Sharrkan was strong.
He had to be; it was in the job description. Sharrkan was one of the eight generals of Sindria, one of King Sinbad's most trusted companions, so he had to be strong, and he was.
Even so, that strength was nothing compared to what Masrur had.
Perhaps challenging the fanalis to a sparring match had been a poor idea from the start, particularly if said bout took place in a palace corridor rather than a more suitable training hall. Still, Masrur had always just infuriated Sharrkan, in the way that he was always better, and always making a fool of him, and Sharrkan was going to get the best of him one day, whether that big idiot could accept that or not.
Nonetheless, today was not that day.
"You can't beat a blade with your bare hands, can ya, big guy?" Sharrkan was grinning, and adrenaline pumped through his veins but that was nothing compared to the sweat beading upon his forehead, the way he heaved and panted and felt his legs ready to give at any second. It was too humiliating to admit that he was actually tired, but Masrur's strength and endurance were forces to be reckoned with.
Masrur only responded with a snort of affirmation, and Sharrkan's grin faltered and morphed into something of a scowl. Years and years had passed since they first met, and yet Sharrkan could never manage to evoke a reaction from the other man. It was impossibly annoying, and he didn't know why he cared, or why he should care, but Masrur's nonchalance was going to drive him mad if it hadn't already.
Something primal rose in Sharrkan, then. He roared and lunged forward with the blade of his sword-looking back on it, he would've immediately recognized the poor form of his desperate attempt-but in the heat of the moment he was too insulted to care. He wasn't even a foot in range before Masrur, against all odds, easily knocked the sword from Sharrkan's grasp, and Sharrkan yelped once the fanalis had grabbed hold of his wrist in one swift motion. Somewhere within him, Sharrkan heard his treasured sword clatter to the tile behind them.
Everything after that was a blur. Sharrkan vaguely registered himself trying to hit back-a futile effort with his bare hands, against Masrur of all people-and then he was pinned back against the nearest wall, arm forced above his head, and Masrur's massive frame loomed high over him. The very moment he saw the look in Masrur's scarlet eyes was when Sharrkan realized that he'd lost.
"Okay," Sharrkan grumbled, tearing viridescent eyes away from Masrur's piercing red ones, and he went slack in the other man's grip. "You win, alright? Are you happy now?"
Masrur was silent, and Sharrkan expected nothing less from him, the same infuriating silence he'd known since childhood, so well that he could barely recall the sound of Masrur's deep, rich tone, commanding but soft-spoken and never harsh. Well, perhaps Sharrkan hadn't completely forgotten.
"You wanted to fight," Masrur spoke up finally, and Sharrkan scoffed at him, rolling his eyes with a huff.
"I don't know why. It's not like I'd ever win, not against you, so there's no point in trying." Vaguely, Sharrkan knew his bitterness was in vain. Masrur's superhuman strength was not exactly his fault, nor was his silent demeanor, nor was anything about him, really. For a moment, Sharrkan wondered whether the man even had flaws, and immediately buried the thought. Everyone had to have flaws somewhere deep within them.
"You could win, sometime." said Masrur, sounding hesitant, and that may have been the most emotion Sharrkan had ever heard from the fanalis. He scoffed anyway.
"Yeah, right." He rolled his eyes. "I just-" a low growl rumbled in Sharrkan's chest as he continued, "for once, I wanted to be your equal, so you wouldn't look down on me like you always do, so you'd finally respect me for once."
Sharrkan could have been imagining things, like he was probably imagining this entire sequence of events, but it seemed like Masrur came just faintly closer, just so their chests and hip bones brushed together. "I respect you."
Ignoring the twinge within his chest, Sharrkan guffawed. "Yeah right, you do! I'd be an idiot to fall for that shit." Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sharrkan noticed Masrur's grip still tight on his wrist, pinning his arm above his head, and for a moment he felt utterly powerless, and he hated that. Especially under Masrur, there couldn't be a worse position to be in.
"I would not lie."
"Oh yeah?" Sharrkan scoffed. "Then prove it!"
The last thing Sharrkan expected was for Masrur's lips to crash against his own, muffling a yell of surprise as his lips were captured in the motion. Masrur's hand had slid down from its hold on his wrist to cup Sharrkan's face, the other sliding into his hair, and it was sweet, but infuriating, and Masrur still held all the power. Sharrkan's kisses were rough and messy, smashing their lips together, but Masrur was like a rock, gentle but firm, and his kiss was softer, with a hidden unspoken prowess behind it. Sharrkan almost wished that he'd just be harsh instead, so he'd have the right to be angry.
When Sharrkan pulled away he was out of breath again, and it was like round two with their spar, only this time Sharrkan was too confused to feel indignant. "You kiss like a woman," was all he managed, though it was hardly true.
"Like you'd know what that feels like."
Sharrkan felt the heat rushing up to his cheek, and he managed and indignant scoff. "Oh, what would you know? This is why I can't do anything with you, you're always so calm and put together and better than me-"
He caught himself the moment it slipped out, but the words were already there, and Sharrkan felt nothing but shame. "I didn't mean-"
"You think I'm a good kisser."
"I never said that!"
The shadow of a smirk appeared on Masrur's features, and Sharrkan felt something like triumph at finally evoking some real emotion from the man. Either way, he was too peeved to celebrate, so he chose instead to yank Masrur down by the neck and slam their lips together. He struggled to maintain the embrace, up high on the tips of his toes and clawing desperately to hang off of Masrur's tall frame. It was a little humiliating, if nothing else, but Sharrkan found he didn't give a damn about that.
Sharrkan breathed a muffled gasp against Masrur's lips when he felt the man's steady hips roll against his pelvis and groin, and he was helpless not to respond to the motion, matching the even pace. Something clicked, then, and Sharrkan remembered that they were in the open, engaging in such an act, for anyone to pay witness. That was enough for him to tug his lips away. "A-Ah," he moaned, coming back to reality, "not here, Masrur! What if someone sees us?"
"That's never stopped us before," Masrur breathed against his lips, and Sharrkan felt a shiver run down his spine. It had never been like this before, there had always been the fights and the playful banter, but never this heat, he'd never felt such passion burning within him; they'd never shared a kiss.
"I-Ah!" Sharrkan opened his mouth to protest as the act grew in its intensity, and he felt himself turning to goo. His body lost all rigidity, all rational thought left his mind, all that mattered was this touch, this warm feeling in his stomach, those hips pressed up against him. It was fortunate that both of them were without their armor, or the sensation would've been severely lacking. "Masrur, you bastard," he hissed, still loving every second of the attention paid to his body. "I..." He thought for a moment, "I can't wait for the day you're on your knees, apologizing for the way you treat me."
And it was almost too much then; Sharrkan felt heat stirring at his abdomen, the sweat beading at his brow as the touch grew in intensity, but Masrur took that as a signal to stop. Sharrkan glared up at him with wide eyes, trembling, ready to protest and argue and inevitably beg for more, but Masrur's next words froze every thought within him.
"As you wish."
Sharrkan was helpless to argue as Masrur knelt before him, eyes level with his waistline, and when nimble fingers went to work at the hem of his pants, all of Sharrkan's protest died on his lips. It was really too much then, the thought of what Masrur would do to him, and before the fanalis could so much as touch him again Sharrkan came and collapsed to his knees in a shuddering heap in Masrur's arms.
Masrur held him there, trembling and heaving and flushed in his arms, and once the euphoria had faded enough, Sharrkan's first thought was of complete humiliation. Even in this, he could not be good enough; a few touches and Masrur's hips against his and Sharrkan was rendered a complete and utter mess. It was embarrassing; Masrur hadn't even broken a sweat, and Sharrkan knew that he couldn't compare to this, he couldn't be such a passionate lover, he couldn't make anyone feel this way. He had loved it, every second of it, but Sharrkan knew that he couldn't be good enough for Masrur.
"I... I should go," Sharrkan managed, heaving and out of breath, but when he tried to stand Masrur took him by the arm.
"Like that?" He asked, and Sharrkan looked down at himself only for his flush to deepen at the sight of himself.
"Fuck, I-"
"You still have to do the same for me." The whisper was low and deep, and Sharrkan shuddered at the husky voice.
"You'd really want that?"
The voice was warmer and lower, and Sharrkan felt the hairs on his neck stand up at the words. "I want you."
Sharrkan was on him again, panting and heaving and hands roaming across Masrur's skin, and Masrur responded with twice the vigor, hands at Sharrkan's hips, eagerly reciprocating the fiery touch.
Even if someone might have seen them, even if Sharrkan wouldn't be able to walk for a week, he didn't regret a thing.