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Nozel drummed his fingers against his glass, irritation simmering under his skin. Idiots! I am surrounded by idiots. He and his posse of magic knight friends- mostly Silver Eagles and Crimson Lions- were gathered in the Vermillion’s wine cellar to celebrate Nozel’s promotion to senior rank. To his sincerest agony, the location had become their go-to meeting place when it came to boyish revelry, and he had been deprived of the choice in location for his own party. As if that weren’t enough, he had noticed the appearance of the box of pocky early on in the evening and, knowing that interacting too much with it would bring it undo attention, knocked it with a bit of mercury between the barrels of wine. No good would come of it, he assumed; it was too strange to find in such a place, and that meant it had been placed , and THAT meant that the eldest Vermillion was meddling. At least, that was where Nozel’s paranoid, then buzzed and later drunken mind went.
But then fucking Nils Ragus dug it up. This was the idiot’s first and last invitation to one of Nozel’s friendly gatherings. “Hey guys, look,” he said brightly, holding up the box. “I’ve never seen something like this before.”
“Ah, pocky. My sister has become quite fond of it since she brought it back from the east,” Fuegoleon said, sounding less drunk than Nozel guessed he was.
Nozel was shaking with rage- this was as damning evidence as he needed to know that this was some kind of trap. “It looks like peasant food. Of course she would be fond of it.”
“Oh, so this is what the game is about!” Ruben said, snatching the box from Nils’s hand.
“Game?” Fuegoleon asked.
Nozel said, [softly,] “Don’t.” But it was too late.
“Yeah, the pocky game!” Ruben tore the lid off the box and ripped open a package before removing a slender biscuit stick. Most of it was dipped in pink frosting, and the scent of strawberries mingled with wine and young adult spirit. “You have two people start eating at either end, and the first to pull away loses.”
Fuegoleon curiously lifted a brow. Nozel was seething.
“That sounds like fun!” Nils guffawed. “Let’s do it!” The other boys, drunk and stupid, eagerly agreed.
Oh, he wouldn’t just be uninvited. Nozel was going to kill him. Now they were playing a game that was completely unwinnable. Nozel’s gaze flickered to Fuegoleon. The Vermillion’s eyes were smoldering softly instead of their usual bright burn, and he had an amused smile. This was a contest in shamelessness. He knew no shame. There was no way he could lose.
Ruben put the pink dipped end of the stick between his lips and turned around the room, challenging. Nils caught him by the shoulders and latched on. Nozel was practically seeing red as they nibbled toward each other. He turned and stomped to the other side of the room, violently disinterested in the outcome. His fate was already sealed. He could hear the giggling, the chatter, the excited "Ooh!"s whenever a match in their idiotic tournament was close.
Nozel had his forehead laying on the table they had dragged down there, his ass on an overturned barrel, and a completely empty glass in hand, hoping that the inevitable would not come, when there was a plaintive nudge to his shoulder. It was Nils. Oh gods, this poor boy's face was going to be a pavlovian trigger for blind rage in the eldest Silva for the rest of his life. "Nozel," he slurred, "you're the Silver Eagle's last hope!"
"Am I?" Nozel hissed venomously, looking at him from the corner of his eye.
Nils squirmed under his gaze and maybe his mana. Nozel wasn't even trying to keep it in check. "Fuegoleon won't give in. Please…" He fell to his knees with such desperation you would think there were lives on the line and clutched Nozel's robes. "You have to do something!"
Nozel sighed and looked up. Across the cellar, Fuegoleon was surrounded by the Crimson Lions. They all whooped and hyped, bustling him enthusiastically. The Silver Eagles cowered and slunk in defeat, eyes turning to Nozel like he was the captain, himself, arriving to save his defeated knights. He really was their only hope. Gods, I don't respect literally any of you.
Fuegoleon caught his eye, placed a stick of pocky in his mouth, and bounced it between his lips, wiggling his eyebrows in sync. An invitation. A challenge. He knew Nozel wouldn't refuse.
"You are all pathetic." Nozel pushed himself up, mana shaking the room. Fuegoleon let his mana go in turn, and the air rumbled as they approached each other. Fuegoleon had a confident, drunken swagger, and Nozel looked like he was honestly going to kill him. They squared up; Fuegoleon had a few inches on him, and the pocky already in mouth, so Nozel had to tip his head back to meet its other end. Fuegoleon's eyes were lighthearted, a smile sitting naturally on his lips; Nozel's gaze was icy cool.
They began to nibble the pocky stick. It tastes… really good , Nozel thought bitterly. Fuegoleon rested his arms on Nozel's shoulders, eyes half-lidded. He was playing it up, looking very sultry. Nozel's breath caught. He's not just shameless! He has a strategy…! But I can play that game, too.
He put both hands on the Vermillion's belt and dragged him closer by it. Their hips met. Fuegoleon's eyebrows rose, Nozel batted his eyelashes, and the boys all around them erupted in scandalized hollers.
Before Fuegoleon could up the ante, they ran out of pocky and their lips touched. Nozel lingered, unsure if the game was still going. Fuego was certainly too drunk to notice that it was Nozel's lip he was nibbling and not candy. Nozel's cheeks were hot, and he was grateful when someone called "It's a tie!"
"A tie?" Fuegoleon gasped, pulling away. "Is there more left?"
"We don't need to do this again," Nozel grumbled breathlessly, rubbing his rival's winey taste off his lips. He couldn't tell if anyone heard him.
"I don't know!" Rokken chimed, rattling the box. "...Just a few!"
Nozel sighed and snatched the box. Placing another piece between his lips, he handed it off and pulled Fuegoleon close again.
His rival's eyebrows rose like he hadn't expected to face that strategy twice. Still, he put on his own performance, draping his arms around Nozel's shoulders. His bedroom eyes seemed even more intense, and he ran his fingers through the Silva's hair.
Nozel counted the seconds he took to breathe; he couldn't let him know that he was flustered. Indignation was riding his anger like a soldier on a beast of war. Did he do this to the other guys? He couldn't decide if it was worse if he did or not. One hand still holding Fuegoleon's belt, he put the other on the side of his face and delicately caressed his cheek. He did his best to force passion into his gaze as he met his rival's smoldering eyes with a sexy look of his own.
Their lips met. Again, they both lingered uncertainly, sharing choppy breaths between them and a modest, if not long, kiss. "Tie!" came the call, and Fuegoleon grabbed the last pocky stick from the box with fervor.
"I'll put you in the ground this round!" he declared. His eyes had a competitive glint, and his cheeks were the rosiest they had been all night- with determination.
"You don't stand a chance," Nozel said cooly, even as his whole face burned. If I am to win this, I must be as shameless as he is… He waited until Fuegoleon had the treat in his mouth before salaciously licking his lips. He bit his bottom lip and sighed as if he was very much looking forward to this.
Fuegoleon winked as he took the stick. This time, he didn't catch Nozel by the shoulders; he caught him by the hips. But that couldn't break Nozel's focus; they were already bumper to bumper. What more could he do?
The crowd around them was a dissonant roar, but it was easily overtaken by the rush of blood in Nozel's ears. I'm going to do it. I'm going to embarrass Fuegoleon. His heart was still pounding as he prepared; he wanted to convince himself it was about timing, but the truth was that he needed to build up enough courage.
But then, Fuegoleon's hands- both of them- slid back and down, under his robes, and squeezed. Fuegoleon grabbed his ass. All of it. Double palmed it. Nozel had to fight not to jump straight up. Now it was about timing. This was the perfect time. Fury burned in Nozel that it had come to this. Who would it embarrass worse?
It didn't matter. This was the last pocky stick. It was the only way to win. Nozel pinched his eyes shut and moaned, loud, and long, and lusty. He felt Fuegoleon startle. The Vermillion squirmed, and the space between their faces heated up noticeably. But he didn't let go of Nozel, and their lips met before the sound had died in his throat.
Their boys were screaming too loudly and nonsensically to call the tie, but they didn't need to. Fuegoleon and Nozel sprang apart like the matching ends of two magnets, their faces both so red you would think they were sunburnt.
"T-tie breaker?!" Fuegoleon stammered.
They couldn't go through all this only for it to end in a tie. "We need a game to break the tie!" Nozel demanded, voice shrill in a way it hadn't been since he was a teenager.
"I know!" Nils said.
Nozel’s glare whipped around so fast it silenced him.
“I’ve got one!” Ruben spoke up. “It’s called Cherry Chaser.”
Minutes later, the group had relocated to the Vermillion’s pantry. Nozel was so mad that tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes, no doubt helped along by his moderate serving of champagne. He couldn’t believe that this was really happening. That he had let things get so out of hand. He held a cherry in his puckered lips, and Fuegoleon did the same. Both had their hands tied behind their backs. They squared up, boys gathered all around, some having pushed aside food to sit or lay on the shelves. The rules, as Ruben had explained, were simple: get both cherries in your mouth. You lose if you crush it, or if you swallow it. It was another game of shamelessness, but also a game of wits and dexterity. And tongue. Nozel couldn’t believe he had been roped into a game of tongue to somehow defend the honor of his squad. Maybe he should have just left it at a tie…
Fuegoleon made a move, going for the kiss.
So predictable. Nozel jerked his shoulder forward, and Fuego’s mouth hit it hard enough to make the Vermillion’s poor drunken head spin. Nozel twisted and lunged at him, shifting his own cherry into his cheek. He tried to knock Fuegoleon’s cheek from the side and dislodge the cherry without having to lock lips. When the choice was between frenching his rival and licking a cherry off the ground, he was conflicted about what would better suit his pride, but he was also mad enough at Fuegoleon and all their stupid friends for this bullshit to try roughing him up.
Fuegoleon wouldn’t give him the chance. Like Nozel, he had shifted the cherry into his mouth and, though he gagged at it nearly choking him, he didn’t drop it. Nozel had just given him a very forceful kiss on the cheek. He returned the favor, smashing his lips to Nozel’s. His tongue plunged into Nozel’s mouth. Nozel bit him, which even he admitted wasn’t very sportsmanly. His rival lurched back, incensed, and Nozel felt his leg get swiped out from under him. Fuego body-slammed him against a row of shelves, their legs entangled.
All around them the boys were crowing and howling. Nozel’s head was spinning from hitting the shelves and from the wine and from hardly being able to breath with Fuegoleon pressing against and leaning over him. He coughed, tried to right his mind and reassert himself. You have gravity on your side, he reminded himself. Opening his mouth saw it under immediate invasion, but that didn’t matter. Surely, it would be easier to get Fuego’s cherry to fall than for Fuegoleon to scoop out his. Their tongues clashed and crossed and their lips locked. Fuegoleon’s hair escaped its tie and fell over their faces as the pair struggled, aggressively exploring each other’s mouths.
Fuegoleon jerked away. “Wait-!”
But Nozel wouldn’t let him get away so easily. He shoulder checked him, taking advantage of his rival’s tipsy state to drive them both to the ground. He straddled Fuegoleon, and dove back at his mouth. Their lips, wet and slippery, met in a sloppy kiss. Nozel traced his lips with his tongue, looking for an in. “Mmph,” Fuegoleon moaned, eyes widening. Nozel was in such a state that he almost took that as banter and tried to respond, but he restrained himself. Instead, he tongued between Fuego’s lips. His rival’s eyes shut, his cheeks colored, and his lips and tongue floundered for Nozel’s cherry. They struggled and writhed against each other until Fuegoleon grew too hot to tolerate, and Nozel had to come up for a breath of cool air. A line of drool connected their lips as they stared at each other, panting.
“Where’s your cherry?” Fuegoleon breathed, voice quiet; only he and Nozel could hear.
Nozel’s brows pulled together. He leered down at his rival suspiciously. “Where’s yours? Show me yours first.”
He Vermillion’s eyes flicked left, then right, searching the floor with a growing look of desperation.
Nozel felt the blood rush to his face so fast he was dizzy. He’d won! He drew back so he was sitting up straight on Fuegoleon’s hips and popped the cherry between his lips.
“You swallowed it!” Simon gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at Fuegoleon.
“You don’t know that!” Forte retorted.
As the boys started up their arguing, Nozel’s gaze locked on a small red object rolling across the floor. He felt Fuegoleo tense beneath him; they had both seen it.
Fuegoleon jerked his hips up, throwing Nozel, and scrambled to get his knees under him. Nozel struggled to right himself and lurched forward. He fell more than jumped onto the Vermillion’s back. Bucking like a bull, his rival tossed him into the opposite shelves. The collision knocked a bag of flour down from a high shelf, throwing up a billowing smokescreen of white. Nozel jumped back into the cloud, elbowing and mouthing for the hidden cherry while he tried to box Fuegoleon out. Finally, two young royals laid coated in flour. Nozel rose, desperate to itch his dusty face, and blew out a puff of white haze.
Between his lips sat two cherries.
Fuegoleon, looking up at him, let his mouth fall open in astonishment. An olive rolled out of it and to the ground.
The boys erupted into screams around them and collapsed in on the pair. They hoisted Nozel into the air and threw him up. Flour shook from his clothes as he called out over his adoring squadmates. “Hey Fuego!”
The Vermillion looked up at him with wide eyes.
He spat the pair of cherries at him. “Suck on these!”