How Our Love Employs (H.O.L.E.)

by toffeecape

Summary:

From the 9worldskinkmeme prompt: *waking up mad for no reason and immediately coming to kinkmeme* why as a fandom have we all collectively (and correctly) decided Cliopher is a champion muffdiver and yet there is hardly any fic out there of him rimming Fitzroy. what brave hero will rectify this travesty.

Notes:

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Fitzroy, Cliopher knew, was fond of two baths a day when he could get them, but he was beginning to notice a pattern when Fitzroy chose to bathe immediately before bed. Some discreet note-taking confirmed that on those nights, Fitzroy also:

• left the light on
• came to bed naked
• did not pull the sheets up
• rolled onto his stomach
• snuggled up against Cliopher's side
• spread his legs slightly

All these things happened separately on their own at other times, but if even one occurred on a bath-right-before-bed night, invariably they all would.

He came to a conclusion. “Fitzroy,” he said, “I’ve come to a conclusion.”

“Oh?” It was one such night. Fitzroy was lying beside Cliopher, who was sitting up reading - or rather, pretending to read while he reviewed his notes. Fitzroy was warm against him, bath-warm as well as magic-warm, humid and sweet-smelling, every bit of him exposed and dewy in the mage-light. His head was resting on his folded arms, and he gazed up at Cliopher with love, trust, and good humor.

“Yes.” Cliopher folded his note sheet back up behind the decoy sheet of notes about the book he was reading, and tucked them both into the book to mark his place (decoy notes had to be convincing and it was a very interesting book). He put the book away on his nightstand and turned to Fitzroy. “There’s something you want but can’t bring yourself to ask for - at least, not in words.”

“Ah. Yes. That.” Fitzroy bit his lip and rolled his face into his arms.

Cliopher listed the behaviors he’d observed, all the while running his hands over the expanse of Fitzroy’s back, both to soothe and ground Fitzroy, and because his skin gleamed so invitingly and Cliopher knew now that that invitation was for him. “I’m reasonably confident the thing you want is a sex thing,” he finished. “You’re seldom this coy about anything else.”

“Did you consider that the ‘sex thing’ I want might just be hearing you work your way through a puzzle?”

Cliopher paused. “Is it?”

“It could be now, gods.” Fitzroy’s hips shifted; he was grinding an erection into the sheets. “Your mind, Kip. But no, you’re right; I’m after something else.”

“Can you not simply tell me?”

“Listening to you figure it out is so much more fun, though.” Another little hump of the mattress. “Please continue.”

“Hmm. Bathing beforehand suggests it’s not a massage you want. You like to bathe after a massage to keep the worst of the oil off the sheets, and anyway you don’t hesitate to ask in words for that, and it’s only sex-adjacent.”

“Sound points all.”

“Placing yourself on your stomach indicates it’s something you want done to the back of you, but you don’t hesitate to ask to be fucked.”

Fitzroy turned his head again and smiled at him brilliantly. “Getting your dick in me is too vital to my continued health and wellbeing to play around. You’re nearly there, though.”

“Nearly there.” Cliopher palmed the swells of Fitzroy’s asscheeks. They fit so sweetly into his hands. He pried them gently apart (Fitzroy stifled a whining noise), and noted a seam of moisture from the bath that hadn’t evaporated yet. It glistened in a line down Fitzroy’s crack, interrupted by the puckered round of his hole. Cliopher’s mouth watered, and the puzzle was solved.

“You know,” he said, moving to lie between Fitzroy’s knees, “if you just wanted my mouth back here, all the bathing was a bit of a red herring when you deploy that spell to clean yourself inside so often.”

“That’s enough to be clean, but it doesn’t make me feel clean,” Fitzroy argued, spreading his legs wider. His tone was giddy, quivering with eagerness.

“You’re adorable,” Cliopher said, propping himself up on his elbows. He spread Fitzroy’s asscheeks wide to lick between them, keeping his tongue soft and fat like a washcloth. He didn’t mind a little musky sweat himself; in fact the earthy, intimate smell excited him when he blew Fitzroy. But the thought of Fitzroy washing himself with extra care, just so he could come to their bed feeling able to ask for this at all, however obliquely, filled him with an incandescent tenderness. Adoration.

After the first swipe of Cliopher’s tongue, Fitzroy gave up resting his head on his arms to bury his face - and his moans - directly in the mattress. Cliopher let him get away with that for a little while, distracted by learning the textures of Fitzroy here with his mouth now as well as his fingers. Smooth - like Cliopher, Fitzroy didn’t grow much body hair to begin with, and what little he did have he’d resumed removing after his first proper Vangavayen heat wave. Soft skin over firm muscle, slick when he pulled it taut and lavished it with licks and kisses, except for where it couldn’t be pulled taut merely by spreading his buttocks: the starburst of wrinkles around his hole. These he teased with the tip of his tongue, making Fitzroy’s moans jump sharply in pitch.

Cliopher lifted his head. “Raise the Wall of Silence,” he said, his voice already sounding deeper and breathier to his own ears - what Fitzroy would probably call a sultry tone. “Let me hear you, beloved.”

Fitzroy obeyed with a distracted wave of his hand. Cliopher rewarded him by licking his hole harder, and the noise Fitzroy made was wild, unrestrained and so beautiful. His outer ring twitched against Cliopher’s tongue, the muscle clenching and softening by turns; Cliopher almost fancied it was trying to grasp him and pull him in. Well, he could help with that: he rubbed Fitzroy with two fingertips and plenty of saliva, until the muscle relaxed and stayed that way, then spread his fingers and pushed his tongue between them.

“Kip!” Fitzroy was nearly up to yelling volume now. “You– you– oh fuck, Kip–”

“Mmm,” Cliopher answered, and grinned when the vibration made Fitzroy yank his own hair and arch his spine, spreading his legs even wider, like he could somehow open himself up to this, to Cliopher, more completely. Cliopher understood why Fitzroy had felt unable to ask for this in words when it affected him so powerfully.

He should tell him that, he thought, as he probed and flicked Fitzroy’s inner ring open. He should tell him now, while Fitzroy was melted and quivering around him, under him, entirely focused on receiving Cliopher’s attention. His love.

He drew back and started working a finger inside Fitzroy. “Thank you for finding a way to ask me for this,” he said.

“Uhhhn,” Fitzroy responded. His voice wobbled like he was on the verge of tears.

“Thank you for giving me the chance to give you this,” Cliopher continued, working a second finger in alongside the first. “I love giving you what you need, what you want. I love you.” And he spread his fingers again, and worked his tongue as deep as it would go.

“Oh,” Fitzroy said, and his voice did break then.

The rest of Fitzroy was back to smelling of clean sweat, but here he tasted only of water, and a faint hint of whatever minerals and perfumes he’d added to his bath. He hadn’t just used his little cleaning magic; he’d gotten the water right up inside too, to come to Cliopher hoping for this. It brought Cliopher the greatest possible satisfaction to give it to him, fucking him ardently with fingers and tongue, the cleverest parts of his body, the most sensitive and agile, his best tools for expressing his love now given the chance to express it right here inside Fitzroy’s body. What a gift his fanoa was giving him! How lucky he was!

He would have been happy to do this forever, listening to Fitzroy sob for air and babble pleas and praise as he made love to Fitzroy’s tender pink insides, but his jaw began to tire after a while. Also Fitzroy was crying outright and vibrating with the need to come, but couldn’t since he’d gotten his knees under him to lift his ass higher, so his cock was bobbing untouched under him, looking heavy and painfully hard with his balls drawn up. Cliopher withdrew his fingers and took him in hand, jerking him briskly while giving his hole one last, lingering, sucking kiss.

“Ah-ahh-ahhh! Ah! KIIIP!” Fitzroy came with dramatic force, overflowing Cliopher’s hand and flooding the room itself with light. The way his hole clenched against Cliopher’s mouth was more familiar around his cock, which association finally made Cliopher aware that he, too, was tremendously aroused. At last Fitzroy collapsed back down to the bed.

“What the fuck, Kip,” he groaned, sounding stunned. “I suspected you’d be good at that, but I had no. Idea.”

Cliopher’s hum of acknowledgement was more of a moan, the praise going straight to his dick. He looked at his hand, dripping with Fitzroy’s spend, and then with a kind of inspired mental shrug he started jerking off with it.

The slippery noise got Fitzroy’s attention, and he turned his head to look at him. His golden eyes widened. “Are you–” he started to roll over, but Cliopher stopped him with a hand on his hip.

“No time,” he rasped. “Stay like that. In fact, spread yourself. I want to–” he swallowed, then went on, amazed at his own daring, “I want to sign my work.”

Fitzroy shuddered. “Yes.” He gripped his own asscheeks and pulled them apart, exposing himself. “Yes, beloved, you should definitely do that.” His whole crack glistened with Cliopher’s saliva, especially his hole which still looked puffy and soft like Cliopher had been fucking him. Because he had.

Like he could hear Cliopher’s thoughts - or see them on his face - Fitzroy urged, “Come on me, come for me, Kip, my own, mark where you’ve fucked me so well, mark what’s yours.” Cliopher’s jaw was still aching from how well he’d fucked Fitzroy, leaving him replete and pliant with gentle sparks raining down on them from the ceiling, twisting to still be able to watch as he held himself open for Cliopher to– to–

His own orgasm felt like being overtaken by a huge wave, caught up and tumbled and carried away. His vision narrowed to his come streaking white across Fitzroy’s perfect, gleaming-black skin, splashing in his crack, over his hole, across Fitzroy’s buttocks and hands, and partway up his back before Cliopher was released to topple, gasping, into the glorious mess he’d made.

“Well,” Fitzroy wheezed, “I suppose that answers my question about whether you enjoyed that.”

Cliopher grunted and slid to one side of Fitzroy before he squashed all the air out of him. He needed a bath; Fitzroy needed his third bath of the day; and they needed to change the bedsheets. But even thinking of the disgusting crusty mess that would greet them in the morning otherwise failed to move him in the slightest. All he could muster energy for was rolling the rest of the way onto his side and pulling Fitzroy back against him as the little spoon. Fitzroy seemed perfectly happy about this, snuggling the bends of their bodies together and pulling Cliopher’s upper arm around him to hug against his chest.

“I loved that,” Cliopher mumbled to the nape of Fitzroy’s neck. “You can have that anytime you want.”

“Anytime,” Fitzroy repeated dreamily. “I wouldn’t survive, but what a way to go.” He tugged Cliopher’s hand up a little higher to kiss his knuckles. “You’re so good to me,” he whispered.

Cliopher squeezed him as best he could while already falling asleep. “S’what you deserve,” he yawned. If Fitzroy said anything else he was too far under to hear it.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Kip's Sex Notes