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It’s cool in the center of the forest. It’s not an enchanted one, but after escaping the heat of the battle, it feels special nonetheless. Alfred blazes a trail with his horse, eager to find the next clearing. Leaves and blades of grass crunch under Davie’s hooves, but Alfred's only thinking about whatever lies ahead. That’s always his goal.
A new sound catches Alfred’s attention. The one that he’s been searching for. It makes him guide his horse to the right so he can get a better vantage point, and as he nears, the trees shrink and the sky opens up to a dark blue. A rising crescent moon appears behind the fading clouds.
“Ivan, I found it!” Alfred calls triumphantly, taking in the sight of a gentle stream and bloom-dotted meadow. It’s perfect. “Ivan! Are you still with me?”
Alfred urges his horse back into the forest to find his fellow knight. He can’t remember for how long he was running ahead. His gaze passes through the foliage in search of the familiar silhouette. He doesn’t see as well as he used to—each new day fogs his vision in another layer of mist—but he’s not blind yet.
Ivan appears behind a particularly large pine tree. He is adorned in white armor and riding a horse just as fair; together they travel at a slow, ambling pace. The hood of Ivan's cape partially shrouds his expression.
However, Alfred grins at the mere sight of him and quickly encourages Davie to gallop faster.
“There you are! How did I lose you?” Alfred greets, trying to catch Ivan’s attention. He keeps Davie trotting beside Ivan’s large mare.
Ivan does not immediately acknowledge him. Actually, Ivan seems strangely preoccupied and petulant of all things. His dark purple eyes are trained on the ground in a way that Alfred can only call disapproving.
“I found some water. We should probably take a pause here, right? I’m sure we’ve put enough distance between us and the wreckage,” Alfred continues breezily.
Their horses amble side by side. Alfred’s perched on the side of his saddle, hand on his hip, as he flashes a smile in Ivan’s direction.
“You’ve ruined the flowers," Ivan sighs. His lips purse as he glares at the state of the forest floor. "Again.”
“What?” Alfred laughs. It’s the first time they’ve talked in at least an hour—almost as long as they’ve been traveling on horseback—and this is the first thing that Ivan says? “What flowers? I don’t see any.”
“The ones on the ground.”
“Oh.” Alfred blinks. He leans to the side so he can see what’s below them. Sure enough, there are plenty of flowers. Pink and purple. Most of them now flattened into a grassy carpet by Davie’s heavy hooves. “Damn. Are they magical or something?”
“Yes,” Ivan says, but does not elaborate more than that.
It’s quiet again.
Alfred doesn’t like this. When Ivan is silently seething about something. Since they are both outcasts they formed an alliance some months ago, but they are still as different as two knights can be. Ivan is a white knight and possesses light magic, so he can be oddly protective of certain things. Cute things. Pretty things. Like flowers and animals.
Honestly, Alfred finds it to be a very strange quality in a knight.
“We won, didn’t we?” Alfred groans, tossing his head back. “We made it out in one piece.”
“I made it out in one piece,” Ivan corrects with a smile. His gaze flits over Alfred’s arms and stomach. “But they chipped away at you for quite a while, didn’t they? If only I could have seen it.”
“Come on, I was being heroic.”
“You mean arrogant.”
“Brave.”
“Foolhardy.”
Alfred rolls his eyes. “I think you’re just jealous that I got all the glory.”
“Standing in a bloodbath is one type of glory, I suppose,” Ivan hums. He looks so sweet when he turns to Alfred, it very nearly disguises the annoyance cooling his smile into ice.
It makes Alfred redden, because what exactly does Ivan want from him exactly? Alfred is a great knight. He’s also a dark knight. He can’t heal like Ivan; that’s not what dark magic does. All he can do is take. That is simply his nature.
“You know, technically it was Davie who stomped on your flowers,” Alfred points out, petulantly. “He’s a horse. And a damn big one. His hooves go everywhere. Not sure how I was supposed to avoid them.”
“By being careful.”
Alfred eyes him for a while but decides to shake off Ivan’s strange mood. Alfred won after all. He’s not letting a bunch of trampled flowers spoil that fact.
“Come on, let’s go rest up,” he grins. Alfred nudges Davie’s sides, encouraging him into a gallop so that he can swiftly close the rest of the distance toward the clearing.
Alfred finds a tree and slowly slips off his horse, careful not to let Ivan see him. The adrenaline of the fight kept him going during their escape, making it easier to ignore the wounds and sharp pain, but climbing off of Davie was a fresh reminder of how much it all hurt. He manages to stifle a groan, but Alfred knows his expression gives it all away. It’s okay though, because Ivan doesn’t see.
After hiding behind Davie’s back for a little while, Alfred is able to suck a steadying breath into his aching lungs and finish tying his horse to the tree. He presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth to quell the lingering urge to scream.
It’s not long afterward that Ivan joins him. He steps off his large horse with much more ease, and affixes his white mare to the same tree.
“Do you think maybe we can eat first and then clean up because actually, I’m starving,” Alfred chuckles. He says it mostly to delay the inevitable, but he also wouldn’t say no to the provisions of meat and bread that Ivan has saddled to his horse.
“Heal and then eat,” Ivan replies as he removes his leather riding gloves one at a time. His broad shoulders are wrapped in a plain, navy cape. The hood is drawn down, pooling against his back. He deposits the gloves into a pocket of the saddle of his horse, and turns toward Alfred expectantly. His dark eyes give nothing away, even as they occasionally train up and down Alfred's figure.
Alfred huffs, and kicks a rock toward the stream. But with Ivan staring at him, he begins removing his clothing piece by piece, beginning with his blue cape. The emblem of his former king has been haphazardly removed, leaving an awkwardly bleached circle in the middle. Alfred's just so fond of the cerulean hue, he's been unable to part with it entirely.
“You’re being rather stubborn about this,” Ivan comments idly. His fingers drum along his side in subtle impatience. “I was under the impression you liked being healed.”
Alfred frowns as he tosses one black metal gauntlet to the ground, followed by the next. “Sure. But I don’t exactly enjoy the lecture I get along with it. It kind of sours my victory lap.” He tugs the tunic over his head. When it's bunched in his arms, heat spreads across his cheeks, and Alfred has to direct his gaze elsewhere. “But the healing is, uh, good.”
“Right,” Ivan agrees easily. He brushes at the fringe of his pale hair and settles his hands behind his back.
Alfred fights a chill with the way Ivan’s feathery eyes pass over him. He turns away, feeling oddly prudish all of a sudden, and peels another layer off until it reveals the armor underneath.
Ivan finds the bright bloody marks on Alfred’s chainmail at once.
He leans forward, a pinch between his brows, and brings a considering finger to his his lips. “Hm, I see. And this is what you call a victory?”
“Don’t start,” Alfred grumbles as he finishes removing the final layer of armor.
It makes him uncomfortably hot and cold to bare his wounds to Ivan, even though this is far from the first time they’ve done this.
There’s a long gash on Alfred’s side, which he managed to cauterize with his own magic before they took off, but after an hour on horseback, it looks even uglier than before. There is also some sort of magical burn razing from the top of his left shoulder down to his wrist. Alfred didn’t see who cast it, but it was turning his arm a strangely orange color.
Even so, it is his nature to make light of it.
“Hey, so what do you think they’ll be saying about me after that battle?” Alfred boasts cheekily. “Greatest knight without a castle or a king? The rogue vigilante who has earned the right to ask a princess her hand in marriage?”
Ivan doesn’t seem to hear him, or maybe he chooses when he wants to listen at this point in their alliance. It reminds Alfred a little of his brother, but he doesn’t want to think about him.
Ivan steps forward until he is standing just in front of Alfred, a full head taller, looking over the damage without touching it.
“This is very unusual,” Ivan hums. He undoes Alfred’s crossed arms in a detached, clinical manner, and regards the magical mark with particular fascination.
Alfred raises a brow. “Really? Because the cut on my side hurts way more, I gotta say. Maybe you can get to that first, actually. My arm is just a little tingly.”
Ivan’s fingers slide over Alfred’s arm slowly. The touch is feather-light, but the strength of his magic pores out with effortless power. In fact, the attraction is so strong, Alfred feels himself lurching forward, desperate for more.
Ivan removes his hand in an instant, and Alfred is surprised that he still possesses enough dignity to not pull him back.
“Yes, it is a very bad burn,” Ivan surmises.
It almost sounds as though he’s impressed. And Alfred detests that. There should be nothing amusing about his partner being injured by foreign magic! However, Alfred is not fooled by Ivan’s curious inspection of the magical mark, admiring it in both the clarity of the light and the gleam of the shadow. Ivan is a healer by birth, but his personality—his awful personality!—is anything but helpful.
After observing Alfred’s shoulder, Ivan decides: “Go sit down by the water.”
Alfred does as he’s told. Not because he wants to follow orders—actually doing so is against his nature and stirs up bad memories—but he’s just so eager to have light magic coating his skin again that he would do just about anything to make it happen faster. So, he sits on the mossy ground—avoiding the flowers, because he doesn't want to be nagged again—and waits.
Ivan kneels down by the stream and dips his hands into the water.
“Do you keep track of how many times you’ve healed me?” Alfred asks, flashing his dimple.
“Why would I if it will only happen again?” Ivan smiles back.
He approaches Alfred and sinks down to his knees. Now that he dipped his hands in water, they’re glowing. His light magic is even purer. And Alfred wants him more than ever.
“I’m going to start with your arm,” Ivan announces coolly, bringing his palms on top of Alfred’s shoulder.
Just one touch and Alfred feels his aching, injured body spark to life. The dark magic inside of him lurches towards Ivan, hungry and impatient.
More, it demands. Few knights or magic-users at all have abilities like Ivan does. It is an exceptionally rare and desirable gift.
“Can’t you go faster,” Alfred begs, even though he knows it’s a vain plea. Ivan’s hands are moving agonizingly slow over his skin, making sure to stitch and heal every wound with precision. Ivan doesn’t even see Alfred as a person, or even as a patient.
“No,” Ivan informs with detached fascination.
Alfred has only been interesting to him because of his unusual curse. Something that is completely out of Alfred’s control. It is the most maddening aspect of their relationship.
It leaves Alfred squirming, shaking with need. As Ivan works, more feeling returns to his arm, much more than he realized was missing. But Alfred’s still injured and all he wants is to consume the rest of Ivan’s magic and be whole again.
“Why did you destroy that carriage? We could have used it, you know,” Ivan prompts with mild curiosity.
Alfred stares hungrily at Ivan’s smooth, pale skin and at the wingspan of his long lashes. It takes him a while to reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever touched anything that didn’t break.” He crawls forward, laying his fingers around Ivan’s shoulders. “Well, except for you.”
“Yes, except for me,” Ivan laughs softly. The last remaining rays of light make his face seem so much more special. Like a piece of the moon. His smile pulls to the side, and Alfred takes a moment to admire the handsome bridge of his long nose.
“Sometimes I’m afraid that when I open a door I’ll pull it off its hinges,” Alfred admits. “I can do that, you know. I am really that strong.”
Ivan’s touch leaves. When Alfred tries flexing his arm he can tell that it has returned to normal. The strange color is gone too, and his skin is golden and smooth once more. Ivan moves his palms to Alfred’s side and begins healing the gash made by a spelled sword. Relief washes over Alfred in an instant, earning a deep sigh.
“Have you ever tried being gentle?” Ivan prompts calmly.
“Yeah… but I’m no good at it,” Alfred chuckles. “That’s kind of your deal.”
“Yes, I am the fair and gentle knight, and you are the one who slays the dragons. Is that right?”
“It’s working out so far, huh?”
Ivan’s smile quirks in amusement, but it does not pause his work. His magic is so cool as it washes over Alfred’s injured body. Alfred wants to drink it up. His own magic grows stronger just from the contact; it is impossible to think of anything else. Minutes pass like that—the only way to keep track is by the rhythm of his own shallow breaths, and the thumping of his heart, as he watches Ivan’s long fingers and broad palms move continuously over his body.
Healing is as satisfying as it is agonizing. Alfred's body does not cooperate with his mind, and he can't help but crave for more than just hands on his skin.
“You’re hard already?” Ivan notes after a while, his gaze briefly passes over the bulge in Alfred’s pants with slight amusement.
He is not surprised at all. Alfred is always like this. He is always ravenous.
“It’s not like I can help it,” Alfred tries to protest, but his grin can’t hide the blush spreading over his cheeks. His fingers card through Ivan’s pale, soft locks. He wants to take what he desires. “We’re, uh, we’re going to have sex next, right?”
Ivan’s lips curl at the corners. “I thought you were hungry.”
“I’m kinda… well, uh, distracted.”
“Of course you are.” When Ivan's hands leave Alfred’s torso, the skin is fully healed. Only a small scar remains, and a small patch of dried blood. Ivan’s gaze sparkles like a pair of gemstones. “What do you have in mind?”
Alfred leans forward eagerly. “Well, you can fuck me against the tree. Take me any way you like,” he breathes hopefully.
Ivan’s lips purse like he is considering it.
"Or you can tie me up. You can fuck me against the horse. Well, maybe Davie wouldn't like that. Okay... fucking in the stream? Um, hm, you can choke me even—!"
“As tempting as some of those options sound—I must say no.”
“Wait, what? Why?” Alfred demands, his pitch rising.
“Because,” Ivan begins, returning one palm to Alfred’s hip. His fingers wrap around. He can nearly capture half of Alfred's waist like this. He's so large, yet so gentle, and so oddly horrible. Alfred stares up at him entranced. His attention does not flinch even as Ivan smiles in that beautifully evil way. “I am very mad at you.”
A laugh trickles from Alfred’s lips. It’s just what he does in the face of danger, and he can’t really deny that Ivan looks very scary when the light leaves his eyes—turning it the darkest shade of purple—and his smile freezes in place like that.
“You’re mad at me, huh? Aren’t you always a little bit mad at me though?” Alfred grins, hoping it is a charming one. He angles his chin upwards, puckering his lips in hopes of a kiss, but none comes.
“You behaved especially brutish today,” Ivan explains, his voice dropping low, while retaining that soft, airy tone. As he speaks, his fingers flex against Alfred's waist, a reminder of it's heavy presence. “You will give us a bad reputation if you keep this up.”
“But we were heroes…" Alfred raises a brow. "Does it really matter how the battle is fought if we won the war?”
“Good knights are not greedy like you are. They do not fight just to win or because they can,” Ivan explains, laying his other hand on Alfred’s shoulder, and guiding him down to the forest floor. When Alfred's hair splays out against the moss, he looks up and sees Ivan bathed in white light. “You need to learn how to control yourself. You must learn how to be gentle.”
“Gentle, you say?” Alfred smirks. “And who’s going to teach me that?”
Grass tickles the bare skin of Alfred’s back. He feels a branch catch on his hair. It’s gotten long now and he really needs to cut it. The few rays of sun fade away when Ivan cups both sides of his jaw and looms over him, blocking the few remaining rays of sunlight in their chosen forest haven.
“I will teach you,” Ivan tells him.
Alfred’s breath stops at Ivan's next smile. It's a real one. An actual one that reaches his eyes and lights up the flickers of violet amidst a sea of dark purple. These smiles are so rare that Alfred has only collected a mere handful. He remains completely still, not even daring to breathe, as Ivan nears. His tongue swipes over his lips as he waits eagerly for something good to happen.
Maybe he looks silly like that because Ivan lets out a musical laugh before closing his mouth over Alfred’s lips.
Yes. Oh yes, yes.
Alfred can’t stay still after that, even though he’s supposed to. His hands fly around Ivan’s neck to hold him there. His touch is careless as ever. He knows that he's scratching over Ivan's mysterious scars that he says nothing about. Alfred could care less, as long as he has his hands on Ivan. Their kiss deepens, tongues sliding together. Alfred surges up and up and up, wanting to hold Ivan even tighter. His teeth graze across Ivan's lower lip, earning a soft breath in response. Alfred was hoping for a moan. He doesn't have time to disappointed. He sinks his tongue back into Ivan's mouth, exploring the inside of his mouth as he wants. Alfred wants to make everything more than it is. In this state, Alfred would let Ivan consume him whole. Anything to deepen their magical bond and consume the precious gifts Ivan has to bestow.
The kiss is interrupted by a solid hand on the center of Alfred's chest.
It sends Alfred reeling backwards with an oomph! When he collects himself, blinking three times to get his bearings, he pouts. Alfred is not used to being manhandled. He can only tolerate it by Ivan, however that does not mean he has to cooperate.
“I said gently,” Ivan tuts.
“But does gentle have to be slow?” Alfred grumbles. He paws at Ivan’s tunic. He can not only feel clothes, but also the armor. There are too many layers between Alfred and Ivan's skin. “Come on, you’re still fully dressed. Why do you always have so many clothes on? I want to touch you already.”
“That is not how we are doing it, remember?” Ivan slides his hand down Alfred’s firm stomach lazily. A sword or a lance would be easier to deal with than this. Ivan’s cool, magical fingertips and heavy gaze make Alfred shiver in anticipation. “Pay attention to what I do.”
“I…” Alfred bites his lip when Ivan palms over his crotch teasingly.
He waits, flushing to the roots of his hair, as Ivan pulls down his trousers. Alfred’s erection springs free and it’s embarrassingly red and hard already. He's so embarrassed by the sight of it, Alfred hardly pays attention to the way his bare ass scratches against the grass in Ivan's efforts to drag the trousers down his legs.
The pants are dropped to the floor. Ivan's attention returns. And Alfred's hand flinches at his side, eager to touch himself, but even more hopeful that Ivan might do that for him.
Ivan’s smile doesn’t change as he leans forward and wraps his hand around the base of Alfred’s cock, giving it a light squeeze. The temperature difference alone is enough to make Alfred's lashes flutter.
“You need to stop being a glutton for danger. Can you do that?” Ivan asks.
Oh, so he’s going to lecture Alfred this way?
It’s not fair, Alfred thinks. His fingers are digging into the dirt just to stop himself from doing anything crazy. He’s healed but he’s still so hungry. There's a part of him that will never be satisfied, and it terrifies Alfred sometimes, but not when Ivan is near. Because within Ivan is everything that Alfred could possibly ever want. Ivan’s magic just calls to him like nothing else in the world.
He tries to save face with a shaky smirk. “But I’m a knight. It’s, um, well it's kind of my purpose in life.”
Ivan’s hand begins to pull on Alfred’s cock in slow steady strokes. His thumb rubbing over the tip, collecting precome to lubricate his way down again. It’s not fast enough and not nearly tight enough, but it’s still good. Alfred just wants more. He can’t say that though. He has to wait. And Ivan continues like that, sliding his hand up and down with such tender confidence, while Alfred watches with wide eyes and trembling limbs, silently begging for more.
“If you die then you will not be able to continue being a knight,” Ivan adds as his thumb passes over Alfred's cockhead. He presses down hard, making Alfred’s hands rake across the dirt, dragging it under his nails. His dark magic boils under his skin.
He’s going to be good, he can control himself. He can let Ivan do what he wants. Alfred will let Ivan do anything he wants. He will only let Ivan do that, he reminds himself.
“Yeah, I,” Alfred pants, “I’m not good at dying. My dad already tried that.”
Ivan’s hands pause.
“No, no, no—you can’t stop there,” Alfred begs, hauling himself up swiftly.
He grabs Ivan's shoulder and bodily hauls him down. Alfred loves how much of Ivan there is to hold. He meant what he said before: he doesn't fear breaking Ivan, because he is so very strong. And because Ivan is a white knight, he has so much to give. Alfred just wants to make sure it is only given to him.
Because Alfred craves all of it. He needs to take all of it. If he were a different man, maybe he would have tried already. Maybe Ivan would have even let him, if he were different too. But with the way they are, he can only cling to Ivan for scraps and hope for more.
Alfred bites Ivan’s lips, and caresses his tongue, hoping to seduce him. Hearing Ivan’s heavy breaths only encourages him, because it is Alfred who did that. It is he who can make such a magnificent man flush so pretty like that.
“No, Alfred,” Ivan orders at some point. It gets lost in their embrace. "I said no—"
Alfred kisses Ivan’s cheeks, then the white expanse of his neck, all over the pretty scars Ivan has given no explanation for. Anywhere Alfred can touch, he does. Alfred nearly has Ivan pushed onto the floor—underneath him like he wants—but then a pair of large hands wrap enclose Alfred’s waist in an inescapable hold and finally force him away.
“I said we are doing this my way,” Ivan orders firmly. That’s the last warning Alfred gets before he is bodily thrown down and flipped onto his stomach. Now, the cool air bites his bare asscheeks, while his chin grazes the ground. He stares at the blades of grass as he collects his bearings, but his attention is keenly placed at his backside.
Alfred inhales sharply. “But it’s not enough like this,” he complains, fighting the urge to rut against the grass. It doesn't feel good having his hard cock grinding against the earth and leaves like this. He wants to come so badly.
Ivan’s fingers slide down his bare back, over all of the many places that he healed in the past. Alfred owes Ivan his life, but he still cannot say as much. Such truth is not possible for someone as selfish as him. But he hopes that Ivan knows. After all, Ivan knows everything. It is evident in the very way he trails a path down Alfred's body, having memorized every part as though it now belongs to him.
“It will be enough,” Ivan continues in an easy tone. His hands settle on Alfred's hips, and he hauls Alfred up to his hands and knees.
Then, when his fingers return to Alfred’s ass, they are wet, probably coated in his own saliva. One digit circles around Alfred’s entrance before slowly pushing in.
“You like it like this too, don’t you?” Ivan asks, his tone soothing and quiet. His finger is fully inside of Alfred, while his other hand remains cupped around Alfred’s hip. “You like being taken care of.”
Alfred draws fistfuls of grass and dirt into his palms. He feels all of the muscles in his shoulders tighten into plates, even as Ivan is loosening up his hole. Does he like it? He doesn’t hate it. He would be fine with anything. It feels bizarre being treated like something that needed taking care of, when Alfred's always wanted the opposite.
But he keeps those thoughts to himself and lets Ivan work.
Two fingers are scissoring inside Alfred. It feels strange—it always does—but somehow Ivan still makes it good. He finds that sensitive spot and grazes over it so well.
All of this makes Alfred blush. His head bows over his arms as he bites his lips to suppress the embarrassing whines that might escape. He’s never let a man touch him like this before Ivan. He would never let any other man do this other than Ivan. This is Alfred’s greatest weakness. It is the only one he will allow.
“I’m sorry,” Alfred confesses into the air.
“For what?”
“For—wanting everything to be so rough,” Alfred explains hesitantly. A soft romance—a real romance. Alfred likes to talk of such things, but he knows such a story has already been written without him. He's already ruined that fairy tale ending. So he's only searched for anything hard and harsh and rough and awful. Even with Ivan, that's all he's ever wanted. To let it be anything other than a romance. Just as light magic is meant to give, dark magic is only meant to take, after all. “Do you even like it?”
“There is certainly some pleasure in treating you as poorly as you treat others,” Ivan chuckles.
That, at least, makes Alfred laugh. The sound titters into a long moan when Ivan presses three fingers over that sensitive spot inside of him and pushes. Then, Alfred is sinking his head into the cage of his folded arms, and keening his ass back for more. He does like this. Unfortunately, he likes this all too much. Ivan's attention is as difficult to get as it is to keep, so having it now...
Ivan takes his time loosening him up that way. Sliding his fingers deep and curling them in different directions, teasing that bundle of nerves he knows so well. Alfred’s biceps are trembling while Ivan continues probing him, exploring the most sensitive areas where no one else is allowed. Alfred wonders if Ivan knows he’s the only one that he trusts. He wonders if Ivan even cares about such a distinction.
Midway through the process, Ivan removes his fingers. “Turn onto your back.”
Alfred obeys quietly. He settles back on the ground, still with his boots on, while the rest of his body is bare. Ivan nestles between his legs, hands sliding up Alfred’s calves, over his knees, and across his inner thighs. His touch is increasingly cool, all of his magic radiating to Alfred’s weakest parts with utmost accuracy that is beyond his control. It is basically instinct.
His eyes have gotten so very dark and purple again, or maybe the sun is already setting.
“Look at you,” Ivan notes, voice tinted with something like wonder. Maybe even obsession.
Alfred’s chest rises in a desperate breath. “What?”
Ivan shakes his head with a small laugh. His touch vanishes as he pulls out his erection from his trousers. It is just as hard as Alfred’s but also bigger and thicker, and agonizingly tantalizing.
It makes Alfred’s mouth water in anticipation. He didn’t think he would want it this much, but he’s just so eager to have Ivan touch him. Whatever way. Any way. As long as it’s now.
“You’re being very patient. That’s good,” Ivan smiles. He spreads Alfred’s legs wide and lines his cock up with Alfred’s loosened hole. “So you can obey orders sometimes.”
Alfred waits, but he also knows that Ivan wants him to say something. So, he swallows his pride and begs, “Come on. Please?”
“Very good,” Ivan praises warmly.
His thick cock pushes beyond Alfred’s hole. There’s a burn as he breaches past the tight ring of muscle. They haven't done this in a while. Alfred's been too busy fighting, and Ivan's far too preoccupied with curses and spells to think about human contact unless it's necessary. But Ivan has also done a fair amount of work preparing Alfred, so it’s not all that unpleasant.
Alfred breathes slowly as Ivan enters him. With each shove, Alfred feels more of his air leaves his lungs. His fingers are claws in the dirt at either side as his eyes are wide at the sky above.
God, Alfred feels so full. When Ivan finally bottoms out, it just fills Alfred completely, as though Ivan's occupied whatever empty space was left of him. Alfred has barely any room to form any thoughts, and normally he has about a hundred on his mind. He even tries—he tries—but his attention whips back to that cock inside of him and how hard and eager it makes Alfred feel.
“I forgot how big you are,” Alfred admits with a shaky smile.
“Too much?”
Alfred's teeth sink into his lower lip. He wants to say a flirtatious lie, but in the end it's the truth that spills out. “No, it’s not enough.”
“So greedy,” Ivan laughs. His voice is so musical, so softly masculine. It almost doesn’t fit with the rest of him, which is gracefully large and effortlessly intimidating.
Ivan lowers himself completely on top of Alfred so their chests meet. He’s heavy and solid, making Alfred feel like he’s sinking into the forest floor. He wouldn’t mind if that were the case. Not with Ivan staring at him like he's the center of the world, because god knows that doesn't happen often.
Ivan’s face buries near Alfred’s neck while he grabs locks of blond hair. It definitely feels like Ivan wants him. Truly wants him. And for some reason that surprises Alfred—so much so, that he forgets how to inhale. He listens to Ivan’s breath instead.
Alfred wonders how they’re going to have sex like this because there’s barely any room between them. But then Ivan moves and he begins fucking Alfred with his entire body.
Alfred’s moan breaks into a string of broken consonants. He wraps his arms around Ivan’s back, knees bracing either side of Ivan's broad waist. In the end, Ivan removed no clothes at all. Alfred will chew him out for that later, but for now, he's grateful that there is so much of Ivan to hold and yank without any damage.
The way Ivan thrusts into him is not hard or fast, but it feels like so much. Alfred can feel every part of Ivan like this. That thick cock rocks him back and forth on the ground, teasing that sweet spot and then leaving it before Alfred can get overstimulated. Ivan's bare hands are sliding up his torso. Ivan's fingertips pinch Alfred's nipples while he steals another kiss. The kiss is too good, but then Ivan smiles with an idea and travels lower to capture Alfred's right nipple between his teeth, earning a squeal. He nibbles and bites and licks over his damage. His tongue trails up Alfred's neck, peppering bites and kisses there too until he returns to Alfred's eager mouth and claims that too.
Below, Ivan's cock has never left him. It keeps Alfred filled to the brim, pushing deliciously hard and then releasing that pleasure in addicting rolls of bliss. The way Ivan's heavy body crushes the breath out of Alfred is inexplicably perfect. Part of him feels as though he needs that heavy pressure on him always.
Alfred didn’t think that sex this slow could be good. He wants it to last forever. He just wants Ivan to hold him like this for as long as possible.
Ivan’s breath is warm by his ear. He turns so that he can kiss the side of Alfred’s face. Why is he so gentle? He knows Alfred can take just about anything.
Alfred wraps his legs around Ivan’s waist to encourage him forward, but it does little good. Ivan still sets the slow, rolling rhythm with his heavy body, and Alfred lies there and takes it. Each thrust becomes more pleasurable, stoking the fire inside Alfred’s stomach. Ivan returns to pinching each of Alfred's nipples in turn until they are bright red and puffy. Alfred hates how sensitive he is there. He had no idea before Ivan explored such a place. And there is no stopping Ivan, as he possesses an almost primal urge to explore and know and poke everything that crosses his path.
Alfred's cock is so heavy between them and the friction of Ivan’s tunic just makes it even more sensitive. Even Alfred’s nipples throb from so much stimulation. But he cannot deny the overwhelming pleasure he feels. Each of these actions have satisfied the dark magic inside of him that yearns for Ivan's light magic.
“Ivan, please,” Alfred gasps, craning his neck to the side, opening more of himself to be taken.
Ivan finds him there, silent except for his breath, and locks their lips together. Alfred is not sure if that’s what he was asking for, but he gladly accepts it. His hands snake up to the sides of Ivan’s face so he can keep him close, molding their mouths together. Under his palms, he can feel Ivan's jaw flex, and Ivan's breath heave.
They’re still kissing when Ivan’s fingers tighten in Alfred’s hair and he bucks his hips forward in a moment of raw need. It’s so hard and deep that Alfred’s own orgasm catches him off guard. Suddenly he is tight in Ivan’s arms, back arching off the ground as his cock releases between them. And Ivan fucks him all the way through it, as steady as before.
“So beautiful,” Ivan whispers, thumb pressing gently against Alfred's cheekbone.
He kisses Alfred again and increases his pace, still chasing his own orgasm. Alfred floats through it drowsily, letting himself be used, overstimulated but pleased, until Ivan finishes with a soft groan above him. Ivan's cock remains lodged inside while he fills Alfred up. And it actually feels good to be filled by him.
Alfred tosses an arm around Ivan’s back to keep him there for a while. They have nowhere to be or any home to go back to. This patch of grass by the stream, in the middle of an unknown forest will do for them. Ivan makes himself comfortable by laying down his head on top Alfred’s chest.
“That was…good,” Alfred murmurs with a smile.
Ivan scoffs. “I would be surprised if you said otherwise.”
“Yeah, I mean,” Alfred chuckles as he plays with the locks of Ivan’s soft hair. “I don’t know if I learned anything from that. Especially about how to be a gentle knight, but it was, uh—it was fun. You can be kinda sensual, huh? Where'd you learn all that? Or do I want to know?... Actually, never mind.”
They fall into a comfortable silence. Alfred sees the moon peering from behind a cloud. It will soon be night.
“You need to be more careful,” Ivan says at some point.
“Huh?”
“We don’t belong to any order. We shouldn’t be getting involved in fights that don’t mean anything to us, but especially you.”
“So I’m supposed to let the bad guys walk away? Yeah. Sure, that sounds likely,” Alfred snorts.
Ivan braces himself on the ground and holds himself over Alfred. The shadow of the cloud makes his frown much more dramatic. He just stares at Alfred, unblinkingly.
“What is it?” Alfred demands hotly.
Ivan furrows his brows. “You are still cursed, Alfred,” he says, quieter than before. His thumb passes over Alfred’s cheekbone so softly. It’s so much kinder than anything he’s ever said. Alfred’s never met anyone with such a gentle touch.
And it almost makes the reminder hurt even more.
Alfred swallows the emotion lodged in his throat and turns away. “That crone we talked to says I’ll be able to see for a while.”
“She said five years.”
Alfred drags his lower lip between his teeth. The satisfaction from sex is fading, making the closeness suddenly suffocating. So he pushes Ivan away and sits up.
“Might as well make it count, right?” he clips as he rises to his feet. He thinks about redressing himself, but he’s sticky and dirty, so he turns to the stream instead and lowers himself inside one leg at a time.
“But it’s not the sort of thing that I can heal,” Ivan continues.
The water isn’t deep enough or loud enough to drown out his voice. All Alfred can do is splash his body clean while Ivan talks.
“We should be focusing on finding someone who can instead of chasing bandits and sorcerers,” Ivan adds. “We are not a real order. These acts of heroisms are a waste of time and effort.”
Alfred swings around, raising his voice so that it can be heard above the current. “We can be a real order! Why not? I mean we don’t need anyone else for that.”
Ivan gives him a flat look that is full of disbelief.
Alfred shakes his head and marches out of the stream with heavy steps. “I’ll keep saying it until you believe me,” he grumbles.
He shakes himself dry as best he can and begins putting his clothes back on piece by piece. The armor stays on the ground for now. Alfred is fairly sure they will be making camp here after all and he wants to be comfortable.
He leaves to retrieve a blanket from Davie’s saddle and comes back to lay it on the ground beside Ivan.
“What did you do to make your father put such a horrible curse on you?” Ivan questions at last.
Alfred’s breath hitches. It makes him abandon the blanket so he can turn around. His fingers find the long locks of his hair and he pulls until it hurts. “I wanted to leave.”
“...I see.”
Alfred peers over his shoulder and sees Ivan pursing his lips in thought.
“Why did you leave your order?” Alfred asks tentatively. He knows even less about Ivan than Ivan knows about him.
And it makes little sense to meet a banished white knight. Surely, Ivan was wanted wherever he was before and made the decision to leave himself. But even that was a curiosity.
Ivan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It doesn’t matter."
“Right,” Alfred replies dryly, but he knows better than to push the topic. He continues unloading supplies, stopping briefly to feed Davie and Ivan’s horse.
Ivan, meanwhile, brings out the provisions of food that they acquired and places them near a fire pit he made. Alfred’s mood brightens when food finally fills his stomach, and he looks at the night sky excitedly.
“Can I name our order? I thought of a good one just now,” he grins.
"We are not exactly in the position to establish an order." However, Ivan turns toward him anyway. “What is it?”
“What do you think of the Order of Falling Stars?”
Ivan raises a brow, but there’s still a smile tugging on his lips—Alfred can see it. “Is that what you think we are?” he asks.
“Why not? We’re both special, aren’t we?” Alfred nudges Ivan’s side playfully. “And I definitely never fit in anywhere. Did you?”
Ivan’s eyes return to the sky. The fire makes his skin glow so beautifully. “…No, I never did.”
Alfred waits for more but only receives silence. He doesn’t let that deter him though. This time, he leans in and plants a big kiss on Ivan’s cheek. He’s satisfied to see a blush splashing over Ivan’s face when he pulls away.
“Okay, then Order of Falling Stars,” Alfred declares, “It’s decided.”
“All right,” Ivan laughs.
They watch the night until the stars have faded behind new clouds. When they go to sleep, Alfred wraps himself in Ivan's arms, clinging to magic and affection that he hopes to possess forever.