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Valarr always finds something to complain about when Aerion sleeps in his bed. He’s too warm. He’s too clingy. He hogs the covers. He talks in his sleep – usually nonsense about dragons. That perfume he wears in excessive quantities clings to his sheets days after he’s gone.
Naturally, Valarr should be delighted to have some peace while his cousin is in Lys, hours and miles away from his apartment, the only place where he doesn’t have to entertain anyone or put on an act. Aerion’s absence for a few days means silence, at last, if anything.
Except it also means that when he wakes up aching with want, he can’t simply roll over and climb on top of Aerion and make out with him until they’re both needy.
He sighs and shifts in his bed, wondering whether he should just hit the shower so he’s not late – then he remembers it’s Saturday. Likely thing for him to forget.
Valarr has woken up exactly an hour before his alarm for the past ten days – which has nothing to do with Aerion’s departure, surely – and it is as annoying as it is useless. Even if he tried to fall back asleep, he wouldn’t. His brain is too preoccupied with work, and family matters, which are indissociable from each other. At this point, only one thing could help.
It would surely delight Aerion to know that he is always what Valarr pictures when he touches himself. He shouldn’t. It’s nothing sentimental, really, just that Valarr only sleeps with him so he doesn’t see the point. If he wanted someone else, he would fuck someone else.
It shouldn’t get to his head that he’s the only one Valarr wants, but it would, if he knew.
At least the Aerion in his mind does as he’s told. This much can’t always be said of the real one. But maybe Valarr likes it that way, likes that sometimes, Aerion makes him work for it.
If Aerion was there, Valarr wouldn’t even need to ask. He’d kiss his neck, bite him too hard, pull Valarr closer by the hips. He would drag his underwear down and jerk him off too slowly, just to rile him up. Suck on his tongue to keep him quiet. And Valarr would let him, would only let out an occasional curse.
Valarr gasps quietly as he tries to mimic the way Aerion touches him but not quite managing it. He’d say filthy things to him as well ; things that would make Valarr gasp as much as the things he’d do with his hand.
Fuck, he misses him.
Frustrated, Valarr picks up his phone on the nightstand with his free hand.
“Hi,” Aerion says, only a few rings later, “can’t sleep?”
Valarr is aware that it’s six in the morning. In Lys, though, it’s the middle of the day. He’s sure Aerion has nothing better to do. He could stand to make himself useful.
“No,” Valarr says, not bothering to hide how breathy his voice is, “I was thinking about you.”
He can literally hear Aerion’s cocky smile.
“Were you, now ?”
“Yeah,” Valarr sighs, “really wish you were here right now.”
“To get you off ?”
“Precisely.”
Valarr hears the sound of a car door slamming.
“I can do that from here,” Aerion says.
“Can you ?”
Valarr is sure he can. His voice alone is driving him mad, even though it is a poor substitute for Aerion’s teeth grazing his skin, his hands in his hair.
“Fuck you, of course I can,” Aerion scoffs.
“Miss you,” Valarr groans, “it’s so rude of you to be gone when I need you.”
Nevermind that he does nothing to rid Aerion of the idea that he is imposing whenever he’s at his apartment, nevermind that he never asks him to stay, only allows it over and over again.
“Fuck,” he hears Aerion curse, and the rustle of clothing, “what do you miss ?”
“Your hands,” Valarr says, biting back a moan. “how they always seem to know what I want ; where I want them.”
“Mmh, and where do you want them ?”
“My hair, my mouth, ah, my cock.”
“What else ?”
“Your nails, how they scratch me when I’m inside you,” Valarr sighs, “can’t get enough of that.”
“Fuck, really ?”
Valarr just moans into the microphone and smiles when he hears Aerion curse.
“You know what I miss ?” Aerion groans, “Sucking you off. I’d kill to get my mouth on you right now.”
Valarr gasps, trying to keep his pace steady but he’s feeling so close already. He breathes in and out.
“You should get over here,” he groans. “What are you even doing? Fucking others?”
That makes Aerion snort.
“Does that get you off, Valarr? To think about me with someone else?”
What it does is give Valarr murderous ideas, but maybe it does get him off occasionally.
“So are you?”
Aerion sighs.
“There’s this guy. Really gorgeous brunette, thinks himself smarter than he is, but really good in bed.”
Valarr wants to roll his eyes in annoyance but it’s very much from pleasure that he does right now. Of course Aerion is fucking someone that looks like him. He probably picked up some poor loser in one of these expensive and stupid clubs he frequents and decided he looked passable enough after three drinks.
“Good for you,” Valarr groans, “did you call him my name?”
“Ha,” Aerion snorts, “I’d have to kill every guy I fuck if I did.”
Valarr likes the sound of that, but not as much as he likes to hear Aerion whimper.
“Whoever this slut is,” he says, “you’d better forget about him.”
“You’re so hot when you’re jealous,” Aerion sighs, “I should make you mad more often.”
“Just try me,” Valarr grits out between his teeth.
“You should have seen him,” Aerion says, his voice rougher, taunting, “trying so hard to keep his composure until I ate him out.”
Valarr is so jealous his head is spinning and he shoves a hand over his mouth, biting at the meat of his palm, right below his thumb. When they’re done, he will task their best hitman to find and kill this guy.
“You’re good at getting people to snap,” he moans.
“I am,” Aerion says, utterly pleased with himself, “but him especially. I can’t get enough of watching him bite his own hand when I make him come.”
Valarr pauses, then sighs in exasperation.
“Oh, fuck you.”
Aerion’s laughter is a caress and an annoyance all at once, much like his cousin himself.
“I really had you there, didn’t I? Were you ready to kill this guy? Are you close?”
“Aerion,” Valarr says, staring at his ceiling and jerking himself in slow, maddening strokes, “I’d devour the fuck out of you if you were here.”
“Hm, fuck,” Aerion groans appreciatively, “I can always get on a plane.”
Valarr closes his eyes, pictures himself pining Aerion to the bed and shoving his tongue in his mouth. He comes a few seconds later.
“Yeah,” he groans, “get over here.”