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The forest smelt of pinewood and the musk of untouched soil, a raw scent that clung to the air and filled Fuse’s lungs with something cleaner than he was used to. It was a far cry from the thick tang of smoke, blood, and rust that usually followed him around.
Talos was a pleasant change of scenery. A place that didn’t hum with the constant buzz of machinery or the occasional boom of something blowing up. It wasn’t as loud or as reckless as Salvo—nothing ever really was—but it had its own quiet kind of charm.
He and Bloodhound had agreed to take a trip back to the hunter’s homeland for the off-season. Fuse hadn’t known what to expect; maybe something cold and grey, like the tone Hound used whenever they spoke of such things. Instead, the land met him with soft color and a stillness that wasn’t empty. The air always seemed to carry the faint scent of mildew, even when the skies were not raining, and the little village they stayed in was full of life: laughter, children’s voices, the easy rhythm of people who were content.
They’d arrived the night before, and already Fuse was glad they’d made the trip. It wasn’t just the change of pace; it was the way Hound smiled here, the way nostalgia softened their usually sharp gaze.
Now, as dawn crept up over the trees, Fuse found himself following them through the forest. The ground was soft and damp, each step sinking slightly into the moss and loam. The morning air bit faintly at his skin—not unpleasantly, just enough to remind him he was far from the desert heat he grew up with.
He adjusted the strap of the small pack slung over his shoulder, whistling low under his breath. “Gotta say, love, your homeland’s a real beaut. Bit on the quiet side, sure, but I can see why you’d want to come back here.”
Bloodhound hummed in mild agreement, walking a step ahead of him. They weren’t in full gear out here, just loose trousers, boots, and a soft tunic with the sleeves rolled to their elbows. Their mask stayed on, but without the heavy filters, their voice came clearer, warmer. “I would agree,” they said at last, tone calm but amused, “though I fear my opinion would be quite biased, no?”
Fuse chuckled. “Nothin’s biased with you, Houndy.”
It was early morning, and Fuse had insisted they go on a hunt—and who was Bloodhound to deny him that? The birds chirped lazily as they walked.
“Well then,” they replied, glancing back at him, “this place is one I cherish. It made me who I am. I would be a different person if I had been raised elsewhere.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Fuse said with a grin, stepping over a fallen branch. “But if we’d met on Salvo, we could’ve been married already, what, ten years ago?”
A quiet laugh escaped them—rare, but real. “You have a way with words, kæri.”
He flashed a grin, slowing his stride to walk beside them. “Only when I’m tryin’ to impress you.”
“You succeed more often than you fail,” Hound said softly. “Though I will not tell you which occasions are which.”
Fuse barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re cruel, you know that?”
“I have been called worse.”
They continued along the trail, Hound guiding them through the dense brush. Each carried a rifle, though Fuse admitted, if only to himself, that the morning walk was what he’d really wanted. Hunting was the excuse.
The air bit at his reddened cheeks, crisp and bitter, and the breeze threaded through the trees with a sound that almost sang. Fuse shivered once, pulling his jacket tighter, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The cold here felt alive.
After a while, they’d strayed from any real path, the rhythm of walking overtaking the purpose of it.
Hound slowed first, lowering their rifle. “I doubt we will find anything to kill,” they said softly. “Too early. The forest still sleeps.”
Fuse smiled, coming up beside them. “Well, hey—least we got some steps in, right? We can try again in a few hours when everything’s up and about.”
“You make a convincing point, mitt Walter.” Hound’s gaze swept across the trees, soft with thought. “It has been too long since I have walked through these woods without purpose. I have missed this.”
“Then now’s the time, eh? A little romantic stroll through the woods.” He grinned, brushing his thumb against his nose, the cold numbing him. “You get a moment of peace, I get to brag I walked beside the best damn tracker in the Outlands. Win-win.”
Bloodhound chuckled quietly, a sound so faint Fuse almost missed it. “You flatter me.”
Fuse was about to reply when something caught his eye off the path—a patch of color glinting through the undergrowth. He slowed, squinting.
A cluster of flowers sat half-shaded beneath a tree. Orchids, maybe, but stranger: violet petals threaded with a faint green luminescence, their stems a deep plum hue. The air around them seemed faintly hazy, the light curling in lazy trails that reminded him of smoke after a detonation.
“Now what’ve we got here…” he muttered, crouching down. He brushed a calloused finger along one of the petals. It was soft, too soft, almost waxy. A faint shimmer clung to his fingertips.
“Hey, mate,” he called out, plucking a few stems. “Look at these beauties. Not exactly my color, but they’re a gem, huh?”
Hound turned, the faint tilt of their head betraying mild curiosity. But as soon as they saw what Fuse held, they froze.
“Walter,” their voice sharpened, controlled but firm, “put those down. Núna.”
Fuse blinked. “What? They’re just flowers, love. Don’t look dangerous to me.”
“Do not breathe near them,” Hound said quickly, closing the distance between them. Fuse could see the way their eyes frowned behind their lenses. “You should not have touched them at all.”
Fuse frowned, glancing at his fingers. “You’re scarin’ me now. They poisonous?”
“Not in the way you think.” Hound took a slow step forward, voice dropping lower. “These grow only in sacred areas. They are called Ástarreykur. It means… love-smoke.”
Fuse raised an eyebrow, a half-smile flickering despite their tone. “Love-smoke? Sounds more like a cheap perfume than a threat.”
Hound sighed, clearly not sharing the humor. “It is a plant that releases spores—a pollen that alters the mind and body. It was once used in rituals, to weaken restraint, heighten desire.”
Fuse blinked again, his grin faltering slightly. The flowers sounded like they were from some porno. “You’re sayin’ I just gave myself a bloody aphrodisiac?”
“It would seem so.”
He looked down at his hand, still dusted with faint shimmer from the plants. “Ah. Well, that’s… new.”
Hound exhaled through their mask, the sound edged with exasperation. “You must wash your hands at once. There is a stream nearby. If you inhale much more, the effect will,” they paused, searching for the right word, “begin to manifest.”
“Manifest?” Fuse repeated, a bit too cheerfully. “You mean—”
“Yes.”
Fuse whistled low, scratching the back of his neck. “Bloody hell. I only meant to pick you a flower, love. Didn’t think it’d try to seduce me first.”
Despite themselves, Hound’s tone softened. “Your intentions were kind, if… misdirected.”
He grinned weakly, standing. “Well, you always say I’ve got a talent for trouble.”
“I did not mean it as a challenge.”
“Too late for that.”
Hound shook their head slightly, turning to lead him toward the sound of running water in the distance. “Come quickly, before you grow any more foolish.”
“Too late for that, too.”
Hound didn’t respond this time, though Fuse swore he heard a quiet laugh under their breath as they walked.
The path sloped gently downward, the sound of running water growing faintly through the trees. Fuse could feel it before he even saw it—a hot, restless buzz under his skin that made him shift with nausea. Every breath felt heavier, every step lighter, and the world around him seemed sharper, softer, and more alive.
Bloodhound’s pace slowed as they approached the stream. They turned to look at him, voice low but threaded with care. “Walter,” they said firmly, “you must be mindful. You have inhaled too much. Do not act the fool.”
Fuse grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Act the fool? Me? Nah, I’m far too serious for that, love.”
“You are a fool,” Hound said, exasperation hiding behind calm. “Yet somehow, I cannot stay angry with you. I suppose that is… your talent.”
He laughed, stepping closer as heat crept up his chest. The sensation was like a low-burning itch he couldn’t scratch, gnawing at him insistently. “Talent, eh? I’ll take it. Though I think you secretly like it when I am a fool.”
Hound’s mask tilted slightly, and the faint rise of their shoulders betrayed the smallest smile. “Perhaps I do. But do not mistake tolerance for indulgence.”
Fuse chuckled, brushing a hand along a tree trunk for balance, feeling his knees threaten to buckle. “Ah, noted. Tolerance, not indulgence. Careful with your words, love, or I might start thinkin’ I’m in trouble.”
“You are reckless,” Hound murmured, stepping closer, a hand brushing near his shoulder to steady him. “And your body… your pulse is far too eager.”
Fuse felt the heat spike at their touch and words, coughing softly through a grin. “Eager, am I? Can’t help it if your forest’s got me on… you know.” He gestured vaguely downwards, voice shaky with both humor and the buzzing heat crawling through him.
Hound’s tone softened, but remained firm. “You are already foolish for touching things you do not understand, and you are making it worse for yourself. We should return to the village after you are finished cleaning yourself.”
Fuse took the hint and knelt beside the stream, letting the flowing water soothe the hammering in his chest. He felt nauseous, and somehow the cool water didn’t offer as much comfort as he hoped. Every so often, he could feel his lover’s gaze burning into his back, steady and unyielding.
Cupping water from the stream, he splashed it over his hands, trying to wash away the sickly-sweet haze clinging to his skin. The water hit cold against his arms, stinging in a way that made him flinch, but he forced himself to continue.
The more he poured, the more the strange, itchy heat seemed to trail along his skin. His mind buzzed with the uncomfortable mix of burning and tingling, and he could just barely make out Hound’s voice calling from behind him. He chose to ignore it, trying to focus on the stream.
Unable to resist any longer, he clawed at his arms, the intensity of the sensation overtaking him. When he looked down, he realized the metal of his arm had drawn blood. Panicking, he ducked his head into the stream. The cold water offered temporary relief, washing sweat from his face and muffling the world for a few precious seconds.
When he lifted his head, the water dripping down his face, Hound was beside him, hand resting lightly but firmly on his thigh. Their gaze was steady, concerned, and unyielding — exactly what he needed.
Fuse tried a trembling smile. “Didn’t know it’d be this bad, hah… fuck.”
“Nei, breathe, Walter,” Hound murmured, voice gentle but commanding.
He focused on his breath, tried to slow it, but the heat thrum under his skin wouldn’t let him. His hands clutched at their thighs reflexively, seeking grounding.
Hound rose, towering over him, their shadow falling across the water. Fuse looked up at them, eyes wide.
“Strip,” they said simply, the command carrying calm authority, but threaded with care.
Fuse blinked. “Love… are you sure you didn’t inhale any of it?”
A soft, flustered chuckle. “I am sure I haven’t. I mean — strip so you can enter the water. It will be better for you.”
Fuse swallowed, a flush spreading across his face — part heat, part nerves, part the ridiculous situation he’d gotten himself into. “Right… well. Guess I can’t argue with that, can I?”
Hound’s gaze held him, steady and unyielding, and for the first time that morning, Fuse felt both foolish and entirely cared for. He gave a shaky, humor-tinged sigh, starting to peel off his outer layers. Hound watched him silently, their hands at their sides, eyes unwavering — and Fuse felt his knees threaten to buckle under the heat coursing through him.
The river met Fuse with a shock of cold as he stepped in, water rising to his waist and splashing against his chest. The burning under his skin refused to subside, each pulse of warmth reminding him of the pollen.
He looked up to see Hound moving with calm, deliberate grace, removing their goggles and mask.
“I will help you,” Hound murmured softly. Their tone was even, but threaded with that unmistakable care that always cut through his humor. They stepped into the water beside him, letting the river cling to their form. “It is not right, seeing you like this, mitt Walter.”
Fuse gave a shaky laugh. “I’d hope not,” he said lightly, though the warmth in his chest betrayed him. Hound’s soft reprimands and careful hands made it impossible to maintain distance, impossible to ignore the intensity of the moment.
They placed their hands gently on his shoulders. “Sitja,” they said, guiding him to the riverbed. The stones pressed beneath him, rough and uneven, but grounding. Hound remained close, their hands still on him, steadying, warm.
Fuse leaned into their touch without thinking, heart hammering. “You know, Houndy,” he said with a weak grin, “if you wanted to do this last night, could’ve just told me.”
Hound’s brows furrowed in mild exasperation, a faint flush coloring their cheeks. “I do not find your jokes amusing at this moment, Fitzroy. Focus on yourself, please. And turn around for me.”
Fuse did as told, turning to face away from his lover. Bloodhound’s hands found his shoulders again, thumbs pressing slow circles into the muscle until his breath began to even out.
“I cannot comprehend the pain you must feel,” they murmured, voice low, close to his ear. “But it will pass soon.”
Fuse tried to laugh, but the sound caught in his throat. The way they touched him — careful, measured, reverent — made him feel both foolish and adored. The rush of heat under his skin was dizzying; the ache of it left him trembling, caught somewhere between discomfort and yearning.
“Mate,” he said at last, his voice cracking on the word. “I— this is driving me mad. Feels like it’s burning straight through me.”
Hound’s hands stilled. The loss of contact felt like the air itself vanished. When he turned, their eyes met — and whatever words he’d meant to say dissolved.
For a moment, they only looked at one another, breath mingling in the thin veil of steam rising from the river. Fuse’s hand lifted, uncertain, and brushed a wet strand of hair away from Hound’s face. The gesture broke the tension; he leaned in without thinking. Their lips met, soft and searching, more plea than passion.
When they parted, Hound’s forehead rested lightly against his. “I was hoping the water would ease the effect,” they murmured. “I do not want you to feel cornered by this… by me.”
Fuse chuckled, interrupting them. “Houndy, I promise I haven't been pressured, we’re married and I think this is the only thing that will relieve the pain.”
Bloodhound chuckled, looking at their lover with adoration. “I know it’s silly, I just know the pollen can manipulate people..”
Fuse cupped their face, brushing hair from their forehead, “I love you mate but I think I'm going to burn alive unless we do something.” Hound firmly nodded before going back to kissing him.
Bloodhound's lips trailed lower, nipping at Fuse's collarbone before their tongue flicked out to lap at the faint mark left behind. Fuse groaned, his fingers digging into Bloodhound's hips, pulling them closer in the embrace of the stream. The water lapped gently around their waists. Bloodhound's hands roamed his sides, thumbs tracing the ridges of his ribs, as if mapping every inch of him.
"Houndy," Fuse murmured, his voice rough with need, "touch me. Please." His cock throbbed under the surface, hard and insistent, brushing against Bloodhound's thigh as they shifted.
Bloodhound lifted their head, eyes locking onto Fuse's with a gaze full of devotion. They sank lower into the water, the current swirling around their bodies as they submerged to their chest.
With a steadying breath, Bloodhound dipped their head under the surface, the river enveloping their face. Bubbles rose as their lips found Fuse's shaft, parting to take the head into their mouth. The water muffled the sounds, but Fuse felt every sensation acutely—the warmth of Bloodhound's tongue pressing against him, sucking gently despite the liquid resistance.
Fuse bucked forward at the contact, a low moan escaping his lips. Bloodhound bobbed their head slowly, base to tip, their mouth gliding over the slick length with care, as if handling something sacred. They surfaced briefly for air, water streaming from their hair and face, eyes meeting Fuse's with unwavering adoration before diving back down. Underwater again, they hollowed their cheeks, the suction intensified by the water's pressure, one hand gripping Fuse's thigh for leverage while the other cupped his balls, rolling them tenderly.
The dual sensation made Fuse's hips jerk, water splashing around them. Bloodhound's movements quickened just a fraction, tongue swirling over the head to lap at the pre-cum even through the river's flow. Fuse's breath came in ragged bursts, the burning lust coiling tighter in his gut. He reached down, mirroring the touch, his hand finding Bloodhound's hardening cock above the water. It twitched in his grasp, thick and warm, and Fuse pumped it with steady pulls, savoring the way Bloodhound's breath hitched upon surfacing for another gasp so desperately. They had tears at the edges of their eyes, or was it water? Either way, it made Fuse melt at the.
"Mine," Bloodhound managed between breaths, pressing their forehead to Fuse's shoulder, kissing the damp skin there before submerging once more to continue the rhythmic sucking.
"You feel so good," Fuse rasped, even though Bloodhound could not hear him through the water, squeezing gently at the base before sliding up again. Bloodhound's hips jerked forward, their mouth growing more urgent.
After a few minutes of mutual stroking, Bloodhound pulled up, their eyes locking with Fuse's. "I want you to feel good, despite the pollen," they said, voice husky. They guided Fuse's hand away, then pressed their bodies together, sliding their thigh between his legs.
Fuse understood immediately, his cock nestling against the firm muscle of Bloodhound's thigh. He thrust forward experimentally, the friction sending sparks up his spine. Bloodhound wrapped their arms around his waist, holding him steady as Fuse began to fuck their thigh in earnest. The water churned around them with each movement, cool against heated skin.
Bloodhound's own cock pressed against Fuse's belly, sliding with the motion. Fuse reached between them again, resuming his strokes on Bloodhound while grinding against their thighs. "Fuck, mate," he gasped, "you... you’re perfect."
Bloodhound hummed, their lips finding Fuse's throat, sucking lightly as they flexed their thigh to increase the pressure. He felt Bloodhound's cock pulse in his hand, their breaths mingling in short, sharp bursts.
Bloodhound's thighs clamped tighter around Fuse's throbbing cock, the cool river water lapping at their joined bodies as they rocked together in the shallow current. The pollen coursed through Fuse like liquid fire, every nerve ending screaming for release, but Bloodhound's steady pressure on his shaft kept the pace deliberate, firm, and unhurried.
Fuse's hips jerked upward, chasing the slick friction between those strong muscles, his pre-cum mixing with the stream's flow to ease the glide.
“Wait, elskan min,” Bloodhound whispered against Fuse's neck, their voice a soothing rumble amidst the rush of water. Bloodhound's free hand cradled the back of Fuse's head, fingers threading through wet strands, holding him close as their lips brushed in tender kisses, Hounds hair sticking to their cheek.
Fuse groaned, his cock pulsing in Bloodhound's grip, the head nudging against the base of their own hard length with each thrust. “Hound... it's too much. I need—“ His words cut off in a gasp as Bloodhound squeezed their thighs, halting the motion just as the coil in Fuse's gut tightened to breaking, letting it throb untouched between the vise of flesh, the denial sharp and exquisite.
Fuse's hands roamed Bloodhound's back, tracing scars and muscles earned from battles shared, pulling them in. “You're killing me here, love,” Fuse panted, but his eyes held nothing but trust, the raw affection mirroring Bloodhound's own.
His lover smiled softly, leaning in to capture Fuse's mouth in a slow, deep kiss, tongues tangling with the taste of river and salt. Breaking away, they trailed their lips downward, nipping at his collarbone before sinking lower into the water. Their hand made its way to Fuse's cock, but only to stroke it between their thighs, resuming the teasing slide—forward and back, never enough to push him over.
Fuse's breaths came in ragged bursts, the pollen amplifying every sensation until his vision blurred. Bloodhound's cock brushed against his thigh in response, equally rigid, begging for attention.
Fuse wrapped his fingers around it without hesitation, stroking in time with Bloodhound's movements, thumb circling the slick tip. A low moan escaped Bloodhound, vibrating through the water as they flexed their thighs again, edging Fuse closer to the precipice before easing off once more.
“Feel me with you,” Bloodhound murmured, their strokes on Fuse matching his own, hands working in tandem. The intimacy wrapped around them like the current, washing away the pollen's frenzy into something shared and sacred. Fuse thrust harder, the friction building anew, his grip tightening on Bloodhound's length, drawing out matching gasps.
Fuse's thrusts into the tight channel of Bloodhound's thighs grew more insistent, the slick slide of his cock against those firm muscles pulling a ragged moan from deep in his chest.
Their hand wrapped around Fuse's base, guiding his length with slow, deliberate pumps that matched the rock of their hips. Fuse's fingers tightened on Bloodhound's cock, stroking from root to tip with a rhythm, thumb pressing into the sensitive underside to draw out a sharp inhale from his partner.
Fuse's free hand slid up Bloodhound's back, fingers grazing lightly over damp skin, pulling him closer until their chests pressed together, hearts hammering in sync. “Hound,” he breathed, voice breaking on the edge of a plea, “I can feel it... so close.”
Bloodhound lifted their head, capturing Fuse's gaze with eyes dark and full of that unwavering care, the kind that had seen them through battles and quiet nights alike. They nodded, lips brushing his in a feather-light kiss before trailing to his ear.
“Together, then,” Bloodhound murmured, their voice a gravelly promise. They flexed their thighs again, squeezing just enough to heighten the friction without overwhelming, letting Fuse's cock glide deeper into the vise.
The water made everything smoother, cooler against the feverish heat of their arousal, and Fuse's hips bucked forward, chasing that perfect pressure. Bloodhound's own length throbbed in his grip, leaking steadily now, the pre-cum slicking his palm as he twisted his wrist on each upstroke.
Fuse dipped his head lower, tongue flicking out to tease one of Bloodhound's nipples, circling the hardened bud before drawing it into his mouth with a soft suck. They arched into it, a gasp escaping as sparks shot straight to their core.
The pollen amplified it all for Fuse. The obscene sounds they made, the relentless squeeze of their thighs, the way they stared at him. Leaning back, their breaths mingled in the frosty air above the water, punctuated by quiet groans and the subtle slap of skin on skin beneath the surface.
The edge crept closer, undeniable now. Fuse's cock swelled between Bloodhound's thighs, the head catching on every forward thrust, sending jolts of pleasure radiating outward. He pumped Bloodhound's shaft harder, feeling it twitch in response, the veins pulsing under his fingers. “Yes... like that,” Bloodhound groaned into the kiss, their thighs parting just a fraction before clamping down again, urging Fuse on without mercy.
Finally, Bloodhound shifted, pressing their forehead to Fuse's, breaths syncing in short, heated puffs. “Now,” they whispered, thighs tightening like a constrictor as they rocked forward hard. Fuse's hand flew over Bloodhound's cock, twisting at the head, and the world narrowed to that point of contact—the slick, unrelenting friction, the shared pulse of arousal.
Fuse came first, a guttural cry tearing from his throat as his cock erupted between Bloodhound's thighs, thick ropes of cum spilling into the river's flow, mixing with the current. The release hit like a wave crashing, the pollen's torment shattering in ecstasy that rippled through every limb.
Bloodhound followed seconds later, their body shuddering against his, cock pulsing in Fuse's fist to paint his thigh and abdomen with hot spurts. A deep moan rumbled from Bloodhound's chest, muffled against Fuse's shoulder as they clung together, riding the aftershocks in the water's gentle sway.
They stayed like that, entwined and spent, the river washing away the evidence of their union while the intimacy lingered.
Fuse's arms wrapped around Bloodhound's waist, holding him close, lips pressing soft kisses to his temple. “Sorry about all the.. flower stuff, mate.” Fuse murmured, voice hoarse but filled with love.
Bloodhound snorted, nuzzling into his neck, their hands tracing lazy patterns on his back. The burning in Fuse died down, the raw feeling being replaced with solace. “Next time, look, don’t touch random glowing flowers, yes?”
Fuse hummed, “Tempting offer you make, but where’s the fun in that?”
Bloodhound deadpanned, their eyes drilling holes into Fuse. “Nei, you say nei. You will not touch them flowers again— any for that matter.”
Fuse huffed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Well then, you wanna buy a leash for me too? Is this how Artur feels when he’s bein’ scolded?”
They swatted lightly at the back of his head but couldn’t hide their grin. “You are far worse than Artur!”
They both made their way out the water, changing back into their clothes and wringing out hair. They didn’t have anything to dry themselves with, the two of them being reminiscent of wet dogs.
Once changed, Fuse gathered up their rifles and the small pack, slinging them across his shoulder. He looked over at Bloodhound with a half-smirk. “Think your folks’ll be curious why we’re showin’ up lookin’ like we wrestled the river?”
“I doubt they will care,” Hound replied, straight-faced but with a hint of amusement in their tone. “They already know you are… quite special.”
Fuse gasped dramatically. “Aw—hey, now!”
Bloodhound’s laugh slipped out, soft and fond. “Come. We will return home. You need rest… and perhaps tea. My people would say it cures foolishness.”
“Tea, huh?” Fuse grinned, brushing some hair from his face. “Guess I could use a cup of that.”
They started back toward the village, the forest quieting around them again. The air still smelled of pine and damp earth, and the stream murmured softly behind them. Fuse looked over his shoulder once more at the cluster of strange flowers glowing faintly beneath the trees. They were quite beautiful.