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The room was hushed, except for the low hum of a refrigerator, and the soft rhythmic rustle of fabric as Ashveil shifted his weight. Boothill sat slouched in his chair at the desk, his posture relaxed but his attention entirely focused downward. He looked down at the man kneeling on the floor between his legs, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and affection.
"You sure ya wanna do this, boss?"
Boothill’s voice was low, rough around the edges, but laced with genuine hesitation. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before resting gently on Ashveil’s shoulder.
"It’s your choice. I’m not gonna force you into anything you ain't ready for."
Ashveil didn’t look away. He looked up at Boothill with eyes that were bright with determination, despite the heat rising to his cheeks. He rested his hands on Boothill’s thighs, his grip firm as he stared at the cock that lay heavy and thick between his partner's legs.
"I want to do this for you, Boothill," Ashveil said, his voice quiet but steady.
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he looked back up. "I know I’m not the best at this, but I want to try. You always take such good care of me... I just want to make you feel good, too."
A slow, tender smile spread across Boothill’s face as he watched Ashveil. The hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by a look of pure adoration. He reached down, his hand cupping the back of Ashveil's neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin beneath his ear.
"Alright then," Boothill murmured, his thumb tracing gentle circles. "Go slow, okay? Don't push yourself too quickly. And remember... no teeth."
Ashveil nodded, his lips parting as he leaned in. He closed his eyes for a brief second, gathering his courage before pressing his lips against the tip of Boothill’s cock. He let out a soft breath, his tongue darting out to taste his skin. He began to work his way down, licking a long, slow stripe up the sensitive underside of the shaft, from base to tip.
Boothill let out a low, guttural sigh, his head tipping back against the headrest of the chair. "That feels... damn good."
Ashveil’s eyes fluttered open, gleaming with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He wrapped his lips around the head, taking just the tip into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, coating it in a layer of warm, wet saliva. He pulled back slightly to catch his breath, his mouth glistening, before looking up at Boothill.
"Relax your throat and breathe through your nose," Boothill instructed softly, his hand moving to cradle the back of Ashveil's head, guiding him gently. "Just let me take the lead."
Ashveil took a shaky breath, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he parted his lips. He wrapped them around the swollen head of Boothill’s cock, the taste of him filling his senses immediately.
The reality of what he was doing washed over him, this was entirely new territory for him. Ashveil had carried his virginity for years, guarded and closed off to everyone else, but Boothill had peeled back those layers with nothing but patience and care. For the first time, Ashveil didn't feel the need to perform or pretend to be strong, he just wanted to give back what he had received.
Boothill watched him with hooded eyes, his hand moving to rest on Ashveil’s head, his thumb stroking the nape of his neck soothingly. "There we go," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Look at you... you’re doing so good, boss."
Ashveil wanted to hear more praise.
He wanted to show him exactly how much he appreciated everything Boothill did for him.
Driven by a desperate need to please, he lowered his head, taking the thick cock deeper than he had before. He didn't stop to adjust or breathe, diving in too quickly, and the sudden intrusion made his eyes water. A harsh wet gag escaped him, his throat convulsing reflexively around the intrusion.
Boothill’s reaction was instant.
He pulled Ashveil back gently, his hands cradling his face, his thumbs brushing away the stray tears welling in Ashveil’s eyes. His expression shifted from pleasure to immediate concern, his brow furrowing as he took in Ashveil’s flushed, teary face.
"Shhh, it’s okay," Boothill cooed, his voice soft and steady, anchoring Ashveil in the moment. "Just breathe, and go slow. I promise it feels good... you’re doing great."
He didn't break eye contact, his gaze intense and full of nothing but adoration, refusing to let Ashveil feel even a fraction of embarrassment.
Boothill didn't just let go; he held on, cradling the back of Ashveil’s head firmly, allowing the silence to stretch between them. He wanted Ashveil to catch his breath, to ground himself before diving back into the sensation. His fingers shifted from cradling his face to combing through Ashveil’s hair, the cool metal of his thumbs massaging soothing circles against the scalp, grounding him in the moment.
Ashveil seemed to melt into the touch. He buried his face against the rough fabric of Boothill’s thigh, seeking the friction and the comfort, his eyes squeezed shut as he took a shaky, deep breath. When he finally looked up at Boothill, his gaze was watery and vulnerable, his lashes fluttering. He seemed to steel himself, his expression shifting from hesitation to a fierce determination to please.
He leaned forward again, his warm mouth wrapping around the flushed head of Boothill’s cock. The sensation was overwhelming, and Boothill’s head fell back against the chair, his back arching instinctively as a low moan escaped his throat. He spread his knees wider, a subconscious surrender of control that made him feel more open, more exposed, and undeniably more receptive to the experience.
Ashveil’s body began to relax, the tension draining out of his limbs. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs, and then slowly lowered his head, determined to take more this time. He relaxed his throat muscles, opening up to let the intrusion happen naturally.
Boothill hissed through his teeth, a sharp intake of breath that seemed to vibrate up his entire spine. A shudder racked his body, his fingers tightening momentarily in Ashveil's hair before relaxing again into a caress.
"Fuck... good boy," Boothill breathed out, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush of pure adoration. "You're doing so well..."
He watched Ashveil through half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as the pleasure built. His cheeks flushed a deep, burning red, the color creeping down his neck as Ashveil began to move again, his movements slow and practiced, eager to make every second count.
Ashveil’s hesitation vanished, replaced by a fierce, unyielding desire to please. He didn't just take the tip, he took it all. He wrapped his lips tight around his throbbing cock, hollowing his cheeks to create a vacuum, and began to suck with a rhythmic intensity that made his head swim. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive ridge, determined to drive Boothill out of his mind.
The reaction was instantaneous and visceral. Boothill’s head snapped back against the headrest, a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat that vibrated directly against Ashveil’s tongue. The ranger's back arched off the chair, his fingers tangling tightly in Ashveil’s hair, holding on for dear life as the pleasure washed over him.
The quiet room was instantly drowned out by the sheer, unadulterated sound of sex. The wet, slick suction of Ashveil’s mouth moving up and down the shaft filled the air, a lewd and erotic noise that echoed off the walls. It was punctuated by Boothill’s heavy, ragged breathing and the occasional muffled moan.
Boothill's thighs began to tremble uncontrollably, the muscles quivering with a tension that was rapidly building towards an inevitable release. His breath hitched, each inhale a ragged gasp that did little to steady the frantic beat of his heart. Boothill watched Ashveil through hooded eyes, the sight of him on his knees, so obedient and eager, sending a fresh wave of heat straight through his core.
"Ashveil… b-boss," he stammered, "you're going to make me cum so hard…"
The words were a low growl, torn from his throat as he lost himself completely to the overwhelming pleasure that Ashveil was bestowing upon him. A sharp, possessive command followed.
"Be the good boy you are and swallow every drop for me."
Boothill's hips began to move of their own accord, starting with a slow, shallow thrust into the wet heat of Ashveil's mouth. It was a test, a tease, but it quickly became insufficient. The need for more, for deeper, for faster, consumed him, and his movements grew more desperate, more erratic. He was chasing a high that was just out of reach, and Ashveil was the only one who could give it to him.
In response, Ashveil tightened his throat, a deliberate, constricting pressure around Boothill's length. He hummed, a low, vibrating sound that traveled straight through Boothill's cock and up his spine. The sensation was electric, and Boothill shuddered violently, a guttural moan escaping his lips. His eyes, dark with heated desire, locked onto Ashveil's, watching the way he looked up at him with such devotion, such unashamed hunger. The visual was almost as potent as the physical.
Boothill's fingers dug into the polished wood of the armrests making the chair creak under his grip. "Fuck," he cursed, his voice shaky and thin. "Oh aeons, don't stop…" The words were a desperate plea, a surrender to the tidal wave of his orgasm that was cresting within him. He could feel it gathering at the base of his stomach, a coiling spring of pure ecstasy ready to snap.
It didn't take long.
With one final, deep thrust he threw his head back. A long, sensual moan was ripped from his chest as he came, his body going rigid as the orgasm crashed over him with the force of a storm. Wave after wave of intense pleasure pulsed through him, leaving him breathless and trembling. He spilled himself down Ashveil's throat, his entire world narrowing to the single point of their connection.
Ashveil's throat bobbed rhythmically as he dutifully swallowed everything, just as he'd been told. He held Boothill in his mouth for several long seconds after the last shudder had subsided, milking him for every last drop before slowly, carefully pulling off.
A soft cough escaped his lips as he cleared his throat, and he delicately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Looking up at the spent man before him, his eyes were wide and hopeful, his voice a soft whimper. "Did I do a good job?" he asked, his need for praise and attention palpable.
A breathy utterly wrecked laugh was Boothill's first response. He reached down, his movements still a little clumsy, and pulled Ashveil up from the floor, guiding him onto his lap. His metal hands, cool against Ashveil's heated skin slid up his back, tracing the line of his spine before pulling him flush against his chest. Boothill tilted his head back to look up at the man now straddling him, his expression one of pure, unadulterated adoration.
"That was incredible… so fucking good," he murmured, his voice still hoarse.
He didn't wait for a reply, instead surging up to capture Ashveil's lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue slid past Ashveil's lips, claiming his mouth with a demanding urgency. He could taste himself on Ashveil's tongue, a heady, intimate flavor that only fueled the lingering embers of his passion. The kiss was messy and raw, a testament to the intensity of what had just transpired.
When he finally pulled back, they were both panting heavily, their foreheads resting together. Boothill's gaze softened as he leaned in, pressing his face against the crook of Ashveil's neck. He began showering the sensitive skin with gentle, ticklish kisses, interspersed with whispered words of praise. "You're amazing," he murmured against his throat. "So perfect for me." His hands roamed ceaselessly, caressing the smooth skin of his back, tracing the curve of his hips, and stroking the muscles of his thighs.
Ashveil tilted his head back letting Boothill have his way, his breath still coming in soft, uneven puffs. He felt Boothill's arms wrap securely around him, the metal of his hands a cool, grounding weight against his back. "I… I really liked doing this to you, can we do it again sometime?" Ashveil whispered, the admission muffled but clear, a shy echo of the desperate plea from moments before.
Boothill's chest rumbled with a low, contented hum. He tightened his hold, pressing a lingering kiss to Ashveil's temple. "Of course," he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing vibration. "I'll be looking forward to it." He shifted slightly, settling Ashveil more comfortably on his lap, a silent promise that he wasn't going anywhere. In the quiet aftermath, with the scent of sex and sweat still hanging in the air, there was only the sound of their breathing and the steady, reassuring beat of Boothill's heart against Ashveil's ear. It was more than enough for them.