Work Text:
“I’m almost done,” he insists, when Ethos comes by to bother him.
Check in. Saying that the other redstoner is bothering him is - unfair, and he knows it, but he can’t help the prickle of irritation when the other man lingers in the doorway, watching him quietly as he works.
It’s not like Ethos doesn’t have his own projects to work on, after all. Not like he doesn’t have better things to do than stand there and judge Doc, when Doc knows he’s spent just as many sleepless nights working on his own machines -
Besides. He’s almost done.
He’s already proven the principles at play. Entertainingly - and the memory of Grian, favor-bound and desperate, squirming needily under him has been enough to keep him going, the last few nights, even though he knows there are phantoms circling his base.
The real effort is in miniaturization. Making the circuits fine enough to be portable, short enough that they aren’t irrecoverably impacted by lag, simple enough to be programmed with nothing more than a few levers.
But he’s not called the Mad Doctor for nothing. A fucking machine is nothing compared to an arm, or an eye -
There’s just a few more circuits to go. The design is finished, sheets of paper all spread out over his workstation, and all he needs to do is make them real.
His mechanical hand is steady, even though his flesh-and-bone one is trembling, faintly, with exhaustion. He sets the last few lines in place - clicks a comparator into position, and drops down a micro-observer, positioning it carefully before soldering it into place -
And it’s done. He sinks back on his chair, and toggles a lever on the side of the machine.
A piston fires, thrusting forwards. He presses a button, then another, artificially sending fresh signal to the observer - the piston speeds up, dripping a slick trail of lube, as the signal grows, and Doc smiles.
It’s good enough, for the moment. There will be things to fix, after - work to do refining the circuits, and tweaking the settings to make sure that it’s actually pleasurable to be fucked by -
But it’s good enough for now.
Doc reaches across the desk, and flicks the lever, and slumps across his own arm. He’s asleep before the piston stops thrusting.
---
He wakes up, briefly, when hands hook under his arms.
“Huh -?” It’s a bleary whisper, one that’s answered by a soft laugh.
“Hey, Doc,” a voice says. Ethos. Oh - it’s Ethos, come to drag him off to a real bed -
That’s alright, then. Doc lets himself settle, as he’s lifted off of the desk.
He doesn’t help, of course. He’d be just as happy sleeping right there, no matter what his back might have to say about it in the morning, and so he lets himself be dead weight as Ethos hauls him upright -
Ethos laughs, again, and squeezes under his arm to take the weight.
“You’re really tired, huh?” he says, gently. “It’s okay, Doc. Sleep.”
Doc - nods, blearily, but he shuffles along when Ethos tries to move him, and tries not to squish the other redstoner -
Ethos is a good friend, at the end of the day. Doc tries to tell him that.
He’s not sure if he succeeds before sinking back into unconsciousness.
---
Doc moans as something sinks, slowly, into his slick, stretched ass.
It’s a breathy, needy noise. It takes a moment for him to register that it’s him making it -
But a hand cups his cheeks, and there’s a warm weight on top of him, and the next moan he makes is stolen by feather-soft lips.
“Good morning,” Ethos murmurs, and Doc -
Tries to move. To wrap his arms around the other engineer, and pull him close, and that’s when he realizes that his hands are bound tight.
The adrenaline that spikes through him is enough to have him awake.
Ethos laughs at the suddenness of his reaction and pins him, effortlessly, with the weight of his body and the strength of the cuffs around his wrists. Ankles, too, Doc realizes, as he tests the restraints - and then he’s distracted by another kiss -
He melts into it easily, and moans as Ethos trails a line of nips and kisses down the curve of his throat.
“Good morning,” Doc tells him, when he’s found his voice, again. “You’re eager today, aren’t you?”
“How could I not be?” Ethos tells him, fingers tangling in his hair to tug it teasingly. “With you all exhausted and helpless -”
Rough fingers tease across Doc’s nipples, and he groans, arching into the touch.
“Besides,” Ethos murmurs, leaning in close enough that Doc can feel the ghost of a breath across his cheek. “You spent all that time working on this little toy. I thought the least I could do was help you test it out…”
The thought - the touch - sends a shiver of arousal through Doc -
And the machine grinds to life.
Slowly. Achingly slowly - but the toy Ethos has selected for him is familiar, and large enough that the slow start is appreciated. It lets him savor every inch of texture, as it’s dragged out of him - and earns a whimper as it starts to push back in -
“I can feel it,” Ethos murmurs. “That’s - oh. I can feel it moving inside you.”
The thought makes Doc moan, and Ethos kisses him again and pushes himself upright.
He kneels over Doc - who registers, for the first time, that they’re both nude. He hadn’t noticed - the lab is warm, and dry, and comfortable no matter how he’s dressed - but now it’s all he can focus on - the way Ethos’ body is rises over him, a pale expanse of skin that makes fire curl in his belly -
The machine clicks, and Doc grunts as the toy thrusts back into him a little faster.
“This whole thing -” Ethos tells him, reaching down to pinch, teasingly, at a soft nipple - “It’s so clever. You’re so clever, Doc - you’re so beautiful, like this, you know that? All spread out for me -”
He rocks his hips, and Doc gasps at the shift in pressure - at the feeling of Ethos’ cock grinding against his stomach and the bulge of the toy in him. The engineer wraps slender fingers around his own cock and strokes it, letting out a needy whine, and Doc can’t help it - he wants to hold him, to earn those noises himself -
He fights the cuffs for only a moment before remembering his place, but it’s enough to earn a languid grin from Ethos.
“None of that, now,” he scolds, and rocks into his own hand again teasingly.
Doc feels as much as hears the machine click over, again. It’s - a little too much, a little too fast, but Ethos is so hot above him, and there’s a part of him that likes the little bit of pain, the roughness of it -
He’s worked through the machine in stages. Ethos knows him - knows what to do to keep him helplessly enthralled as the machine tracks his arousal, always just a little ahead of letting him get properly stretched for the next step. The touches don’t abate - Ethos pinches, and strokes, and teases everything except for Doc’s helpless, needy cock -
It’s dripping, Doc can see, when Ethos finally leans forwards. He bucks his hips, desperate, useless, because there’s nothing that would feel better than Ethos sinking down onto him -
But the other engineer crawls forwards, just a bit, until his thighs are just below Doc’s arms, and his cock is inches from Doc’s lips. He’s bowed forwards, one arm clinging to the bar rising above the machine, leaving him bared to Doc’s hungry eyes -
“Kiss me,” he commands, and the machine clicks up another notch.
Doc doesn’t obey, of course. He leans forwards, runs his tongue over as much of the shaft as he can reach, and Ethos moans and bucks his hips -
And then Doc presses a kiss to the dripping head, just enough to catch the taste of cum on his lips, and drops back onto the frame beneath him.
Ethos looks down at him, eyes dark with arousal, and laughs.
“You’re such an asshole,” he says, but there’s nothing but fondness in the words. His fingers stroke his cock again -
And Doc can do nothing as cum spatters across his chest, and face, and the machine.
He howls as the device ticks up, underneath him. It’s - too much - two or three stages, all at once, and he bucks and fights the restraints but there’s nowhere to go as it fucks him open roughly. Ethos is laughing, whole weight settling back to pin him as he tries to find some relief - and then he can’t move at all, can’t do anything but let the toy gape him open as Ethos’ fingers smear the mess of cum across his face -
He’s a mess. He’s a disaster, and he’s so, so close - he’s rasping out garbled breaths, warbled little prayers to Ethos as he’s brought right up to the edge -
And then, there’s another click -
The machine stops.
---
It stops, at least, with the toy buried in him.
Doc - doesn’t know what he’d do, if it hadn’t. The toy is slick, but it’s thick enough to keep him pinned in place, so he can’t buck up against Ethos - Ethos, who is grinning down at him, fingers petting his throat as his adam’s apple bobs uselessly.
“You didn’t think I was going to be that nice, did you?” the younger redstoner murmurs. “This is such a clever toy, Doc - of course I had to have a little fun.”
He whines in protest, but there’s nothing he can do as Ethos bends for a fresh kiss.
“You’ve been naughty,” he continues. “You’ve - forgotten yourself, the last couple days. You’ve been ignoring me.”
Part of Doc wants to protest, but any thought of words vanishes as fingers pinch and tease at one of his nipples, the nub firm and sensitive beneath Ethos’ fingers.
“So I’m going to make you apologize,” Ethos tells him, and there’s the play of a smirk across his lips. “And then? I’m going to make you beg.”
The words have all the menace of a threat to them, because Doc knows that they’re true -
He lets out a helpless, desperate whimper, and Ethos’ eyes light up with hunger as the machine slowly begins to shift again.
---
He’s sobbing, by the time it stills again. This time, he’s empty, and there’s nothing to stop him from rutting his hips uselessly upward, desperate for the little bit of stimulation that will tip him over the edge.
“Oh -” Ethos offers, grinning. “Oh - you’re already so needy, aren’t you? You want to be full so bad -”
Doc nods, helplessly, as fingers wrap around his throat and squeeze.
He’s panting, gasping for air, by the time Ethos lets go, and he struggles for breath as he’s caught in a rough kiss. There are tears pricking the edges of his eyes, when Ethos pulls back, bent forwards so that Doc can’t possibly rut against him.
“Apologize,” he commands, and Doc knows what’s expected -
It doesn’t help, though. He opens his mouth, and tries to find the words, and there’s nothing.
Ethos waits, patiently, for a minute - two. His voice is - gentle, though, when the machine decides that Doc is rested enough, and the shaft sinks into him again.
“You need a few more rounds?” he says, and Doc sobs. “That’s okay. It’s okay, Doc - I can wait.”
His voice is gentle, and endlessly patient -
And that, of course, is the problem.
---
“Please!” Doc manages, the next time the machine stills inside him. “Please-please-please-please-please -”
He’s not sure if the words sound like talking. Not sure if they resemble human speech, or one long, syllabant hiss - but Ethos, above him, seems pleased by his contrition.
“Begging?” he says, petting Doc’s cheek like a favored animal. “Not quite what I wanted, yet, Doc. You have to apologize first, remember?”
Doc - isn’t sure if he remembers. He’s so, so desperate, and the words are fuzzy and confusing on his tongue -
He manages something that might be an apology, if Ethos could understand gunpowder-fizz and fuse-hiss, but Ethos expects him to manage something human.
He thrashes, instead. Turns his head, as if he could gnaw at the restraints around his wrists, but they’re out of reach -
He lets out a wail as his hair is yanked, roughly, and gags as two fingers are thrust between his lips. There’s nowhere to pull back to as Ethos fingerfucks his mouth, making him gag up spit and choke until there are fresh tears in his eyes -
He can taste Ethos’ cum on his fingers, at least. Desperate, he licks them clean -
And Ethos grins.
“Good,” he murmurs, and pulls his fingers away to wipe them clean on Doc’s face as the machine starts to thrust again. “Good boy. We’ll try again next time.”
Doc’s whole body trembles, as he struggles to catch his breath.
---
“I’m sorry,” he manages, next time the machine stills in him.
He’s - lost track. Lost track of everything - of how many times he’s been brought to the edge and dropped, brutally, back down into nothing, of how long he’s been bound.
He doesn’t know if the words make sense, but Ethos, above him, makes a pleased sound.
“Are you?” he asks, and Doc - sobs. He sobs, and manages, again -
“I’m sorry.” It sounds choked - it is. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry -”
“Why?” Ethos asks, and Doc -
He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, and he’s shaking, because he needs - he needs Ethos -
But Ethos is there. He bows, and presses a kiss against the curve of Doc’s throat, and his voice is gentle as he murmurs, “It’s alright.”
Doc presses up, desperately, into the warmth, and Ethos nuzzles against him.
“It’s alright,” he murmurs, again. “You’re - really out of it, huh?”
Doc manages a whine. It’s thready, and needy, and despairing, when Ethos pulls away -
But his voice is still so soft.
“You’re so good for me, aren’t you?” he says, and the words are a balm against the desperation clawing at Doc’s throat. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect for me. You look so pretty like this, crying and needy -”
His fingers brush the tears off of Doc’s cheeks, comforting, and Doc shakes as the machine beneath him thrusts into him again, painstakingly slow.
“Just a little longer,” Ethos tells him. “Just beg for me, beautiful, and you can cum.”
And Doc would beg, but he doesn’t have the words -
That doesn’t seem to bother Ethos, either, though. He doesn’t make Doc say anything else as the machine teases him again.
---
He doesn’t find them the next time the machine stills.
Or the time after that - not even as Ethos teases him, and presses kisses across his heaving chest, and tries to goad him into begging.
He wants to beg - but he can’t remember how, and all the desperate, pleading noises in the world aren’t enough to earn him any mercy from Ethos.
The engineer takes pity on him the third time, though. He leans forwards, nipping at Doc’s earlobe teasingly, and murmurs - “Please?”
The word - doesn’t make sense. Doc makes a confused, chirping hiss, and Ethos laughs, but the sound is kind.
“Please,” he says. “Can you manage that? Plee-zuh?”
Doc - can’t. The word turns into a hissing mess between his lips, and Ethos leans in and kisses him but there’s no mercy, there.
“Please,” he repeats, again, and Doc tries to echo it.
“Pluh -sss.” It’s still more creeper than speech, but - it’s closer, maybe. Ethos, above him, seems enthused.
“Please,” he says, and Doc echoes it -
And the machine springs to life again, and it’s suddenly all he can manage.
“Pleassss,” he begs. “Pluh - zzzzzzzz, plessss, pleassss-pleasse-plssss-plesss please -”
And Ethos - grins.
“There you go,” he murmurs, and Doc sobs and keeps begging as the machine fucks him. He’s - it’s past the point of arousal, now, his ass is sore and fucked raw, but the toy is pressed against his prostate and the ball of need in his gut is inevitable -
He wails, as Ethos slides back, an awkward shuffle, and sinks onto his cock.
It’s too much.
Doc thrashes against the restraints. He bucks, and Ethos wails as he’s suddenly thrust into, thrown off-balance enough that he has to brace against Doc’s chest. His fingers claw at Doc’s skin, and Doc’s would be raking lines of red across his back in return, but he can’t move them -
He’s so close, and a part of him is terrified that he’s going to be robbed again, left impaled and wanting with Ethos warm and tight around him -
He isn’t, though.
The machine thrusts into him, gloriously, painfully fast, and he wails as he cums at last. Ethos, above him, shoves himself up - but it’s to rock backwards, riding Doc’s cock, milking him as his hips thrust pathetically upwards -
The younger engineer’s eyes are dark, hazed with lust and need and desperation as Doc fills him, and a moment later, his head tosses back -
Doc sobs as fresh cum spatters across his chest, and goes limp.
The machine doesn’t stutter. It fucks him, as he lays there, too sensitive, and he twists and writhes as Ethos shudders and rides him through his orgasm. It’s only when the engineer slumps, too, that his fingers bother to claw for the controls -
The machine stills, still buried in Doc. Ethos shifts, exhaustedly, and his fingers claw at the shackles around Doc’s wrist -
One is freed, and then the other, and that’s all that Ethos seems to have the strength for. He collapses against Doc’s chest, as Doc wraps his arms around him, and lays there, soft and warm and still breathing hard.
Doc -
Doc isn’t strong enough to focus through his exhaustion. He’s shaking, trembling, and the world goes dim at the edges.
---
He wakes up to a warm washtowel and gentle, even touches.
It’s like walking through a fog - the sensations feel - distant. Distant, but good - he rocks his hips, a little, as the soft towel wipes the mess off his cock, and groans as the toy presses against his prostate.
Ethos laughs, and Doc blinks, blearily, searching the darkened room for him -
“I’m right here,” Ethos says, and Doc turns his head, and - there he is. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Doc - needs to say something, but he can’t remember what -
“It’s okay,” Ethos tells him. “Sh. We’re done playing, Doc. You don’t have to say anything.”
The tightness in Doc’s chest eases, a little, as the washtowel pulls away. It’s replaced with a fresh one, just as warm, that wipes the cum and spit and mess off his face, and traces across his chest -
His nipples are tender, and he whines, a little, as the cloth grazes across them, too.
“Sh,” Ethos murmurs, again. “Does that feel good? Or is it too much?”
He nods, a little, not sure which he means, and Ethos repeats the gesture - but it’s gentler, not as overwhelming, and Doc moans.
“Good,” Ethos tells him. “Sh. You’re so, so good for me, Doc. It’s alright. Just rest - we’re done.”
The words are a balm, and they carry on as Ethos cleans him - soft, quiet reassurances, little bits of praise that leave him feeling floaty and disconnected and lost. The touches are grounding, though - Ethos is grounding, even as he undoes the restraints around Doc’s ankles, and reaches up to reset the piston -
The toy eases out of Doc slowly, and leaves him shaking with the loss.
The warm cloth wipes him clean, though - the mess of lube and slick is cleaned off of him, and replaced, carefully, with a plug that slides in easily and takes away some of the distressing emptiness. And then Ethos is helping him up, hands strong and gentle as he helps Doc sit on the edge of the machine -
The plug shifts in him, as he settles on it, but he’s too tired for it to be arousing. It doesn’t hurt, though, and that’s - that’s enough, as he’s helped to his shaking legs -
There’s a bed, in the corner of his lab. Ethos guides him to it, slowly, carefully, and Doc can’t help the sob of relief at the softness of the mattress, the comforting weight of the sheets -
At the feeling of Ethos, slipping in beside him to curl against his chest, warm and there and compliant as Doc wraps around him and holds him, desperately.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” he murmurs, and Doc - Doc can do that.
He doesn’t have to talk now, though, and that’s enough. He can bury his face in Ethos’ soft hair, and breathe him in, and sleep -
It catches him, easily, and all Doc can hear is soft, fond laughter as Ethos traces fingers across his side.