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Polnareff was never one to hide his emotions. At least, not the easier to deal with ones. In everyone else’s eyes, he was like an open book that read aloud the scripts with full and brazen confidence, and so easily predictable. And that assumption might’ve been true, if not for the deep sadness in his heart.
Chérie was his whole world. And in one night, she was gone. He had no one left. Nobody to turn to. Nobody to love. But that of all changed when he met Muhammad Avdol.
To Polnareff, Avdol was… Avdol. There was no singular word he could use to describe the man and how he felt about him. He was a phenomenal person, a shining example of the kind of person someone would want to be. Very caring, thoughtful, with a strong sense of duty and loyalty, and not without his childish antics. His presence was comfortably warm most often, which gave him a sense of safety and security no other person could bring.
And there were also times when it was stifling hot.
“—you can’t keep throwing yourself into danger like that. Regardless of whether I was alive or not, regardless of how many of us die, you need to keep living.”
Avdol stood firmly in front of Polnareff, his posture rigid as he crossed his arms and shot the other man a stern look.
Like a couple of idiots, Avdol and Polnareff were having another squabble. Avdol spoke in a hushed tone, careful as he kept in mind they were inside of a hotel. Polnareff did not so much.
“Don’t give me that bullshit. I thought you were dead for weeks. And not once did anybody bother to tell me you were okay.” Polnareff turned away sharply, eyes watering. “‘Because you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut around the enemy.’ That’s what they said.”
“Polnareff—“
“Don’t. It’s true, isn’t it?”
“It’s not what you think.” Avdol swallowed.
“Don’t lie to me.” Polnareff gritted his teeth.
“Polnareff, I’m not—“
“Then why would they say it?! Why would they keep it from me? You can’t tell me otherwise! I’m not trusted.” A tear slipped down Polnareff’s cheek. He hardly noticed.
Avdol’s forehead creased. “Polnareff, I trust you—“
“But they don’t!”
“They do! They just think you’re—“
“What, overbearing? Impulsive? I know! I know. I know I’m a lot of things. But I would never do anything that would ever put you in danger. I’d rather die.”
Avdol paused for a moment, a flicker of something Polnareff couldn’t quite place flashing in his eyes before they softened entirely.
“I know,” Avdol murmured, breath warm, and then Polnareff realized the other man’s hand was resting on his waist, and their lips were a hairsbreadth away. Just how did they get there? “I know, Jean.”
Polnareff’s eyes flitted over Avdol’s face, taking in his soft expression and kind eyes. Something uncomfortable tugged in his gut, a strange mix of butterflies and nausea. His heart raced. What were they doing? What was he doing? His eyes dropped to Avdol’s lips before snapping back up. He wanted so badly to close the distance between them. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence. He didn’t have a clue what Avdol was thinking behind those eyes. And that scared him.
“Muhammad,” Polnareff tasted the name on his tongue, and it felt right. He could have sworn he saw the other man’s pulse jump in his throat. His eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. “Your… hand.”
Avdol blinked, pulling his hand away sharply, as if stung. Averting his head to the side, to hide the dark blush that had taken over his cheeks, he stuck his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Apologies.”
Polnareff felt a bitter pang of loss of the warmth of Avdol’s hand, the closeness he had felt before.
“You don’t need to.” He rubbed his upper arm, suddenly colder than before. “It’s late.”
“Yes,” Avdol said breathlessly, turning to his twin bed on the other side of the room. “We should get some rest.”
Polnareff nodded, and the two climbed into their respective beds without another word, facing away from each other. The only sound that filled the space now was the soft whistle of the room’s air conditioning and the occasional rustle of fabric.
Neither of them fell asleep quickly.
***
Magican’s Red was the first to emerge. Its ember eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the room as it scanned its surroundings, pausing at the sight of Polnareff’s sleeping form. Then, patiently, as if waiting, it sat back on its haunches, watching Polnareff’s breath gradually slow down.
It didn’t take more than a minute for Silver Chariot to materialize. The orange glow of Magician’s Red painted the armored stand in a soft glow as it stretched its lithe body out in the air. Hunger burned in the bird stand’s eyes that regarded Silver with a questioning stare. Silver set down its rapier on the side of the bed and took a step towards Red, inclining its head in answer.
That was all the confirmation Red needed to surge forward, sliding its hands over the knobs on the upper sides of Silver’s thighs, as if resting its hands on the other’s hips. It craned its neck, beak clicking against Silver Chariot’s mouth guard in an awkward kiss.
Magican’s Red scrapped that idea, ghosting its beak along the knight’s neck and leaving a wet trail with its tongue. Silver Chariot’s limbs creaked in time with its shudder, as did Polnareff in his sleep. Red marveled in the way its tongue left a shine on the metal, and like a real bird, felt a strange obsession with this shiny silver kick in.
The phoenix gripped its hips tighter, nails screeching on the metal of the knobs while its tongue slithered under Silver’s crotch guard and lasciviously stroked the wires inside.
Polnareff let out a soft moan in his sleep, and Silver Chariot arched forward. Much like its user, its hips were bucking desperately, as Magician’s Red continued its sensual attack on its wires.
The bird trilled with amusement, lust hooded eyes looking up at the knight that writhed under its tongue. Unknowingly, its flames had spread to its hands, still resting on Silver’s hips. The heat spread all across Chariot’s body. First as a nice sort of warm sensation, before the metal under Red’s hands became too hot.
Polnareff yelped in his sleep, whining and instinctively flinching away, which caused Silver Chariot to do the same. Magician’s Red immediately extinguished the flames, drawing its head back and giving the knight an apologetic look. It cupped Silver’s masked jaw, stroking a taloned thumb over the cooling metal with a sad chirp.
Chariot’s eyes smiled, and Red relaxed, tweeting and leaning in for another awkward kiss where its beak clacked against the mouth guard.
Silver Chariot let out a surprised “hora!” as their hips met and Magican’s Red’s feathered cock rubbed against the inside of its metal thighs. Its warmth radiated into the armor and to its still-sensitive wires, sending tiny shocks all throughout its body. The phoenix met the knight’s eyes, clucking and nudging its chin with its beak. Chariot gave a nod of consent, and Red didn’t hesitate.
It hooked its arms around Silver’s back, lowering it down to a lying position on the floor while hooking its legs around the other’s hips in a straddling position. Then slowly at first, it began to move, its cock slipping between the metal thighs that were beginning to warm up.
Much like Avdol would, Magician’s Red started gently, almost reverent in its touch, allowing Silver Chariot time to adjust to it. Red did not let up, in spite of the overwhelming urge to thrust hard into the warmth of those thighs. It was getting increasingly difficult for it to remain level headed, its talons gripping harder onto Chariot’s hips. Avdol grunted in his sleep.
Polnareff gave a guttural whine, and when Magician’s Red looked into Silver Chariot’s eyes, it saw two beautiful blue pools of desperation. Silver latched needily to Red, making pleading “horas” as it ground its hips against the bird.
With a strained cluck, Red instantly picked up the pace, fucking into Chariot’s thighs with an animalistic desire bordering on obsession. Silver threw its head back, eyes rolling around in their sockets as muffled clanks filled the room.
Red hit the knight’s sensitive wires with each thrust, over and over again, flooding heat and tingles all throughout its armor. Silver cried out, clutching to the phoenix like a lifeline as an endless stream of overwhelming sensations flooded its body. Magician’s Red held the other’s shaking form close to its chest as it got in a few final thrusts of its hips.
With a string of broken caws, Red came between Chariot’s thighs. The hot, white cum splattered inside the armor, leaking down Silver’s wires and making it shudder once more.
Panting, Magician’s Red rested its forehead on Silver Chariot’s shoulder, its grip loosening. It slumped over, pulling Chariot into its lap and peppering beak kisses across the knight’s shiny chest.
Silver’s metal face heated up at the action, and Red gave as much as a smug smirk as its beak would allow.
Exhaustion flooded both of their bodies as they leaned into the comfort of each others bodies, slowly dematerializing back into their users while the two men in the room slept more soundly than they did before.
***
Polnareff stretched languidly, feeling oddly sweaty. It had been quite chilly that night, and the blanket on his bed wasn’t exactly thick. He glanced over at Avdol, who was sitting up in his own bed, flipping through a book about insects.
His heart skipped a beat like he was a silly schoolboy who just saw his crush, before he averted his gaze to his lap.
Avdol, perceptive as he was, glanced up over his reading glasses, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.
“Good morning, Jean.”
Polnareff choked, blushing at the way he said his name. It was so sultry, so sinful. Polnareff was nearly wet in his pants. He cleared his throat, standing up awkwardly and scratching the back of his neck.
“Morning,” he grumbled out, heading to the bathroom immediately. He dropped his pants to his ankles, plopping down on the toilet seat. Like routine, he whistled as he peed, swinging his legs and glancing around the pristine bathroom. Silently thankful this toilet wasn’t trying to murder him.
Polnareff stood in front of the mirror when he was done washing his hands, combing up his hair with copious amounts of gel.
As he turned to leave, he hit his hip on the counter, feeling a strange burning sensation where he did. With a frown, he lifted his shirt to check his hips. Then yelped.
“Mon dieu!” Polnareff shouted, stumbling back into the wall.
There on his hips were two red marks in the shape of handprints.
“Merde, merde, merde!”
“Polnareff!” Avdol swung the door open. “Wh—“
He froze as his eyes dropped to the marks on Polnareff’s hips. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.
“What the fuck.”