Chapter Text
Avery sighed, his head hung miserably into the palms of his hands.
He’d gone to bed a little earlier than usual to try to distract himself from his thoughts, but the opposite effect took place as flashes of memories kept his eyes peeled open throughout the night.
He felt awful.
Had Derlord always been so scared of him?
His mind drifted to the first time he noticed it. A few days ago, Avery had attempted to help Derlord with his newest redstone contraption; he told him it was farm automation or something of the like but he zoned out halfway through when Derlord started using words like ‘activation behaviour’ or ‘can you pass me that power component?’. Avery handed him a potato out of spite. Derlord had gotten a little mad at him for that one but Avery couldn’t say he regretted it.
Instead, Derlord had prohibited Avery from moving past the line that he drew out into the ground with a stick…Rude…Completely uncalled for.
Avery figured he could have fit maybe thirty carrots between them if he lined them up tip to tail. He watched miserably from afar as his attempt between bro bonding time was cut short, although struggled to make out exactly where Derlord was in under the darkness of the night.
“Der, it’s been fifteen minutes can I come back over, I’ll hold the torch silently!!!!” He shouted, still perched on his timeout wooden log.
Derlord didn’t humour him with a reply, and instead moved further away towards the far end of the farm, what a dick.
Avery’s eye twitched at that, he hadn’t even done anything bad he literally just handed him a potato…on seven separate occasions…would carrots have been better?
Bored and a little miffed, an idea popped brilliantly into his head.
He inhaled sharply, and bellowed with fake urgency, “ZOMBIEEE!! BEHIND YOU!!!”
He snickered a little when he saw Derlord swiftly jolt forwards mid-spin, tripped on nothing and crashed brilliantly into a patch of carrots. He laughed even harder when he saw Derlord point his middle finger up towards him.
Satisfied with his payback, Avery settled back into observing, his gaze finding Derlord’s back again without any real thought behind it. Watching him had become… easy. Natural. Something Avery did when there was nothing else demanding his attention, as though his eyes knew where to rest even if he didn’t.
Derlord worked steadily around the farm plot, armour glinting dully in the torchlight. It should have made him unreadable, all that steel, but Avery had long since learned better. He tracked the knight’s movements the way one might follow a familiar rhythm.
The slight hunch of Derlord’s shoulders when a redstone torch refused to cooperate. The habitual lift of a hand toward the chin of his visor when he stalled in thought. The way time seemed to slip past him entirely once he focused.
Avery didn’t realise how still he’d gone until he flinched back to life as Derlord accidentally knocked over a torch with his foot.
A phantom cut through the night sky and into Avery’s peripheral, its shadow stretching long and thin as it dove straight for Derlord’s unguarded back.
Avery’s breath caught, his body already reacting before his mind could catch up. Panic flared and he was on his feet before he could think to question why, sucking in a sharp breath.
“Derlord, there’s a phantom—!” The warning tore from his throat, but Derlord just ignored him. No way. Had he just become the slime who cried wolf? “I’m being serious this time!! Fuck—“
He lurched forward, stepping back with enough force to prepare to leg it, until his eyes caught the dirt line that sat there mockingly at his feet.
Derlord’s voice echoed into his head, ‘If you step across this line, I am never cooking anything for you ever again.’
He hesitated, worrying his lip between his teeth. Surely this case was an exception right?
But…what if it wasn’t. He loved Derlord’s roast potatoes too much to risk it. One more try? ”Der! Above you!!!”
The phantom shrieked, wings slicing the air as it dove, all claws and malice and moon-pale membrane. Avery’s heart slammed against his ribs. Derlord hadn’t moved, he was still crouched by the farm plot, methodically adjusting a line of redstone like the world beyond it simply didn’t exist.
Too focused. Always too focused. Surely Derlord would have looked up by now from all of Avery’s desperate shouting, right? No, the knight was also stubbornly petty.
It would be too late, if Avery started running now, the distance too much for such a short amount of time. He cursed himself for thinking about Derlord’s stupidly serious threat. He wouldn’t be able to cook anything if he was dead.
Then he reached into his inventory grasping the handle of his fishing rod and pulled it back grandly.
The phantom was seconds away when Derlord finally stilled, some instinct prickling through that ironclad tunnel vision. He looked up just as a shadow swallowed the moonlight. There was a split second, eyes wide behind the visor, before the whole world flipped upside down.
The line went taut with a vicious snap.
Derlord barely had time to register the sudden, brutal tug at his back before his feet left the ground entirely.
“What—”
The phantom’s shriek cut off as its target vanished.
Derlord was yanked sideways, armour and all, ripped clean out of the creature’s path as though he weighed nothing. Dirt sprayed where he’d been crouched a heartbeat earlier, phantom claws slashing through empty air.
The next thing he knew, the world lurched again—this time toward Avery.
Avery hauled the line in with a sharp pull effortlessly. Derlord’s boots hit the ground hard just in front of him, momentum carrying him straight into Avery’s space. Before Derlord could even think to regain his balance, Avery’s free hand caught him by the back of the breastplate. Their eyes caught and Avery smiled back at him, almost apologetically.
Derlord was manhandled—manhandled—and deposited firmly onto the log with a thud of armour and a startled exhale.
“Stay here a sec.”
Derlord barely had time to blink. Avery was already moving.
He released the fishing rod, drew his fist back in one smooth motion, and pivoted just as the phantom wheeled back around, enraged and shrieking. Avery stepped forward, placing himself squarely between the creature and Derlord.
One strike was all it took. It was clean. Derlord thought Avery looked a little bored.
The phantom dissolved mid-screech, scattering into smoke and membrane that drifted harmlessly into the night.
Silence fell over the farm plot once more as Avery wiped his hand on his shirt casually then turned back, fishing rod resting loosely at his side.
“You good man?”
Derlord simply stared at him, his expression unreadable underneath his helmet. The sound of metal creaking filled the silence as Derlord slowly turned his head toward the ground. Avery followed his gaze to the faint scratch in the dirt, the line, still unbroken between them.
“…You didn’t cross it,” he said distantly.
Avery laughed, a little too quickly, “Yeahhh, I didn’t know if you were serious—your cooking is erm…It’s a real motivator.”
Derlord huffed softly, his visor angled low still pointed towards the ground. “If I enforced every idle threat I made, you would be dead by now.”
“That’s…reassuring,” Avery exhaled, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he walked closer to the knight.
The sound of Avery stepping closer pulled the knight out of his trance. Derlord flinched as he made eye contact with Avery.
It was small, barely more than a hitch in his movement, but Avery caught it immediately (always so observant when it came to Derlord related things) and stopped short.
He stood there for a second, the space between them suddenly very deliberate.
“…You okay dude?” Avery asked, quieter now as the slime above his eyes furrowed.
Derlord nodded stiffly. “I am fine.”
Avery frowned despite himself. Up close, he could see the faint tremor in Derlord’s hands as he adjusted his grip on the edge of the log, the way his breath came just a little too fast or the way Derlord would sneak peeks at the fishing rod on his side and his…hands?
Avery looked down to examine his hands. They were spotless, not even a spec of dirt, so what was Derlord staring at?—
Derlord straightened abruptly and then pushed himself to his feet. The movement wasn’t smooth, there was a brief wobble before he caught himself and squared his shoulders again.
“I think,” he said after a moment, “we should call it a night. Continue in the morning.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure,” Avery agreed, still smiling albeit a little awkwardly. “That’s smart.”
Derlord nodded, already turning away, his armour clinking softly as he headed back toward the path leading off the farm.
“Good work tonight,” he added over his shoulder.
“You too,” Avery replied automatically.
Derlord nodded once and turned away, boots crunching softly against the dirt as he headed back toward the path. The glow of the torches caught briefly on his armor before he disappeared into the dark.
Avery watched until he was gone. Only then did his smile fade.
His thoughts circled back to the way Derlord’s hands had trembled as he pushed himself up from the log. To the quick rising and falling of his shoulders and Avery’s stomach tightened with a familiar worry.
Did I… did I hurt him?
It wouldn’t have surprised him. Derlord had always been silent about his injuries, stubbornly adamant that he was fine. Avery almost turned to follow him, ready to call out, when another memory intruded.
The flinch. Just a little jolt back when Avery approached, like a reflex he hadn’t meant to show.
Avery frowned, staring at the ground where Derlord had just been. The idea formed reluctantly, piece by piece, and he tried to dismiss it even as it took shape.
Did I…scare him? No. No no—that was ridiculous.
Derlord didn’t get scared. Not like that. He was a knight. Steady and reliable. Unshakeable but so fun to tease—nope. Getting sidetracked. The point was that Avery had seen him stand his ground against far worse than…him.
And yet.
Avery replayed it again in his mind. The way Derlord had avoided his eyes. How he’d straightened too fast like a guilty soldier caught slacking by a drill sergeant. The possibility lingered uncomfortably.
What if he is?
Avery swallowed, unease twisting low in his chest. The thought didn’t make sense and that almost made it worse. He hadn’t meant to frighten him. He’d only meant to help.
He stared down at the faint line in the dirt, still unbroken.
“…I should have just crossed it,” he muttered to the empty farm plot as he kicked the line out of place, “Stupid stupid line. Stupid phantom.”
The doubt stayed with him as he finally turned away, disbelief and a quiet edge of regret settling in, unresolved and aching, as the night closed in around him.
That was only the first time he’d noticed it.
Several other moments followed throughout the week.
One evening, on his way to the kitchen in search of a late-night snack, Avery spotted Derlord in the library, arms loaded with far too many books. He’d pulled one volume too many from the shelf, (why he needed that many at once was a mystery) and the sudden shift in weight sent the entire bookcase swaying ominously.
Avery didn’t think. His legs were moving before he could command them to move.
In two quick strides he reached the shelf, bracing it with one hand while the other caught a pair of sliding books and nudged the rest back into place. The wood shuddered once, then stilled beneath his grip.
“Careful Der,” Avery said lightly, already easing his hand away.
Derlord hadn’t spoken.
He stood frozen, books clutched against his chest, breath coming a touch too fast. His gaze flicked from Avery’s hand on the shelf to Avery himself, then back again, like he wasn’t quite sure where to look. When he finally moved, it was only to adjust his grip, fingers tightening around the spines.
“…Thank you,” He said at last. Normally he would have pushed Avery away by now or insisted that he didn’t need any help in typical Derlord fashion. Not this—polite, awkward… thankful…
Avery smile wavered. Derlord’s shoulders dipped, a shallow breath leaving him. His eyes darted once more to the bookshelf, then back to Avery, before he turned away entirely.
“I should— I will return these,” he said quickly. “Later.”
And with that, he excused himself, moving past Avery with careful distance. He watched him go, unease settling in his chest.
That’s it, Avery decided, a little miserably. No more skywars training from now on.
Then Avery started noticing the timing.
If he entered a room, Derlord would find a reason to leave moments later. Remembered patrols, unfinished work, something suddenly urgent. Once or twice might’ve been coincidence. By the fourth time, Avery stopped following.
He told himself it was nothing. Still, the empty space Derlord left behind felt deliberate.
Back to staring mindlessly at his bedroom ceiling. Avery pressed his fingers into his temples now, replaying it all with fresh clarity. The flinch by the farm. The tremor in Derlord’s hands. The way his voice had gone careful, measured, like he was choosing each word to avoid setting something off.
He’d never meant to frighten him. His combat prowess was the only thing he had a little more of than Derlord did. But he didn’t want it if it made him uncomfortable.
This sucks…how do I make myself less intimidating?
Avery rolled onto his side, curling in on himself as the guilt settled deeper.
“I’ll fix it,” he murmured quietly into the dark, more promise than plan. “I’ll figure it out.”
Avery followed through on his decision the very next morning.
He was helpful. Unbearably so.
Derlord noticed the careful assistance almost immediately.
Avery held doors. Stepped aside. Announced himself before entering rooms like a skittish guest instead of someone who lived there. When Derlord reached for something, Avery was already there with it—then just as quickly gone again, hands tucked firmly behind his back like he’d been reprimanded.
By the afternoon, Derlord was irritated.
“What are you trying to accomplish.” he asked, tone clipped, as Avery sat on the couch opposite him fumbling with a loose thread on his shirt idly. He had retreated as far as he possibly could but Avery was still hovering.
Avery flinched, “Oh—sorry. I just—How do I put this?”
“Spit it out.”
Avery inhaled too fast, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Derlord are you scared of me?”
Derlord paused with a slow blink, his helmet tilting owlishly with confusion and the action made Avery’s heart mourn. Derlord was about to tell him that he hated him, then he’d never get to see the knight do that cute little head tilt thing again—
“What would I possibly be scared of?”
“You,” Avery blurted, shakily. “I mean—not you you, but…me? Every time I’m near you, you tense up, or you leave, or you just like, freeze. And I’m sorry!”
Derlord stared at him, and placed the book he was reading gently onto the coffee table. He did it so slowly that Avery might die from suspense.
“…Maybe,” Derlord said at last, voice quieter as he fixed Avery with a look, “I am scared.”
Avery’s breath hitched. His eyes watered instantly.
“I knew it,” he whispered, the devastation clear on his face. “I’m so, so sorry—I’ll back off, I’ll stop helping, I’ll—just tell me what to do and I’ll—”
“I am scared,” Derlord cut in, leaning back against the couch in what Avery could only interpret as an eye roll, “Of how much of an idiot you are.”
Avery stopped mid-spiral.
“…What?”
Derlord pinched the bridge of his nose beneath the visor and exhaled, “And I am sorry for avoiding you. That was…not intentional. Or rather—it was, but not for the reason you believe.”
Avery wiped at his eyes and stayed quiet, he tilted his head to the side slightly with a wobbly sniffle, as if encouraging Derlord to continue.
Derlord hesitated, “When you do things like… save me from a phantom with a fishing rod or when you push back furniture like it weighs nothing…”
Avery stared up at him with innocent, shaky eyes and Derlord struggled to find the right words, “My thoughts become… unhelpful.”
Avery sniffed. “Unhelpful? How?”
“…In a way that is deeply inconvenient,” he muttered.
Silence stretched once more broken only when Avery hiccuped.
“Notch, help me.” Derlord whispered to himself, then, very quietly and a little too quick, “Avery. I believe your actions have made me develop…a strength fixation…or something adjacent.”
“Strength…fixation?”
”Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“…Oh.” Avery said simply.
Something in Derlord’s chest lifted at the sight of the smile that bloomed across Avery’s slime face—then instantly regretting everything when the smile sharpened into a smirk.
Avery was already moving before Derlord could brace himself.
He dropped onto the couch beside him with far too much confidence, thigh brushing Derlord’s armoured leg as he leaned in like it was the most natural thing in the world. Their shoulders bumped then stayed touching.
Derlord stiffened immediately, a scowl spreading underneath his helmet.
Avery, on the other hand, looked infuriatingly thrilled.
He glanced down, eyes flicking to where their arms pressed together, and tilted his head with exaggerated curiosity.
“You had me so stressed out man,” he sighed, nudging just a little closer as if testing a theory, “Pretty sure I just went through the five stages of grief—“
“Stop.”
“Stop what?” Avery asked brightly, fingers brushing Derlord’s forearm, almost absent-minded, like he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it.
Derlord’s jaw tightened. He very pointedly did not look at where Avery’s thumb had started tracing idle little arcs against the edge of his gauntlet.
“Stop being so clingy,” Derlord muttered. “You’re getting snot all over me.”
Avery hummed, leaning in further instead of backing off as he wiped his nose with his arm. “By all means feel free to get up and go…”
“I was sat here first.” Derlord regrettably stayed very still then glanced at him despite himself. Avery was grinning down at him, eyes warm and amused, like he’d just discovered something deeply entertaining, “You are clearly fine now, so you should move.”
“Pfff-I wouldn’t have been so gloomy if you had just told me you had a strength kink from the beginning…” Avery teased, bumping their shoulders again. “I would’ve been very understanding.”
“Do not call it that.” Derlord grit his teeth. “I only told you because you were on the verge of emotional collapse.”
Avery’s eyes lit up.
“Can I call it an Avery fixation then?” he said happily, and promptly leaned into Derlord like a content, over affectionate animal, resting his full weight against his side.
Derlord made a low, betrayed sound. “Get off me.” He shot him a look, but the effects were minimal due to Avery noting the blush dusting under his eyes.
“I’m just sitting,” Avery said helpfully, even as his knee nudged Derlord’s. Evil evil man.
“Is this too close?”
“Yes,” Derlord said immediately.
Avery pulled back just enough to grin, hands lifting in mock surrender. “Fine fine, sorry, I’ll leave—“
Avery shifted his weight like he meant it. He wasn’t actually going to leave, he was having too much fun, but Derlord’s patience finally snapped.
His fingers closed around Avery’s wrist firmly and yanked him back down before he could fully rise. Avery stumbled, caught off-balance, the momentum carrying him forward until there was no space left to recover. Their knees knocked together as his free hand braced instinctively against the couch beside Derlord’s hip.
Derlord’s grip tightened, jaw clenched like he was furious with himself as much as Avery. His cheeks were unmistakably flushed.
“Dickhead,” he muttered angrily, but he couldn’t manage any real anger behind it. “You’re just going to walk away?”
Avery swallowed, grin softening but never quite disappearing. “…You don’t want me to?”
Derlord’s eyes dragged to Avery’s mouth, lingered there far too long, then snapped back up like he’d been caught doing something illegal.
“Don’t make me say it out loud,” Derlord said, breath already uneven, brows drawn tight like the words physically pained him.
Avery’s grin softened into something dangerous.
“Oh?” he murmured, leaning in just enough to feel Derlord’s breath hitch. “But you’re so good with words, Der.”
Derlord hissed through his teeth. “You are testing my patience.”
“I can’t help it,” Avery agreed cheerfully, inching closer anyway. He tilted his head, eyes bright, clearly enjoying how Derlord’s grip tightened in response. “Is there something you want?”
Derlord’s scowl deepened furiously, the intended effect ruined by the heat flooding his face. He opened his mouth, shut it again, jaw flexing like he was arguing with himself and losing. Then he exhaled sharply.
Derlord didn’t answer.
He could have simply said what he wanted, but he didn’t have to.
Something annoyed and determined slipped into his eyes, and Avery barely had time to register it before Derlord leaned in. The suddenness made Avery flinch and then Derlord yanked him forward by the wrist.
His other hand came up fast, snaking behind Avery’s head with surprising urgency, cutting off whatever smug comment Avery had been about to make. Avery stumbled into the pull and stopped short when Derlord pressed a kiss to…his forehead?
Derlord pulled back only inches, glaring at him like Avery was the one who planted the kiss.
“There,” he snapped, voice low and wobbly. “Satisfied?”
Avery didn’t know what he was expecting, but it most definitely wasn’t a gentle forehead peck. An action so un-Derlord-like that it made Avery’s chest ache, heart swelling painfully all at once.
“…Yeah,” he exhaled shakily, smiling so hard that it hurt. “Actually—no. Not really.”
Avery closed the distance swiftly.
The kiss landed soft at first, barely there, more a question than a claim. He stilled for half a heartbeat, like his body had forgotten how to respond at all, fingers tightening instinctively around Derlord’s waist like he needed the anchor. He felt Derlord tremble as he applied more pressure— the sensation forcing a tiny little whimper out of Derlord, muffled by the kiss.
The knight’s eyes snapped wide open instantly, body going rigid as the sound registered, only to meet Avery staring back at him, eyes wide, sparkling with amazement… just as flushed, just as caught off guard.
Avery surged forward, urgency crashing through him all at once, every ounce of restraint breaking loose. The kiss deepened, lips pressing firmly against Derlord’s like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.
He slipped closer, breath already unsteady, and when Derlord parted his lips—whether to speak or protest, Avery never found out—he took the opening without hesitation. The kiss deepened instantly, all restraint gone as he explored Derlord’s mouth with his tongue.
They tangled together, clumsy and desperate, Avery pressing Derlord back against the armrest as if the world had tilted and this was the only thing keeping him upright.
Derlord made a startled, broken sound that Avery swallowed whole, chasing it like it was encouragement. Every breath, every huff of frustration or surprise disappeared between them, the kiss growing more urgent by the second.
When they finally pulled back, it was only just enough to breathe. A trail of saliva connecting them together.
“Help me take my armour off. Now.” Derlord demanded, wiping his mouth.
Avery’s grin widened, “Sir, yes sir.” He huffed jokingly, already reaching for the straps.
He worked the clasps with surprising ease, fingers warm, deliberate, lingering just a beat too long each time one piece came loose. Metal hit the floor with soft, hollow thuds, each sound sending a little jolt through the room.
Derlord stayed still through all of it, or attempted to, hands braced at his sides like he was enduring something far more difficult than heading into a battlefield. His breathing betrayed him anyway, growing shallower with every piece shed.
Avery noticed. Of course he did.
“You’re doing great,” Avery murmured, far too pleased. “Very heroic. Very brave.”
Derlord shot him a look. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
Avery laughed again, low and warm, “You have no idea.” Then paused once he reached the helmet. He tilted his head. “You keeping that on?”
“Yes.”
Avery blinked. “Why? I’ve seen your face plenty of times?”
Derlord’s hands came up instantly, gripping the edge of the helmet like it was a lifeline. “That was different.”
“How?”
Derlord opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away.
“…I was not,” he said stiffly, “in a compromised state.” He shot him a glare that would’ve been devastating if his ears weren’t clearly burning.
“I am choosing to maintain what remains of my dignity.”
Avery smiled, unmistakably fond. “Okay,” he said gently. “Helmet stays.”
His fingers trailed back towards the strap under Derlord’s arm. The last piece came free, armour hitting the floor with a dull clatter, and Avery’s hands stopped moving entirely as he leaned back.
He just… stared.
Derlord lay sprawled beneath him, stripped of gold, reduced to nothing but a stubbornly kept helmet, fitted black turtleneck and loose black pants that sat low on his hips. The dark fabric clung to the breadth of his chest, stretched faintly across muscle it had no business trying to hide.
Avery reached out slowly, almost with reverence, fingers hooking under the hem of the turtleneck. He lifted it just a little.
Just enough to reveal Der’s waist. He slid the rest of fabric up with trembling hands, aiming to remove the offending material and pull it over the others head until he paused halfway, baring Derlord’s chest…he completely lost the plot.
His hands went slack, useless, still pinning the hem of the turtleneck just below Derlord’s helmet like he’d forgotten why they were there in the first place.
His gaze skittered helplessly. Dashing towards Derlord’s chest, broad and bare now with the cutest nipples ever, was cute appropriate? It felt appropriate—Then lower to the defined lines of his stomach, muscle firm but softened by warmth and breath, down to the narrow cut of his waist—
He made a sound. Soft. Ruined.
Derlord shuddered despite himself as a sharp, traitorous tremor raced through his veins under Avery’s stare. He reached for the fabric, attempting to finish what Avery clearly could not, but Avery’s hands didn’t move. They stayed there, clutching the shirt awkwardly like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
The pause stretched as Avery ogled. Somehow being half clothed felt more exposing than if he’d removed the top altogether.
“…Avery,” he snapped, mortified, still struggling to pull his shirt free from Avery’s grip. “Are you done?”
Avery did not respond.
Instead, he let one of his hands drop away from the hem of the turtleneck, fingers stretching toward Derlord’s chest like his body had decided for him until. Derlord caught his wrist instantly.
“No,” Derlord said sharply, voice tight as a drawn blade.
He shoved Avery back with little effort, sending him stumbling onto the other end of the couch. Before Avery could recover, Derlord followed, planting himself over him, knees bracketing Avery’s hips, presence overwhelming. He didn’t have time for this.
“If you’re not going to help,” Derlord continued, breath uneven despite the control in his grip,
He released Avery’s wrist slowly, deliberately.
“—then you can wait.”
Avery looked up at him, eyes blown wide, hands curled uselessly at his sides as Derlord straightened and reached for the hem of his own turtleneck.
He lifted it slowly.
Cruelly.
The fabric slid up and over his chest, then higher. The helmet stayed on. Everything else did not.
Avery made a broken noise that absolutely did not sound dignified as inky, scarred skin revealed itself on full display, “Oh my notch,” he breathed, voice cracking as he reached upwards,“Der— I—”
“Stop,” Derlord said firmly, embarrassment flaring hot beneath the authority as he slowly tugged them hem of his joggers below his hips. He managed to lower his pants until they pooled at his knees, his dick springing free. They were both achingly hard.
“No touching.”
Avery nodded like his life depended on it, hands pulled back immediately, “Okay. Yes. Absolutely. I can do that. I will be so so good—please continue.”
Derlord pressed a hand to his lips, trying to hide the low, sharp exhale that slipped anyway, his hips shifting slightly forward, betrayed by the sheer intensity of how turned on he was by Avery’s restraint and obedience. Every thought of Avery’s strength, how easily he could dominate, could take over, but didn’t, only made him shiver harder,
“Idiot… you are too eager…”
Avery couldn’t look everywhere at once, which somehow made it worse. His gaze caught on Derlord’s thighs first, plump and oh so biteable— he stilled at that thought, filling it away for later, “You’re right—I’m so sorry— Der you look so pretty, I can’t help it—“
Derlord stared down at him with a glare, flustered beyond redemption at Avery’s rambling praise, then sharply tugged the hem of Avery’s shorts down with one hand, the other going straight for Avery’s mouth.
It was a bit awkward trying to help Avery out of his shorts due to their position, but Derlord couldn’t complain as Avery swirled his tongue around the three fingers he’d pressed into his mouth, saliva dripping at the corners. Terrible messy warmth.
Avery’s own dick sprang to attention immediately once his shorts were removed and Derlord flinched back at the sight. Avery’s dick was blushing at the tip, slimy and proud, and unfortunately (or fortunately) intimidating.
He snuck one more finger into Avery’s mouth, muffling the chuckle that warbled from the slime.
Then he braced a hand against Avery’s chest and brought his, now slimy, hand backwards until it disappeared from Avery’s view.
Avery had never felt so hard in all his life.
His grip tightened on the couch dangerously as he willed patience into reality, the little grunts and trembles Derlord let out did nothing to help as he helplessly watched Derlord fuck himself on his own fingers.
It was too much and not enough all at once— each time Derlord would add another finger, he would rock forward closer towards Avery’s dick that stood painfully hard and unfortunately untouched. Avery brought a hand to his throbbing cock slowly, hopefully looking up towards Derlord who nodded his head between stuttering gasps.
“Mm—Der— you—” Avery panted, whilst sliding his hand up and down on his dick, carefully observing each one of Derlord’s jolts and quiet pants, “You’re—haaa. Such a tease—”
”Like… Like you are any—mmmph- any better…”
It was truly unfair. Derlord was a vision pulled straight from his imagination. He watched entranced as Derlord panted on top of him, flushed, breath uneven, muscles twitching. The glare he held Avery down with somehow made it worse, his eyebrows were knitted tightly as his shoulders trembled, struggling to stay quiet. Avery found it terribly adorable. He wished he could take a picture.
Derlord finally pulled his fingers out with a shaky exhale and impossibly lewd squelch. Then bracing both hands against Avery’s chest, he let his head tip forward as he tried to steady himself. His breathing went ragged, control visibly slipping despite his best efforts to pretend otherwise.
Avery’s breath caught painfully in his throat. He forced his hands to stay where they were, gripping the couch cushions as Derlord lifted his hips, then lined Avery’s dick up against his hole and slowly sank down, or rather attempted to.
“Nghhh—shit, ah,—why—,” Derlord accentuated each word and pant with a hard snap of his hips as he tried to force the tip through his entrance, “are you, so—mm fucking big—“
“Wow, haa—what can I say—“
They both moaned as the tip made it through, the squeeze was tight despite all the preparation and Derlord’s dick twitched violently against his abdomen at the thought that— it hurt— despite using four fingers. He bit down on his lower lip hard enough to leave a mark as he bottomed out, static crowding into his vision.
A sound slipped out from Derlord as his vision briefly wavered, an audible broken moan as he was stretched open, the embarrassment hit immediately after. His eyes squeezed shut, breath stuttering, as if he could will it back inside. He expected Avery’s teasing but was met with breathless silence, he peeled his eyes open warily.
Avery wasn’t looking at him, or rather he was, but stared darkly at his stomach.
Derlord looked down in mortified fluster towards his abdomen, a small bulge distended his stomach. Avery groaned, fighting desperately against the urge to reach out and touch it.
“Don’t— don’t even dare—” Derlord tried, voice already fraying, equal parts embarrassed and horribly turned on, “Shit— feels so weird—“
Avery didn’t move. Couldn’t. The sensation and the view alone were already too much, every instinct screaming at him to act while he forced himself to stay exactly where he was. He lifted a trembling hand to his mouth and bit down hard, a sharp little hiss slipping through his teeth as he forced himself there instead of reaching for Derlord.
“Oh—okay, wow,” Avery breathed, a strained laugh threading through his words. “Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m— I’m being good. See? Hands to myself.”
He added weakly, looking downright miserable,
“T-Take your time…”
Derlord had expected, hoped even, for Avery to snap by now. To grab, to take, to finally let that overwhelming strength assert itself. He’d braced for it. Wanted it.
But Avery didn’t.
He stayed exactly where Derlord had told him to stay, knuckles white, breath shaking, eyes locked on him like following orders was the only thing keeping him upright.
Something twisted sharply in Derlord’s chest. An undeniable heat flared in his ribs as the realisation hit him.
Avery was choosing this. Choosing restraint. Not because he had to, but because Derlord had asked.
Derlord swallowed, fluster burning hot beneath his skin. He huffed out a breath that was half scoff, half something dangerously unsteady that he couldn’t name.
“…You’re unbearable,” he muttered, trying for sharp, trying for control, even as his hands curled reflexively into the fabric beneath them. “Being so—so good for me—“
With a sudden resolve, Derlord lifted his hips and dropped back down again, motion rough and unguarded, breath tearing from his chest in strained, helpless sounds. Avery could only watch, mesmerised by the way Derlord moved against him. Then at where they were connected as his dick promptly vanished on each slam, reappearing briefly as a small bump in Derlord’s stomach.
Avery’s entire body shook. He swallowed hard, vision blurring, the sight alone enough to make his hands ache where they stayed planted, unmoving, exactly where Derlord had told him to keep them, “shiiit- ah- Der you feel so—so good—“
Derlord clung to what little control he had left, teeth sinking into his lip again, but the sounds came anyway as he lifted his hips again, waves of heat rolling through him—each one punching a broken ah and mphfh out his throat. Each slam made him flush darker, his body betraying him more and more.
“Av-haaa— mphhhg!-“ He tried for coherent sass, but wasn’t capable at multitasking as he felt every inch of Avery deep in his core, pleasure burning into his mind.
Derlord looked thoroughly fucked out after only a few thrusts, sweat glistening along his skin. Avery wouldn’t have minded if he died then and there.
He admired the way Derlord’s muscles twitched and contracted as the knight attempted to accommodate his length. Avery’s dick was a decent length, but the real punch to his gut was the girth. It stretched his walls so uncomfortably far, that each drag along it squashed into his prostrate.
Derlord hadn’t even realised how much his legs were trembling until he tried to lift his hips once more, pace painfully slow due to the burn in his thighs, the whimper that Derlord let out almost made Avery cum immediately.
“T-Tired already Der?”Avery murmured, a breathless half-laugh, “I’ve not even… even touched you yet—“
“Ah—mm, Avery—”
The way Derlord said his name, broken and breathless, hit Avery square in the chest. Derlord was shaking, visibly struggling to keep himself together, muscles taut with effort as he tried to move upwards, impaled halfway on his dick, but unable to pull out all the way. Avery’s breath hitched as he saw the small tears crowding at the corners of Derlord’s eyes, face completely flushed.
“Aves, then fucking—hmphh, touch me already—” Derlord gasped, words dissolving into breath. “I—I can’t take— mnghh-it anymore—”
That was all it took.
“Der—fuck—”
Avery’s breath broke completely as he surged forward sitting up, hands finding Derlord’s waist like instinct, fingers digging in hard enough to make Derlord shatter, “You’re gonna kill me—“
He took over completely, lifting Derlord with practiced strength and slamming him back into place again and again, control finally slipping into something wild. He thrust his hips up sharply, as he simultaneously yanked Derlord downwards.
The way Avery steadied him made Derlord’s breath stutter in a way that had nothing to do with balance. Derlord broke as he saw stars.
Not loudly—not at first—but in a series of ruined, breathless sounds he clearly hadn’t meant to make. He slapped a hand over his mouth, biting down hard as another breath tore out of him anyway, muffled and helpless. His other hand fisted in Avery’s shirt, grip tightening as each thrust punched straight into his prostrate.
“A—Avery—” he tried, the name dissolving into a gasp, “fuck fuck fuck, m-more—“
Avery was gone.
Whatever careful restraint he’d had, shattered completely as he held Derlord’s waist so hard he’d probably bruise in the morning, strength turning thoughtless and desperate.
He moved him like he weighed nothing, breath coming in sharp, broken pulls, every motion rougher than the last,
“Der, you—h, don’t know how long— I’ve wanted, nghhh— you—“
The rough treatment only brought Der closer to the edge as he was bounced up and down like it was his only reason for living,
“W-Wh— you—haa, Perv—“
Of course even dicked down, Der would find a way to get on his nerves. So in retaliation, Avery leaned in close towards Derlord’s chest and bit down hard around his left nipple— earning him a lovely moan.
Derlord’s shoulders trembled as he tried to swallow any other sounds, teeth sinking into his knuckles as Avery sucked hard at his chest. It didn’t work. The noises kept spilling out anyway each one spurring Avery on further.
“Nghh—I— can’t—” The admission tore out of him before he could stop it as Avery somehow increased the pace sloppily,
“Too— Mm-Much—”
“Der—” Avery choked, forehead dropping forward against Derlord’s neck, equally if not more wrecked. “You— you sound so—”
Avery made a wild, broken sound , as Derlord tightened around him on a particularly rough slam, vision whiting out, “Notch— I— I’m so close,” he gasped.
Derlord clung to Avery’s shoulders hard enough to leave dents. He was panting hard now, composure utterly gone, every attempt at dignity abandoned in favor of just holding on. His hand slipped from his mouth at some point, too overwhelmed to care anymore, breath coming fast and unguarded mixed with low guttural moans, ”nGh— fuckkk- Ah- Avery—“
“Der, please please please can I— inside—please!!”
Derlord couldn’t offer him a reply as static exploded along his spine. He felt himself jerk back as he his dick spurted between them, completely untouched.
Avery winced as Derlord tightened around him, he’d apologise later, he thought briefly, before slamming Derlord down with all his strength as he kept him there, heat exploding in his abdomen as he emptied his load straight inside him.
He pressed close, burying his face against Derlord’s shoulder, holding him there while everything finally crashed over them both.
Derlord twitched, overstimulated, at the feeling of Avery’s cum spill into him, stuffing whatever space was left until he finally stilled. When he finally found his voice again, it came out thin and biting despite the way he shook in Avery’s grip.
“…You…,” he huffed, swallowing hard, “Fuck you.”
Avery laughed weakly, still clinging, still unwilling to move. “Haha sorry, errr…welcome back?”
Derlord scoffed, trying for sharp and landing somewhere fond instead. “…Don’t get smug. I have not recovered enough to kill you yet.”
Avery only tightened his hold, forehead resting against him, utterly blissed out. “Of course…Take your time.”
They stayed there like that for a little while, neither making any moves to leave just yet. Avery held onto Derlord desperately as if he would disappear if he let him go. He let out a shaky exhale into Derlord’s shoulder, then leaned back to face him—still clinging on.
“I just— I mean, I know this is terrible timing and you probably don’t want to hear this now but I’ve been meaning to say it for ages and if I don’t say it now I might never—”
Derlord leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Avery’s lips, effectively shutting him up. When he pulled back, his face was burning red and he immediately turned his head away.
“…Do you ever stop talking?” he muttered.
Avery froze.
“I’m so sorry I’ve probably made this so awkward. I—uh— I can,” he said quickly, horrified. “I can stop. I’m stopping. See? Silent...” He pressed his lips together, visibly vibrating with the effort.
Derlord exhaled through his teeth.
“Idiot.”
Then, without looking at him, jaw tight like he was forcing the words out through sheer will, “Don’t be stupid…I wouldn’t have let this happen if I didn’t feel the same.”
Avery stared at him.
“Oh,” he breathed. Then softer, like he was afraid to break it, “Oh.”
“…So,” he tried carefully, voice cracking despite himself, “are we— I mean. Can we—”
Derlord finally angled his helmet back towards him, fixing Avery with the angriest, most flustered glare imaginable.
“Yes. Now shut up.”
…
Avery almost died. Brain short-circuiting as he stared at Derlord with awe.
Confused at Avery’s sudden silence, Derlord went to say something until his breath caught— he jolted.
A sharp choked off moan slipped out of him before he could stop it, his body shuddering as he felt Avery hardening inside him once again feeling too full—too overwhelmed. He sucked in a breath, eyes dropping, then snapping back up to Avery in pure disbelief.
“…Are you—” His voice cracked. He swallowed, glaring at Avery like this was somehow his fault.
Avery flushed hard, heat crawling up his neck as he shook his head quickly. “I—I’m sorry,” he blurted, words tripping over each other.
“I swear I’m trying. Like, really trying. I’m doing the breathing thing and everything, it’s just—” He gestured helplessly at Derlord, voice dropping into something miserably earnest, “ But you’re just so cute Der!!”
Derlord was shaking now, overstimulated and flustered beyond redemption.
”Cute.” He repeated flatly, voice cracking slightly.
“Adorable… clever—“ He manoeuvred them back, until Derlord’s back hit the couch with a soft thud, still impossibly close, still connected. “Gorgeous… pretty—“
“Idiot, I didn’t ask for synonyms—” Derlord cut in sharply, the word breaking into a breathless moan as Avery pulled out slowly,
“nGgh! Fu— Avery, wait—”
The loss of pressure drew another helpless sound from Derlord’s chest, his fingers digging into the cushions as his composure frayed. Avery swallowed hard as he watched his own slimy cum pool out of Derlord’s fluttering rim and pushed back in before any more could spill out. Derlord twitched weakly.
“Der, I’m— I’m so sorry,” Avery rushed out, wrecked and earnest, hands stilling but not retreating, like he physically couldn’t make himself pull away. “I just—can we maybe—one more? Please?”
Derlord stared at him in open disbelief. “What, are you— ngh— a fucking rabbit?” he snapped, the insult losing most of its bite when his body betrayed him with a sharp shudder.
“It’s too soon—”
He cut himself off with a strangled sound as Avery’s finger traced his twitching member, fully hard and ready for action.
Derlord glared down at his own dick feeling betrayed.
“…Unbelievable.”
Avery, helplessly encouraged, swallowed hard. “I mean,” he said weakly, trying (and failing) to sound reasonable, “I think the evidence is… pretty compelling—”
“Do not,” Derlord said, voice strained, cheeks blazing, “finish that sentence.”
Avery cracked a breathless laugh. “Sir! Yes sir!!” He joked, then quietly added, still smiling, “Sooo… Is that a no?”
Then Derlord exhaled, slow and tight, eyes flicking back to Avery with an expression that was equal parts resignation and something dangerously heated.
“…You are insufferable.” he muttered.
Avery beamed like he’d just been granted a royal decree.
And judging by the way Derlord’s grip tightened and his composure continued to unravel, the argument was very much not over.