Work Text:
“Top of my class. Destined for Havard. Voted Most Likely to Succeed. First Chair in violin at a professional orchestra-” Your mumbling bordered incoherent as you turned over on your side, stuffing one fluffy down feather pillow into your face and another between your legs. Your comforter was pulled completely over your head, and the gathering frantic breathing from the bed across from yours drew an odd heat to your cheeks, and worse yet– to your nether region.
This was your punishment, for not daring to be brave enough to go to another state for college. Not that you believed any of the metaphysical hullabaloo that Porrim spewed in your direction, but she had explicitly said this semester would be wrought with spiritual conflict on your end. You told her, in no less polite terms, to shove her cards where the sun wouldn’t reach them. But in fact she was right, and now you were a victim of your own pathetic hubris.
Your karmic punishment had a name and face– Cronus Ampora, age nineteen. Eldest son of a real estate mogul, he was sent to this public university as a ‘punishment’ by his father for ‘not taking his studies seriously.’ While he had his own reservations about living with the ‘common folk’ such as yourself, Cronus seemed not to care too much about his current situation, and may have in fact, found himself quite comfortable, much to your growing dismay.
The conflict had silently begun three weeks prior. You were still unsure as to what caused the issue, but as far as you could parse, it appeared that he was (for lack of a better term) experiencing immense sexual frustration that manifested in his sleep. In hindsight, you are only assuming that he was sleeping during these episodes, wearily giving him the benefit of the doubt that no person with common sense would do what he is doing knowing full well that someone else was in earshot.
It was hard to parse, admittedly.
He always started with the slight shift of breathing— something heavy and nearly frantic paired with a quick shuffling of sheets and comforter. Then a sigh of relief when his hand presumably reaches its target, the dark, inviting place between his muscled thighs that he insisted he carved out of nothing but protein powder and dreams the summer before.
And then the mumbling— all incoherent, of course, but if you strained hard enough it almost sounded like he was chanting the same word over and over again. By this point your own dick was interested in the oddly wet sounds from across the room and your hands were firmly pressed to your stomach— only occasionally rocking your hips into the pillow between your thighs to gather some friction there. It was slow, it was torture, and you wouldn’t dare entertain the thought further than that small mercy.
Normally.
Now, righteousness aside, you were, in lack of better terms, a young red blooded human cis male in his prime. The bodily reactions were a normal answer to Cronus’s blatant displays, were they not? Peeking from under your comforter across the way, the campus lights barely peeled in from through the window, casting an odd red glow over Cronus’s bare chest as it rose and fell with his frantic, sloppy movements of his arm beneath the covers. For some reason, this night sounded oddly painful as he stroked himself, whining pitifully for an inch of unconscious release.
Sweat pooled at your brow as you stared at him from your side of the room. Your hand finally allowed itself to dip below the waistband of your pajama pants, beyond your briefs, to securely wrap around your length with a delicate stroke. Painful was barely enough to describe the ache deep in your gut you have been carrying due to these late night displays of lewdicity. You hadn’t actually released in… how long had it been?
Months?
Cronus’s head lolled in your direction, eyes shut tight, black wavy hair mused and half hanging below his brow bone. The moonlight illuminated his face very handsomely— showing off his chiseled bone structure and dimples etched deep enough that they remained even in slumber. He was annoyingly handsome, you surmised, the kind that some men are granted just by birthright. His bare, carved chest peeked out from the blanket, and your eyes followed the curve meticulously until they stuck on the place where his right hand was moving frantically up and down.
“Ah— ah, shii—“ Lips parting with the effort, his tongue was clamped between pearly white teeth as he curved his wrist oddly in and upwards to himself, followed by a wet schlick noise that piqued your curiosity even further.
It almost appeared as if he were… fingering himself. Rather enthusiastically, might you add.
The thought sent a throb to your dick that almost drew a noise out of you in protest. Because yes, while you were a perfectly healthy human male with urges, this reaction was crossing so many lines and blurring boundaries you had believed you had resolved in high school after that one off night you played seven minutes in heaven with Mituna. It was nothing— an experiment to broaden your life experience. You’d tried it once, it wasn’t for you, and you’d moved on.
“Fuck.” He keened in response to his own ministrations, his hips lifting just a bit to emphasize the fact that he was fingering himself. Though it did not seem to bring him the relief he was looking for, as he followed it by a choked sob and a full body tremble that was noticeable in the dim light.
Before you realized you were doing it— you were already stroking yourself fully, breathing heavily, your half-aware mind supplying the blanks of what you weren’t seeing. After all, you had never seen Cronus fully nude, but almost. Enough so that you had caught the barely-there pink scars under the beautiful curve of his pectorals and it made you curious— but not so enough to ask outright.
“God, please, chief, I’m beggin’, I’ll be so good for ya—“ His whine was high pitched and throaty enough that it nearly caused you to release early. Which would have been a relief— or a shame? You weren’t entirely sure. Nothing seemed to be making much sense in your muddled brain until you finally worked up the nerve to say,
“Cronus.” Your voice was surprisingly even as you whispered his name, and then spoke it one more time to make sure he heard you, “Cronus, please wake up.”
It seemed to have captured his attention somewhat. Whether or not he was truly awake was up for debate— but he looked at you with half lidded eyes through the darkness of your shared dorm room for approximately twenty full seconds before you felt a pair of strong thighs pinning your own to your bed.
And then it became all too clear that he was nude. And on top of you.
“Cronus—“ you geared up to protest, to yell, to make some sort of scene about your chastity and how much you value it— until his ocean blue eyes caught yours up close and personal and he appeared nothing less than feverish and desperate for attention.
“Please, boss. Just one time, I’ll never ask again.” He exhaled his words like a drag from a cigarette, “This T shot has me fucked up right now and it ain’t workin’ when I try to get off by myself. I can’t sleep, can’t cool off, can’t relax.”
Your heart was surely a trapped bird in your rib cage. The only real thing between your dick and Cronus’s…. body, was your comforter, and he was currently rocking his hips down in a frantic attempt to entice you. It was strangely working, and you felt your own blood boiling to a fever pitch as you took initiative to flip him over on his back, fully pinned under you.
“God, Vantas, fuck yes.” He nearly cried in relief, snaking his thick arms up around your neck as his thighs parted under you. “Fuck me into next week. Fuck my brains out. I need it so bad.”
“Cronus.” You sighed, resigning yourself to your own life choices as the head of your swollen dick rubbed up against his dripping folds, “I’ll comply, with one request.”
“Anythin’ you want, whatever you’re after—“
“Stop talking.”
“Oh.” He looked a little sheepish in all of his embarrassment, before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll try, it’ll be hard though, may want to put a pillow in my mouth or choke me or—“
Instead, you kissed him to shut him up and it felt like cheating on a diet. So decadent and so very off course. Oh well. Could you really be blamed when he asked you so politely? With your lips still tangled with his, you somehow managed to find his entrance, sliding the full length of your dick inside in one fell swoop.
His fingers dug into your shoulders and his hips rocked upward to make sure you were as in as you could get, your balls pressing up against his folds. It was so soft and warm and wet, all you could even think to do was lazily entangle your tongue with his as you slowly rocked fully in and out of him, just testing the waters.
“Oh yeah, your dick is so pretty, Kankri, I knew it would be. Fills me up good, fuck.” He spoke in a hushed, crushed whisper against your lips, clinging onto you for dear life while admittedly you fucked him rather slowly. It was almost more intense this way, as you could clearly watch his hand frantically stroking his visibly swollen clit. To be honest, it didn’t look much different than your dick, smaller but a similar shape, and you watched in fascination as he stroked it between two fingers with every thrust inward of your hips.
“You’re so hot.” He cooed at you, and you realized he was just a talker. Period. It was… fine, his praises made your already-muddled mind feel like honey as you fucked him nice and deep and slow— dragging it out until your own balls began to ache in protest.
Cronus’s hands balanced on your forearms as a look of mischief caught your eye, “May I?” He prompted, and before you found protest, you were somehow back on your back watching as he slowly sunk himself down on your throbbing dick until it was all tucked away in his body again.
“Here, hold me here.” He moved your hands to his hips, allowing you leverage to help his movements as he fucked himself on your dick. It became harder, faster, sweatier— drawing throaty noises out of the two of you that briefly made you worried you’d be overheard— until he purposefully squeezed his thighs around you and you had to reboot your brain for a moment, driven by nothing but the feral physical urge to fuck up into him until you couldn’t anymore.
“Kankri, Kankri, babe, I’m so close, yeah, keep going, just like that—“ With a full body shake and long, drawn out moan, Cronus came on your cock hard enough that it pushed you over the edge, fully buried as you released at least a full year’s worth of buildup inside of him.
Cronus still kept himself moving until you had nothing left to give, before simply collapsing onto your chest and resting his face in the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. This close, you could smell the sweetness of his sea salt shampoo, and a cologne too rich for your blood. It must have been a full five minutes of nearly bordering sleep until someone spoke again.
“Vantas, hell, I’m sorry—“ you could tell he had been gearing up to placate one of your tantrums. But it was odd, in the sense that you didn’t feel like having one. You felt… fine, actually. A little confused, sweaty, and tired, but not angry like you thought you would be.
“Sshhh.” You simply mumbled back at him, moving so he could rest his head on your chest, arm thrown over your body rather intimately. It was strange how natural the position felt. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“You sure? ‘Cause if you got one of them lectures cookin’—“
“Cronus, please, it’s fine.” You sighed, hard, pulling the cover up over the two of you. “Just sleep. I’ll be more upset if I miss my eight am class.”
“Oooookay. Whatever you say.” He conceded, resting on your chest as you both mutually agreed to address the problem later like the responsible adults you were.