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The night was still, enveloped in eerie blue light, full to the brim with the soft roar of waterfalls. High in the sky hung the moon — a slender crescent. Sidon could see it, peeking through the curtainless window, but he did not look — could not, honestly. Right beside him slept Link, curled in his arms, face hidden in white silk of the bedsheets, the gold of his hair shining in the glow of luminous stones. Slow breaths, eyes shut, the moon outlined the silhouette of his body like a carving of a divine being on the walls of the Zoran royal library, where Sidon had studied all his life.
Numerous times Sidon had seen him like this — peaceful, full of life yet utterly still, the man, the hero, the legend alive, who could not stay motionless for a split second when awake. Each time it was revelation for him, some sacred secret bestowed upon him, a mere Zora, just like that. What for? He did not know, although he did dare to ask. Link had no answer for him — only soft lips, strong hands and mischievous smile sparkling bright in these otherworldly blue eyes of his. Another revelation in itself.
So too were the contours of his body, outlined by the moon’s bright white light; pointed tip of his ear, twitching now and then — Sidon knew, the shell of it was covered in fine fuzz, utterly invisible, yet perceptible to the gentle touch of lips. The sounds Link made — all kinds of snorts, scoffs, grunts; his humming while he cooked; his low yet boyish voice, when he cried out in pleasure, loud and flagrantly shameless.
Sidon shut his eyes tightly, letting out a heavy sigh. It felt like the very last breath, the end of him, here and now. His hand, previously lying still across Link’s back, moved with a mind of its own: a slow, light touch, only fingertips with dulled claws, only the promise of a caress. His hand — not Sidon himself — smoothed along Link’s side: velvety, warm skin, tattered with scars, like the map of their land; then moved higher to his armpit — tender and ticklish. The tip of the ear twitched slightly, and Sidon could not help but smile. He moved his hand lower — ribcage, slowly moving with his breath; lower — exquisite waist curvature; the lowest — the pronounced plush of the rear. And he took an armful of it, advantage of his size, haste of lust. Link’s breath hitched, and he stirred ever so slightly, pushing the flesh of his ass into Sidon’s hand, like it belonged there and only there.
“What are you doing to me, my love,” Sidon murmured, leaning closer to his ear, to the sparkling gold of his hair, to the pink apple of his cheek, free of any scars as if the Goddess herself watched over that miracle of a face, untouchable, yet so real that Sidon could trace the curve of lips, could taste this mouth with his own. Link did not answer, his breathing was slow and steady.
Sidon squeezed his ass gently and moved past it to the thigh, tight with muscle — oh, Sidon knew all too well how strong they were. He had learned that not here, in their bed, but on the training grounds. It had been a painful and humiliating lesson for a young prince, still full of himself in the early days of their acquaintance.
Link stirred again, slightly moving his legs as if he subconsciously wanted to give Sidon more space for his exploration. Sidon gladly took it, smoothing his hand along his thigh up to the crack of his ass, too welcoming to ignore. His fingers slid between plush cheeks in an oh-so-familiar gesture. It felt so natural for him to feel this tender, hot skin, still puffed and open after their bedtime routine, yet Sidon forgot how to breathe. His gills shut tight, fins all over his body fluttered as if he were no noble prince of his people, but a mere animal driven straight by rut. He breathed in, breathed out through his mouth, and it felt like air was clinging to the tips of his teeth, suddenly thick and sticky.
As an animal, he did not notice when the slit in his crotch had opened, leaking wet, both cocks on full display, heavy with blood and wanton desire. Sidon knew he must be ashamed of himself. He also knew very well what he should do next: remove himself entirely from Link and go straight to the bathing pool in the center of their chambers. It was very likely this would wake Link — he could sleep like a log while Sidon touched him (not that Sidon had ever tested it on other nights) — but as soon as Sidon left their bed in the mornings, Link was always very much awake. Then Sidon would have to give him some explanation, and Link, love of his life, took no shit; so it could only be the truth, straight to the core. Link would laugh at him, call him back into bed and fall asleep as if nothing ever happened.
Sidon pressed himself against Link, cradling his little warm body, covering him from the moon with his shadow, dark and spiky — fins and all. His cocks slid wetly along Link’s rocky spine, electrified with this touch alone. Sidon hissed through the teeth, mortified by his own doing, yet unable to resist, unable to stop.
“Why don’t I wake you?” he wondered softly. His fingertips were still on the brim of Link’s puffed hole, but he did not dare to push even slightly — that was the line he could not possibly cross, could he? And the oil. It was too far away from him right now: in the drawer of the bedtable, and if he got up to reach it, he might as well do the right thing and just stop, go to the bath and… And. No, that was not the option.
“Well then…”
Sidon took both of his cocks and lowered them, slotting them between Link’s cheeks and then his thighs. It was divine. Tapered tips caught the hole as if it were their second nature, smeared it with slick, then slid past the softest velvet of balls and aligned with the hardening cock, hot and pulsing with blood. It was not enough. Sidon hid his face in the pillow breathing heavily with his gills. The air was full of his uneven breaths, his musk and his dishonor. It seemed like even the light of the moon and the luminous stones became dim. Gone were whites and blues, all Sidon saw was gray mist, and the gold of Link shone right through it. Blinding holy light. And then there was red. Red of Sidon’s body, greedily enveloping the gold, the red of his love and his unfathomable desire.
“I cannot possibly stop, my love,” Sidon confessed to the pillow, to the slick silk of it, wet with his own spit. “Yet I am too ashamed to move on. What would you tell me, if you were awake?” As it always was, Link kept his answers to himself and proceeded to sleep soundly, although Sidon could feel his cock pulsing, fully hard.
Sidon moved his hips — slow, deliberate motion — and Link softly sighed and moved his hips a moment after, as if he were chasing, as if he, in his deep slumber, knew too well all the answers and was willing to give one to Sidon.
“I am a foolish, pitiful creature,” muttered Sidon, “How could I reason such behaviour with your unconscious movements, my love?”
Link did not answer, and Sidon moved once again, feeling nothing but greed. It was not near enough. He held all of Link in his hands, he felt his soft skin, his breaths, his peaceful stillness, his hot blood running through his veins, his arousal, warmth of him and the vulnerability, yet Sidon wanted more. More of him. Not the holy golden light, but the essence of humanity, which Link embodied, unabashedly and beautifully.
“I know your body well,” Sidon said, shutting his eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling the weight of that confession, “I know that you are no stranger to greed. Undoubtedly so, you are the greediest creature alive, my love. I know what you would tell me now, though I would not voice that dirty language of yours, since you cannot hear it to mock me.”
Sidon slid his hand between their bodies, and it felt as if he had put his hand in an oven at the blacksmith’s, agonisingly hot — somewhere you should not intrude. He took one of his cocks by the root and moved it upwards, to the hole, slightly twitching, still wet with his slick. Link shifted his leg, opening more for him, greedy, lustful thing, yet still deeply asleep.
“Just a tip,” Sidon told him, feeling a strong, painful pang of love throughout his whole body. It was like the deafening roar of the waterfall, never-ending and deadly. “I know you can take it, I know you can take so much more, so easily, that it frightens me still, my love. Is it your greed? It must be. No holy magic can reason it.”
He aligned the tip of his cock with the hole and pushed in ever so slightly, still inwardly afraid to hurt, although he knew perfectly well that this definitely would not. That was just his instinct, learned behaviour of his mind. He was always too big, too strong, too visibly threatening even among his own people, predator, born in a pond of peaceful fish. And here was Link — the shortest adult among his kind, half of Sidon’s size, fitting around both of his cocks as if he were made entirely for this purpose — the deadliest man in all Hyrule.
The tip slid in easily, straight until the first wide ridge, and Sidon internally thanked the Goddess for that ridge, for only it could stop him from sinking entirely in this maddening, tight heaven of Link’s body. He could not breathe, but it mattered not. He did not want it. All he wanted was to move out and in, in, in, as deep as possible, to touch Link not with his hands or his mouth, but with all of himself. To be into him, onto him, around him, and in him.
Sidon bottomed out, slightly, as he thought, and that first ridge slid in as if Link’s hole just swallowed it, fast. Then there was the second, and the third, and… honestly Sidon never counted them. He was immediately lost in the fierce sensation of Link enveloping not only his cock, but him whole. Tightening around him ferociously, trembling, soft and pure, but hard with muscle and greedy.
“Fuck.”
That was not his own voice; that Sidon could tell clearly although he was not in his right mind, or any mind at all.
“My love,” he murmured weakly, “You’re awake.”
“Of course I am,” grumbled Link in a low sleepy voice. “How am I supposed to sleep with a cock right up in my ass?”
Sidon did not dare to move his hips in any direction, but he carefully caressed along Link’s thigh, to his crotch just to be sure.
“You did come,” he told Link as if he could possibly be unaware of it. His cock was still twitching and there was an unmistakable wet spot on the sheets.
Link opened one eye, brightly sparkling with laughter.
“How am I supposed not to come with your cock right up in my ass?”
“I have no answer to this.”
“I know you don’t,” Link snorted. “Though tell me, Your Highness, for how long are you planning to warm your dick in me? Am I allowed to sleep while you please yourself?”
Sidon startled in pure indignation. The audacity!
“Please myself?”
Link narrowed his eyes: “Are you not, Your Highness?”
“I am, but!”
Sidon could not find words — all his blood was much, much lower than his brain — so he just pointed to the undeniable evidence of Link’s pleasure.
“Collateral damage,” Link stated flatly. “As if you were pleasing me, you know perfectly well, Your Highness, what you should be doing.”
“You, wicked little thing,” Sidon lovingly snarled, moving his hips at last.
“A-ah,” Link whined, but cut it short. “Is that all, Your Highness? I’ve thought better of you.”
“You're a lustful, greedy creature,” muttered Sidon, bottoming out again and again, withdrawing his cock entirely and going to the hilt with one deliberately slow motion, “I was telling you exactly that while you were blissfully asleep.”
“Yes, Your Highness, I am,” Link cooed and smiled, bright teeth and eyes, red yet unkissed lips.
“Stop calling me that,” Sidon demanded in all his princely voice with a hitched breath and hidden moan.
“As you say, my prince.”
Suddenly Link clenched tight around him and began to move his hips, forcing his own fast, merciless rhythm.
“Fuck.”
“Here you go.”
Link was so pleased with himself that Sidon felt it thick in the air along with his cries, quiet in the beginning, they became louder and louder, the wet cacophony of lust and love.
Link turned, swinging his hand above his head. Blood painted his cheeks red, Sidon’s color, and it looked so well on his pretty face, framed by golden locks, heavy with sweat.
“Look at me,” Link whined.
“I am.” Sidon felt resentment at the assumption that he was not. That he possibly could not.
“I am so good at this, that…” Link interrupted himself with a loud shameless moan, “that I can even do this good with only one dick. You’re so lucky, my prince.”
“How could one be so filthy, tell me?”
“Whatever am I supposed to do, my prince?” Link whimpered, “Haven’t I earned it? Didn’t I sleep so well, while you were having your way with my unconscious body?”
“Should I fuck you with both of my dicks, so you will remember my name?”
“There is only one way to find out,” Link smiled around yet another moan, and that blinding holy light was right there, near the filth and sweat, and his brazen humanity.
“Then come here.” Sidon pulled out and turned Link onto his back.
“Yes, my prince.” Link brought his knees up to his chest and spread them wider to accommodate Sidon’s width — all of this was done in one fluid motion, their well-practiced trick.
“Stop. Calling me. That,” Sidon snapped, aligning his cocks with the hole and pushing in, yet miraculously cautious not to hurt him.
“But you love when your people call you so, my prince,” Link still teased, breathless, eyes full of tears.
“You are not my people, my love.”
Sidon did not have it in him to be really annoyed or even displeased with Link, whatever he said filled Sidon with so much adoration that he could barely handle it and definitely could not keep it in himself. The first ridges were in, as for the others… None of them ever counted them, they just slid into their rightful place, as if they were details of a mechanism meant to be one.
“Then who am I, tell me,” Link demanded nearly voiceless, but not out of stress, as it was when they first met, but out of pure pleasure, bright as the light that leaked from him. “Tell me.”
“The light,” Sidon breathed immediately as it was the ultimate truth. He started moving, fast, abrupt motions, no mercy left for both of them. Link cried out loudly — blushed face, body glistening with sweat, teary blue eyes, red mouth and nipples — obscene painting of ecstasy in flesh. “Shameless, wild creature bestowed upon me for I could sin.” That was also the truth. Link clenched unbelievably tight around him, shivering and suddenly silent, blue eyes blown wide. “The love of my life,” Sidon finished, shivering with him, unable to move, to breathe, to see anything but Link’s face, the golden holy light, the humanity in its highest and its lowest all at once.
“I love you, Sidon,” Link murmured so quietly that it could be mistaken for a soft gust of wind. But Sidon saw it in his eyes, felt it in his body, in every gesture and word, in the sound of his breaths, now slowing and weary, already half asleep.
Sidon was truly the luckiest man alive.