No need to touch this "blonde"

Living spaces in Outworld are not surprising in their diversity. Typical two-storey houses, where on the first floors there are kitchens, workshops or offices and sometimes living rooms, and on the second floors bathrooms and bedrooms, as many as you need. Erron’s house has a workshop and an office, and he doesn’t particularly need a living room. Now he is tired from the hot water, standing in the bathroom and looking thoughtfully in the mirror. The mercenary’s thoughts concern the question of stubble — to remove or leave? Heck! He’s worried as blue-eyed baby Sue before her wedding night with Black Jack… Rubbing his cheek irritably, Black decides to leave everything as it is and goes into the bedroom. It’s not a mess, and okay, he doesn’t care that a gun is hanging on the wall, and a white coat bought because of high spirits is lying on a chair, which suddenly seems suitable for him to meet a guest in his house. Belted up, he descends the creaking stairs and practically rests his nose against the front door. Mentally curses the modest dimensions of his own home, heads to the kitchen and greedily drinks a glass of cold water. There are only a few minutes left before the scheduled meeting. It’s getting a little exciting, damn it. The anticipation is somewhat fascinating, considering that this is the first time he will allow someone to be in his house — he usually rented rooms at the entertainment house for meetings with mistresses and lovers, but going there to rendezvous with the wind god seems like a disgusting idea. A knock on the door. A cautious, uncertain knock. Chuckling to himself, Black puts the glass on the counter and goes to meet the guest with his hands in his pockets. “Hello. You shouldn’t have dressed up like that, Fujin,” he says absolutely calmly to the young man standing on the threshold (outwardly, the wind god pulls on a youth of about twenty-five) with long white hair and attentive greenish shining eyes. Black looks him up and down. He did not expect to see Fujin ever in an ordinary black shirt and black trousers. The sharp contrast of their appearance unexpectedly amuses Black. “Hello, Erron,” Fujin smiles kindly. The wind god looks confused, but this is if you look at his expression very meticulously, “I… I’m not really experienced in such meetings and…” “Stop babbling, Fujin,” Black shakes his head and pulls the wind god inside the house. It’s not the case to stand on the threshold when you want to taste a new kiss. One possibility of sex with God excites, but he keeps himself in hand, “Will you drink?” he asks politely, starting to roughly massage the protruding bones of Fujin’s wrists. He is already ready to curl his lips in an answering smile, but suddenly remembers that a sharp change not only in the facial expressions of the interlocutor, but also in the depth of his breathing can give God too much information. “No,” the wind god replies casually. Now there is not even surprise in his face, but a slight curiosity. “I think it will be more comfortable upstairs.” An uncertain nod suffices for him, after which he leads the silent Fujin to his bedroom. The endurance is even enough not to press him into the wall and not cover him with his body as soon as they are in the room. “It’s pretty cozy here,” the wind god remarks, looking around the spacious room. He is completely calm and even relaxed. He sat down on the bed and looks at him in anticipation. Black likes it, fucking likes it. “I know it’s going to be pretty stupid, but you need to cover those fucking eyes.” Erron crosses his arms over his chest, looking into those damn eyes. The reaction is funny: Fujin frowns incomprehensibly, tilts his head slightly to one side, showing a strong sculptural neck. Black calmly answers the unspoken question, which sounds to him like: “What the fuck?” “You didn’t think that I would just fuck you?” from the sight of god flaring up to the roots of snow-white hair, dick will to get hard even from a fucking priest, let alone a poor kid from Wicket. He sits down next to God and manages to put his finger to the supple soft lips, interrupting him? “Could you…?” No. I couldn’t. And you know it,” a pale shadow of a smile slips across Erron’s face, “Stop being afraid of me, damn it. I didn’t drag you here by force,” he pronounces the last phrase almost sternly, after which he exhales noisily and removes his finger from someone else’s lips. The eyes opposite flash blindingly white. “I’m not afraid of you,” if you listen closely, you can catch the resentment in the voice of the wind god, “I just don’t like that you swear,” he grabs him by the shoulders and incredibly quickly turns out to be on top, pinning Black with his weight to the bed. After giving him a hot look, the wind god freezes. And Erron starts coughing hoarsely. “Well, what’s next?” he almost gets high looking at Fujin, who is even a little confused. In the eyes of God, the struggle with something is clearly visible. Well, it’s time to stop this mess. He’s the only one more experienced here, and he doesn’t want everything to go to hell at all, but as soon as he wants to start resisting, Fujin’s lips, soft and hot bitch, cover him. A wet tongue slides into the mouth, it passes over the teeth, touches the incisors that stand out because of the magic of the Outworld, slides across the palate and does it fucking very carefully. Erron wants something stronger, but his twitching hands immediately start behind his head. He begins to shake noticeably, and the tongue of the fucking god, almost squeezed into his mouth, causes absolutely unbearably pleasant sensations. Fucking amazing! A red-hot fire spreads through the blood. The groin instantly becomes heavier, finally betraying Black and his interest. He had many partners of both sexes, but none of them was close to such passion and almost adoration in an ordinary, damn it, kiss. Even Fujin’s obvious inexperience now turns out to be quite appropriate. “What were you saying about hiding my eyes?” Fujin exhales, running the sharp tip of his tongue over Erron’s lips. “Damn, you’re a kind and just god, aren’t you, Fujin?” Black squeezes out of himself. “I am neither good nor evil. You know that perfectly well,” he whispers, leaning into the mercenary’s ear. Warm lips pass over the lobe, causing Erron to be covered with goosebumps and shudders, after which they descend to the base of the neck. “I am neither good nor evil. You know that perfectly well,” he whispers, leaning into the mercenary’s ear. Warm lips pass over the lobe, causing Erron to be covered with goosebumps and shudders, after which they descend to the base of the neck. “Goddamn it, Fujin,” Black is angry with himself that he allowed a kind of inexperienced god to be the leader in their… definitely not a date, just a meeting, that he is quite ready to fuck this smug god, judging by the noticeable bulge in his trousers being in a similar state, but to do it so that he blew the roof off on for a while. When a cool hand is squeezed on his throat, he leans forward and does not restrain a dull moan, being a little scared of himself. “Mr. Black, don’t make me angry,” Fujin says patiently, squeezing his hand a little tighter. Erron gasps for air, but it suddenly becomes unusually heavy. However, the obsession soon subsides, and an attempt at erotic asphyxia ends with a pleasant caress — Fujin runs his knuckles over his unshaven cheek and looks at him with a smile. “B-bitch, Fujin, I’m coming soon,” Erron makes an attempt to free his hands, but the grip tightens. “Let go of my hands,” Black almost growls. However, it turns out so pitifully, as if he really is afraid. With a gentle snort, God pulls the fabric of the robe aside and presses his lips to the exposed collarbone. “Don’t move, Erron,” Fujin orders in a whisper and runs his tongue over Black’s skin. He seemed numb. Hot. Wet. Black impatiently lifts the pelvis from the bed, but immediately lowers it as soon as his hands are squeezed in a tighter grip. He hisses through his teeth, mentally swears when belly pulls sweet and hard. That’s… Damn it! It’s not enough for him. Little-little-little. Not only are his wrists starting to ache — he wants it to be deafeningly painful. Fujin moves from the collarbone to the neck, from it to the chin — he wants him to fuck him with his tongue, or just fuck him, once he has started. And when he wants to kiss him, Erron just bites his lower lip, cursing in a whisper and leaning his hips towards him. It is unbearably necessary to feel the warmth of his body, to snuggle, to stick. Fujin kisses him differently in response to the bite. Unrestrained, passionate and bloodthirsty. In the truest sense — he bites through Erron’s lip, but they don’t pay attention to it at all. Fujin simply releases the mercenary’s hands from the grip and he squeezes his fingers on his strong back, moaning in a kiss. From the way the wind god moistly and carefully licks his own bite, Erron helplessly jerks his hips and does not believe that he whines when someone else’s tongue slides over his tongue. Erron’s head is spinning. Erron is struck by a flash of realization that he is not being kissed by quite a person or not at all a person. Does it blow the roof off like that? Or is it all about Fujin himself? He buries his hand in his hair and pulls painfully on himself. Erron hears his stifled dissatisfied exhale of “fuck” from the side, but Fujin shuts him up with a kiss again, growling. That was the last straw. Twitching impotently, Erron squints hard and catches multicolored spots, growls into God’s mouth, swears that next time he will definitely fuck him — and cumming. He has not had such deafening orgasms for quite a long time and it seems that he is about to lose consciousness. “I… hate you, Fujin,” Erron breathes, looking into satisfied eyes. Fujin smiles happily and gently strokes Black’s cheek. “I don’t mind trying to be in your place, Erron,” from the words uttered in a hoarse voice, Erron raises himself on his elbow and looks unbelievingly into God’s eyes: “Are you serious now? I thought you were…” “No,” the wind god shakes his head and smiles. “Fuck,” the mercenary begins to chuckle softly and unbuttons his god’s shirt, “I’ll help you while I’m recovering,” well, after Fujin brought him to a bright finale with kisses, it would be quite fair for Erron to suck him off qualitatively.