Work Text:
The scent of warm chocolate and something else, something subtly floral yet musky, clung to the air in the Cleaner headquarters' kitchen.
Riyo hummed, a low, pleased sound escaping her lips as she pulled a tray of brownies from the oven. The tops were a rich, dark brown, crinkled like ancient parchment, promising gooey centers. She set the pan on a wire rack, the heat radiating off it warming her face. These weren't just any brownies. These were happy brownies, laced with a potent aphrodisiac she’d carefully acquired. A little experiment, a little fun. She needed them to cool, just a bit, before she could cut them.
A soft thud from the living room drew her attention. Probably Rudo, clumsy as ever. She turned, leaving the brownies unguarded for a moment, to investigate.
The kitchen door swung open just as Riyo's back disappeared around the corner. Zanka, his mind already drifting through the day's tasks, wandered in, a faint aroma pulling him deeper into the room. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, softened as they landed on the pan. Brownies. Fresh. A rare treat. Without a second thought, his fingers reached out. He plucked two, their warmth a pleasant surprise against his skin, and took a bite from one as he exited, a soft sigh escaping him.
Riyo returned, a frown etching itself between her brows. The brownies. Two were gone. A small, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her.
“Hey!” she called out,
her voice carrying through the headquarters. “Did anyone touch the brownies?”
Silence.
She moved from room to room, her gaze sweeping over each person. Enjin sat in the common area, meticulously polishing Umbreaker, its metallic surfaces gleaming.
“Enjin, did you eat any brownies?”
He looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Brownies? No. Why?”
“Just asking.” Her voice was tight.
She found Tamsy in a quiet corner, Tokushin, his small wooden yarn winder, resting on his lap as he untangled a particularly stubborn knot in a length of shimmering thread. His eyes, usually distant, met hers with an unreadable expression.
“Tamsy, did you take any brownies from the kitchen?”
He shook his head slowly, his gaze returning to the thread. “No. I haven’t been in the kitchen.”
Rudo. Her eyes narrowed. He was the most likely culprit. She found him in the training room, practicing his moves with a discarded pipe he’d undoubtedly transformed into a makeshift sword with his Gloves. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
“Rudo, did you eat the brownies I left cooling in the kitchen?”
He paused, lowering the pipe, his chest heaving. “Nah, Riyo. Haven’t seen any brownies. Why, you make some?”
Riyo’s jaw tightened. This was unexpected. Who then? Her eyes scanned the room, then the hallway. Zanka. She hadn't seen him yet.
She found him in the small lounge area, slumped against a plush armchair. His usual composure had vanished. His face was flushed, a deep rose color spreading from his neck to his hairline. His breathing, usually even and controlled, came in soft, quick gasps, his chest rising and falling with a subtle rhythm.
His eyes, usually a clear, intelligent blue, were now hazy, unfocused, a shimmering depth in their depths. A soft, almost inaudible hum vibrated from his throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated contentment. He looked like he’d stepped into another dimension, utterly lost in sensation.
Riyo’s eyes widened, a slow dawning horror mixing with a flicker of perverse fascination. The happy brownies. Zanka.
Oh, no.
Enjin walked in then, his Umbrella still in hand, its polished surface catching the light. He stopped short, his upbeat demeanor faltering as he took in Zanka’s state.
“Zanka?”
Enjins voice held a note of concern, a question mark hanging in the air. “What’s wrong with him?”
Riyo swallowed, her gaze fixed on Zanka’s blissful, vacant expression.
“He… he might have eaten my brownies.”
Enjin’s eyes, usually so bright, clouded with confusion. “Brownies? What kind of brownies?”
“The… special kind.” Riyo’s cheeks warmed, a blush spreading across her face.
Enjin’s gaze sharpened, moving between Riyo’s flushed face and Zanka’s languid, almost boneless form. He understood. A low whistle escaped his lips.
“Oh. Oh.”
Tamsy arrived, drawn by Enjin’s exclamation, his usual stoic mask cracking slightly as he saw Zanka. His eyes, always so discerning, narrowed, taking in the rapid rise and fall of Zanka's chest, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the almost painful flush of his skin. An uncharacteristic flicker crossed Tamsy's face, a predatory glint in his gaze.
“He seems… affected,” Tamsy observed, his voice a low purr.
“Affected is an understatement,” Riyo muttered, running a hand through her fiery hair. “He’s practically melting.”
Enjin moved closer to Zanka, a gentle hand resting on the boy’s shoulder. Zanka didn’t flinch, merely leaned into the touch, a soft groan escaping him.
“Zanka,” Enjin said, his voice soft, almost soothing. “Can you hear me?”
Zanka’s eyelids fluttered, his hazy gaze briefly meeting Enjin’s, then drifting away, lost in some private ecstasy. He hummed again, a deeper, more resonant sound this time.
“We need to get him somewhere comfortable,” Enjin decided, looking around the lounge. “The couch.”
Together, Enjin and Riyo carefully maneuvered Zanka onto the long, plush sofa. He settled in, his body molding to the cushions, his head lolling back. His legs were splayed, his hands resting loosely on his thighs, fingers twitching. He continued to hum, a wordless melody of pure pleasure.
Just then, Rudo sauntered in, a bright red popsicle clutched in his hand, its sugary scent mingling with the lingering chocolate and the new, potent aroma emanating from Zanka. He licked the frozen treat with gusto, oblivious to the charged atmosphere.
“What’s up with Zanka?” Rudo asked, his mouth full.
Riyo snatched the popsicle from his hand before he could take another lick. “Hey!” Rudo protested, his eyes wide.
“Give it here,” Riyo ordered, her voice firm. She turned to Zanka, holding the popsicle in front of his face.
“Zanka. Want this?”
Zanka’s humming paused. His eyes slowly focused on the vibrant red. A spark of recognition, or perhaps just instinct, flickered in their depths. His lips parted, a soft sound escaping him, a little more than a hum, less than a word.
“He wants it,” Tamsy murmured, his voice a low rumble.
Riyo placed the popsicle gently into Zanka’s outstretched hand. His fingers, usually so agile and precise, fumbled slightly, but he managed to grasp it. He brought it to his lips, his movements slow, deliberate, as if each action was a profound discovery.
He licked the cold, sweet surface. His eyes closed, a soft sigh escaping him. The flush on his face deepened, and a tiny bead of melted red liquid dripped down his chin, glistening against his flushed skin. He made a soft, almost moaning sound, a pure expression of delight. The popsicle was the only thing in his world. He licked it again, methodically, his tongue tracing the contours of the frozen treat.
Rudo, Enjin, and Riyo watched, transfixed. Tamsy’s gaze was particularly intense, a strange, hungry glint in his eyes. The air in the room thickened, charged with an unspoken tension.
Zanka continued his slow, sensual assault on the popsicle. More liquid ran down his chin, tracing a path to his neck. He didn’t seem to notice, lost in the sensations. His lips, usually a pale, firm line, were now slightly parted, glistening. Each lick was accompanied by a soft, almost involuntary sound, a low murmur of pleasure that vibrated through the room.
He devoured the entire popsicle, leaving only the bare stick. He held it for a moment, his fingers still wrapped around it, then his hand dropped, the stick clattering softly to the floor.
A shiver ran through his body. His eyes snapped open, wide and unfocused, then narrowed slightly. He groaned, a deeper, more guttural sound this time.
“It’s so hot,”
he rasped, his voice thick, unfamiliar.
“So hot.”
His hands went to the hem of his tunic. With slow, clumsy movements, he began to pull it up. The fabric bunched around his chest, revealing a strip of pale, taut skin. His fingers fumbled with the ties, his breathing becoming heavier, more ragged.
“Zanka, what are you doing?”
Riyo asked, a hint of panic in her voice.
He ignored her, his entire focus on the oppressive heat. The tunic came loose, slipping off one shoulder, then the other. It hung precariously around his waist, half-on, half-off, before he gave up the struggle. A frustrated groan tore from his throat.
He flopped sideways and twisted his body, his body slumping onto the couch, his butt rising slightly in the air, his head buried in the cushions of the couch. His legs twitched. He writhed for a moment, a low, continuous moan escaping his lips, a sound of raw discomfort mixed with something else, something primal and needy.
“He’s really feeling it,” Enjin observed, his voice a little strained. He looked at Riyo, a silent question in his eyes.
Riyo just shook her head, her face a mixture of embarrassment and a strange, almost morbid curiosity.
Zanka continued to writhe, his body a restless landscape of desire and discomfort. The air around him seemed to shimmer with the heat he radiated. He pushed himself up, his movements uncoordinated, a low grunt escaping him. He looked around, his hazy eyes settling on Enjin.
With a strange, crawling motion, he dragged himself across the couch, his hands splayed, his knees pushing him forward. He reached Enjin’, then slowly, deliberately, pulled himself onto Enjin’s lap.
Enjin stiffened, a surprised gasp escaping him. Zanka settled in, his body press against Enjin’s chest, his head resting on Enjin’s shoulder. A sigh of pure, unadulterated pleasure escaped him. He hummed again, a soft, contented sound, his body relaxing against Enjin’s.
Enjin’s face was a mask of shock, then a slow, crimson blush crept up his neck. He looked at Riyo, then Tamsy, a silent plea for help in his eyes.
Tamsy, who had been watching Zanka with an almost clinical intensity, now moved. He pulled another popsicle from a small cooler he seemed to have conjured from thin air, its wrapper gleaming. He unwrapped it slowly, deliberately, the crinkle of the plastic a loud sound in the sudden silence of the room.
He held it up, the vibrant blue of the frozen treat a stark contrast to his pale fingers.
He patted his lap, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.
“Zanka,”
he purred, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Come here.”
Zanka’s head lifted from Enjin’s shoulder. His hazy eyes found Tamsy, then the popsicle. The humming stopped. He stirred, a low whine escaping him, then slowly, reluctantly, he began to disentangle himself from Enjin’s lap.
He crawled towards Tamsy, his movements still languid, but with a new, almost desperate urgency. He reached Tamsy, and without hesitation, pulled himself onto his lap, his body pressing against Tamsy’s.
Tamsy arm wrapped around Zanka’s waist, holding him close. He brought the popsicle to Zanka’s lips, but instead of offering it directly, he held it just out of reach, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Zanka whimpered, a soft, needy sound. His lips parted, his tongue darting out, trying to catch the elusive treat. Tamsy pulled it back a fraction, then offered it again, his lips curving into a subtle, almost cruel smile.
“Want it, Zanka?”
Tamsy’s voice was a low murmur, a silken thread of sound.
Zanka nodded frantically, his eyes wide, pleading. He made a soft, guttural sound of frustration.
Tamsy chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through Zanka’s body. He continued to tease, raising the popsicle, pulling it away, making Zanka chase it with his lips and tongue.
Finally, Zanka had enough. A frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. His hands shot out, grasping Tamsy’s wrist with surprising strength. He pulled Tamsy’s hand, and the popsicle, towards him.
Then, with a sudden, decisive movement, he opened his mouth wide and took the entire popsicle into his mouth, deep throating it in one swift motion. The sound was a wet, sucking gasp, a deep, resonant *slurp* that echoed in the stunned silence of the room. His eyes were closed again, his body arching slightly against Tamsy’s as he savored the intense cold and sweetness.
Everyone watched, frozen. Riyo’s jaw hung open, her eyes wide with shock. Rudo, who had been trying to retrieve his lost popsicle, stared, his own mouth agape. Enjin, still flushed from Zanka’s previous proximity, looked utterly aghast, Tamsy looking at him with hunger.
Zanka, oblivious to the stunned silence, continued his sensual assault on the popsicle. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, a faint squelching sound accompanying his efforts. He pulled it out, then plunged it back in, his head tilting back, his throat working. A soft groan escaped him, a sound of pure, unadulterated bliss. The blue liquid dripped from the corners of his mouth, staining his chin. He moaned, a low, drawn-out sound that seemed to pull at something deep within the observers.
He finished the popsicle, leaving only the bare stick, which he then let fall from his lips. A satisfied sigh escaped him, his body slumping against Tamsy’s. He looked utterly spent, his eyes half-closed, his breathing soft and even once more.
He stirred, a soft, contented sound escaping him. He pushed himself into tamsy more as he cuddled and nestled into tamsy.
A soft snore escaped him. Zanka was asleep, lost in the sweet, dreamless slumber of a man utterly sated.
The three remaining Cleaners stared at Zanka’s sleeping form, then at each other, a myriad of unspoken questions hanging in the air. The faint scent of chocolate, aphrodisiac, and melting popsicle still lingered, a potent reminder of the afternoon’s unexpected events. They were left to figure out their problems, while Zanka slept, oblivious