Chapter Text
Bheem…
Bheem was…
Where was he?
There was heat on his skin and electricity on his nerves. There was softness on his lips and a tight clench in his gut. There was a hazy edge to his memories and a thick fog in his head.
"Bheem," came a whisper and a caress on his cheek.
Right.
Ram .
He remembered returning from his hunt and finding the warm aroma of cooked rice and fresh spices wafting from his hut. He remembered hurriedly stepping into his home and being greeted by the sight of his husband lifting a pot of biryani from the kiln. He remembered the giddy surprise unfurling in his chest because Ram was not supposed to return from his expedition to the Jangalaat outposts for another week. He remembered their joyful embrace, Ram's bashful smile, Bheem not even caring for any explanations, just that Ram was here, in their home, touching him, smiling at him, laughing with him, preparing a meal for him.
He remembered that they had talked. Ram told him about the weapons they secured, the outposts they captured, the people they defended. Bheem told him about the baby goats born last week, the children falling behind on their lessons because of Sreelakshmi falling ill, the arrangements for the upcoming Dandari in their village, the relentless teasing Lacchu endured from the women because of it.
He remembered that they had sat down to eat. Bheem insisted upon feeding Ram the biryani with his own hands. His Ram had been gone for too long. Bheem felt it within his right to pamper him, just as Ram had indulged him by cooking one of his favourite meals. But when Bheem fed him a morsel, and Ram's mouth had lingered around his fingers for a moment too long, his husband had looked at him with a gaze so heated, Bheem could feel flames licking on his skin.
Oh, Ram was hungry. But not for the biryani.
After that, there was very little talking. There was only heat and skin and the dulcet moans of pleasure and the beautiful fog in Bheem's head.
Two weeks was a very long time for them to be apart from each other. Especially when one carried the better half of the other's soul.
And now…
And now…
"What do you want, priyatam? " his husband asked him sweetly between languid, loving kisses to his lips. One finger encircled his butthole, teasing but not quite breaching the entrance. Another finger stroked his cock with leisurely indulgence. "Tell me."
Bheem wanted…
He wanted…
"Tell me," Ram repeated, lips and teeth wandering aimlessly on his neck, leaving bruised flesh and pleasant throbs in their wake. His wonderful, naked body grinded against Bheem's own bared skin, making him gasp aloud with how good he felt. "Or I will have my way."
The stroking halted, only to be replaced by a firm and possessive grip on his cock. Bheem whined and clutched the blankets under him in a death grip.
A pause.
"Do you want me to have my way?" Ram said, voice low and tinged with something thick and rough, like honey on gravel.
His cock pulsed with the need for attention now that the fingers had stopped their motions. Bheem arched his hips, desperate for the slightest friction. "Ram," he begged.
"Tell me." Lips ghosted against the shell of his ear. The grip on his cock loosened. Bheem wept from the loss. "You need to tell me first, my precious."
"Yes," Bheem breathed. "Yes, please ."
A kiss behind his ear, hot and wet, biting and suckling, sending a lovely shiver down his spine. Oh, Bheem was in heaven, and he wished to surge higher. "Yes to what, bangaram ?"
"Yes, yes," Bheem blabbered. "I want you , Ram. Take me in whichever way you please."
When the lips claimed him again, they were hungry and desperate. Bheem moaned against the slick tongue slipping past his lips as it greedily swallowed the little noises escaping him. "My sweet husband," came the whisper. And then, "Priyatam." A gentle, "I am yours." A sweet, "I love you."
The fog in his head thickened until the words washed over Bheem like soft nothings, their meanings lost to him, but their intentions always landing true. Bheem belonged to Ram. Everything he had, was surrendered to him- his heart, his soul, his body, his love, his trust.
The lips left him after having its fill of Bheem's taste, leaving his own stinging and swollen and still wanting for more. Wanting for Ram.
"Rama," he pleaded.
"Patience, bujji kanna ," Ram said, delightful amusement in his voice. "I will take such good care of you, I promise."
Bheem had never doubted Ram. Not for a single moment.
Sure enough, the lips returned, as warm, firm and insistent as ever, and Bheem sighed from the relief flooding his heart.
"I missed you," Ram murmured again, between nipping and kissing him in turn. "So much."
Bheem was going to respond. He really was. Something like "I missed you too, bangaru kanna " or "Tell me how much" was on the tip of his tongue.
But the words were lost to him when a well oiled, calloused finger stole into his butthole and unraveled him with slow, deliberate motions, etching a careful path through the tight, wet heat between his muscles. Something between a helpless groan and a desperate whine escaped Bheem's lips as molten fire shot through his veins with every contortion of Ram's finger.
"Every night I spent under the stars, even though I was surrounded by our brothers, I felt so lonely," Ram went on between kisses as unrelenting as the finger massaging his hole, softening the muscles, shattering his defenses, making Bheem pliant and sweet and an utter mess beneath him. "As if my very soul was bereft of something precious. I woke up, cold and breathless and craving your touch, your kiss, your smile, your presence."
My Ram, I am here now, Bheem wanted to say, but his thoughts were once again scrambled when fingers closed around his neglected, weeping cock. Bheem gasped, arms shooting out to wrap around Ram's naked frame, holding him, pulling him closer, wishing he could mold his beloved's body with his own.
A lingering kiss on his lips again. "Dheeran would hunt a rabbit or a wild fowl and I would think of you , how he was not you, how he could not trap a wolf, or tame a tiger, perhaps no one but you could." A hand smoothed down his cock, retracting the skin covering his head and smearing the moisture gathered in his slit throughout his length. Bheem moaned into his lover's mouth, fingers tightening on his shoulders, hips buckling into his touch. "We would camp under the trees, sit by the fire, and I would long for our time in Delhi, when there was no one but you and me under the stars, on the hills, sheltered in the forest from the world and my duties, and how it was one of the most blissful times of my life." A second finger slipped past the first, stretching his throbbing muscles, punching a hiss out of Bheem from the initial sting of the unfamiliar sensation until the fingers dug deeper and deeper, deft and diligent, and found the solid bundle of muscle and nerves nestled deep within. "We would sneak into the outposts, raid the armouries, overrun them and I would mourn that I did not have you watching my back, that no one could anticipate my next move as well as you could, that the fight did not have the same thrill without you fighting by my side. Fighting without you is like fighting without my legs, Bheema. You complete me in every sense of the word."
"I… I…" Bheem whimpered, too helpless with ecstasy to articulate what he felt, as Ram kept targeting the bundle of nerves and stroking his dick with the same single minded determination he employed in a hunt.
"It was torment, my love," Ram said, his voice hoarse, as if he was in genuine pain from simply reminiscing about their physical distance. Perhaps, he was.
"And every time my thoughts drifted to you, I wondered…"
Knuckles brushed against the underside of his balls. Nails grazed over the base of his cock. Fingers pressed on the pulsing pleasure point in his ass for a moment too long.
"....did you miss me as I did, bangaram ?"
"Rama!" Bheem gasped, delirious from the euphoria pulsing between his legs.
"Tell me," came the gentle command as Ram's hands worked him over with delicious vigour.
Bheem could barely think, let alone speak. How could he…
Lips closed around his nipple, stiff and sensitive, and suckled till they stung. "Tell me, Bheema."
"Rama," Bheem slurred, on the verge of tears. He was doing this on purpose. He had to. His Ram, so well-versed in Bheem's body, knowing how and where to inflict the sweetest torment on him.
Bheem's hands came up to cup Ram's face, extricating him from where he was gleefully lapping on his nipple. Ram gasped at the careful manhandling, briefly ceasing his ministrations even, as Bheem cradled his head on his chest, allowing him to hear his thundering heart, hoping the music of its beat would let him know everything Bheem could not express in words.
Oh Rama, how I ached for you. I need you like the air in my lungs, like the beat of my heart, like the blood in my veins. My body burned for you. My heart wept for you. My mind knew no peace in your absence. I longed for you like the midnight sky longs for the sun, like the river longs for the ocean, like the pilgrim longs for their God. There is no me without you, my Ram.
"Bheema," Ram sighed, rough, whiskered cheek nuzzling against his chest, hands beginning to fiddle and toy with him again. "Let us never be apart for so long again."
Bheem had agreed with Ram on many things. This might be the one he agreed the most on.
"So beautiful," Ram whispered, peppering kisses over his collar, his chest, his stomach with reckless abandon, leaving a trail of heat on his skin and a well of fondness in his heart in their wake. "Like a God." Kisses on the thick, rough scars etched by the whip, tender and lingering, reverential even. "I want to worship you."
Ram always made it a point to shower affection on his scars whenever they made love and Bheem felt a knot tightening in his gut at the thought, a bittersweet sensation he was all too familiar with. Love marred with guilt. Lust mingled with regret. Sorrow weaved in sweetness. The lines between apologies and affection blurring like water on sand.
But lately, pain and regret had been haunting the ritual less and less while love and contentment took their place.
"Na bujji puli," Ram murmured following a kiss to the scar on his rib, where the nailed whip had tangled from behind. Bheem let the endearment wash over him like water washing over a boulder, wearing down the dulling ache buried deep in his chest. Where it was once a gnawing pit, brimming with anguish, it was just a distant shadow now. The ghost of a melting nightmare, perhaps. With time, it would only fade more, he knew.
The lips drifted lower, nuzzling against the smattering of tattoos on his thigh. "So sweet for me." Fingers crooking through his rear, coaxing out a strangled groan from somewhere deep within his throat. "So good." His cock throbbed in Ram's grasp, between the occasional tightening of his fingers.
Bheem's legs thrashed when Ram took his arousal in his mouth without warning. His tongue moved in slow, even strokes, lathering his length in slick and sensation, gradually taking in his cock deep enough that Bheem could feel his tip hitting the back of Ram's throat. Ram's free hand cupped Bheem's balls, rolling them between his thumb and fingers, giving them the occasional gentle squeeze.
Throughout it all, Ram's fingers kept their relentless pace in his ass, stretching and teasing, pushing him towards that edge, towards that point of supreme bliss.
"Ah, ah, Ram!" Bheem grit out between short, stiff breaths. "Nnngh… it's… too much."
Ram moaned against his hardened length, a ravenous, sensual sound, as if Bheem's pleasure was his pleasure, as if Bheem feeling so good was enough to make him feel good too.
"Rama, I can't…. I can't…"
He could not last. But Ram did not seem to care. If anything, his sweet, beautiful, infuriatingly devious husband seemed determined to push him over the edge. Another squeeze on his balls, a clever flick of Ram's tongue against his slit, a forceful nudge of his fingers against the sweet spot in his rear, and Bheem's insides melted into liquid fire.