Work Text:
Arley heaves a sigh, propping their chin up on their palm. With lidded, weary eyes, they scan the mountain of paperwork Cordia left on their desk that morning. They'd worked their way through a good chunk of it, but despite their best efforts, so much of it still remained. Even though they got started early, responding to emails just sapped away so much time. (And, okay, maybe they took an extra long lunch break. But who's counting, right?) They turn to look out the window. Outside of Orion HQ, the sun is just beginning to set, casting an orange glow around the room— the golden hour. Folding their arms over the desk, they lay their head down, and speak quietly to themself. "Cordia's probably gonna be kind of pissed if I don't get everything done by tonight... Ugh... I don't know." Their brow furrows, and they close their eyes. Just for a minute, they think.
Arley's eyes snap back open just seconds later at the sound of two quick knocks, followed by the sounds of a door opening. The door to their office, more precisely. They pick themself up quickly, about to make an attempt to look busy— until they recognize exactly who it is that's leaning against their door frame.
"Boo," Rosier says, smirking lightly. His arms are crossed, and his sleeves are rolled up haphazardly. His gaudy, red, circular sunglasses still have yet to come off for the day. Arley visibly relaxes— Rosier won't care how much or how little work they've done. He does, however, take note of this shift. "You've been in here a while. Came to check on you. Are you still busy?"
"Hah," Arley gives him an uneasy smile, "yeah. Well, trying. It's been, y'know. Slow going. And it's getting late… I dunno."
"Did Cordia dump all her personal emails on you again?"
"YES," Arley agonizes, putting their head in their hands. "So on top of all this boring scheduling and crap, I've also had to be fucking cordial all day."
"You and I both know you're one of maybe four people in this entire organization that can write a cordial email. And Cordia's hardly one of them."
"Well... You have a point. But still, just because I can doesn't mean I want to." Arley takes a deep breath, groaning on the exhale. They glance up at Rosier and, in a fashion they hope is subtle, appraise him briefly. His fashion sense lately, since his latest reform, has been very old-fashioned. His shirt is open-chested, and it still surprises Arley to see no fur there. Just normal, very human hair. His pants are high-waisted, with flared bottoms, and... Man, those are tight.
"So what are you going to do?"
Arley's eyes jump away from Rosier's crotch thighs ridiculously tight unfashionable pants, trying not to look flustered when they meet his gaze again. "Wh- huh? I mean. Like... What do you mean?" Rosier's face is calm, but questioning. Good. Then he didn't just catch them checking him out.
"I meant, like, are you done for the night then?" Or maybe he just didn't care. It wouldn't be the first time Arley had given him an obvious up-down, and it's not like he'd been shy about it before. For someone known for breaking windows at sounds he doesn't like, he is stunningly unaffected by the gazes of other people.
"Oh. Oh... No. Probably not. I probably should've been done with this hours ago. I just can't get myself to focus today." The sunset through the window shines bright on Rosier's wild mane of black hair.
"Hm…" Rosier shifts. He rights himself off of the door frame, making his way across the room to where Arley sits. His walk is confident, sure. As gradual as the changes have been, Arley is still getting used to the man Rosier has grown into now. Or rather, they suppose, the man he's grown back into. Going off of Cordia's responses to him as he's become more... personable... this is more or less the demon he used to be, back before... everything. The Rosier that Arley knew used to stalk and scramble everywhere— like a frightened animal. In many ways, he was a frightened animal. But now, now he strides. And he finally speaks in full sentences! That's a definite plus.
Arley watches as Rosier moves to their side of the desk. After checking that he wouldn't disturb any papers, he leans on it in a sort of half-sit, balancing with his hands firm on the surface of it. He glances at the window. There's still daylight, but the sun is gone from view. Seemingly satisfied, he moves his glasses to rest on his head, blinking to adjust his vision before glancing down at Arley. "Anything I can do? Happy to help how I can."
Arley turns a little more fully to him, and smiles. "I think you'd be more distracting than anything. As smart as I know you are, I can't believe your outfits lately. We're going full open-chest shirt today, huh? Plus, I still don't trust you with any writing utensils. We have to work on that."
Rosier grins back (another thing Arley's still getting used to), and breathes a rough laugh. "Isn't it sexy?"
Arley smacks his arm playfully, and snorts. "Of course it's like, a little sexy. The tight pants aren't lost on me either, haha…" They fluster a little. "But still, point being: distracting."
"Want me to go away? Orrr..." Rosier shifts his weight, reaching a hand to wind gently into Arley's hair. His claws scratch lightly at their scalp. They lean into the touch, closing their eyes. Their breath stutters. "Maybe I could help you take a break."
Breathily, Arley answers him. "A break might be nice..." They glance at him through their lashes, eyes lidded. "Did you have anything in mind?"
Rosier's hand drops to cup their jaw. "Come here."
Arley stands, and Rosier wraps his free arm around their waist, and kisses them. Arley smiles against his mouth, huffing out a small laugh as they bring a hand to his chest. Rosier turns slightly, so that he stands in front of Arley, and presses them gently back against the desk.
Arley's hand swings behind them to balance against the counter top, but they feel themself narrowly miss a stack of papers. They break away from Rosier's kiss. "Um, aha... I don't want to fuck up my papers. But, um... I have an idea. Here... Sit down." Arley pushes Rosier gently back onto their office chair. He sits without taking his hands off of them, and they crawl carefully into his lap, straddling his thighs.
Rosier lowers his hands onto the backs of Arley's thighs, just under the full of their ass. Arley hums, and their hands find their way under his open shirt, palms flat against his chest. He smiles at them, before closing the distance between them, resuming the kiss. Gently, or rather, as gently as he can, he digs his claws into the meat of Arley's thighs, scratching them as he slides his hands to cup their ass. Arley gasps into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to seek their tongue with his own.
Arley has always known Rosier to be an aggressive kisser, from the very first time they kissed. Well, "kissed". In his moth form, Rosier doesn't really... have a face conducive to kissing. Rather, it was more like shoving his massive monster tongue down Arley's throat— which, okay, was pretty hot. Arley is not immune to the appeal of having tentacle-like appendages shoved into them. But still, now, even with his tongue on theirs, his claws digging into their ass, his sharp fangs grazing against their bottom lip as he bites it... Now, Arley can feel the softness behind it. It's different when Rosier touches them now. Not because he needs to, or because they happen to be there... but because he wants to. The difference is new and strange, and it makes Arley's heart flutter.
Arley presses themself more fully against Rosier, and they can feel how hard he's getting under those tight pants. They roll their hips, grinding against him, and the friction is delicious. Clearly Rosier thinks so too, as he rewards them with a low growl. He brings a hand up to fist Arley's hair, and they moan quietly as he pulls their head to the side, simultaneously breaking the kiss and exposing their neck.
Rosier wastes no time getting to work on Arley's neck— skimming his fangs along the soft skin, sucking on it, marking them. His free hand trails up their back, taking their shirt up with it, and he runs his claws down their bare skin before holding them in place. Arley can't help continuing to grind against him, their soft noises increasing in volume for each careful hickey. Rosier groans, biting down on the junction between their neck and shoulder just light enough to not puncture them. Arley whines, writhing against him, and he licks over the spot reassuringly. He starts making his way back up their neck, intent on kissing them again, but hesitates as Arley's fists curl against his chest.
"Please," they whine.
Rosier grins against their jaw. "Please what?" His breath is hot in Arley's ear.
"Please, I-I want to... Mm—" they groan as Rosier bites gently at their earlobe. "Please let me suck your dick."
"Wh-" Rosier chuckles, loosening their grip on Arley's hair, and shifting to try making eye contact. "Really?"
Arley looks at him, and Rosier is struck with the thought that, much in the same way he has, they, too, have really come into their own. He would never imply Arley to be weak, but they did used to be much... meeker. Strong and determined, of course, but more easily overwhelmed. Not to ignore that him back then would've easily overwhelmed anyone, but still. The look they give him now is not desperate, bordering helpless as they may have looked at him back then. The look they give him now is pleading, yes, but beyond that, it's almost demanding. "Please, Rosier," they say again, eyes steady.
Rosier gently moves his hands so that he is no longer holding them, only resting them on their thighs. "By all means, then. Where do you want me?"
"Just stay there." Arley carefully makes their way off of his lap, moving onto the floor at his feet. (They can feel already how uncomfortably wet they are.) They part his legs gently, fitting themself between his knees, running their hands up his strong thighs. "Let me take care of you for now." Their fingers come to meet the high waist of his pants, making quick work of the button and zipper. "You know," they smile teasingly up at him, gently bringing their hand to skim over the bulge in his boxers, "I was so surprised the first time you put on a pair of pants willingly. I'd kind of just gotten used to seeing you naked all day."
"Hah," Rosier brings a gentle hand to rest on Arley's head as they touch and nuzzle him, teasing him through his underwear. "Do you miss it? I kind of do. Clothes are so restricting."
"Well, I wouldn't complain." Arley opens their mouth, and slowly runs their tongue over his shaft, mouthing at him through the fabric. Rosier can feel their hot breath as they speak. "Can't say for the others, though."
Rosier rewards them by threading his fingers through their hair. "Crow would have a fit. If he had it his way, I'd, mm, be in a full, three-piece suit every day." He exhales long and slow as Arley's fingers tease the waistband of his underwear. "Can't let him try putting me in a tie again, I don't want to hurt him." Arley smiles against him. "So I guess pants stay in the picture."
"What a shame," Arley's breathy laugh tickles the wet cloth of Rosier's boxers. They gather the waistbands of his pants and underwear in their hands, and tug twice. Rosier takes the hint, lifting his hips slightly, allowing Arley to bare him to his mid-thigh.
Rosier sighs as Arley wraps their hand around him. They press soft kisses up his shaft, before swirling their wet tongue around the head. They peek up at him through lidded eyes as they leave a wet kiss against his tip, tasting him. Arley is the only one that gets to have him like this, and they both know it. They run their tongue down, and back up, slowly, and they shift their grip to just their thumb and forefinger. His cock twitches against their mouth. Their eyes flutter shut as they finally close their lips around its head, and give an exaggerated hum, as if it's just as much as a relief for them, to finally have his cock in their mouth.
Rosier breathes a low groan, tightening his grip on Arley's hair, the way they like. He is rewarded for this by the feeling of Arley's whine against his cock, as they inch him further and further down their throat. He's much too big for them to fit all the way in their mouth without ruining them, they both know from experience. He appreciates the way their brows furrow as they try their best anyway, before hitting their limit.
Arley makes their way back up his shaft, moving their fingers up to where their lips stopped. They use three fingers to move over those inches their mouth can't cover, and begin bobbing their head in earnest. Rosier hums low in his throat, almost a growl, and Arley whines again in response. He watches them intently, and he is struck, as he always is, by how beautiful they are. This lithe, powerful, loving creature, with their freckles and scars, with their pretty mouth working so attentively on this cock, his cock, too big for them to fit.
Arley's eyes, meanwhile, are closed as though savoring the sensation of their mouth being filled, of Rosier's skin and veins and taste. They're sloppy, but neither of them seem to care much. Arley can feel themselves drooling, a slow trickle beginning to run down their wrist for every time their lips meet their fingers. They pick up the speed, using their spit to move their fingers over his base more easily. Rosier's cock twitches hard inside of them, and they both moan. Rosier tugs hard, once, on Arley's hair, and they take the signal to look up and listen.
"Where do you want me to finish?"
Arley slides their mouth off of him, the look on their eyes desperate. "Mm, nooo, not yet," they plead with him.
Rosier grins. "No, not yet. But if you were, mm—" His sentence is derailed by Arley working their mouth over him once more; Hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses pressed to the underside of his cock. "If you were hoping for anywhere other than your mouth or face… Or that I would fuck you bent over your desk, then..."
"Hmm..." Arley licks their way up to the tip of him, and they taste his precum. Their face is flushed, and they move away to answer him. Rosier's hand slides out of their hair, resting his arm on the armrest. Arley notes that the light outside is turning indigo— it's getting quite late. "I don't want to get... entirely derailed from my work…" They bite their lip thoughtfully, and a little mix of embarrassed and excited. "Would you cum on my face? And then maybe, if you want... You could um... lend me a hand?" Their free hand moves between their legs for emphasis, and they make a face when they realize how worked up they are.
Rosier watches Arley appraise how turned on they are, and thinks about how hard he's going to make them cum in just a few minutes. He thinks about how wet they must be, just for him. He reaches his left hand forward and pushes Arley's bangs back and away from their face, before curling his claws into a tight fist, near their scalp. He sees the needy furrow in their brow, the way their lips part, waiting patiently. "Then hurry up and make me cum, Arley."
Rosier's low growl of a voice resonates in Arley's bones, tickling their ribcage and making them shudder. "God, " their face is flushed, and their voice is barely more than a breathy whine, "o-okay."
Rosier, his hand still gripping tightly to Arley's hair, brings their head back down to meet his cock. He loosens his hold to allow them to move as they please, but he keeps his fingers in their hair, keeping their bangs pushed back so he can look at them.
Arley greets his cock with enthusiasm, through with teasing. They place a wet, open-mouthed kiss at the base, moving their hand up to caress his tip briefly. As they bring their mouth and tongue up, they move their hand back down. In one swift motion, they swallow him as deep as they can, moaning at the feeling of it. They hardly leave themself time to breathe, bouncing their head roughly over him, all but choking on him. They know he could just fuck their mouth, forcibly sheathe himself down their throat... and they would let him. It wouldn't be the first time. But they like this new part of him. The part with enough self-control, enough trust in them to let them have their way. He's letting me do this, they think. This is just for me. It spurs them on, and they feel Rosier's fist tightening in their hair again. They whine, tasting more and more of Rosier's precum leaking into their mouth.
After a moment, Rosier roughly pulls Arley up and off of him. He lets out a raspy hum, that turns into a low, growly moan, and his eyes squeeze shut. Arley can feel his hot cum hit their face. They wrap their hand quickly around him, working him slowly through his orgasm.
When Rosier opens his eyes, even though he's the one who just came, it's Arley who looks absolutely blissed out. He gives a deep, satisfied sigh, and chuckles lightly. He releases his grip on their hair, and leans forward. He reaches out and swipes his thumb over their mouth, before kissing them softly. Arley sighs, reaching up to hold his face. One of their hands is decidedly sticky, but Rosier doesn't care. He can taste himself on their mouth. Their kiss is extremely gentle, lips probably a little numb from use.
"Come here," Rosier purrs against their mouth. He leans back, and Arley follows him, standing themself upright. He brings his hands to their hips, and shuffles them sideways so that they sit side saddle on his lap. "Tell me how you want me."
Arley squirms until their back is half-leaning on his chest, and spreads their legs. "I don't care, just—" they grab his hand, and place it between their legs, over their shorts. He can feel how wet they are, the fabric already damp. He takes in a sharp breath. "Make me cum, Rosier. Please."
He needs no more instruction. He cranes his neck forward, returning his mouth and teeth to the junction of their shoulder, as he caresses Arley through their shorts. Their mouth falls open, and they heave a breathy moan, almost a sigh of relief. Rosier turns his head so his breath hits their ear, and his command is gentle. "Take your shorts off. Underwear, too."
Arley obeys quickly, pressing their shoulders against Rosier's chest for support as they lift their hips and strip. They settle back down, spreading their legs wide. Rosier makes a sort of strangled sound when he touches them again, now bare, and realizes just how wet they really are. He dips his hand low to tease their entrance, slicking his fingers. One of Arley's hands cups the armrest, and the other clutches the side of the chair next to Rosier's leg. Their knuckles go white with the effort it takes them not to rut against him.
Rosier grazes his sharp fangs along the skin of Arley's neck, and presses one, long finger inside of them. (He keeps two of his claws trimmed just for such circumstances.) Arley keens, struggling to stay within reach of his mouth, and their eyes flutter shut. He teases them with just the one finger for a moment, but he really doesn't need to; They're already wet enough to drip down his knuckles. They whine sweetly at his slow movements inside of them, clearly not enough for their liking, and he decides that's enough to warrant a second finger. Deftly, it joins the first, and Arley moans when he curls both fingers inside of them.
"Harder," they plead, now shaking to hold themself still.
Rosier thrusts his fingers deep inside of them, roughly, and Arley moans loudly. He picks up the pace, enough to jostle them back and forth on his lap. "You can move, you know," he murmurs in their ear. Arley's mouth hangs open, their voice spilling out freely. They use their grip on the chair as leverage to rock their hips against Rosier's fingers, and the added roughness makes them cry out.
"Fuck, it feels so fucking good—" One of Arley's hands flies back, curling their fingers in Rosier's hair, holding him close to them. "You feel so so good- Shit— "
Rosier's free hand skirts up their side, lightly scratching upwards from their hip, hiking their shirt up with it. He trails his claws higher and higher until he reaches their chest, where he cups one of their small tits in his much larger palm. He squeezes, not too roughly, and they arch their back and whine. His fingers inside of them are hitting them so hard and deep that you can hear the wet pounding of each thrust.
"More, please- Shit, touch me please, I'm already s-so close."
Rosier pulls his fingers out of them, and they whine and tremble in response. Quickly, he finds their clit, and rubs against it with a steady rhythm. Arley's voice gets higher and louder, and Rosier can feel the tension in their body, just about to snap. He makes tight circles against them, his fingers slick, and it makes heat coil tighter and tighter in their stomach.
Arley's thighs are tight, trembling from the strain of keeping him "there, right there, shit—" The hand in Rosier's hair tightens, and he growls. He bites down on the base of their neck, harder than before. "I-I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fucking cum— " And all at once, the tension snaps, and the heat at their core washes over them like a tidal wave. Their hips grind mindlessly against Rosier's fingers, riding them through it.
Arley groans, taking a deep, shaky breath. Rosier takes that as his cue to let them be before they're overstimulated. He pulls his hand away, and takes note of his soaked fingers. He spreads them, palm up, and their juices stick in clear trails between his digits. He lowers his gaze to Arley's bruised neck, and begins leaving soft kisses there, waiting for them to recover. Eventually, their breathing evens out, and they speak up. "Take me to the couch...?"
Rosier obliges, turning them around so they can wrap their arms around his neck. He wraps his own arm underneath them and stands. He uses his free hand to fix his pants somewhat, and walks them over to their shitty office couch.
"Pretty hot that you can carry me in one arm." Rosier laughs softly, and sets them down carefully on the couch. He sits next to them, and they hike their legs over his lap before lying down. "I... Haha, um. I still have cum on my face, don't I?"
Rosier turns to look at them. "Yeah. Are there tissues in here?"
"No... We used them all last time."
"Ah..." Rosier takes a moment to remember last time. "Should I go bring some back?"
"Not now. Just... Stay a minute." They close their eyes, and they look more tired than when he first came to check on them.
"I thought you wanted to get back to work."
"I do. Well, I don't. But I will."
"Sure. ...Go to sleep, Arley."
They didn't need to be told twice.
Hours later, in the dead of night, Arley's office door opens again. Cordia struts in, expecting to find a stack of finished papers on the desk. Instead, her right hand is fast asleep on their shitty couch. A blanket has been draped over them. Her eyes scan the room, and land on Arley's wastebasket— filled to the brim with tissues. Her face twists in disgust. "Ugh. Just like the fucking last time." She turns around, and slams the door shut behind her.