Clover reached back to stroke Pyro’s hip, welcoming one of Pyro’s hands pushing under his hoodie. When they had sex like this—fast, hard, and on the wild side, he felt like himself again, not like the broken boy with dyed hair and afraid of his own shadow.
That was why he needed Pyro more than ever.
“Yes, you won. Take the spoils,” Clover whispered with his forehead pressed to the cold wall. Warmth streamed all over from where Pyro touched him, but once he was done talking, his lover closed his teeth on Clover’s nape and bit down. It wasn’t enough to pierce skin, but the shock of it still made Clover rise to his toes.
“You want the winner’s dick in you?” Pyro asked, grabbing the front of Clover’s pants too hard, but then he yanked them down just enough to reveal Clover’s ass.
The touch of Pyro’s thick cock against naked skin came as a shock. Clover hadn’t even noticed when Pyro had pulled down his sweatpants.
“Yes,” Clover uttered as Pyro’s dick rubbed against him, sliding into the crevice of his ass. “You won, and you get to have anything you want.” And Clover did honestly cheer Pyro on in terms of winning, because Pyro winning, meant he lived. Some of his opponents didn’t get that pleasure.
His head spun when he heard Pyro spit, but he wasn’t afraid. He needed this to be as intense as possible. Thighs spread, facing the wall, he braced himself, though by the time the thick dick breached him, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the storm coming his way.
He grunted, closing his eyes at the sting, but at least Pyro was there with him, desperate for release. Pyro had one of his arms squeezing Clover’s chest, the other wrapped around his neck, and held him tightly.
“Such a pliant hole for me, Clo,” Pyro grunted into Clover’s ear, rocking his hips against Clover’s ass.
His thrusts were frantic, but as they both eased into it, Clover relaxed into the embrace, letting lust carry him, despite his head knocking against the wall a few times. Pyro’s balls slapped against Clover’s buttocks over and over, raising the heat further as they moved together, joined by love and regret combined.
Clover had no idea what this was, because it wasn’t a hate-fuck but wasn’t a love-fuck either. Pain mixed with pleasure to the point of blurring the world around them, and he was free to forget about anything other than the rock hard cock inside him, the inked body pressing him to the wall, and Pyro’s lusty kisses on his neck.
“Yes, do me like that,” he rasped, high on the adrenaline, and his voice turned into an elongated whimper when Pyro fucked him even faster, a ball of energy that couldn’t be stopped or contained. It could only be tamed.
Pyro gasped and squashed Clover against the wall with more force, his hips twitching rhythmically as he came, pouring his cum inside Clover.
“That’s great, Clo. That’s what I need,” Pyro whispered.
Clover could have cried at those words, a shivering mess in Pyro’s strong hold. He wanted to be the answer to all of Pyro’s troubles, wanted to be what he needed.
He reached for his own cock, jerking off hard and fast, with Pyro’s dick still inside him. Pyro was most tender during those cooldowns, his kisses lazier, and Clover’s orgasm washed over him like a memory of a much simpler time when he really didn’t have to worry about anything outside of cramps after too much shibari.
His hole emptied all too soon, but Pyro’s warmth remained, with arms and chest like a cradle promising safety.
Pyro hummed. “You know, I liked you more with white hair. Shame you dyed it.”
Clover’s shoulders fell. “Seriously?” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Couldn’t reality wait five more minutes before crashing into him? He’d dyed his hair because he couldn’t bear knowing that somewhere out there was an order to find him, and his most defining feature was his albinism.
He didn’t like his new hair either.
“Come on, don’t be touchy. We’re just having fun,” Pyro stumbled back. When Clover turned around, he saw him sitting on one of the crates, dick still out.
Clover had to take a deep breath, but walked up to Pyro and cleaned him with a wet wipe, only then realizing how useless it was when what Pyro needed was a shower. Sweaty, bloodied, it was hard to say where bruises began and where ink ended.
“I’m not touchy, it’s just… you know I had to dye it. Pick up your money and I’ll drive you home.” After a moment of hesitation, he leaned in to kiss Pyro’s lips. He wasn’t ready to let go of the closeness, or of Pyro’s big hands, even though they were stained with blood.
Pyro sighed, rubbing his face, as if the sex had pumped out his energy. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but ended up dragging himself to his feet with his mouth shut. Maybe it was for the better.