Game of Chess
Klogg shifts nervously, failing to get comfortable on the soft ground. He has this urge to sit cross-legged, but his ankles are too large to fit into that kind of position. It's silly to even try. And it doesn't matter that he remembers sitting that way often.
“The white,” Klaymen answers, and his tone adds “naturally”. Naturally. But Klogg wasn't asking about that. He already knows that in a game of chess the first move is made by the white. He was asking about something else…
Casually, Klaymen moves one of his white pawns forward. Casually, he rests his hand next to the chess board, on top of Klogg's hand.
Hoborg's first-born is right-handed. So his right hand shouldn't tremble so much while he's using it to advance his red pawn. He's still staring at the chess board when he turns his left hand palm up. Automatically the fingers curl annnnd he's holding Klaymen's hand. Nice move, red player, he congratulates himself.
To Klogg's delight Klaymen doesn't pull out of the light grip to move his chess pieces. He uses his left instead. Klogg looks close if it's shaking, but it isn't. Klaymen puts another pawn forward with as much grace as always. The red Hoodian glances up at his brother's face – intent on the chess board it holds a faint smile. Gulping Klogg looks down again, and then almost startles when Klaymen's hand twists until their fingers are intertwined. And that is, Klogg thinks, definitely a lover-like gesture, which means that Klaymen really, truly, honestly wasn't kidding when he said this was a date.
The red player has to take a few breaths before he's able to come up with his next move. A valiant knight jumps over the row of red pawns, ready to kick some white pawn ass. Klogg summons his courage (which he was never exactly known for) and gazes straight into Klaymen's eyes.
Once established, the gaze isn't that hard to hold. Klaymen has perfected the art of communicating with gestures and expressions rather than words. Right now he's making this calm, encouraging smile that makes Klogg calmer as well.
Unfortunately Klaymen can't hold a stare lock if he wants to see where his chess pieces are. Both players glance down at the chess board. A white bishop move. Time for Klogg to start thinking about where the game is going if he doesn't want to lose right away.
It's a few minutes of contemplating strategies later that it occurs to him that Klaymen hasn't made his other move yet. Promptly he lifts his gaze up to see Klaymen waiting for eye contact; the white player smiles, wets his lips shyly, and leans a little forward. Without thinking Klogg leans forward, too. Klaymen casts his eyes downward, however, and Klogg's reminded that he still has chess pieces to move.
Quickly he recalls a strategy from before, is pleased to see that it's still usable, moves his knight accordingly and resumes staring at Klaymen, now from a rather short and suggestive distance.
White's next move is a strange one, the menacing bishop goes to a place where Klogg wouldn't expect it. He spends a good few seconds glaring at the chess board, confused. Then he looks up and Klaymen is laughing silently, and Klogg understands the message: forget about the chess, there's another game to play.
“Want to play? Let's play,” Klogg says breathlessly. Almost blindly he puts his queen where it certainly has nothing to do and closes the already tiny gap entirely.
Immediately Klaymen leans into the kiss. It's obvious that the white player is much more eager than he has let on.
At this thought heat spreads on Klogg's face and he breaks away, trying to keep his breathing down. Klaymen uses the opportunity to push the chess board out of the way and shuffle closer. Gently he prods his brother's knees apart and sidles in between them. They exchange another kiss, just lips, just chaste, just enough not to let Klogg lose his head. Their intertwined hands tighten around each other. Klaymen snakes an arm around the red player and rubs between his shoulder blades. Without meaning to, Klogg moans into the kiss and immediately becomes embarrassed about it.
“I didn't mean-” he starts but he's silenced when, with stubborn purpose, Klaymen kneads the same sweet spot again. The pleasure is dizzying and, despite himself, Klogg heaves a very dirty sigh. He hides his burning face by resting his cheek against Klaymen's. He wonders if it's Klaymen's experience speaking or if he's just that horny. Probably both.
In an attempt to keep his head he pets Klaymen's lower back experimentally and is pleased when the touch causes Klaymen to respond by arching forward. He starts exploring, the back, the slender side, the flat belly. When he slides his hand upward suddenly Klaymen gasps loudly.
“What?” Klogg asks, nearly pulling away. The white player shakes his head with a low, trembling chuckle: it's n-nothing. Now Klogg absolutely must pull away to take a look – just what has he done?
Klaymen is flushed. He's very, badly flushed and it shouldn't startle Klogg like this but the off-white skin looks so good with this glow of red… Before he knows it, he repeats his last movement and this time he brushes Klaymen's most right button. There's another gasp from Klaymen, and some quivering, and Klogg isn't sure if what he's doing makes his lover feel good or bad, so he does it again while watching close.
“Wait,” Klaymen gasps just as Klogg's about to push the button, catching his wrist. “Wait,” he repeats. Klogg is mildly surprised at the overuse of words. Just grabbing his wrist would have done the job. He waits until Klaymen stops shuddering, which is only a few seconds but it makes him feel powerful all the same. Just a few touches and look where Klaymen is!
“Ah…” the said Hoodian groans, “don't go so fast.”
“I haven't even undressed you yet,” Klogg objects, grinning.
“You don't have to undress me to get to the centre,” Klaymen tells him.
“Uh… the centre?”
There's just the briefest hesitation.
With sudden self-consciousness it dawns on Klogg: Klaymen has presumed that Klogg knew what he was doing. Green, green like a weasel!, he scolds himself mentally, but before he can get any further Klaymen starts explaining in a soft voice:
“You remember Idznak, right? Then you must remember the girls. Shapely, sparsely dressed, always smelled of fruit. I guess you know what the guys did with them? Yeah. I saw it, too. At that time I didn't understand it well. Did you? Huh. Well, I didn't. And I thought – at any rate, I don't have the parts necessary. No Neverhoodian has them, so why bother looking into it?”
At this point Klaymen interrupts his impressive, if half-whispered speech to clear his throat. He swallows once, twice and Klogg guesses that his mouth has gone dry. He presses his button and takes out a water flask. Klaymen hesitates before taking it.
“Thanks,” he mumbles. Returning the flask half-empty he resumes talking. “Gradually I found out that even though we Neverhoodians cannot have children, desire is not so foreign to us. Well, you've felt that yourself. How long has it been since…”
Klogg thinks that Klaymen means “since you've become attracted to me” and gets embarrassed before realising that Klaymen is actually referring to his second birth.
“Three weeks,” he rasps. It seems long ago, though. A lot has happened since his “second chance” was given to him. Like falling for Klaymen head over heels.
With a guilty expression the white player looks down. “I'm sorry. I must have overwhelmed you. Usually the awakening of desire takes years and I gave you no more than ten minutes…”
“No,” Klogg shakes his head quickly, “I sort of still remember these things from before.”
Before. Klogg remembers more from before than bouts of aimless lust and sitting cross-legged. He remembers flames and smoke and panic – but he pushes those out of his mind. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Klaymen do the same.
Deliberately the hero of the Neverhood places a slow, mind-melting kiss on Klogg's mouth. “We'll take it slow,” he promises. “Anyway, there are other ways. Even if we lack the parts skullmonkeys use.”
“How?” Klogg asks, head reeling. He's tempted to say “you put the stem through the hoop?” but that would be rude and he really doesn't want to bring Willie up.
Klaymen answers by placing his hand on his chest, below the row of white buttons. The chest compartment?
“But,” Klogg objects, “that's for storing stuff. Do you still keep your things in there after you've…”
Luckily Klaymen shrugs before Klogg is forced to try and finish the sentence. “It's convenient.”
“So do you take it all out before you do it, or…”
Klaymen shrugs again. It doesn't seem to matter. All right. So there is a way to have sex on the Neverhood. Klogg is happy to have that new piece of information. He tries to imagine putting his hand inside Klaymen – it's strangely personal and it makes him tremble a little. You don't let just anyone play with your insides.
Klaymen leans in. His chest rests against Klogg's breast and he whispers next to his head, intertwined fingers squeezing, “We don't have to go that far today.”
“If there's somewhere to go,” Klogg retorts immediately, “I want to go there.” He jerks his hand out of his brother's grip, grasps both his shoulders and holding him firmly in place he kisses him, fervent, eager. Adding fuel to the fire Klaymen responds in kind. Suddenly there's tongue action beside the lip action, and some biting too. Then Klogg is lowering Klaymen on his back while bending over him. They're exchanging kisses and caresses, arching, moaning. Klogg does not remember being so lustful in his life. The pace is building up, fast.
“Alright,” Klaymen says breaking away as much as he can, still pressed against the soft ground, “somebody's impatient.”
Klogg just grins and tries to kiss him again, but he's pushed back. Suddenly it's Klaymen who takes the lead and Klogg finds himself being flipped over, pushed onto his back and straddled. Klaymen secures his solid position on top of Klogg and even grabs his wrists, pressing them into the ground to make a point. Klogg lets out a startled laugh but it's cut short by a shudder that runs through his entire body. He has noticed that Klaymen is heavy-built but to have that calm strength holding him down is another business entirely. Maybe he can throw him off…?
“Don't fight,” Klaymen tells him before he can buck properly. “You'll miss out,” he winks.
On what, Klogg wants to ask, but it's already obvious when Klaymen lets go of his wrists and places both his hands on Klogg's abdomen, sliding upward sensually. It's obvious. Klogg just hasn't counted with the possibility that he might bottom.
“Uhh,” he begins as Klaymen strokes over his shoulders along the arms down to the wrists where he clasps the fingers lover-style again. He leans down until his mouth touches Klogg's and he hums into the kiss, light and happy.
He pulls away. “Second thoughts?” he asks quite seriously.
Head swimming, Klogg reaches up to wrap his arms around Klaymen's neck and he pulls him down again. On second thought? Bottoming for Klaymen doesn't sound too bad.
The white player hums again. He strokes Klogg's entire torso in broad movements, flicks over and turns his button, traces the invisible edges of his chest door. Klogg understands that he's being prepared, even though he doesn't get how stroking from the outside will help him cope with being touched from the inside. Maybe it's just a relaxing part? But how can he relax when Klaymen is straddling him like this?
Finally the white Hoodian straightens his back and pats Klogg's chest twice. All done. Suddenly the red player gets nervous. He tries not to let it show.
There's a click as Klaymen pushes the white button in the middle of Klogg's chest. The red Hoodian is aware of every shift in his belly, like the very first time he opened his chest compartment. Some places loosen, some places flex. The door, just large enough for a hand to pass through comfortably, springs open with a hiss and Klaymen catches it in his palm before it can open fully. Slowly, ever so slowly he lets it open wide.
It comes to Klogg's attention how shallow his breathing is. Jittery with anticipation he watches Klaymen's hand inch toward the opening.
Klaymen places his left hand on Klogg's shoulder, maybe to keep him down, maybe to steady him, and slips one brown finger over the edge of the chest compartment. It curves until it lies flat against the klay of Klogg's inside. Testing the waters, it rubs against the tissue.
It's personal. Klaymen's hand is somewhere where it definitely shouldn't be, it's foreign and probing and… and definitely not enough. Not nearly, nearly enough.
Klogg's being pinned to the ground at the hip and shoulder, so he only manages to arch his torso up. Klaymen doesn't follow the hint. In a voice startlingly gravelly Klogg growls: “Come on.”
Klaymen clicks his tongue. “Impatient,” he mutters.
Swiftly Klogg grabs him by the elbows and yanks him closer. He groans as the movement thrusts Klaymen's hand inside him. Klaymen looks startled.
“Very impatient,” he repeats, kissing his older brother on the lips to soothe him. Klogg does not need soothing. He needs Klaymen to get over the probing part and to the fucking part. He says this out loud and it entertains him how stunned Klaymen looks. But finally, the white player shakes his head, murmurs something about damn dominant bottoms, and picks up the pace. His hand twists inside Klogg's abdomen, stroking the walls of the chest compartment with fingers splayed out. Klogg jerks at the stimulation and clutches at Klaymen's arms. He's panting audibly but he seems to have stopped caring.
In quick succession the few items that Klogg has accumulated are found and taken out. Every time the brown-fingered hand slips back in, Klogg flinches away on instinct. But immediately he bucks forward. It's unbelievable. It's indescribable. Klogg didn't know that Neverhoodian body can even feel this way, this hot and carnal and Klaymen's massaging the wall just under Klogg's heart with his knuckles and scissors them and…
“Ahhh,” Klogg moans in delight and bucks up so quickly that Klaymen's hand slips from his shoulder and the red Hoodian jolts into the air. Bent at the waist he flings his arms around Klaymen and presses himself against his red shirt. Klaymen yelps as his right wrist makes a snap. He quickly shifts backward on Klogg's thighs and pulls the hand out.
Klogg falls back in alarm. “I'm sorry-” he begins, yet Klaymen's already setting the bones by tugging at his hand sharply. There's a dull crack and Klaymen wraps both his arms around Klogg and pulls him close until Klogg nearly can't breathe – his chest door is forced to open all the way with the pressure and it nearly hurts – then Klaymen's raiding his mouth again, tongue and teeth and sucking at the lips…
…and Klogg loses his last care in the world.
They're both equally exhausted when they decide to stop. Klogg's body feels like it's made of jelly. He doesn't have the faith in his legs to try and stand. Well, there's nowhere to go anyway. He's utterly content where he is, lying on Klaymen's slowly heaving chest. Sleepily his gaze darts around the room until it falls on the chess board. It's miraculously untouched.
“Hey, we can still finish the game,” Klogg mumbles. His words are muffled and warped because he doesn't bother to lift his mouth from Klaymen's chest.
“We can't,” Klaymen responds slowly, in a way that makes Klogg think that he was just about to fall asleep. “You cheated. We'll have to repeat the game from the beginning.”
Klogg catches a hidden meaning and grins. “You want a rematch?”
“Maybe,” Klaymen mumbles. He lays a hand on Klogg's head: now rest.
The large, brown-fingered hand covers most of Klogg's view and muffles his hearing as well. Enveloped in warmth and fatigue, the red Hoodian thinks that this is Klaymen's final move in their game of chess. A check-mate.
