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Enjin loved to bite.
It was one of those things you’d noticed over time. At first you’d chalked it up to being close, his best friend according to him. He’d wander up behind you, lean his weight onto your shoulders, and sigh like the world was too heavy. Then, without fail, he’d murmur some smart-ass remark about how tired he was—usually capped with a suggestion that your ass would make the perfect pillow.
You’d always shoot something sharp back, and he’d grin like he’d been waiting for it.
“I love when you’re spicy like that,” he’d groan, dragging it out, voice thick with fake longing before sinking his teeth lightly into your neck.
So maybe you were never just friends. But that was beside the point.
Or it would be, if he didn’t have your knees pressed up to your chest, driving into you like he was trying to anchor himself inside your body. Every thrust knocked the air from your lungs, pleasure spiraling hot and unbearable through your veins until all you could do was cling to him. His shoulders, his arms, anything you could reach.
“Enjin, please,” you choked out, the whine breaking into a moan as your head fell back against the pillow. Your body arched up to meet his, desperate and undone, and through the haze you caught it. That flash of panic in his eyes, the one he’d had since you’d both returned from your mission. His jaw was tight, his brows furrowed like every stroke was pulling him closer to something he wasn’t ready to face.
“What if I’d lost you?” he panted, the words ragged, almost broken. His voice cracked against your skin as he pressed his mouth to your cheek, to your throat, kissing and biting like he needed proof you were still here.
In your defense, the damn Trash Beast had come out of nowhere. A mountain of steel jaws and grinding gears stitched together from discarded metal of some kind. You thought you could get clever, flank it, maybe take it down faster without his help. Instead, its claw had swung wide, fast enough to rip through the wall of junk and nearly your ribs with it. The reek of rust and oil filled your lungs as you stumbled back, knowing you couldn’t dodge the next strike.
Then you heard Umbreaker scream to life.
Enjin had spun into the fray, his Vital Instrument drilling through the beast’s hide like a storm of sharpened steel. He floated up, slammed the umbrella down, the air whining with the spin until sparks burst from its armor. The sound was deafening, the beast shrieking as he tore into it with reckless precision. When the beast finally toppled into the heap, twitching and groaning, silence hit harder than the fight.
The ride back in his jeep was unbearable. No quips, no grin, not even a stern glare. Just the low groan of the engine and the stink of scorched trash seared into your memory. His hands stayed locked on the wheel, knuckles white, shoulders stiff like the tension would snap his spine in two.
You trailed after him from the jeep, every step eaten up by the silence pressing between you. His shoulders were stiff, his hands locked so tight you thought the steering wheel might’ve cracked under them. Even back at camp, he wouldn’t look at you. Wouldn’t say a word.
It broke something in you.
“Say something!” you burst out, voice high and fraying. “Yell at me, Enjin! Tell me I fucked up, because I did! I almost got us both killed, so just…just fucking say it!”
He stopped. Dead in his tracks.
You nearly collided with his back, heart in your throat, but before you could stumble out another word he turned. His eyes burned, wild and unreadable, and then his hand was around your wrist, dragging you hard enough that your feet barely kept up.
“Enjin—” you gasped, but he didn’t listen.
He shoved his door open, pulled you inside, and slammed it shut with enough force to rattle the walls. You barely had a second to breathe before he was on you. His mouth crushing into yours, hot and frantic, stealing the words right out of your throat.
And well, the rest was history.
“But you didn’t,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out, hitting so deep your vision went white. A broken groan tore from your throat, your body arching helplessly into him. “Fuck, Enjin—you’re…Fuck, you’re so much bigger than I thought you’d be.”
His laugh came dark and breathless, teeth flashing before he sank them into the side of your neck. You yelped, the sting stealing your breath, but he soothed it with his tongue, sucking until heat bloomed under your skin.
“You don’t gotta flatter me now, princess,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “I already know I’m big.”
“What happened to us being best friends?” you managed, the words cracking between moans.
He snorted, the sound sharp against your throat, hips rolling slow and merciless before snapping forward again, making you cry out. “I’m balls deep inside you, and that’s the question you’re going with?” His hand slid up your thigh, gripping hard enough to bruise as his teeth grazed your jaw. “Best friends don’t fuck like this, sweetheart. Best friends don’t mark each other.”
He bit down again, harder, a groan rumbling out of him as your body jerked under his. “News flash, sexy,” he growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he thrust deep, “we were never just friends.”
“People are gonna hear us,” you whimpered, the words coming out ragged as his cock hit a spot so deep your toes curled. Your nails slid down his back, leaving angry red trails across the black of his tattoos.
Enjin only laughed against your throat, a low, dark sound that vibrated straight through you. His teeth caught your earlobe, tugging before he spoke, voice rough and feral. “Good. Let ’em.”
He bit you again, harder this time, right where your pulse fluttered. You gasped, the sting making your hips buck up against his, and he groaned like the sound was feeding him.
“Let them know exactly what you sound like when I’m inside you,” he murmured, licking over the mark, sucking until your skin burned. “Let them see what happens when you stop pretending you didn’t know how fucking hot you are. Like you didn’t know how bad I wanted you.”
His pace was relentless, teeth and hands everywhere at once. He bit his way up your throat, sucking hard until you shivered under him. Every snap of his hips sent you higher, your voice breaking on his name until you couldn’t even tell where the sting ended and the pleasure began.
“God, listen to you,” he growled, biting at your collarbone before licking it better. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Your whole body tightened around him, the sound of your moan almost lost in the wet slap of skin. He caught your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it just hard enough to make you cry out.
“Enjin—please—”
That was all it took. His groan came low and rough, his hips jerking as your climax tore through you. You clenched around him, shaking, and he bit down on your shoulder with a muffled curse as he spilled into you, hips grinding through the aftershocks.
You both stayed there for a beat, breathless and sweat-slick, his forehead resting on yours. His teeth grazed your jaw one last time, but now it was softer, almost apologetic.
“You ever pull shit like that again…” he muttered, voice still rough but slower now, “I’ll chain you to the damn jeep myself. You don’t get to run in blind and almost die on me. Not again.”
“I know,” you breathed, still dazed. “I’m sorry…”
“Yeah, you better be,” he said, but his thumb brushed over your cheek in a way that gave him away. “Scared the shit outta me.”
You sat up, tugging at your shirt with shaking hands, and that’s when you caught sight of yourself in the cracked mirror leaning against his wall.
“Enjin,” you groaned, your stomach flipping. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Your neck was a battlefield. Angry red marks blooming everywhere his mouth had been, teeth marks etched into your collarbone and shoulder, bruises smudged down your chest like a roadmap of him. You tilted your head, pulling at the collar of your shirt, and winced. “I look like I got mauled.”
Enjin glanced over, still half-dressed, and smirked, utterly unrepentant. “You kinda did.” He tugged his shirt over his head, his grin widening when you threw him a glare. “Looks good on you.”
“Good?” you hissed, shoving your arms through your sleeves. “I can’t walk out there like this! Everyone’s going to—”
“Be real. They already heard you,” he cut in, slipping his belt through the loops of his pants with infuriating calm. “Marks just confirm it.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but he only laughed, stepping close enough to nip at your ear again. “Fuck it. Don’t cover ‘em up. Let ‘em see, sexy.”
You shoved him away, cheeks burning, but the damage was done.
By the time you both walked into the mess hall, the silence was deafening. Heads snapped down, conversations died mid-sentence, and no one—no one—dared meet your eyes. Zanka choked on his soup. Someone else dropped a spoon. The air reeked of secondhand embarrassment.
You prayed the floor would swallow you whole.
Enjin only smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets like he owned the room. “Guess they like your new look,” he murmured, voice low and smug.
You elbowed him in the ribs, mortified. “You’re such a bastard.”
He leaned down, teeth catching your jaw just enough to make you jolt. “Yeah,” he muttered against your skin. “But I’m your bastard.”