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"Bheema," he finally gives in a little over an hour out of Delhi. "Pull over."
Bheem sighs – maybe out of relief, maybe frustration – and Ram's hopping down from the cab and staggering to the nearest tree before the brakes are fully applied. The breeze and shade help, but he's still bending over to throw up a moment later.
It's all bile, and barely a mouthful, but he already feels steadier when he spits and straightens to lean against the rough bark. A little cough against the burn threatens another round, but a burp settles it down ... for now. His bones are still buzzing from the rough ride, and he'd almost prefer to crawl back into the hole Bheem had found him in than get back in that truck, but they can't linger long enough for his stomach to calm –
Something sparkles in the corner of his eye, Bheem offering a cupful of glimmering water to him. "Take this and clean up," he says pushing it into Ram's hands, "I'll find some ginger or peppermint root."
We don't have time – but Bheem's already off, back straight and feet steady as he walks away. Ram ogles, then forces his gaze away. No. Don't start. I have no right to that, now. Not that he ever did. But his actions since that day have thoroughly destroyed what might have been. He sighs and leans his head against the tree, taking a small, careful sip to rinse his mouth of lingering regret. A slightly larger sip finds its way down his throat and into his churning stomach, and he waits for it to decide the next step. I have to tell him.
He's not sure he wants to. But he needs to. And Bheem, of all people, deserves his complete honesty. And Seetha too, for that matter. Another burp seems to agree with him, and his free hand rubs absently at his belly as he sighs. For all or nothing, little one. He's a little over halfway down the cup when Bheem returns, already chewing on some leaves as he offers Ram a sprig of ginger wrapped in another leaf.
"I think I see why the truck was packed full but sitting in the garage," Bheem says. "It's an incredibly rough ride. If we had the time and I had my tools, I could probably make it run smoother –"
"But we have neither," Ram interrupts, then winces at his sharp tone. He trades the cup for the sprig and rolls so his back is against the tree for the next part. "While we have a moment, though, there's something I should tell you." He stares at his hands fiddling with the leaf, unable to look at Bheem. "The day we danced ..." Valentines Day. A day for celebrating love, though it also supposedly marks the death of a Christian martyr. Poetic, really. "... do you remember what happened after?"
"Yes," Bheem breathes, shuffling closer. He leans in, but Ram shies away, blinking back tears.
Ram reaches for his hand instead. "You left something behind that day ..." He presses it to his belly, half-hoping Bheem can understand without having to say the words. Men who can carry children are an extreme rarity, many forced into sexual slavery to absolve their family's bad karma. Ram doesn't know if anyone back home even remembers, let alone cares ... and he has no idea how Bheem will react to the news. We made a baby, Bheema.
Bheem gasps, stills. Then his hand curls over Ram's and pulls it back. "I took something with me, too," he says. And places Ram's hand over his belly.
Ram's jaw drops. "What – you –?" He stares at where his hand is, then dares a glance up at the grin growing on Bheem's mouth. Not one, but two...? He shudders, tears spilling over as his breath catches in his throat.
"Seems we were in sync for more than just dancing that day," Bheem jokes. "Think it'll continue?"
Ram makes a noise somewhere between sobbing and laughter. He reaches, and Bheem closes the gap between them. "I love you," he whispers into Bheem's neck. "I'm sorry. I love you."
"I love you," Bheem answers. "I'm sorry, too."
[Then]
"You lied," Akthar pouts once they're safely away from the party, their dance having shut everything down. "You didn't fall from a cramp. Why'd you throw the game?"
"I wasn't about to show you up in front of your girlfriend," Ram says, burying a spark that almost felt like anger. "Certainly not when that little wiener and his friends were watching. She was even rooting for –"
"She's not my girlfriend!" Akthar almost snarls. Then he stops, closes his eyes, and releases a deep breath. "I saw her help a friend out of a sticky situation a few months ago, and I've wanted to thank her for it. That's all. I do not want to romance someone who's invaded my country and oppressed my people, no matter how kind or patient or interested she seems to be." His eyes open, and Ram feels like he's meeting Akthar for the first time all over again. "Alright?"
"Alright," Ram breathes, heart thumping and not sure if he remembers how his lungs work. I may have gotten you into trouble, then.
It's a sobering thought, and they walk together in silence for the next few minutes while Ram wrestles with ways to extract Akthar from the situation he's caused. Who is Jenny, anyway, that she thinks she can bring two random Indian men she'd just met to a celebration of romance and not have the other partygoers cause a scene over it? It's strange, and doesn't bode well –
Akthar heaves a world-weary sigh and knocks shoulders with him. "I guess we'll have to find an excuse for another competition. You won't be happy with wondering who's the better dancer between us, otherwise."
Ram snorts and knocks back. "Nah, no contest. You were about two jumps away from falling, anyway. No shame in admitting it."
"Hey!"
Ram snickers and takes off, Akthar barely an arm's length behind him, already half-shouting a lecture. They careen through the city heading vaguely homeward in their nonsensical race, Akthar jumping on his back to emphasize a point while Ram laughs –
And recognizes the soldier observing them with a raised brow. Ram nearly chokes, body jerking somewhere between attention and cowering away as heat blasts up his face. Shitshitshit. Colonel Green's bound to be furious –
"As you were, gentlemen," Green says, an amused smirk not-quite-hidden under his mustache when he locks eyes with Ram. "Every man deserves a holiday, now and then."
Ram dares a nod and runs, Akthar screeching surprise at the sudden change in speed. But the lecture begins again once they're situated a couple blocks later, and Ram can almost let himself forget the near-disaster their bout of silliness caused. Almost.
Then Akthar kicks him in what feels very much like a giddyup motion, thighs flexing in Ram's grip as he bounces in place (something oddly hard rubbing against Ram's lower back), and Ram's mind jumps to a whole new track. He flings his rider off at the first soft spot he sees, not waiting for the auntie's yelling or for Akthar to regain his feet before darting off again.
Akthar catches up just outside the doors to Ram's flat, as planned, chest heaving as he tries to talk and catch his breath at the same time. Ram's hands wrap around his wrists as he stares at the other man. And with no conscious thought about what he's doing, presses his mouth to Akthar's.
Akthar freezes. Then melts, head turning to better match Ram's angle. Heat rises. Someone hums. Someone groans –
Then a door slams, someone downstairs yelling, and Ram scrambles to untangle his legs from Akthar's waist (when did that happen?) and remember how doors work while Akthar pulls him close and mouths at his neck. A moan slips out as their hips rock, that hardness from earlier almost perfectly sliding between his ass cheeks.
"Open up before I break it down," Akthar warns in a surprisingly deep voice, its rumble making something in Ram squirm with delight.
The lock clicks right, and they tumble inside to slam the doors shut on the rest of the world.
Ram's shirt's already almost undone, Akthar's hands roving over his chest like he's trying to memorize it. Ram arches into the heat, wishing he could shed all the armor and be naked for Akthar. But he knows it's not meant to be. He shouldn't even be doing this much, but he's not about to stop. "Every man deserves a holiday," after all.
"Have you ever done this before?"
Ram shakes his head. Though Baba's promise had implicitly granted him using any means necessary to complete his mission, he'd never dared more than a mildly flirty look at a superior before reconsidering his actions. Being Indian was a big enough hurdle. Adding the risk of someone discovering how truly other he was would destroy him faster than declaring himself a rebel and bombing the armory.
"Really? No one has –?"
"Only you," Ram says, and nearly swallows his tongue when Akthar's hand cups his erection. "Only want you."
Akthar groans. Bites just low enough for collars to cover it, if Ram keeps them buttoned a little higher. Ram's knees liquify – then jolt straight again, at the pinch to his nipple. He grunts, almost dizzy at the contradiction as Akthar's hips roll against him. "Oh, my Rama," Akthar croons, and Ram wishes never to be called 'brother' by this man again. "Whatever will I do with you?"
"Whatever you want." ... did he say that out loud? Even with Seetha, he's never ... he's never trusted anyone like that. And he can't imagine doing it with anyone else, even as he feels a wicked grin pressing into his neck.
"Whatever I want? Well, then ..." Akthar nips at his ear. "Let's start it off right."
Ram’s eyes roll back into his skull. For a brief, effervescent moment, both of Akthar's hands are on his cock, massaging it, exploring it, tracing it down to his balls, but the instant Ram groans and presses for more, they twirl him to face Akthar for a kiss that makes his toes curl in their shoes. The hands keep moving, undoing Ram's trousers then pulling Ram's shirt up and over his head, soothing down his arms and encouraging them to wrap around Akthar's neck as they kiss again. They linger along Ram's shoulders, then plunge down his back to squeeze his buttocks, making Ram sigh-moan into Akthar's mouth.
"You need more water," Akthar declares, fingers rising to tickle along Ram's ribs. "Muscles shouldn't be this easily defined through the skin."
"Thank you, Doctor," Ram teases. "I'm sure my boss won't mind me taking more pee breaks throughout the day."
Akthar grumbles, but lets it pass. As Ram's trousers sag lower, Akthar shuffles them closer to the bed, the way thankfully clear of books. A little scoop-and-lift frees them from Ram's ass and sits him on the thin mattress, and Akthar kneels to –
Well. Not take them off, since his shoes are still in the way. But Akthar only lets out a small, annoyed huff before attacking the laces and flinging the offensive things back toward the doors. The socks get similar if milder treatment – just flicked over the shoulders – before the program resets to slide Ram's trousers from his legs. But Akthar stays kneeling, once they're gone. He nuzzles against a hairy knee, kissing its inner curve, as the hands wander their way down to cup around the adjoining heel like it's something precious and delicate. Ram opens his mouth to warn against tickling when –
"NnnGgguuughhh!" Ram's eyes roll again, his spine almost liquifying at the gentle but firm press. Heat gushes deep in his belly as the pressure moves up and outward, and his brain is little better than mush by the time Akthar cracks and pops his toes. A quick kiss to the top, and Akthar switches feet. The heat in Ram’s belly develops a steady rhythm, leaving him panting as Akthar does the same to the other foot.
"Will you listen to me now?" Akthar asks when he's finished. It takes a few seconds for Ram to find his voice and wrangle his tongue back into working order.
"Nnngghh ... yes, Doctor," he says with all sincerity.
Akthar chuckles, still disbelieving. Then he leans to layer more kisses over Ram's foot. By the time fingers and tongue reach to trace around Ram's ankle, the appendage feels strangely alien. Almost holy. And like it should be wrapped in gold and jewels, after the worship Akthar's bestowed upon it.
Like I'm being cleansed of sin. Ram shivers, tears burning in his eyes, and he urges Akthar up and away from the sensation. He laps at Akthar's mouth, trying to reignite the passion that brought them here and dispel the air of holiness, but Akthar seems just as determined to smother him with it, keeping their kisses slow and deep and weighty.
Ram plucks at Akthar's shirt. "Take this off?" It's not meant to be a question, and Akthar thankfully doesn't take it as one, though Ram has to bite back a whimper as Akthar retreats to comply, revealing –
Fur. All over his chest. The sound escapes anyway, Ram’s fingers barely brushing through the curls as Akthar leans to fish off his own shoes and other clothing. Akthar huffs another laugh and layers kisses over them, briefly sucking one lucky finger into his mouth and making something tug in Ram’s belly as he wrestles the last of it away. He captures both wrists and rubs his cheeks against the palms, making them tingle with sensation while Ram shivers and reaches, aching for more. Akthar answers by stretching his arms over their heads, rising and pushing Ram back until he melts against his sheets with a sigh.
"Stay?" Akthar asks, adding a gentle pressure against Ram's wrists as their lips brush. Ram nods, capturing Akthar's mouth for a momentary compromise.
Akthar's fingers trail down the insides of Ram's wrists and over his shoulders, briefly cradle Ram's throat, then stroke down his chest, rough palms scraping Ram’s nipples and making him jolt in place. Akthar’s mouth and tongue follow soon after, taking special care to explore Ram’s pecs and nipples as Ram shivers under the attack.
He’d had no idea a man’s chest could be so sensitive. Like a woman’s. Or is that a sign of … The thought dissipates as Akthar descends, rubbing his cheek along Ram’s abs as his tongue explores the contours. Fingers slip into the waistband of Ram’s shorts, teeth digging into his hip as they, too, fall off and away.
Akthar rumbles a pleased sound at what he finds, hands urging Ram’s legs to spread wide as he mouths down a thigh. “I could smell you,” he whispers like a secret, “the entire time we were at that party.” He hikes the knee onto his shoulder, starts kissing and nibbling along the underside as he rises. “Don’t know if it was your clothes or the stuff you put in my hair, but I loved feeling like I was covered in you … until that twit fell and the women started chanting your name. Then the challenge was on. I had to keep you from them.” Heated breath pants against the base of Ram’s cock as heavy eyes roll up to meet his. “Do you know how bright your smile shines?”
“Akt-aaahhh!” Ram arches into the heat that engulfs his cock. Hands pin his hips down and he whimpers, hands plunging into Akthar’s hair in counterpoint as he gasps and whines and writhes.
It feels incredible. But Ram already knows it’s not going to satisfy him; not what he craves.
He needs everything. And for once, he’s not afraid to go for it. Within seconds of the overwhelm developing a rhythm, Ram starts tugging Akthar away. The suction is nearly unbearable until he starts chanting, “Please – Akthar, need – please.”
Akthar twitches, releases him with an unhappy grunt, and Ram shivers at the change in taste when their mouths meet again. “What do you need, na suryakanti?”
“You,” Ram breathes against his mouth, hand drifting down through Akthar’s chest hair to wrap around the shaft. “… In me?”
Akthar stills his sway, and Ram fears he’s gone too – “You’re sure?”
Ram nods. “Please.”
Akthar’s tongue dives into his mouth, arms scooping Ram up to rearrange them as the bed creaks a warning. They resettle with Ram’s head not-quite among his pillows, Akthar taking both their cocks in hand.
“Aktha-”
“Shhh,” Akthar hushes, kissing him again as he begins a new rhythm. “You need preparation, and I can’t be parted from you to find something better.”
You won’t need much. Ram heaves up and straddles Akthar’s lap to keep the thought in. Akthar will figure it out soon enough. One arm wraps around Akthar’s neck while the other hand explores the textures of his chest, their hips rolling as Akthar pumps. They kiss and pant into each other’s mouths, the sweet agony of being this close but not close enough creating a delicious friction between them. Almost a challenge.
“Use me,” Ram breaks. “Don’t worry about being rough. I can take it, take whatever you wanna give me –”
“I will not hurt you, na Rama,” Akthar declares. “You will remember this day with nothing less than joy by the time I’m through.”
It’s already the best day of my life. Ram kisses Akthar again and tries to ignore his tears. Patience is running dangerously thin, but he trusts Akthar to know what he’s doing.
Soon enough, damp fingers rub and press along his hole. Ram pushes back and breathes a “Yes” against Akthar’s mouth, in case there was any question. The first breach makes him go still – not from pain, but the sudden fear of waking up.
“Rama?”
Ram shivers, clenching around the invasion like a hug. “Yes, keep going.”
“You’ll have to relax, first.”
Oh. It takes several seconds of uncrossing signals and distracting kissing for Ram to succeed, shivering more as Akthar’s finger pushes further in – And brushes something that makes Ram’s breath catch and his hips jolt. Akthar grins against his mouth. “There it is.”
Whatever ‘it’ is, Akthar rubs and plucks at it until Ram’s a writhing sobbing mess in his arms … then he somehow slips underneath it and into a whole new space when he adds a second finger. Heat gushes, and Ram goes speechless in wonder.
He’s never been breached there before. Does Akthar know …?
Akthar hums, nuzzles down to bite Ram’s shoulder. Either he knows what he’s doing, or he’s never had sex with a man like Ram and doesn’t know what to look for. Ram breathes out and relaxes again, body rolling in welcome as the heat leaks out. Akthar hums again – almost a purr – and soon adds another finger to the collection in Ram’s ass.
“Tell me I’m ready,” Ram pants against Akthar’s ear.
“Nowhere near it,” Akthar argues, “but I know you won’t be satisfied …” The fingers slip away, hands hitching Ram higher and pulling him closer. “… until you have what you seek.”
Something blunter, thicker, and stiffer nudges in, and Ram loses his breath again.
“Take what you need, na Rama.”
Ram shivers, then rolls his hips and bounces a little, the stiffness sinking deliciously deeper into him and rubbing against that shocky bit and making him twitch. He mouths at Akthar’s lips and sways in place, trying to find –
Liquid heat gushes, and Akthar gasps and locks him down before Ram can push for more. “Rama … do you know what you’re offering?”
Ram nods, desperate to push on though it’s already uncomfortable. “Want you. Only you.” While it’s not unheard of for men like Ram to get pregnant strictly from anal sex – fairly common, even – the chances are almost tripled if a man’s vagina receives sperm directly. Ram is playing an incredibly risky game, on top of a mission bound to get him killed.
And he can’t make himself care. Not here, not now, with Akthar in his most secret space.
“Please.”
Akthar shudders, his grip loosening to streak up Ram’s back and grasp his shoulders as he sinks all the way down. “Some would call this marriage.”
“I’m honored to be yours,” Ram whispers, daring to rock. “However you wish to have me.”
“Always. Everyway.” They kiss again, with a teasing edge of teeth leaving a path in their wake. As Ram’s body adjusts to the intrusion, Akthar shifts him back down into the pillows, the rocking developing into strokes that quickly have Ram on the verge of screaming. The bed thumps around them, the mosquito netting fluttering down to further hide them from the world. Ram clings and pants, ankles locked around Akthar’s waist like the other man might change his mind and run at any moment. Fingers dig into Akthar’s hair and shoulder, and Ram nibbles at his ear.
“Akthar –”
Akthar flinches, his rhythm stuttering. He tries to mask it by shifting weight to grip Ram’s cock, but the oddity still files away in Ram’s head. Maybe Islam frowns on men laying with men like Christianity does. If that’s the case, then this moment’s even more precious; Ram won’t let his weakness hurt Akthar again.
“Come in me.” The words slip out before he can think to reel them in, and they both shudder. “Let me feel you.” Gods, how depraved Ram must be –
“Come with me,” Akthar growls at him, teeth gouging into his neck.
How could Ram not comply? Heat gushes, surrounding Akthar’s cock and splashing from Ram’s as the peak slams into him. He wails, body spasming, and Akthar roars into Ram’s neck, skin and fabric barely muffling him as another heat answers.
The world is too big and too bright when he surfaces, Akthar’s gentle, all-encompassing weight the only thing keeping him from washing away. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he wants to beg. I won’t ask again. Please don’t leave me. But Ram’s never been afforded a second chance, and he doesn’t expect one to begin now. He mouths at Akthar’s jaw and rubs their cheeks together, wishing that the scent of this moment might be allowed to linger.
Akthar shifts, and Ram swallows his pleas with his tears. He’ll apologize and make whatever amends Akthar demands, though he knows it won’t amount to –
Fingers stroke through the come on his belly, almost playing with it, before lifting to Akthar’s mouth. A pleased hum makes Ram shudder and gasp. Could it be ...? He can barely form the thought for fear of scaring it away.
A noise must escape. Sleepy eyes blink up at him before the mouth descends to give him a taste, the fingers playing again across his belly. “I’ve dreamed of this union since we met,” Akthar whispers between kisses. “Though I always thought it’d be the other way around.”
“What? You – I thought –” Another kiss interrupts Ram. He almost forgets the conundrum as Akthar’s tongue strokes over his.
“Another of your silly English ideas?” Akthar teases, his weight shifting onto one arm as his fingers reach back. He shivers, and Ram’s jaw drops as he realizes – “When will you admit they’re poisoning you?”
‘O trespass sweetly urged!/Give me my sin again,’ dances through Ram’s head like a confirmation of Akthar’s opinion. He swipes his fingers through what come is left and joins Akthar’s exploration over continuing the endless argument. Akthar grunt-groans a welcome as they develop a rhythm together.
It doesn’t take long for them to get hot and hard again. Nor does it take more than a questioning look for Ram to roll out from under Akthar’s weight and mount him instead, raining kisses over the smooth, delicious skin of Akthar’s back and shoulders as he learns to give the pleasure he’s received.
Akthar’s roar is unmuffled this time. And Ram feels unbelievably accomplished at securing the feat before they collapse for a well-earned nap.
… he wakes to Akthar’s kiss and begging apologies somewhere in the heat of the day. They’ll realize too late it was more than just their daily farewell.
[Now]
The ride is still terribly rough, but somehow not as terrible an experience when they’re wedged closer together, somehow steadying each other. The peppermint and ginger worked wonders greater than Ram could’ve imagined . . .
And now something else has started to plague Ram’s mind. Another battle, a remnant of history not so easily escaped, and probably something Seetha never thought to mention.
“I was promised to Seetha’s family before she was born,” Ram says, petting the inside of Bheem’s thigh sometime in the midafternoon. “Everyone in the village indulged her belief that we would marry, knowing I’d probably be pregnant with my second or third child from one of her elders before she reached marriageable age. I was only in training as a means of protecting her if anything went wrong.” He wiggles closer and lays his head on Bheem’s shoulder. “After the massacre …” he chokes. Has to let the feelings pass before he can continue. “When I told them the mission Baba had set me, her Tata laughed and mocked that he’d free me from their binding if I succeeded without being discovered.” Tears burn in his eyes as the fear he’s fought to ignore rises. “I don’t know … if …” He can’t complete the thought, turning like he can hide from the truth of his situation. “Being with you is the closest to freedom I’ve ever had,” he ends with a whisper, choosing to keep the ‘and I’ll probably go back into prison, just a different kind’ part silent.
Bheem’s grip tightens on the wheel, hearing it anyway.
“You’re free, Rama,” he says. Declares, really. Then he wilts, eyes turning glassy. He covers Ram’s hand with one of his and sneaks a glance at Ram’s belly. “I can … I can even make a concoction to rid you of the pregnancy, if you don- –”
“Thanks, I’d rather die,” Ram snaps. Then blinks, another thought occurring to him. He pulls away, straightens. “Unless … I know I’m not the best part of your life. Do you want to end our –”
The truck screeches to the side of the road so violently it almost tips into a ditch. Ram’s still gasping, reaching to brace himself against the dashboard, when Bheem yanks him into a kiss that leaves him hard and whimpering and shaking with need. He’s climbed into Bheem’s lap before their lips part for air.
“You’re only the most important part of my life,” Bheem pants against his mouth. “I’d rather stop breathing than –”
“Second-most,” Ram corrects, hand sliding down to Bheem’s belly again. “Don’t ever put me ahead of them. Understood?”
Bheem smiles, leans in –
“Do you understand, Komuram Bheem.”
“Yes, I understand, Alluri Rama Raju.”
Way too easy. Ram suspects he’s missing something, but he allows the kiss. And another. And sighs into another, letting it go.
“I want to marry you. Officially,” Bheem says.
Ram snorts before he can stop himself. “Put that way, it sounds like you’ve married me unofficially.”
Bheem ducks away, tongue caught between his teeth as he fights back a smile, eyes sparkling.
“Wha- Bheem, how – when?"
“We really ought to get going,” Bheem says primly, gently setting Ram aside with a soft kiss. “We’re going to become notable if we linger much longer.”
Ram squawks, words temporarily lost to him as Bheem snickers. Glaring only makes Bheem laugh harder.
[Later]
Ram delivers first and nearly a month early, the years of stress and strain too much against the few months of love and safety he’s found among the Gond with Bheem. Their son tries to come out butt-first and is screaming-mad at the world for thwarting his wishes when he arrives. He quiets when he’s laid on Ram’s chest, but isn’t truly soothed until his tiny hands scrunch in the fur of his nanna’s chesthair, head presses to Bheem’s heartbeat, a sentiment Ram fully understands and agrees with ... so much so that he nearly slips into the beyond in his relief.
It takes weeks to recover, which would annoy him to the extreme if he wasn’t so easily exhausted from sitting up to share a meal. One evening, Bheem half-playfully grouses that they should’ve delivered together, since they conceived together, and Ram sleepily replies that their children will be their own people with their own birthdays, now; Bheem’s so endeared at the answer that he chooses to ignore the odd twinges in his lower back in favor of kissing his husband silly.
Three weeks and two days after her brother’s noisy arrival, their daughter slips out with the sunrise, observing the world and already planning on ways to improve it. Or maybe conquer it. She’s fascinated by her father’s every word, and will often be found scheming with her Auntie Malli when she’s away from Ram’s side. Her rare soft smiles are as coveted as her anna’s booming laughter, and only their fathers will have a chance against them when they team up.
Anyone stupid or arrogant enough to become their enemy will never know what hits them. Ram and Bheem couldn’t be more proud of them, or their siblings to come.