Chapter Text
Olruggio had come home much later than expected. A business meeting that had evolved into late evening drinks. He had roughly slurred his goodnights to Qifrey upon returning home, but declined the offering of baked bread and wild fern soup that had been kindly set aside for him. He'd then stumbled off to his annexe, likely falling asleep with most of his clothes on.
It wasn't that Qifrey was angry at him for returning late drunk, but it was a little irritating. Especially after the day Qifrey had had. The girls had been squabbling all day, which made making their lunches a rushed affair. Then an afternoon trip out that had ended in a scraped knee and a grumpy apprentice. Upon returning, slick trails of ink were smeared around the kitchen after a brushbug had gotten into the stationary cupboard. Then, frazzled and tired from smiling through it all, Qifrey managed to at least make a batch of fresh rolls and a hearty soup. However, as good as the soup was there hadn't been enough to go around with Olruggio included. So, Qifrey had grazed on a small portion of leftovers and had saved the soup and rolls for Olruggio's return.
But now, the soup still remained in the crock pot and the bread on the cooling rack as Qifrey flounced across the walkway to Olruggio's quarters. On a less exhausting day, Qifrey may have let it be. He may have let himself enjoy the soup and waited until morning, so he wouldn't have felt so… Underappreciated. Qifrey had missed his presence all day. He thought it would have been nice to at least have had Olruggio nearby so he could have moments respite to grumble and groan before straightening himself out and going back to the girls.
It would just be a stern word, that's all. Perhaps Olruggio had sobered up slightly and had not yet gone to sleep.
Olruggio had, though. As Qifrey quietly snuck into Olruggio's room he could already hear the deep, heavy breaths of a man undone by presumably some decent quality meads. Qifrey just sighed when he saw Olruggio's cloak half draped over the blankets. He had no doubt barely managed to peel off his layers before passing out.
Qifrey climbed up to Olruggio's hammock, pulling off the heavy black cloak and hanging it over a low hanging beam. He wished he could have still clung on to his annoyance with the man, but even in his drunken slumber, all Qifrey wanted to do was climb in next to him and listen to the way he breathed and mumbled in his sleep.
There was still ink to clean up in the kitchen, and the dishes and laundry for the next day, but Qifrey ached for just a moment away from all that. Just a moment to pretend that the only worry he had in the world was whether Olruggio would snore too loud for him to sleep.
So, he allowed himself. Just a couple of minutes. Just to feel how warm he was. Just to feel how real he was.
Qifrey quickly and quietly slipped in next to Olruggio, it was easy enough to do without waking him seeing as he'd opted for his cloak rather than a quilt. But once he was tucked up against Olruggio's side, Qifrey pulled the light quilt over them both and closed his eye. Olruggio smelled like sweet wine, a faint smell of smoke and something outdoorsy. A smell likely from his solo walk home over the meadows. It made Qifrey smile. It reminded him of when they first fixed up the Atelier together before he'd taken on apprentices. He missed it, having a late evening picnic out on the hill with laughter and drinks, before stumbling back to one of their rooms to spend the night.
Olruggio's chest rose and fell with each soft snore. Qifrey hand rested on top of it, his fingertips idly stroking over his chest hair, barely sneaking under the open lapel of his shirt. He found himself enjoying the peace, and it was pleasant to just enjoy being so close to Olruggio. He couldn't remember the last time they'd laid together like this. His hand slipped further into the light shirt fabric. What started off as gentle fingertips ghosting his skin, had gracefully morphed into a flat palm skating over the planes of his pecs, with the occasional gentle squeeze.
Soon after, Qifrey felt himself shuffling more snugly against Olruggio's side. His hips pressing against the edge of his thigh in a way that just made him want to shift against it. Olruggio stayed quietly snoring despite the wandering hands roaming over every expanse of skin available to them.
The guilt didn't feel great. Taking something from Olruggio that he would willingly give to Qifrey without question. But it felt a little safer, the guilt took the edge off the looming feeling of comfort and safety at least.
Qifrey pressed his face against Olruggio's shoulder, wanting to mumble apologies but in that moment, the want to roll his hips a little more firmly against Olruggio's thigh was the feeling that won out. It was an indulgence. A selfish indulgence of appreciating every part of Olruggio he could reach. Qifrey's fingertips grazed across Olruggio's stomach, back and forth in teasing, light strokes. He couldn't help but chuckle against his shoulder when he felt the tiny twitches of Olruggio's muscles the more he explored.
It didn't take long before Qifrey was fighting with himself not to bite down on the sleeve of the shirt he had his face pressed against. But he wanted to, he wanted to do more. Bite down on the sensitive crook of Olruggio's neck that he liked, kiss across his collar bones, nip and his lips, run his nails through his hair, tilt his chin and drag his tongue across his stubbly jawline–
“Oru…” Qifrey near-silently groaned as his imagination got the better of him. He couldn't help himself from taking Olruggio's wrist and carefully manoeuvring it between them both.
Without trying to wake him, Qifrey positioned Olruggio's limp hand against his frustratingly hard erection. Even under his trousers and skirts, it still felt divine pressing himself into his open palm.
Qifrey held Olruggio's hand there, gently guiding the heel of his palm to grind over the head of his cock. With his other hand, Qifrey held on to Olruggio's shoulder, losing himself to the point of almost not caring if it woke him or not. But he smelled so good, so Oru. It wasn't even a challenge for Qifrey to imagine his heavy, slumbering breaths were actually breaths of exertion and arousal. He wanted more, he wanted everything Olruggio could give him.
Reluctantly, Qifrey paused the increasingly desperate rolls of his hips to reach over and pull Olruggio's other arm across them. He shuffled as close as he could to him. With one hand, he pressed the man's hand to his cock again, and with the other he held his hand against his throat. Obviously, with it still being limp he couldn't wrap the fingers around his throat, but just holding the hand against his throat was enough.
It was something they used to do many years ago. It was strangely comforting to reminisce about the illusion of danger. How he'd managed to convince Olruggio that it just felt good. That it was purely a little kink for nothing but pleasure. That it was just what he needed to get off. Admittedly at first it was a struggle to get Olruggio comfortable enough with it, at times Qifrey having to hold Olruggio's hand against his throat before he came. Just a little kink. Just a little kink that made his orgasm just slightly more satisfying because of the head rush… Rather than him knowing deep down, he craved that feeling of danger to feel comfortable enough to finish without any potential repercussions.
It was much like what he was doing now, pressing Olruggio's reluctant hand against his throat because that's what he felt he needed to feel to finally finish. The thought of Olruggio waking up and realising what he was doing to him and clamping his hand down on his throat was a thought that even Qifrey was surprised at how much it turned him on. He thought that he'd probably want Olruggio to do it too, he'd deserve it for being so selfish and indulgent after all.
Qifrey could feel the warm, terrifying euphoria radiating from his abdomen. He could already feel how damp his trousers felt from leaking at the sheer thought of getting caught. He tried to swallow down the anxiety and pressed Olruggio's hand to his throat hard enough for him to wake, had he not been so intoxicated.
Short, quiet gasps left Qifrey's throat as he felt himself press his achingly hard erection into Olruggio's palm before the entire world caved in on him. He released the hand from around his throat and screwed his eye shut, the rush of blood to his head making his orgasm all the more intense. He felt himself throb and twitch as he shamefully ejaculated against the layers of fabric between them.
His fingers trembled as he continued to push Olruggio's hand against the sodden fabric, even long after he'd come down from his orgasm. He was a mess of whispered apologies and sparks of almost-uncomfortable overstimulation. The only reaction from Olruggio was a quiet grumble with his brow furrowed. Qifrey released his hands and allowed Olruggio to mumble something nonsensical, stretch and roll over with his back to him.
To Qifrey, as he stared at Olruggio's turned back, the guilt felt overwhelming. It felt overwhelming, and to his own detriment he realised he’d quite enjoyed it.