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A soft sound escaped Wemmbu’s lips.
Flame found himself enamored, hands grasping the ribbons of Wemmbu’s corset, undoing every lace.
The intricate designs, all of Wemmbu’s accessories—they were off in an instant, scattered around the bed, teetering off the edge.
Wemmbu in return, had his hands around Flame’s head, slender fingers undoing the knot of his blindfold.
When the fabric falls from Flame’s eyes, he winces at how vulnerable he suddenly felt in front of his rival. He was too open, too expressive.
But Wemmbu didn't look at him with disdain.
He watched the rise of Wemmbu’s chest, how Wemmbu laid there, uncaring while his eyes fluttered close instead, leaning into the warmth of Flame’s hands.
Fingers moved to slide Wemmbu’s corset off before they tugged the shirt off of his shoulders. A gasp could be heard from Wemmbu, and Flame moved to look up at his face.
Wemmbu grins at him. Flame couldn't look away. He just can’t. Not when Wemmbu’s gaze was so gentle, not when he allowed the hands that used to stab him hold him like this.
Flame’s heart constricted, clenching so painfully inside his chest.
Cold hands then caressed Flame’s cheeks, making him snap out of his trance.
“Bro, stop staring at me like that…” How typical of Wemmbu to use the word “Bro” even in this situation. Despite that, Flame shivered.
He wanted to hear Wemmbu’s voice, forever. He wanted to melt right here—seeping into the very bones of his “rival”. He wanted to claw his and Wemmbu’s skin off, making their nerves fuse together like a disgusting lab experiment, so that nobody else would ever want Wemmbu like how Flame wanted him.
Actually, no one could ever want Wemmbu like how Flame wanted him, needed him. Not a single person would ever be willing to get on their knees digging up every surface, getting their hands dirty just to find Wemmbu.
“You’re spacing out again.” Wemmbu states, seemingly worried at how much Flame was so out if it today.
“Are you starting to regret this?”
No. Never.
Flame let a small cry escape his lips. The assumption Wemmbu threw at him was so wrong. It was so far from the truth. Was how he acted made Wemmbu think he didn't want this?
Flame then shook his head frantically. He couldn't get the words out of his mouth. He wanted to say so much, but he felt like the moment he actually started speaking—telling Wemmbu how he felt, he’d just start crying.
Wemmbu gave him a sympathetic look this time before pulling down Flame’s face, their foreheads now touching.
The hands that were previously holding his cheeks were gone. Flame wanted to complain at the loss, but he bites his tongue. Instead, he lets Wemmbu’s hand cradle his locks before moving to the back of his blindfold.
And in just a moment—Flame could see everything. To the colour of Wemmbu’s hair, down to the details of his eyes.
Flame shut his eyes and leaned forward, lips catching one another. Wemmbu just let out an amused giggle, but Flame could feel his own heart hammering violently within his chest.
He thought that, if he stared too much into the eyes he loves so much, he’d get lost.
Flame turns his head, hands wrapping tightly around Wemmbu—like the thought of him just suddenly disappearing hurt too much.
Wemmbu lets him lead their kiss, patting Flame’s
back as soft as his cruel hands could be.
Please don’t leave. Stay with me. I’m all that you’ll ever need. Want me back. Please, please, please.
Such thoughts start to drown Flame, his arms painfully tight around Wemmbu. Flame hears a pained sound from him and lets go quickly, muttering out apologies.
“Why can’t you be gentle to me like this all the time?” Wemmbu laughed at his own words, but that sentence alone was like a violent stab into Flame’s heart.
He should’ve been. What if he actually lost Wemmbu?
Wemmbu was the only one who made his life brighter. After everyone else left, Wemmbu stayed. He shouldn't have. Flame would only burn Wemmbu alongside him.
“I’m sorry—” Right before Flame could say the rest of his apology, Wemmbu just pulled him down, lips pressed against Flame’s forehead.
“I don’t wanna hear none of that.” Wemmbu tries to reassure, but it doesn't melt the murky feeling away.
A lost cause, that’s what Flame is.
He’s a good for nothing, egotistical asshole who tried to kill someone so unbelievably special to him.
And now, the person he’s tried to kill was right here. Beneath him, letting himself be undressed by Flame’s hands.
A bitter laugh escapes Flame’s lips. Wemmbu tries to ask what was so funny, but Flame shuts him up by licking the stripe of an old scar right on Wemmbu’s shoulder.
Wemmbu lets out a yelp—body tensing up in surprise before he’s relaxing his muscles, registering the fact that Flame wasn't trying to hurt him.
The scar rises up into a small bump, the middle part brighter than the rest of Wemmbu’s skin. A reminder that his skin’s been sliced open by Flame’s very blade.
And as if he was apologizing, he gives Wemmbu an onslaught of licks, spit sticking onto skin.
Then, his mouth trails down, lips on the center of Wemmbu’s chest. He eyes the jagged scars from the corner of his eye before his heart starts fluttering.
He feels Wemmbu stroke his ears, sharp nails scratching at the back. Purrs left out of his mouth the second Wemmbu’s touch was on him.
Flame felt trusted—so fragile and small.
At this moment, Flame doesn't know what possessed him. With his head resting on Wemmbu’s torso, he raises a finger to trace the curved scars beneath his rival’s chest, feeling the small bump fading with the rest of his skin.
The hands that were scratching his ears tensed up by grabbing a handful of his locks. He could feel how Wemmbu’s body freezes up, so he leaves a small peck on both scars.
“You’re perfect…” Flame whispers it like it was a shared secret between just the two of them.
Fingers stopped digging into his scalp—Wemmbu’s body visibly relaxing under his words.
With Flame’s head against Wemmbu’s chest, he hears the thumping of Wemmbu’s heart.
His ears twitched with every beat; he felt his heart beat the same way.
Flame wholeheartedly believes their fate, meant to be together. There’s no doubt about it when his heart starts to match the rhythm of Wemmbu’s.
Would it be so wrong to just tear through Wemmbu’s chest and take his heart? Flame thinks it’d look beautiful even if it was kept in a glass box, locked away from everyone else.
Be it MinuteTech or Eggchan, Flame doesn't care what their relationship is with Wemmbu—because he won’t be letting his rival escape his grasp ever again.
Finally, Flame sits back up. The loss of Wemmbu’s hands on his head was pitiful. It made him feel like something was missing.
But he’ll get more.
Flame’s greed couldn't be satiated with mere pats and kisses. He wanted to make sure Wemmbu engraved himself onto his bones so deeply that it’d require every single piece of his limb to be dismembered for Wemmbu to disappear.
Hands finally wandered down, tracing the middle of Wemmbu’s abdomen before he rubbed circles, a finger outlining the dents of Wemmbu’s abs.
It was so easy to get lost in Wemmbu’s body. Every ridge and curve made Flame shiver. To be so intimately close to someone like this felt like a fever dream.
Especially when that person was Wemmbu.
Fingers tugged at the hem of Wemmbu’s pants. Lithe fingers wrapped around his wrist—catching his attention.
“Don’t want to?” Flame tilts his head to the side, eyes searching Wemmbu’s for any shifts. He was greedy, but not greedy enough to risk losing his entire world.
Wemmbu shook his head and sat up, hands moving to the collar of Flame’s hoodie before he pulled at him.
Flame lets himself be pulled, a warm chuckle bubbling up from his throat when Wemmbu’s peppering kisses all over his face.
“Keep going.”
When Flame gives him the green light, he doesn't waste a moment and pulls down Wemmbu’s pants, throwing it mindlessly somewhere—anywhere.
Why would he care about a pair of pants when Wemmbu’s literally right here?
“Bro,” Wemmbu pulls him in for a kiss. Ironic how Wemmbu called him that when he’s literally undressing him like this.
But Flame reciprocates, fangs catching Wemmbu’s bottom lip and biting down, enough to draw blood.
Wemmbu lets out a soft gasp which had Flame chasing after him, tongue shoving into Wemmbu’s mouth.
Their teeth clashed. Flame blames himself for being impatient, but he couldn't pull himself back.
Flame backs off for a moment before he’s back on Wemmbu again, tongue sliding over the roof of Wemmbu’s mouth.
He drinks up every moan and gasps—every single thing Wemmbu gives him, he devours it like it’s the only thing he’s consumed in days.
Wemmbu’s hands were on his shoulders, nails tearing into his hoodie. He felt the sharp things claw slowly into his skin.
It was a familiar kind of pain. Pain that Flame’s used to, guiding his heart.
His own hands wander down, fingers tracing the edges of Wemmbu’s pussy through his boxers, middle finger sliding down the slit.
Wemmbu jolted in his hold, back arching like Flame’s touch was electric.
“Fuck…” A curse leaves Wemmbu’s lips, which further encourages Flame to keep rubbing his finger in a steady rhythm, humming at how the fabric underneath his hold gradually gets damper.
Flame then focuses on rubbing at Wemmbu’s clit. By this point on, Wemmbu broke their kiss and hid his face against Flame’s neck, sucking at the skin there to stifle his own moans.
Wemmbu’s thighs were locked around his hips. The angle put Flame’s arm in a strain, but he doubles down and shoves a hand inside Wemmbu’s boxers, aiming directly to flick at that sensitive nub.
It’s adorable how Wemmbu held onto him like this. Flame wanted his rival to hold onto him forever, have him kept in the safety of his arms just like this.
He keeps a thumb on Wemmbu’s clit while his index travels down, sliding teasingly between that wet slit.
Flame pauses, looking at Wemmbu’s shaking form in front of him, registering the fact that his rival was bucking his hips against his fingers in needy jolts.
Taking that as a sign to continue, Flame slides in a finger inside Wemmbu’s slicked hole, biting his lip at the tight, cold walls clenching around his finger.
He pumps once, Wemmbu’s grip on him tightens. Twice and so on, Wemmbu’s babbling out god knows what.
“You’re so wet,” Flame points out, and Wemmbu finally raises his head to look at him.
And as if Flame wasn't down bad enough already, the sight of Wemmbu’s tear-stricken eyes ruins him completely.
His defenses folded faster than LettuceK’s lawmen against his blade.
Listen, how could he win against Wemmbu when his rival just looks at him like that?
Flame takes a deep breath when Wemmbu sniffles, hips grinding down his fingers, insisting that Flame do something—anything.
A sigh leaves his lips. He wanted to tease Wemmbu for being impatient, but what would that make him?
His own dick was straining against his sweats, it's been hard for god knows how long, and it’s been increasingly hard to ignore with Wemmbu trembling like this, hole sucking in his fingers in such a greedy way.
“Add another one and I’ll help you out…” Wemmbu lets out a deep breath, chest heaving when Flame starts to insert another finger alongside the first, spreading apart to finger his pussy.
The stretching burnt, slick pooled at Flame’s palm, and Wemmbu just can’t shut up when fingers pump inside him while Flame insistently rubs his clit with a thumb.
And true to Wemmbu’s promise, his own hand slid down between them, all shaky as he pulled at Flame’s pants.
Truth be told, Flame decides that today was the perfect day to go commando, so when his dick springs out and slabs against his own abdomen, the heat of embarrassment rings at his ears.
But Wemmbu wasn't laughing at him. He only zeroes in on Flame’s cock and grabs a hold of it, that impish tail he had swishing behind him.
Wemmbu promptly spits at Flame’s cock, making Flame jolt up. He squeezes at Flame’s poor dick and sends him a glare, demanding that he stay still or else he gets nothing.
Tremors run down his spine when Wemmbu swipes the head of his cock with a thump, the imp tail he has slowly slithering against Flame’s thigh before the blunt tip of it digs right into Flame’s slit.
“Wemmbu!” It was hard to sit still when Wemmbu’s tail was literally digging into his dick. But in a weird way, it felt good. The stretch burnt through the narrow canal, but Flame swallows all his complaints when Wemmbu starts moving his hand up and down his shaft.
Everything felt both too hot and cold. Wemmbu was the cold that anchored him while he overheats.
His hands started to finger Wemmbu at the same speed Wemmbu pumped him, hand twisting every so often when he grabbed ahold of the tip.
The veins of Flame’s cock bulged whenever Wemmbu’s tail digs deeper into his slit. So in retaliation, he presses his thumb harder against Wemmbu’s clit, smiling when his rival cries out.
“You like that?” Flame drives his fingers harder into Wemmbu’s hole, driving Wemmbu to lose the rhythm of his hands and pump Flame’s dick faster.
“Fuck you—” Wemmbu’s hips start stuttering, and Flame could feel sweat running down his own neck, seeping to the fabric of his top.
“That’s what I’m doing, bro…” Flame’s nostrils flare when he registers the fact that the room was filled with filthy sounds of Wemmbu’s pussy squelching against his fingers, moans now unmuffled.
Flame knows Wemmbu’s close. How could he not tell when Wemmbu was clenching around his fingers like a vice, grinding down his clit at Flame’s thumb.
He leans in close to nose at the back of Wemmbu’s neck before biting down hard.
And if Wemmbu was loud earlier, he was louder now—hands wrapped tightly around Flame’s shaft, the other digging into Flame’s shoulder with enough force to break his skin and draw blood.
Flame wasn't doing as well either. The hard grip on his cock prevented him from coming, but the pain that shot at his back was enough to make his back arch, dick trying to buck and escape Wemmbu’s painful grasp.
It takes a few minutes of Wemmbu breathing heavily against his neck before his rival starts loosening his grip and pumping him again, that cold tightness feeling like ice around him.
But he still couldn’t come. Not when Wemmbu’s tail plugged up his slit.
“Please—Shit, let me come!” Wemmbu doesn’t let up, a dazed look on his face when he’s using both hands to wrap fully around Flame’s girth before pumping his dick faster.
Flame felt like he was about to combust, like a balloon that held too much air but was forced not to pop.
But the moment Wemmbu pulled his tail back, Flame was grunting loud, arms moving to wrap tight around Wemmbu’s frame.
Nobody was watching him nor Wemmbu, did he not hold back the embarrassing whine that leaves his lips when cum spurts out of his cock, landing directly to make a mess out of Wemmbu’s pussy.
His hips kept on stuttering forward into Wemmbu’s hands to ride out the aftershocks, breathing heavily once he settled down.
Wemmbu lets him lean against his shoulder. Letting the two of them sit in silence while their filth soaks up into the sheets.
“You feel like a goddamn furnace, bro.” Flame whines and holds onto Wemmbu tighter before pushing him down onto the mattress, cuddling up to his side.
He was bigger than Wemmbu. The sight of him acting all soft like this would be so embarrassing, especially when he’s snuggled up to someone smaller than him, but Flame doesn’t care.
“You can’t just call me bro when I literally fingered you, bro…” Wemmbu raises a brow at that.
“Bro.”
Flame looked back at him—frown on his face while his hands moved to wrap around Wemmbu’s waist.
“So uh… What are we?” Flame fears whatever Wemmbu had in mind. Honestly, he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. He should feel lucky that Wemmbu even allowed himself to be held like this by his “rival”.
The silence that follows after was awkward. Flame already felt his tail drooping down.
How could he be so dumb? Everything felt like it was crumbling down. If he hadn't asked, he would’ve been able to keep his sanity and dignity in tact.
“What do you want us to be?”
Flame immediately perks up.
He looks at Wemmbu with hopeful eyes, eyes that begged and hoped that Wemmbu wasn't just fucking with him.
“You know, like… Um…” Heat creeps up to Flame’s face.
He was used to keeping his feelings inside, acting upon them occasionally, but being asked to voice out his wants felt… off putting.
But Wemmbu was patient and started patting his back.
“Lovers…?” Wemmbu snorts, Flame feels all his confidence disintegrate before Wemmbu’s pulling him closer.
“I like the sound of that.” Flame stared deadpan at Wemmbu, holding his breath—observing any signs that indicate that Wemmbu might be joking.
And when Wemmbu doesn't go back on his words, Flame crawls up and buries his head against Wemmbu’s neck, breathing in his scent.
He couldn't believe this was happening.
Never in a million years did Flame think he could do it, but here he was.
He thought he was satisfied with just staying as Wemmbu’s rival, he’s lied to himself that he’d be fine if Wemmbu rejects him even after all this.
Yet, here he was.
“Forever?”
Wemmbu grabs ahold of his hand and intertwines them, squeezing.
“Forever.”