Chapter 2: Worship
The humid air crackled, thick with the scent of burnt stew and salt and the dizzying proximity of Cronus. Kankri’s forehead still pressed against Cronus’s, their ragged breaths mingling. He felt the damp heat seeping through his trousers where Cronus’s arousal pressed against his thigh – undeniable, visceral. The torn collar fluttered uselessly in his grip, his exposed gills pulsing with frantic need. Cronus looked utterly wrecked, eyes dark and unfocused, lips swollen from the frantic kiss, leaning heavily on the counter like his legs might give out.
"Sweet mother of fuck," Cronus rasped again, his voice thick and raw. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. His hand, still tangled in Kankri’s hair, trembled slightly. "Kanny... you... just..." He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. The usual smooth operator was shattered, replaced by something stunned and breathtakingly vulnerable.
Kankri’s mind raced, a frantic scramble of conflicting signals. The cool air on his gills was a relief and a terrifying exposure. Cronus’s warmth against him was an anchor and a catalyst. His own bulge strained painfully against the confines of his trousers, a traitorous pulse answering Cronus’s slick heat. Principles. Vow. Exploitation. Mutant biology. Desire. Oh gods, the desire...
He tried to summon the lecture, the righteous framework. "Cronus, this... situation... requires immediate de-escalation and a thorough discussion of informed consent parameters, given the heightened emotional state and prior aggressive—"
Cronus moved. It wasn't the languid, calculated motion of his usual flirtations. It was sudden, decisive, fueled by the same raw current surging between them. His hand left Kankri’s hair, but only for a second. It clamped onto Kankri’s hip, fingers digging in possessively through the thin tunic fabric. The other hand shot to the opposite hip. Before Kankri could finish his sentence, before he could even register the shift, Cronus pivoted.
Leverage. Pure, surprising strength. Cronus used Kankri’s own momentum and the counter’s edge. One moment Kankri was pressed flush against him, the next the world tilted. Coral scraped Kankri’s back as Cronus spun them, reversing their positions with startling efficiency. Kankri’s breath left him in a startled oof as his spine hit the hard counter edge, Cronus’s body pinning him there. The torn collar slipped from Kankri’s nerveless fingers, gaping open once more.
Panic flared, hot and sharp. "Cronus! Unhand me! This constitutes a severe—"
Cronus ignored the protest. He wasn't looking at Kankri’s eyes anymore. His gaze, intense and dark, was fixed on the exposed side of Kankri’s neck. On the fluttering, glistening gills. The raw vulnerability laid bare by Kankri’s own frantic tear.
Kankri froze. Words died in his throat. Cronus’s stare wasn't mocking, wasn't disgusted. It was... awestruck. Reverent. Hungry.
"Fuck," Cronus breathed, the word barely a whisper against Kankri’s skin. He didn't ask. Didn't hesitate. He simply moved.
Down.
He sank to his knees on the damp coral floor, the movement fluid and shockingly graceful despite the cramped space. Kankri stared down, heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The fungal light caught the sheen of sweat on Cronus’s brow, the dampness darkening the purple silk at his temples. His expression was pure, focused intensity.
Cronus’s hands settled on Kankri’s hips, firm, grounding. He leaned in, his breath, warm and damp, ghosting over the exposed gills. Kankri flinched violently, a gasp tearing from him. It wasn't pain. It was overwhelming sensation. The fine, delicate membranes were hypersensitive, attuned to the slightest shift in moisture and pressure. Cronus’s proximity alone sent electric shivers cascading down Kankri’s spine.
Then, the touch.
Not fingers. Not roughness.
The flat of Cronus’s tongue, broad and warm and wet, swept slowly, deliberately, along the length of the largest gill slit.
Kankri cried out. It wasn't a word, just a raw, choked sound of pure sensation. His knees buckled, only Cronus’s grip on his hips keeping him upright against the counter. The sensation was indescribable – part physical caress, part life-giving immersion, part electric shock. It bypassed thought, bypassed principle, striking directly at some primal nerve center. The gills flared wide, drinking in the offered moisture and pressure, sending pulses of dizzying pleasure radiating outward, coiling low in his belly, making his bulge throb against the seam of his trousers.
Cronus made a low, appreciative sound deep in his throat. He did it again. Another slow, dragging lick. Then another. Exploring the intricate, frilled edges with unhurried fascination, each stroke deliberate, worshipful. His breath hitched as Kankri trembled violently above him.
"Kanny... fuck," Cronus murmured against his skin, his voice thick with wonder and arousal. "Never seen anything... so fucking perfect." Another lick, shorter, teasing the edge. Kankri whimpered, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the slippery coral countertop, his head falling back. The lecture halls in his mind were empty, echoing chambers. Only sensation remained. Wet heat. Pressure. That impossible, building coil of pleasure. The dizzying scent of Cronus’s skin and cologne and the sea.
Cronus’s mouth moved lower. His lips brushed the column of Kankri’s throat, just below the gills, leaving a trail of damp heat. Kankri felt the sharp edge of teeth, a gentle scrape that made him jolt. Cronus’s hands slid down, smoothing over Kankri’s thighs, pushing the thin fabric of the tunic aside with an urgency that belied the reverence of his mouth on Kankri’s neck. His touch was seeking, insistent.
Kankri knew where this was going. The fear warred with the drowning wave of sensation. "Cronus... wait... the implications... the power dynamic... actively precludes..." The words were breathless, fragmented, lacking any conviction. They sounded like a script recited in a dream.
Cronus didn’t stop. His lips trailed lower, following the path his hands had taken, down Kankri’s sternum, over the rapid flutter of his stomach muscles. The damp silk of Cronus’s hair brushed Kankri’s bare skin where the torn tunic gaped. The rough texture of the coral pressed into Kankri’s back, a counterpoint to the devastating softness of Cronus’s mouth.
Then Cronus’s hands were at his waistband. Fingers deftly found the fastening of Kankri’s trousers. The sound of the button popping open, the rasp of the zipper, was obscenely loud in the humid kitchen, cutting through the frantic hiss of the forgotten stew. Cool air hit Kankri’s lower belly. He gasped.
Cronus looked up. His sea-blue eyes, dark and blown wide, locked onto Kankri’s from his position on his knees. There was no smirk, no performative charm. Just raw need, a question held in the intensity of his gaze. A silent plea. Is this okay? Is this what you want?
Kankri stared down, paralyzed. He saw the damp patch darkening the front of Cronus’s own tight pants, saw the tremor in the hands gripping his hips. Saw the absolute, terrifying sincerity. The coil inside him tightened unbearably. Principles crumbled like sandcastles before a tidal wave. The vow felt like a brittle, ancient thing, shattered beyond repair against the reality of Cronus Ampora on his knees before him.
He couldn't speak. He managed a single, jerky nod. A surrender. A plea of his own.
A shudder ran through Cronus. Relief and fervent hunger warred in his expression. He didn't break eye contact as his hands, finally, slid Kankri’s trousers and undergarments down just enough. Kankri’s bulge, freed from confinement, sprang forward, thick and flushed and desperately hard, the tip already glistening with pre-ejaculate. The humid air felt shockingly cool against the heated skin.
Cronus’s breath hitched audibly. His gaze dropped, taking in the sight with a reverence that stole Kankri’s breath all over again. For a heartbeat, he just stared, his lips slightly parted. Then, without preamble, without further hesitation, he leaned forward. His mouth, hot and wet and impossibly soft, opened.
And he took Kankri’s entire length inside, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth, deep motion.