It was late on a Sunday afternoon when Breezepelt ran into the Thunderclan healer.
"What are you doing on Windclan territory?" he demanded, preparing to launch himself at the intruder. Jayfeather was knee-deep in the stream that separated Windclan's moors from Thunderclan's forest. He looked up when Breezepelt hissed at him, smirking.
"This isn't Windclan territory," Jayfeather said, stretching. He was shirtless, Breezepelt blinked. The healer's skin was light grey and slick with stream water. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight. "The stream is directly in the middle and, incidentally, it's a good place to find nice-sized stones."
"Stones aren't used for healing," Breezepelt accused, realizing only afterwards how stupid he sounded. Damn Jayfeather for wandering around half naked.
Jayfeather sighed with the air of one who thought they were surrounded by the mentally impaired. "No, it's not, but they're dead useful in sharpening weapons, which you'd know if you ever did anything besides admire yourself in the mirror." He bent down again, feeling his way through the water. Breezepelt watched him, studying the slight ripple of muscle in the healer's arms as he moved aside rocks and whatever else was in the stream.
"I sharpen weapons," he said finally.
"Do you?" Jayfeather's voice was amused. Breezepelt felt an inexplicable anger sweep over him. How dare this filthy Thunderclan savage mock him? He fingered the knife strapped to his belt and tried to bight down on the snarl creeping up his throat. He almost didn't notice when Jayfeather walked up to him, standing on the very edge of the stream. He was almost two feet away.
"I'm sorry," the healer's voice was layered with scorn. "Did I hurt your little feelings?"
Breezepelt glared at him, taking a step closer. They were a bit too involved in each other's personal space now, and the warrior was pleased to see that Jayfeather only came up to his eyebrows. His eyes though, were much too bright and blue. They both unnerved and intrigued Breezepelt. His heart sped up when he stared into them, and at that moment he didn't wuite know why.
"Fuck off," he snarled, hand leaving his knife and curling into a fist. He was scrawny, sure, but he could throw a mean punch.
"I'd much prefer to fuck you," Jayfeather shrugged. Breezepelt blinked in surprise and felt heat rush to both his face and the area just below his navel. Jayfeather smirked again.
"What?" he asked, stepping closer. Breezepelt could feel the water from the stream and the warmth of Jayfeather's skin. "Does that," he tilted his face upwards and his breath smelled like strawberries, a fruit Breezepelt had never wanted so much in his life as he did at that moment. "Frighten you?"
Breezepelt couldn't refuse the challenge, "I think we both know who'd really be fucking who."
Jayfeather raised a single eyebrow. His arm rose slowly, as though daring Breezepelt to stop him. "Do you really want to test that theory out?" he asked, digging his claws into Breezepelt's arms.
"Well," Breezepelt breathed, unable to take his eyes off Jayfeather's lips, only a few inches from his own. "If it's all in the name of science…"
When they kiss, it's like nothing Breezepelt has ever felt before. (And he has kissed a few people before; when they had been apprentices he and Harepaw had fooled around quite a lot until Harepaw suddenly decided that he liked breasts.) It felt wrong and yet so deliciously right all at once. The heat of Jayfeather's mouth and body filled Breezepelt with a fierce need he'd never experienced before. The healer tastes like strawberries and battle; sweet, bloody, and addictive. It's amazing and it's wrong and Breezepelt knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this goes against everything he fights for. He also knows that he's going to do it anyway.
Jayfeather bit his bottom lip, drawing blood, and the tang of it just turned Breezepelt on further. His lightweight cloth pants were suddenly much too tight and he pushed Jayfeather back, both of them stumbled backward through the stream until he could pin him against a tall oak tree. Jayfeather's nails are still embedded in Breezepelt's arms and he drags them downward as he writhed against the warrior's body. Breezepelt slid a knee in between his legs, grabbing Jayfeather's hips and grinding up slow against him. The healer moaned and broke away, panting heavily.
"So?" Breezepelt said when he could speak again. Some of his salvia hung out of Jayfeather's mouth, but the healer made no move to wipe it away.
"I think we need to do some further research," Jayfeather groaned, rolling his hips. Breezepelt had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from making a sound.
"I agree," he panted, moving his hands up from Jayfeather's waist to the healer's hair.
"Hold on," Jayfeather says and pulls at Breezepelt's shirt. He lets him pull it off before resuming their previous activities. This time he was a bit more methodical, trying to find out what made Jayfeather tick. Or he was until Jayfeather angled his head just so and licked the roof of his mouth.
"Oh," Breezepelt groaned against Jayfeather's lips, and the time to be methodical was over. He gripped Jayfeather's hair in tight handfuls, tongue-fucking his mouth while Jay dug his claws into Breezepelt's bare back.
"This is a horrible idea," Jayfeather groaned, tilting his neck to give Breezepelt better access. "This is a really, really bad idea and if you stop I'll fucking kill you." Breezepelt laughed as he left a trail of bite marks from Jayfeather's collarbone to his hip. He sunk to his knees and nuzzled the inside of Jayfeather's thigh. Jay's breathing hitched and he braced himself against the tree.
"Shit-" he panted, fumbling at his fly. "Can you..?" Breezepelt pushed Jayfeather's pants down to his knees, exposing his plain black boxers.
"Yeah," Breezepelt panted, unnecessarily. Jayfeather bit down on his bottom lip to stifle a whimper as Breezepelt stroked his erection. The scrape of the fabric against his cock made him ache in the most torturously hot way. Then Breezepelt opened his mouth and hummed against his dick, huffing hot air across it.
"Oh," whimpered Jayfeather, blood from his lip trickling down his chin as his hips bucked against Breezepelt's mouth. "Oh, Oh," his claws scraped against Breezepelt's skull as he struggled to get a grip on his hair.
Breezepelt peered up at the healer through his bangs, working his tongue against the wet black cloth. He caught sight of the smudge of scarlet and suddenly he had to get out of his jeans and fuck that hurt. Jay made a strangled, needy sound but was cut off by Breezepelt's lips. The warrior surged upwards, lapping at the blood while unbuttoning his own jeans and shimmying out of them. He pulled Jayfeather's hips against his and swallowed every moan and every whimper that escaped his throat.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Breezepelt asked when he broke away, nibbling at Jayfeather's ear.
"Yes," Jayfeather ground out, sliding his cock against Breezepelt's.
"Say please," he demanded, kneading the healer's surprisingly firm ass. "Beg for it."
"Oh Starclan, please," Jayfeather did as he was told. "Please, please fuck me."
Unable to deny such a request, Breezepelt hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Jayfeather's boxers and pulled them down, freeing his erection. "I don't suppose," he began, his voice rough and low, "you brought anything..?"
Jayfeather shook his head, simultaneously spreading his legs. "Just," he panted, one hand bracing himself against the tree trunk. "Go slow." Breezepelt pulled his own boxers off, then lifted one of Jayfeather's legs over his hip, steadying them both against the tall oak tree. He slides one finger, wet from the stream water dripping down Jayfeather's chest, into the pulsing heat and waits only a few moments for him to adjust before adding a second. He cries out, pale blue eyes hazy with lust. Then Breezepelt added a third, slowly pushing them in and out, finger fucking this half-clan traitor. He can feel Jayfeather's heart beating as fast as his own, and something uncomfortably close to pity stirs in him.
When he retracts his fingers, Jayfeather can't help but let out a frustrated hiss. Breezepelt pacifies him with a short kiss on the lips, pulling his other leg up and over his hip so that Jayfeather isn't touching the ground. He positions himself and pushes in, slick with precome. Jayfeather's scream is muffled by the soft skin between Breezepelt's neck and shoulder; his claws leave bloody furrows through the cloth on Breezepelt's lower back. Breezepelt ignores the pain, pushing in slowly until he was as deep as he could go. He paused, waiting until Jayfeather muttered a half-strangled 'move' before drawing back and shoving in again, hard. Jayfeather keened, his mouth hot and wet against Breezepelt's bare neck.
Jayfeather is gorgeous against him, around him, and Breezepelt can hardly believe that he's fucking him. A hand slips down and begins to stroke the healer, the other grips his hip with claws that dig in deep. They move erratically, stuttering and sliding with gasps and moans from both sides. It's not perfect, but it's pretty damn close. It's hot as hell and Breezepelt's head spins when Jayfeather comes. He sees stars and fireworks and fucking suns exploding in midair.
"Hell," Jayfeather breathes eventually, slumped against Breezepelt's sweaty chest. "We're a fucking mess."
Breezepelt makes a noise of agreement, on his knees with his forehead resting against Jayfeather's shoulder. It's a few more moments until Jayfeather musters the strength necessary to stand. Breezepelt slips out of him and stands when he can. Bracing against each other, they sit waist-deep in the stream and let the water wash away the evidence of their crime. Jayfeather makes to pull away, but Breezepelt snakes an arm around him and keeps him tucked against his side.
"Breezepelt-"
"Don't," says Breezepelt. "Don't just leave or pull away or do whatever it is you're supposed to do at a time like this. Just… sit. With me."
Jayfeather leans against him, breathing quietly. "Don't kid yourself," he lets the cool water run over his arms. "That was just sex- it didn't mean anything-"
Breezepelt silences him with a flick to the ear. "Look me in the eye," he growls, turning to face Jayfeather. "And tell me that wasn't the most intimate thing you've ever done."
Jayfeather bites back the urge to say 'well I would but, you see, I'm fucking blind.' Even if he could see, if he could look Breezepelt in the eye, he knew he wouldn't be able to say it was impersonal. Maybe it was hatred or love or some weird bond running through their shared blood, but no matter what, that had been all kinds of personal. He can't decide what to say to that, so he changes the subject.
"So I think we learned something valuably scientific today," he manages without even a smirk.
Breezepelt makes a sound that's a mix between a snort and a laugh. "Praise science," he says.
They sit in the stream for a while longer, until it's too cold to stay in any longer. The sun is setting and the rocks on the Windclan shore are still warm so they lie there until those too cool. The whole time they're wrapped around each other like vines that grew too close together. Breezepelt know that he's been missed by now, that his clan mates will be looking for him and that it wouldn't do for them to find them like this, but for a few precious hours, he doesn't care. He entertains the idea of leaving, maybe, and Jayfeather ponders it with him. They have the whole of an evening to decide their destinies, no pressure or anything. It's a wonderful feeling, though, being in control. It's like he holds all the power of the stars in his hands. And for now, that's more than enough to convince him that whatever it is they choose to do, it will be the right decision.