Our Mother the Mountain

6. Ours

The frenzy from both men tapered into something more steady, decadent as they lay tangled together on the ground. Ethan's eyes were closed and all he could focus on was Karl; the scent, the heat from the man's full body, the subtle (and sometimes not as subtle) movements from his hips. The taste. Their urgency tapered away, and neither man seemed to notice or care about their surroundings–rather, Ethan appreciated being in the dark, in the forest, and he surmised that Karl felt the same.

Ethan finally rolled away, crawling over the heated torso and dipping his head to drink from Karl's warm lips. Heisenberg's breath was sharp as he accepted the kiss. They didn't pull apart as the heady tastes of each other combined in their mouths, but Ethan's lips drew into a smile. It was likely that Karl was formulating some smartass question about him smiling, but Ethan's probing fingers interrupted Heisenberg's train of thought, as Ethan's hand snaked down between the slightly parted, and now wet, inner thighs.

So instead of a typical Karl comment, he got a pleasured sigh and a bitten lip. Ethan's smile stayed while he pushed the other's pants down, as Karl kicked off his own boots. The dynamic of Ethan staying mostly dressed while Karl's clothes were discarded (and ripped off) was new, but welcome.

When Ethan positioned himself between Karl's legs, pressing against his entrance, he felt lightheadedness return; he abruptly sensed something from the other man. Fear. Fear of sex? No, that wasn't it. Fear of what? Ethan's palms hovered over Heisenberg's knees while he-or the Black God, maybe-tried to read the others thoughts, his head canted as he stared intently.

The brunette's yellowed eyes widened. "WHAT."

In a gentle, mostly Ethan-but-not-quite, voice, the blond asked, "Are you...afraid?"

"Fuck off, Winters," Karl said, grinding his teeth, and sat up by pushing his palms onto the ground. Ethan was pushed back, against the fallen tree, and just as his lips moved to formulate a question, Karl had climbed into his lap and sunk down, riding the blond without a second thought. This caused Ethan to cry out in surprise, but he grabbed onto the engineer's hips as they started to rock back and forth-his only way of showing how incredible the sensation felt.

Karl was studying him with his usual intense gaze, the familiar self-satisfied grin creeping back onto his lips. Ethan struggled to not dig his nails in too hard, but changed tactics when Karl moaned at the pain. His large arms were slung around Ethan's shoulders, his hands against the tree, bracing against his motion. And it was intense motion. Ethan had been ridden before, but never by someone so....large, so heavy, whose breath fogged around him like a steam engine, whose body rocked them both when he swayed. Karl had a way about him that seemed as if he was in charge no matter what he was doing.

Ethan's whines of pleasure and shock soon faded as Karl fell into a steady rhythm, and his hands trailed up from his hips to his soft stomach where short, fuzzy hair threaded through his pale fingers. When Ethan's palms raked up to Heisenberg's chest, he was surprised to find and feel new marks and blood amongst the old scars. Marks he'd made with teeth that were in no way like his own.

He was enraptured by this feeling, though, and by every other sensation; Karl's tightness, the friction, the dipping and sliding motion that stroked him repeatedly, the warmth that radiated from the older man. He could even feel a strong, rapid heartbeat under the skin where his palms rested. He couldn't feel a heartbeat as sensitively as Karl, but it was still thrilling.

The blond's bloodstained hands trailed up the strong jaw, while Karl's lips were just parted enough for his exhales to fog the air. One thumb stroked those lips, and then pushed inside, hooking his mouth open, while Ethan's other hand combed brunette strands; he pulled Karl's head back by his hair. The engineer flashed that smug fucking smile as he licked the blood from Ethan's thumb.