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Cyno traces the pads of his fingers, rough and calloused, slowly along the zig-zagging purple streaks, their edges impossibly fine and feathering delicately into the same soft skin he’s always known. The scars are new, still sensitive and slightly swollen, harsh and violently violet against the otherwise pale tone of Tighnari’s chest. His mate inhales sharply at the light touch and Cyno finds himself withdrawing, hardly daring to breathe, but Tighnari’s fingers are suddenly around his wrist, halting his retreat. Cyno splays his hand instead, resting it flat to Tighnari’s pec and feeling his heartbeat steadily against his palm.
Cyno feels tears begin to gather faintly at his eyes, but doesn’t bother to blink or wipe them away; it’s the most reassuring thing in the world to feel the undeniable proof that Tighnari is alive and okay. Part of him aches to see his love’s pretty skin so marred, makes him burn with the want to seek justice against whom dared leave marks on what was his. His fingers twitch a little with the thought, ever so slightly digging his nails into Tighnari’s chest despite the soft hiss it grants him in return.
“It’s merely a battle scar; you have a plethora of them yourself, General,” murmurs Tighnari’s voice at his ear, like he knows exactly what Cyno is thinking. Maybe he does; Tighnari’s always had a way of reading Cyno’s expressions as though he were just an open book to flip through at the Forest Watcher’s leisure. Cyno sighs and forces himself to relax, breathing out through his nose and then burying his face into the crook of Tighnari’s neck where it meets his shoulder.
It’s a tender spot, and Cyno sets his teeth into it without warning, making Tighnari muffle a yip and tense up against him— yet he doesn’t pull away. They stay like that for a moment, still and braced together, until Cyno abruptly releases Tighnari and they both sag, melting into one another. Cyno embraces him, pulling him in close until Tighnari is half-seated in his lap, and appreciates the solid and warm weight of his mate. As he cradles him, Cyno takes stock of the fact the scar isn’t the only thing changed on his lover’s body.
He’s a little thinner, with his clothing hanging a bit loose, and his muscles are more dense, speaking to the increased patrols and Withering Zones Tighnari had mentioned constantly in his letters. Cyno runs his hands reverently down that lithe waist, settling them on his hips and lightly rubbing his thumbs against the hollows of Tighnari’s hip bones, causing him to let out a low churr. Cyno pushes Tighnari’s top all the way off from where it’s rucked up, making quick work of completely baring his torso. With little to no hesitation, Cyno follows it by nudging him off so he can take the rest of Tighnari’s clothes, too, leaving his little fox nude in their bed without much protest besides a ruffled tail and scolding “Excuse me?!”
Cyno doesn’t bother to answer the question he’s not really being asked, merely gentles and slows his touch to show the reprimand is heard. Crimson eyes greedily rake over Tighnari’s form, causing him in turn to fight a blush and partially lose, cheeks dusting with pink that slowly travels down his neck to his chest, contrasting and suffusing the purple Lichtenberg figures. Cyno takes in the sight of Tighnari’s body properly, hungrily and thinks of how these are just the newest changes in a long line stretching back to their Akademiya days.
Cyno’s hands find their way to Tighnari’s hips again, carefully petting at his tensed, lean stomach and wondering in the back of his mind when the shift from stubbornly clinging traces of kit fat had
actually
occurred. He leans down, down, Tighnari twitching in surprise, and presses a sordid line of kisses along his inner thigh— tries to calculate the exact date when they went from pillowy to the thick muscles his mate now clenches around his shoulders.
He finds he can’t. Even his fur is softer, maintained to excellent standards after years of Tighnari experimenting with making his own conditioner.
His hair is shorter too, cut as soon as he left the Akademiya, and as Cyno kisses a scar on Tighnari’s knee, a minor scratch from a Fungi that had gotten infected on one of his first patrols out in Avidya Forest, he gives up on trying to recount every shift that his love has gone through. The new Electro scar only reveals yet another iteration of Tighnari, and Cyno is just as greedy for this new one as he has been of the rest. He wants all of the Tighnaris he can posessively grasp, wants to see what wrinkles grow and if his tail goes silver in 50 years, just as much as he wanted back Tighnari when they were both bumbling teenagers falling clumsily in love.
“Are you going to keep staring, or will I actually be getting taken care of sometime soon?” Tighnari suddenly interrupts his reminiscing, a little bit of bite to his words. He’s not usually one to be self-conscious, not by far, but Cyno also knows that it’s been a long, uncertain while and he himself has stayed silent this whole time, lost in thought; his head and heart have been full of memories.
“Hush, darling,” Cyno says gently but firmly, prying Tighnari’s thighs open with one hand as he grumbles in complaint. “I’m sorry. Allow a minute for a man to admire his feast before devouring it, yes? It has been a tasteless time in the desert away from you and I’d like to properly enjoy this treat, my sweet padisarah.”
His fingers dip down to wrap around Tighnari’s steadily hardening length, stroking a few times and savoring the weight and heat of him in his palm. His cock is flushed a deep pink already, curving out of the neatly-maintained nest of dark green hair at the base, and Cyno gives it an appreciative look, mouth faintly watering.
“It’s been too long and crazy to take it slow and careful,” Tighnari protests, even as his breath catches in his chest and his svelte hips twitch upwards into Cyno’s rough hand. “It has been such a wild, tumultuous time— make me wait much more for you and I will take care of myself,” he threatens with flattening ears, a slight rasp already bleeding into his tone as Cyno simply tightens his grip and thumbs under his cockhead in reply.
Fortunately for him, Cyno isn’t in the mood to be mean tonight; no, Tighnari has suffered enough.
“You can save your voice for calling out my name, little fox,” Cyno tells him gloatingly, smoothing pre-cum along Tighnari’s shaft with one hand and then reaching for the bedside table with the other. Tighnari rolls his eyes before twitching on the mattress as Cyno makes sure to twist his wrist on his next upstroke, feeling around for the sachet of plant-based lube with his free arm. He makes a triumphant huff when he grabs it and Tighnari half-sits up, his pretty pink mouth parted and eyes already a little wild.
Maybe it has been too long to take it slow.
Cyno feels an answering urgency under his skin, a kinetic heat coiling low in his stomach as his cock pulses in his pants, reminding him of his own libido’s existence. He swallows thickly as Tighnari grabs the lube right from him, trickling the oozing, viscous substance on his fingers and impatiently fitting two into himself without much more than a few cursory pets across his hole.
“Don’t— please don’t hurt yourself more than you already are,” Cyno can’t help but remind him, watching Tighnari curl his digits in and squirm like he isn’t sure if he's ready for it or not. His little fox growls at that, his fangs gleaming in the low light as he flashes a glare at Cyno and deliberately fits in a third finger despite the immediate hiss it causes him.
Cyno frowns back and pets at Tighnari’s thigh, shaking his head as his hair falls into his face. “See what I mean? Two is plenty to start, my love.”
“I— I need you to hurry up and fuck me and this is the quickest way to get what I want,” Tighnari huffs, sinking his canines into his bottom lip and shuddering as he finally manages to prod his sweet spot; Cyno always has an easier time finding it with his thicker fingers. He squirms a bit on the bed, clearly uncomfortable as he kicks his feet restlessly, before admitting defeat and going back to two, making Cyno let out a low chuckle.
“Shut up,” Tighnari growls, ears pinning to his head as he slows his movements and starts to open himself with a touch more care. He’s so beautiful, face and body blushing pink, and Cyno’s hands itch to worship him more than any Archon.
“Let me do it, ‘Nari,” Cyno finds himself muttering, edging in closer as he watches Tighnari’s tight, pink hole stretch slowly around his lithe archer’s hands. He gets thwacked immediately by Tighnari’s tail in reply, and Cyno sighs almost petulantly. “Please?”
“You have the worst manners, General,” Tighnari tuts, a breathy hum escaping him as his fingers slide in and out of his entrance. He arches up a bit to try and get them deeper— before yelping in pain as his new scar twinges in protest and he pulls his hand back completely from the sudden shock of the pain. Cyno is immediately on him, kneeling on the bed between his plush thighs and crowding him, careful of his swishing tail and the Lichtenberg figures.
“Let me take care of you,” Cyno murmurs, leaning down and caging Tighnari’s body below him. “You’re always taking care of everybody else; now, it’s your turn.” Tighnari’s cheeks flush minutely and Cyno kisses him on his parted mouth, swallowing the protest that he knows without a doubt is incoming. He keeps one hand braced on the bed and uses the other to steal the lube back from Tighnari.
After coating up his fingers with more, he teases them along Tighnari’s taint before petting at his hole until his mate is near crawling up the wall with impatience. Then and only then does Cyno slide two digits in with ease and curl them slightly to stroke his prostate, rubbing at the sweet bundle of nerves until Tighnari is gasping incoherently and clawing at his shoulder. He lets up a little at that, but mostly just so he can add a third finger, Tighnari groaning gutturally in his chest at the faint stretch.
Cyno briefly deliberates milking his prostate until Tighnari is a tad less mouthy and a bit more compliant, but it’s been such a long time— and he’s realizing he’s starting to get quite impatient for it himself. His cock is a thick, rigid line in his pants, straining forwards and leaking a wet patch into his underwear, and he wants to get it out— maybe stroke himself just enough to ease some of the ache building up in his balls. Instead, Cyno works three fingers in and out of Tighnari’s puffy, pink hole, smoothly opening him up as his mate begins to clench back eagerly onto each thrust of his hand.
“You’re so tight, little fox,” Cyno finds himself crooning softly in Tighnari’s ear, blowing a hot breath across the sensitive inner fur and making his lover twitch and flush. He captures the edge of his ear in his teeth next, carefully nibbling, and Tighnari jolts under him with a lewd moan crawling up out of his throat as Cyno prods his prostate again. “Do you think you’re just about ready for my cock, my sweet padisarah? You’re so greedy around my fingers; it’s like your body’s begging for it even if you’re refusing to.”
With this, he tucks his pinky in close and fits it inside of Tighnari along with the others, making his mate press up to him with a keening cry, a familiar, intimate call that immediately lights Cyno on fire. He can’t resist this anymore, feels it like a physical dam breaking internally, and he immediately withdraws his hand after a final, torturous rub against Tighnari’s prostate. That earns him a nip, Tighnari latching onto him like a limpet with an angry mouth, a sharp prick of fangs on his shoulder as Tighnari protests the emptiness and lack of touch.
“Lay back, careful of your shoulder,” Cyno says with a voice as rough as his hands, helping Tighnari settle against a mound of pillows as he finally gets his pants tugged down and a fist wrapped around himself. He hisses briefly at how sensitive he is, his cock twitching against his palm and leaking a copious amount of clear fluid down his shaft, slickening the way. Tighnari growls softly, eyes glowing with his eerie tapetum lucidum (that Cyno has long since gotten used to), as he reaches forward and tries to drag Cyno closer.
“If you don’t get inside me within the next 30 seconds, you will lose the opportunity to do so,” Tighnari tells him tightly, the threat laying heavy and real between them, before Cyno simply kisses him into silence. He pulls back so he can shuffle between Tighnari’s thighs and push his legs up, getting them up over his arms and grunting as his cock glides along the heavenly cleft of his mate’s peachy ass, the way smoothed by lube and pre-cum.
Tighnari starts to say something else snarky, a growl in his tone— but Cyno reaches down to guide his dick in, and the words are overtaken by a yelping cry as his cockhead pops past the rim and he starts to slide.
They both grunt breathlessly and go still and shaky as Cyno bottoms out, clutching Tighnari close and digging his nails in, overwhelmed by how tight and hot and perfect his mate is inside. They hold each other closely, desperately, and Cyno understands, now, why Tighnari needed this so badly; being connected like this is a pure expression of need, desire, and trust. Cyno is forever reverent he gets to experience it. It’s reassuring and near overwhelming to feel Tighnari’s insides flutter around him and Cyno gasps as hips twitch forwards helplessly into the wet heat.
“Tighnari, my love, my flower, keep this up and I won’t last at all,” Cyno mutters, voice strained as he tries to ground himself by breathing in the rain, leaves, Spirit Borneol, and animalistic musk scent he forever associates with Tighnari. It doesn’t help, just sends his head spinning, and he starts to fuck into Tighnari without much heads up, making his mate cry out again and rip down his back with his sharp, little claws.
“T—That’s the point,” Tighnari manages to get out in between moans with every thrust that Cyno gives, deep and hard enough his balls are slapping against him, making his ears twitch near nonstop. He digs in his claws hard enough to leave bloody marks, but Cyno doesn’t care, merely prays Tighnari is just as worked up as he is as he bites down on his shoulder. “Archons! Fuck— Cyno—“
He thrills at his name from Tighnari, pleased, and Cyno licks the blood from the wound after as an apology, rutting into Tighnari roughly now, holding him in a mating press and driving his hips down with a desperate edge. Tighnari starts to cry out with each thrust, high keens and moans that shatter the night, nothing but music to Cyno’s ears. He seeks out more, trying to ramp up the crescendo, and Tighnari curls into him helplessly, mouth pink and open, eyes so wide and teary; Cyno wants to tear him apart just to put him back together after.
Instead, he focuses everything on where they’re connected, rabbiting his hips in and out of Tighnari’s plump ass, breathless grunts escaping him every time he bottoms out and feels an answering clench around him. Cyno manages to get a hand down and around Tighnari’s profusely leaking cock, and his mate jolts like he’s been struck by lightning all over again, a ragged yelp punching out of his heaving, flushed chest.
“C— CYNO!” Tighnari cries out, writhing beneath Cyno and forcing him to cage his lover down with the weight of his own body. He’s getting close, Cyno knows it; he can feel how tight Tighnari’s getting inside and it’s making him feel utterly feral. Shuddering, Cyno strokes Tighnari’s erection, the glide so velvety it’s near frictionless, and Tighnari starts to cry, big fat tears welling up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks as breathy “unh”s escape from the pit of his stomach with every brutal pump of Cyno’s hips.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Cyno growls raggedly into his throat, and when he thumbs over the head of Tighnari’s cock on the next stroke, his little fox goes stiff and arching. He orgasms a moment later, in desperate, thick spurts of cum that get all over Cyno’s fist and in between their sliding, sweaty torsos, and screams as Cyno keeps fucking into him. Purple pulses at the edges of Cyno’s vision but he holds the Electro energy at bay, incredibly, overly mindful of the Lichtenberg figures already stretching over Tighnari’s shoulder and chest.
“‘M gonna,” Cyno grunts without warning, shuddering as his hips lose their fervent rhythm, giving two short, juddering strokes before he buries himself deeply in Tighnari with a final groan and fills him with sticky, wet heat. He had told Tighnari he wouldn’t last. They both go limp and panting, skin glued together with sweat, and Cyno simply enjoys the feeling of his mate around and under him.
“… Acceptable performance, 8 out of 10,” Tighnari rasps after a long moment, his voice ragged and rough from all his noises. Cyno snorts and gently presses a kiss to his throat, nuzzling at the hollow under his jaw as Tighnari shivers pleasantly. His ears are lazily drooped, and Cyno smiles into his skin as he feels Tighnari’s tail wagging below him. “Would’ve been full marks if you had been a bit quicker,” he adds on, beginning to come back out of his daze and just as full of spunk (hah) and snark as ever, despite having just been giving a rather good dicking down.
Instead of annoying or bothering Cyno, though, it reassures him on a molecular level that everything is fine. Nothing important has changed, even as life continues to wear them down into new shapes like pebbles at the shoreline rubbed smooth by a lapping lake. He supposes, silently musing to himself, that they’re as ever constantly-shifting as the sands in the desert, never holding one form for too terribly long before a fresh wind blew through and changed the landscape into new dunes yet again. Cyno traces the purple filaments that decorate Tighnari’s fair skin with new appreciation in his touches, and wonders, now without fear or anxiety, what’s coming next for them.
As long as they’re together— Cyno knows they can handle it, whatever it ends up being.