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Kinktober 2019

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Day 1. Handjobs |Hate-Fucking/Angry Sex

Fury.

It is too familiar a heat, boiling under Lio’s skin. Were he more naïve, more willing to trust, he would be caught tight in surprise, suspense.

“Fuck.”

Promepolis is kind, and it is not. Burning Rescue is a heart of many, shared hearts bring warm generosity to their citizens, to the scattered remains of burnish hiding under rubble and rebel. Lucia builds prosthetic limbs to those who had watched their limbs crumple into ash; Remi and Varys prepare burials for those who have faded too far. Aina and her sister stand strong among the fallen, steady hands taking trembling ones into safety.

Galo greets Lio every morning with the same hopeful smile, every night with soot and dirt caked along his face.

Being on the team is surprisingly peaceful: Lio finds that he enjoys their company, the kindness with which they treat Maes and Gueira. Burning Rescue is a breath of fresh air.

The rest of Promepolis is not.

“Who does he think he is?”

Lio is no stranger to harassment—angry insults and cutting screams, threats to what remains of his family, his friends, himself. With Kray overhead, narrowed eyes watching the world boil under him, it was more fear-inducing. More chilling when he could place the face behind the murders, the blind smiles that watched his cousins burn to ash.

Kray is gone now.

Yet he still finds himself red with fury.

Citizens scowling about and interfering in rescue events have become disturbingly common in his life over the past few days of repairing a split city. Tough as Galo is, the few remaining Promare warming Lio’s hands are tougher. The same weapon once used to level buildings now props them up; flames that burned at the peace now uphold it.

Balance would be easier to maintain without reckless hecklers.

He wouldn’t have minded the insults so much if they hadn’t gotten Galo involved.

“Really now.” Lio hisses, hand tightening its grasp on the leather leash, pulling Galo impossibly closer to his body. The low groan in response vibrates along his dick and he sighs, admiring the way Galo’s nose tickles the soft tuft of hair along his groin, the fluttering of his lashes when Lio runs a hand through it, only to take hold and pull.

Galo whines, baring his neck upward as the collar scratches alongside the bottom of his jaw. It’s easier like this, face flushed red and hair messily thrown back, to see how pitiful he is. How fragile he can be.

How painfully, irritatingly accurate that man was.

“Fuck,” Lio scoffs, releasing the leash to drag both hands alongside the back of Galo’s head. One hand scratches at the nape of his neck, folded over as Galo whines on his dick, drool and precum spilling forward to dribble down his chin.

He looks like a dog in heat.

It drives Lio insane.

“He was right; you know that?” It’s hard to form the words coherently when Galo’s swallowing him down, tongue pressing flat against the head of his dick. Lio grunts when a single hand trails up his thigh to pinch at the skin of his balls, choosing to slap the hand away. The soft whine he gets in response does nothing but warm the pooling heat in his stomach.

“Waamny?” Galo manages, pulling back just slightly to murmur before sliding back down, hair tickling the inside of Lio’s thighs. He hums, ridiculously content to have Lio’s dick hit the back of his throat, swallowing tight as Lio’s hips shake and thrust.

“Yes, really,” Lio snaps, nails leaving skinny red lines alongside the tops of Galo’s shoulders, the backs of his ears. The red lines collide with the burns along Galo’s arm, fading pale in contrast to the new marks, and Lio finds himself wanting to leave more bruises along his prize.

His prize. His.

“Burnish fucker!” The man had spat, saliva hitting Galo’s cheek as he screamed and cursed. Ignis had easily grabbed the man and escorted him from the rescue scene, but the damage had been done, and Lio had watched the slow trickle of spit roll down Galo’s face. Galo had been fine, wiping at his cheek with the same easy smile that always seemed to adorn his face, but Lio had been unable to quell the growing fury in the pit of his body.

To attack him, to scream at him, leader of Mad Burnish? Lio had expected that when he took on the role.

To spit on his dog was another thing entirely.

“Galo,” Lio manages, tense as he cups Galo’s face with both hands, “I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

Whatever answer Galo might have managed around his cock is quickly and effectively cut off as Lio pulls Galo nearly off, lips just barely hovering over his head, before snapping his hips forward. Galo’s hands scramble for purchase for a moment, one settling on grasping at Lio’s hip, the other against the wall behind them.

“Fuck!” Lio curses, fingers curling to leave red indents along Galo’s neck. It never seemed to make sense to Lio how impossibly warm Galo could be for a non-burnish, how warm his mouth is. Galo gags beneath him, head jerking back on reflex, only for Lio’s hand to tug harshly at the collar, pulling him close as his dick relentlessly hits the back of his throat.

Irritation and pleasure melt into each other at the sight of Galo’s half-lidded eyes, mouth pried open to allow Lio to fuck his mouth over and over again. The occasional gag and jerk of his head is quickly quelled by ruthless pulls on his collar, made ever more frequent as the rumbling heat boiling under Lio’s skin builds. His breath grows ever so ragged, low pants overtaking any heavy words weighing on his tongue, eyes only focused on the brimming tears that reflexively emerge as Galo chokes.

It must be the tears, or the happy gasp from Galo as Lio traces the shell of his ear, or the sight of his drool and sweat and precum rolling down his face to drip onto his pants, damp spots growing in frequency. It must be the high whines that cut in air, the choking coughs that never make it out against the scrape of Lio’s dick against Galo’s mouth. It must be the radiating heat, the warm stickiness that coats Lio so smoothly, the eagerness to please.

It must be Galo, looking spectacularly pretty for a man collared and leased, choking on a “burner fucker’s” dick.

“I’m, hah,” wrenches its way from Lio’s mouth before his eyes snap shut, face tensing as the flames building in his body explode, pops of fire burning marks along his skin. “Cumming!” He gasps, short, one hand scrambling along Galo’s collar to tug sharply at his leash, pulling him off his dick. Heat courses through him, shaking, trembling, the world coming to a stop.

It’s only after the after-sex chill begins to prickle at his arms that Lio manages to force his eyelids open again. The sight that greets him warms him so quickly that he could almost swear that the promare were multiplying under his skin.

Galo, face slick with cum painting his face from his chin to his forehead, the fronts of his hair matted down with it, licks along Lio’s thighs. His eyes remain shut, collar and leash neatly pooling under him, pants tented and wet with a familiarly neediness. And yet his hands and knees stay firmly planted on the floor, only his head moving to clean up the trails of sweat and semen that had missed his face to dribble onto Lio’s thighs.

“Galo,” Lio manages, voice hush as he lowers his hands to wipe the cooling cum coating Galo’s eyes.

“Lio.” And god, the little heat still alight in Lio trembles at the hoarse word. Galo manages a small smile, just a hint of teeth, as he licks the semen drying on his skin. “Did I put it out?”

Lio finds himself laughing at that, a soft noise cooling the flickering flames. He had almost forgotten this—Galo’s stubborn optimism could only be backed by such a dense man. The implication, the irritation, the burning flames that the man had thrown their way had probably not even managed to make it through Galo’s ever present firefighter soul.

“Yeah,” Lio nods, leaning forward to press a kiss against Galo’s cheek. The bitter taste of semen invades his mouth and Lio wretches, pulling sharply back with his tongue out. “Ugh, go get cleaned. You need to shower.”

“But Lio!” Galo whines, high and reedy, and, right, Galo’s hands gesture empathetically to the persisting tenting of his pants. Lio sighs, leaning forward to help pull the band over his hips, one eyebrow arched.

“Why didn’t you just touch yourself earlier?” Despite the grumbling, Lio finds himself pulling Galo close, single hand pinching his pec as the other rubs small circles on the inside of his thigh.

“I couldn’t!” Galo gasps, dramatically waving his hands in the air. Lio neatly dodges the movement. “I needed to put all 110% of my firefighter soul on you!”

And that, well, that warms Lio in a different way altogether.

“Idiot,” Lio finds himself sighing. It’s easy enough to slip one hand around the base of Galo’s dick, wet as it is, and give slow jerks. Galo grunts, squirming in his grasp, as Lio’s other hand flicks against his nipple.

“Liooo,” Galo whines, hands encircling Lio’s wrists, “don’t tease me!”

“Why not?” He pulls at the hardened nipple, watching the skin stretch before releasing. The temptation to take it into his mouth overwhelms him, the pleasured gasp shaking Galo’s form even more tempting. Now free, both hands make quick work of playing with the head of Galo’s cock, one finger boldly slipping under the foreskin to tickle the sensitive flesh.

“Li-o,” Galo pants, noisy, and he wriggles haplessly as one hand draws enlarging circles along his lower stomach.

“Ga-lo,” Lio responds, trailing upwards to nip and lick at the peaking skin flushed besides the collar. He scrapes his teeth along the exposed collar bones to feel Galo shake beneath him, sweat pooling at the base of his neck. Nudging the leash to the side with his cheek, Lio bites down on the flesh, the taste of iron violent for a moment because pulling back to lick at the new wound.

“N-no teasing,” Galo repeats, voice hitching as Lio grinds his thumb against the head, the other hand quickening in speed. Lio finds himself grinning, heat flickering again at his body, the urge to leave biting marks at the vulnerable skin temporarily sated.

“Why not?” Lio mocks back, but Galo had done his job well, and what scathing fire prickling at Lio has been cooled enough to relinquish his control. Leash aside.

“Go ahead then,” Lio murmurs, planting a gentle kiss at the curve of Galo’s nape, “fuck my hands like a dog.”

Galo’s responding moan is loud and drawn out, neediness overwhelming as he thrusts his hips into Lio’s sticky palms, precum and sweat smearing at his fingers. Always noisy during sex, his moans increase in frequency and pitch as his back curves back, face turning to kiss at Lio’s face, his lips, his cheeks, barely missing his jaw.

“Lio, Lio, Lio, Lio!” The room seems to tremble and shake under the weight of the words, powerful despite the breathlessness with which they’re gasped out with. Lio scrapes his tongue against the front teeth of Galo’s mouth, his cum tinging Galo’s saliva with bitterness, when Galo rears his head forward to hide in the curve of Lio’s neck, shoulders trembling as he shouts.

Sticky warmth spills through Lio’s fingers as Galo shakes, his wild hair matted against Lio’s sweat-slick skin. The whines and grunts soften as gasps overtaken them, leaving them with the room feeling equally sticky and uncomfortably warm.

“Ugh,” Lio groans, wiping his hands on Galo’s thighs. “Now can we shower?”

“So mean,” Galo murmurs, though his face is still neatly buried against Lio. “Can’t we just sleep like this?”

“No.”

“Lio! I don’t want to shower!” Galo whines, finally emerging to pout at Lio. It would be more a more convincing argument if Lio couldn’t clearly see his cum still smeared and drying against Galo’s face, the roots of his hair. As is, he’s only tempting Lio to dump bathwater on him.

“If we shower now, I’ll let you cuddle me,” Lio concedes, as though they don’t every night. Still, Galo’s face lights up, and he’s out of Lio’s grasp in a matter of milliseconds.

“Okay!” And there, on his stupid face, is the same illuminating grin that he greets Lio with every day, every night, every occasion and time. Stupidity must be contagious, for Lio finds himself smiling back.

“Wait for me, idiot.”