Blood & Brimstone
The sound of feminine laughter and pleasurable moans only served to darken Damascus’s foul mood. He’d been knee-deep in bio matter for so many days, he’d forgotten about all of his other needs. Apparently, his bonded hadn’t. Stopping at the shallows of the Olympic sized monstrosity of mosaic tiles etched in gold, his midnight blue’s danced over the entanglement of two naked Water Nymphs, before settling on the Golden Bastard lounging in the deep end. His arms resting along the tiled edge; features far too dark for so much pretentiousness.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Damascus barked at the audacity of it.
Green eyes flecked with light blue rose to meet his. There was so much longing in them, it was nearly Damascus’s undoing. So, he wasn’t the only one infected with homesickness and unsatisfied needs, then.
Their bond had been forged on the battlefield nearly a hundred years prior. When, after decades of war, it became apparent neither would ever emerge the victor. They’d been too evenly matched in every way. A strange kind of mutual respect and admiration had been born during those dark, bloody days – a link turned reality in way of punishment, compliments of the Winds Clan. Unfortunately, where pleasure was concerned, that bond felt more like a curse. Neither of them able to find total release without the other. Since Damascus was Fire and his bonded, Berlin, was Water, their shared lover had to be capable of surviving both. Add to that, the fact that Damascus was a sadist and well… things got a little tricky. Sex became an all-out ordeal that took just as much prudent planning, as their old battle campaigns.
“You had the screams,” Berlin pointed out darkly.
Yeah. He had, and meanwhile, Berlin had been in his personal version of paradise without a single moment of pleasure because of it. Dammit.
“Get out and get dressed,” He ordered roughly. “We’re going home.”
A glimmer of hope broke through the shadows in Berlin’s eyes, before he looked over at the two nymphs with palpable desire that cloyed the chlorine air. “Or, we could stay for another hour?” He suggested.
He owed him. Technically, being who he was, that meant Damascus didn’t have to give a shit, but he stalked toward the deep end, anyway. Grateful, Berlin rushed to climb out; his long, golden body instantly soaking up every drop of water before it could even dampen the tiles. His hands curled into fists at his sides, muscles tightening in preparation. Damascus’s left arm and hand started glowing orange, then red-orange, before finally bursting into flames.
Without hesitation, he slapped his palm to Berlin’s chest and Berlin gripped his arm fiercely in return. They seethed mutual pain through clenched teeth. The exchange was a loophole they’d discovered not too long after their trial before the Winds Clan Council. So long as enough of the non-participant’s Elemental was lent to the participant, it allowed sexual release without the other being present – though comparatively, it was a lot like settling for masturbation over sex. But, desperate times and all. As Damascus’s Fire burned into Berlin’s flesh, Berlin’s Water flowed into his arm, until it slowly smothered the flames and turned his skin the ashen blue of a corpse.
“You have thirty minutes,” Damascus ground out in agony, escaping the disgusting room of Water, before ice crystals had a chance to form along his useless, frozen limb.
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