contact. It felt very nice to rub their erections together. And Sisyphus arched his back with a cry of joy.
But it wasn’t enough. His skin prickled and burned as he sought relief. The softness of Sisyphus's belly was not enough for his needs. He needed more friction, more heat. More Sisyphus.
His partner gasped and arched his back so high when he drew one of those dusky nipples between his lips. The nub was a little dry, but his saliva fixed that issue. His teeth dragging across the sensitive flesh wrought even more delicious sounds to his ears. Sisyphus wailed as he used his tongue to stiffen it to a firm peak. He grabbed the breast opposite, taking a large handful, and massaging it until his skin was red and his lover’s erection drilled into his stomach.
He caught the man’s wrist when he reached down to masturbate again. Holding his arm outstretched away from the action to stop him.
“El Cid!” Sisyphus’s vocal plea. His free hand shook as it trailed across his abdomen to his chest. He sought relief for his aching cock. But with one hand already held hostage and the threat of El Cid immobilizing him completely—he could only satisfy himself by scratching and pinching his own nipples in hopes that would take care of the problem.
Once again, El Cid felt that overwhelming desire to make Sisyphus his own. That raging, burning insistence that he had to have him beneath him, screaming at his mercy. He wanted to be the only one responsible for his pleasure.
Sisyphus was very hard and very red when he finally laid a hand on him. His shaft trembled, clear fluid oozing from the head as he squeezed and thumbed the tip. El Cid worked quickly. Maybe too quickly, judging by the way the man threw his head back and screamed obscenities. When El Cid pulled his fingers away, his erection stood tall, only swaying when Sisyphus twitched and turned to see what El Cid was up to.
He didn’t even get a chance to whine about the sudden cessation of movement. Not before El Cid suddenly bent over and took his erection between his lips, over his tongue, all the way down until his nose collided with his pelvis.
He had a task in mind. A task leading to another task leading to a goal which led to the completion of their mission. He gathered his saliva in his mouth, using it to coat his lover’s shaft thoroughly. He ignored the man’s delighted breaths and whispers of encouragement to continue. Twice he was forced to shove those eager hips back down. If he hadn’t, he was sure Sisyphus would choke him in his eagerness to enjoy his mouth to its fullest.
“Don’t stop…” Sisyphus begged when he pulled away. His voice was so faint from unfulfilled pleasure. “Please. I’m so close, El Cid.”
El Cid said nothing. Not even an apology or an explanation to soothe his worries. There was no need. He was moving onto his next task. Furthering his goal.
They would both be better off then.
“El Cid—” His name fell from shocked lips as El Cid clamored over and straddled his chest, firmly squeezing his waist between his thighs to keep him from moving. He put one hand on Sisyphus’s stomach for leverage and the other fell behind him to grab hold of his shaft.
He raised himself to his knees for better leverage and carefully guided himself onto the swollen glans.
The thick head pressed against his entrance. He held his breath out of instinct, accidently tensing his muscles far too much. He closed his eyes and centered himself, taking two much needed breaths to relax.
And then he allowed Sisyphus to enter.
Spreading.
Pain.
Aching.
It wasn’t easy. He had to overcome his body’s resistance. Sisyphus’s erection was hard and despite his own body's protests to reject something that didn't belong, it continued to pierce him in an unyielding fashion.
Sweat beaded from his forehead and accumulated down to his nose. He didn’t know why it wasn't working. He was at an impasse. His eyes stung from his futile efforts. He didn’t like the way Sisyphus seemed to pity his efforts. Those eyes should be disappointed from his failure at such a simple task.
He protested when he felt hands moving to lift his legs. But soon quieted when he realized Sisyphus was supporting his weight and trying to guide him.
“Easy, it takes some time.”
“We don’t have time.” El Cid’s impatience for fulfillment soured his temper. He rocked, trying to find some loophole to make this work.
“Shh. Shh. There’s always time.”
Fingers kneaded his entrance, gently pressing and spreading his muscles to accept his intrusion. Ever so slowly, he opened and accepted his gift.
“Almost there.” He was only partially in and yet still retained more patience that El Cid would have in his position. Perhaps he must have seen the brief flicker of pain that flitted across his partner’s face and refused to let El Cid from speed up the process.
El Cid wanted to move on from the discomfort as quickly as possible. Sisyphus stretched him wide. It was hard to believe the stretch only came from the beginning.
“Ah. There.” Soft breath against his cheek. A quiet sigh of relief. El Cid also felt relief as his body gave way and accepted his partner’s girth deep within. They both relaxed and paused to savor the sensation. Sisyphus rubbed his back reassuringly as he slid down into his lap. “You just needed some help.”
He ignored the sagely talk. Now that he could feel the man pressing up inside, he wanted to act upon his impulses. That prickling, impatient heat he blamed on his ailment became unbearable if he did nothing.
“Yes— There— Oh—El Cid. Oh, that feels so good.”
Murmurs of appreciation showered him as he started pushing himself up and down. His body retracted when he withdrew, tightening all around. So when he pushed back down, it felt very snug and smooth as it speared his insides.
Their groans became more errant as he quickened. Sisyphus had his hands beneath his thighs to support his movements. Neither were able to form coherent words after a while.
El Cid ground his teeth, trying to hold off that feeling of urgency the best he could. It wouldn’t do to lose himself so quickly when it looked like Sisyphus was barely ready.
But it wasn’t meant to be. With an exhaustive grunt, he spilled his seed all over Sisyphus’s magnificent chest. He trembled as his body shook, racked with uncontrollable muscle spasms and unheard of pleasure. He fell forward—avoided hitting his partner square in the face—and laid his head on his shoulder.
Sisyphus chuckled and kissed his forehead as his orgasm faded. He let him slump into his arms, “That wiped you out, didn’t it? Silly boy.”
El Cid’s breathing slowly returned to normal. He expected his body to cool. He knew he exerted enough. The effects were supposed to fade, but—
“I’ll be gentle,” Sisyphus promised as he guided him onto his side, pulling his right leg up and over his shoulder. He slid back inside. No resistance. El Cid was still loose after all. “Just relax.”
El Cid watched with morbid curiosity. He felt Sisyphus slide in and then pull out. Stopping at the last moment—his head spreading his entrance again—before sliding back in with a gentle nudge. Sisyphus got him used to a steady rhythm, slowly building up the heat in his groin once again.
He closed his eyes and braced himself for another orgasm. It felt both amazing and painful at the same time. Perhaps he enjoyed the climb to get there more than the summit.
But it didn’t come to that. Sisyphus was closer to achieving his own relief than he anticipated. He fully withdrew at the last moment and fell over him, pressing their cocks together and making one last thrust before marking El Cid with his fluids.
“Something’s wrong.” El Cid said after a minute’s pause. It was probably less. He liked lying where he was: Sisyphus tucked under his chin, limbs wound around his body. He thought their little tryst would be the cure—Sisyphus said it would be. But that incessant need—that annoying feeling very akin to an itch he couldn’t scratch—slowly roiled back up the surface.
He was supposed to be worn out. Exhausted beyond belief. But Sisyphus smelled so good and the feeling of him rubbing up inside him…he felt empty without his partner inside.
“Yes…I expected as much.” Sisyphus sighed. He unwound himself from his body to sit up and stretch. It was a good view from his angle below. “We did get a high dosage in our systems.”
Why did the man look unbothered? Why was he pulling off the rest of his clothes and tossing them to the ground?
He tried to stay focused, “It should’ve been finished.”
“I said it could end the effects sooner. And it has. We’re no longer ready to tear into each other. I can honestly say I was ready to bite into your arm. You smelled delicious back then. And you held back a lot.”
He touched the bruises along his neck, checking for broken skin.
How could he be so nonchalant about their problem? El Cid could barely concentrate on what he was saying. His eyes were on the man’s body. That wonderful figure of his. That would never happen if he were in his right mind. Sisyphus had important knowledge to impart, El Cid was hanging on to every word.
“Are you unsatisfied? We don’t have to do it again. Sex isn’t for everyone. We can wait it out like you wanted to earlier.”
Devoid of a response, Sisyphus looked like he was ready to go to the opposite end of the room and take care of himself in the corner.
“It didn’t bother me.” He said. Sisyphus gave him a lopsided grin.
“Then come over here,” he beckoned him over. Pulling him down to the ground. Turning away from him as he knelt before him and spread his legs for El Cid to see. “It isn’t fair for you to have all the fun. Help me here.”
El Cid stared as the man twisted a little, one hand reaching back to illustrate what he wanted to happen. He gave him a tempting view of his hidden entrance. Blood rushed back down to his cock as stared, unable to tear his eyes away. He no longer had to imagine how it felt to deface that untainted hole.
Sisyphus smiled as he felt his partner’s firm hands fall upon his backside, spreading his cheeks apart. He dropped his head to the floor, a moan bubbling up from his throat as he felt something warm and moist and muscular tease itself into his body.