Axolotl

A hesitant but heavy knock on your door is what wakes you up from a light, dreamless slumber. You stare at the ceiling, as you always did into the early hours of the morning before Dante fished you from your rooms, and back into the inferno.

Of course, that wasn't Dante.

It was still late, it had to be. Heathcliff and Ishmael weren't bitching at each other yet.

“Coming.” You swung your legs off the bed, sheets rustling under your movement as you stood. Your large hammer sat against the wall as usual. It was a good tool, and in the morning it would see its use again… likely smashing whatever abnormality you could find in the mirror dungeons in a two-handed grip.

You shook your head. Focus. Whoever's waking you up, it has to be important.

You walked over to the door, pulling it open and peeking your head out, to see… “Sinclair? What're you doing here?” You looked down at him as you spoke, stretching against the doorframe. Suddenly, the idea that this might be important felt less likely.

“Oh, um…” he was silent, looking up at you, before finally stuttering out an answer. “I needed to talk to you. And…”

“And it couldn't wait until the morning?” You said, your hand moving to your hip. “I was just getting to sleep…”

“It's important, I promise.” You were almost about to roll your eyes and tell him to go to bed, but he spoke quicker than you could act. “It's about… it's about that night.”

Oh.

Shit, that was important.

You looked down at him, your mouth slightly agape. “...that one?” He nodded solemnly, his head hanging slightly as he looked up at you.

You sighed, then lowered your arm, and pushed the door open.

“Thank you, Fourteen.” The name rang like a bell in your ears. Even as much as you trusted Sinclair. You still couldn't tell him your real name… nor anyone else on this bus. Faust might know, Vergilius too, but no one else did. It was too risky.

Even for you.

He slipped past you, moving to stand in the middle of your room. Faust had said that it would match your current mental state, but you couldn't vouch for it, not having seen anyone else’s rooms. And really… yours always seemed to stay the same. A dull, domestic room. A bed, a desk, and a bookshelf. No decorations or windows.

Could be worse, you supposed.

Of course, the last time Sinclair had seen it, it was the same. But he wasn't.

Not after Calw.

“So… how do you want to talk about it?” You spoke softly, as if speaking any louder than a whisper would break him in the wind.

How do you talk about that sort of thing? The night after you kill Kromer, and he slips into your room and begs you to hold him? To… touch him? To make him feel like he has something real, something tangible with anybody else on this damn bus?

You said no. You still hugged him, but when he leaned in, practically begging you to fuck him, you said no. He was vulnerable, beyond vulnerable. He had faced more in one day than most people should have to in their entire lifetimes.

Not that you wouldn't want to. He was cute, and sweet… but it felt like nothing less than taking advantage of him. So you'd stopped him before he kissed you, and he left. It was a simple rejection, with a simple reaction.

You pushed him away, and he left.

You'd felt it for days afterwards. The awkwardness, the tension… and so did a couple of other Sinners. You two were practically attached at the hip, and when you sat on the opposite end of the bus, Rodya, Gregor, and for some reason Hong Lu had a myriad of questions for the both of you.

You only answered when Ryoshu came around. You didn't think she'd truly, genuinely care, honestly. But when she sat next to you, she had a very simple statement for the only other person who could (tentatively and hesitantly) decipher her acronyms.

“T.T.H.O.I.W.G.Y”

Talk to him or I will gut you.

Her hand never left the pommel of her blade, and as she stood, her eyes never left your face. Then she sat down next to Sinclair, an oddly protective tilt in her presence.

You hadn't gotten around to it, yet. For some reason, the idea of speaking to him sent a shiver in your gut, the kind of thing that no abnormality really inflicted on you. A sinking feeling. Like you were on the cusp of running out of breath, but only barely. Just that little hope that you'd climb out, as long as you did something.

Oddly enough, he'd been braver than you. An uncommon thing, but… things had changed after Calw. After Kromer. So you supposed that maybe it wasn't so odd after all.

“...I want to tell you I'm sorry.“ Sinclair finally spoke, as he sat on your bed. He wasn't wearing his usual company attire, clad in only a pair of socks, some slacks, and his button-up undershirt. “I put a lot on you that night, and… it was…”

“Stop. Just… don't.” You sighed out, walking in front of him and looking down at him. “I know what you wanted. You wanted to feel a real connection. After what Kromer had done… taking your want for belonging and twisting it for her own desires, I get it.”

You sighed, as you plopped yourself down next to him. “But I wasn't going to let you make that kind of decision. Sure, you weren't drunk or nothing, but… you were compromised, all the same.”

He was silent for a moment, after you finished speaking. “I…” He sighed, before attempting to speak again. “I still want that, Fourteen. I want you, but I just don't know… it isn't about Kromer anymore. It isn't about what she did to me. It's about me and you, now.”

Then, with the most confidence you've seen him display since he rushed her with a spear, he spoke with a growl.

“I don't want her corpse to bear its weight down on my life anymore.”

You didn't say anything more on the matter. You supposed that was a good indication as any that he was clear of mind, that he was thinking of himself, and what he thought was best.

So you obliged.

Your hand came to rest on the bed behind him, as you leant down. “...have you ever done this before?” He looked up at you and shook his head, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, watching you. “Ever even kissed another guy?” You spoke, and he shook his head again, and his lips parted slightly.

You didn't even realize you'd leaned in so far.

Your lips pressed against his with caution, only fully leaning into it when he reciprocated, bringing his arms around to cradle your neck as you pressed into him.

Your hand slid up from the sheets, splaying across the curve of his back, just above his tailbone. He's pliant, letting you push him back flat onto the bed, both hands gravitating to his waist as continue to sloppily make out with him.

What he lacks in experience and wit, he makes up for in enthusiasm. His hands move to caress under your shirt, slipping up your back to feel your body tense under his hands. Your lips glide from his lips to his neck, lathering wet kisses along his throat as you catch your breath.

“P-please.” He whimpers under your touch. You smile wickedly, your face stretching against the skin of his neck. “Cute, but don't start begging yet. I haven't even done anything.” At that, his head rolls back, and he whimpers a little louder.

You give him one last kiss on the jaw before extracting yourself, taking a look down at him as you straighten up. You've still got a knee on the bed, settled between his thighs, only barely hovering from his crotch. As he looks up, you smile, admiring the view. “You should scoot up. Get your head on that pillow, get comfortable. You're gonna want yourself prepared for this next part.” You fully get up, giving him space to follow your directions.

As you stand from the bed, fully separated from Sinclair, you make a quick decision. The pants? They gotta go. You turn away from Sinclair, fumbling with the buttons on the front of your company pants. You don't notice the way the room changes around you, the way it shifts and moves, a mirror materializing in the corner of the room, giving Sinclair a clear view of not only your back, but your front too.

Sinclair's eyes are locked in a scathing debate, arguing between staring at your boxer-brief clad ass, or the heavy-looking bulge he can spy in the mirror. The implications of the changing room are clear to him, even in the haze of arousal spreading across his mind.

You want him to see you like this. You WANT him to get hard at just the sight of you. And as you finally notice the mirror, you smile gently… before reaching up and pulling off your shirt too. “Well, I showed you mine.”

You turn around, finally looking at Sinclair again, no clothes besides the briefest of boxers. “Your turn.” You finally declared, crossing your arms as you gazed over him.”Don't keep me waiting… if you're still up for this, that is.”

He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. You're almost about to get worried, but then his hands move up to his shirt, and he begins to slowly unbutton his company shirt, fumbling with the buttons in his anxiousness. He was still fumbling with the buttons when you stepped forward… and was still fumbling with them when you stood beside the bed.

Sinclair was starting to get frustrated, his shaking hands fumbling with the buttons, before he finally resorted to just slipping it off after one or two of them were undone. You didn't even get a chance to speak before he had moved onto his slacks, wriggling them off quickly.

You were unaware of the consequences of such an act. Unaware of the thing that you had unleashed by telling him to take off his pants.

Unknowingly, you had stumbled upon an absolute hog, attached to a person who seemingly did not have the attitude to match the… magnitude of his equipment.

In plain terms? Sinclair had a fat cock. A stallion of an instrument, attached to the sweetest man you'd ever met. Quite frankly, it’d put you on the back foot. You weren't expecting him to be small… but nothing could've prepared you for the absolute Goliath that he had been unknowingly lugging around.

“...holy shit.” You didn't even try to hide your shock. How could you? Your mouth had been agape from the second he'd gotten his slacks off.

“Is… is it…?” He spoke softly, apprehensively. He couldn't tell what you were thinking, the thoughts running through your head. He didn't need to worry though.

You were predominantly concerned with how you were gonna wrap your mouth around the thing, let alone put it up your ass.

“Stay like that for me.” Your voice was tinged with just a minute amount of fear, but you weren't scared enough to back down. You crawled onto the bed, laying next to him… and then reached down to wrap your hand around his cock.

Luckily, you could get one hand around him, and that was all you needed to stroke him. The second he felt your palm wrap around him, his breathing quickened, his whole body tensing as you moved your hand, up and down, up and down.

You leant down, your face settling on the pillow next to him, as you wrapped your body closer to his. “Relax for me, Sinclair. Relax…” You spoke softly into his ear, your lips only inches away so that he could focus on your words, your presence.

His body began to slowly relax, but the bucking of his hips and the strained moans escaping from his lips made it clear that he was feeling every bit of pleasure you could give him. “Tell me how you feel, Sinclair. Every little detail, come on.” You could practically feel the shiver that ran down his spine, the trembling against your lips as you kissed his neck.

“So good… so warm…” He thrusted up into your palm, voice devolving into desperate, whiney whimpers as you stroked him. But there was a tinge of frustration in his voice. That desperate twinge of pleasure, rising up from the back of his throat. He thrusted harder into your hand, bottoming out against your palm.

You stared down at him, watching his face. There was a snarl in his breath, as he panted into the air. You knew the feeling well. “It’s not enough for you, is it? Is my hand not good enough for you, Sinclair?” You whispered into his ear, the tease sending shockwaves through his body. “N-no, it’s fine, I just…” He winced as if he’d been pricked with a needle.

You’d left a decent bite mark on his neck, the kind of thing that would heal over a day or two… but would be decently obvious in the meantime. “You don’t need to lie to me, Sinclair. I can see it in your eyes. It’s the kind of thing that drives sweet little things like you crazy.”

The hand around his cock stopped its ministrations, before letting go completely. The goliath stood still, swaying softly as he throbbed into the air, before drooping and relaxing. You looked at his cock, and back at him, before shaking your head. “You’re lucky I like you so much.” As you spoke, you slowly crawled over him, laying on your side in front of the beast of the hour.

You started off tentatively, giving it a careful lick, just under the head. Just to test the waters. His breaths got heavier, his head slowly falling back until you slapped his thigh. “Look at me, Sinclair.” you whispered against his tip, the warm breath cascading over the slit of his cock.

He’d been so brave for you, this whole time. So willing, even as he whimpered and whined… so you decided to be brave too.

With one smooth motion, you looked him in the eyes, put your mouth over his cock… and sunk straight down to the base. You coughed and gagged, but he did much, much more. His eyes were wide, staring straight into yours as a long, drawn-out moan dripped from his lips like honey.

You were on him, taking him from tip to base, gagging sloppily, drooling all over his blond pubes. You stroked what wasn’t in your mouth, and when he grabbed your hair softly, trying so desperately not to harm you, you let him.

Briefly, you popped off his cock, spit covering your chin. “You wanna control the pace, Sinclair? Get rougher.” You smiled, wide and teethy, before diving back on it, sucking him off thoroughly.

He whimpered loudly, his whole body shaking. Both hands gripped, one upon the sheets, the other’s grip strengthening in your hair. “Fourteen… Fourteen, I can’t…” Sinclair was moaning loudly, thrusting up into your mouth with abandon as he tried desperately not to blow his load.

For just a second, he thought you might let him cum, that it might end right then and there. But as that aching heightened, as the feeling got more intense, right before he was about to pop…

You forced your head away, sitting up on your knees in front of him. “Not… yet.” Understandably, you had to catch your breath. Frankly, you were surprised that you lasted as long on him as you did.

Maybe you were just as desperate as he was, in a way.

You swallowed the spit and pre-cum in your mouth and throat, wiping the drool off your chin, as you looked down at him. You both knew what came next. The main course, as Rodya would’ve called it.

“Have you ever put anything up there, Sinclair?” you asked, slowly crawling over to him. “Up-up my what?” He finally spoke again, still dazed and shellshocked from a near climax experience. “Your butt, dummy. Played with toys, touched yourself…?” He shook his head, his hair disheveled and tousled.

You sighed, sitting yourself just above his crotch as your cock laid against his stomach, hard. “...then I guess this one’s gonna be on me.” Gently, you rolled back, nestling his cock between your ass cheeks.

“I’m gonna put you inside me, Sinclair. And when I do, I don’t want you to move or do anything. Let me handle all the work… and with your size, that’s a lot of work, okay?” The head caught against your hole, as you ground your hips slowly. You caught his hands, which were previously gripping the sheets, and brought them to your hips.

“...and if you’d like, you can stroke me too. Help me get off for you.” Your breath hitched, as the head caught against your hole yet again. His hands repositioned again, one wrapped around your waist to press against the small of your back, the other gripping your own length.

“Are you sure…?” Sinclair spoke, hesitation and worry laced in his voice, but you just laughed it off. “I’ve been waiting too long for this to back out now, blondie.” You leant back, reaching down to grab his cock… and slowly, you began to sink down on it.

“Mmph… hah…” While you would’ve liked to take him all the way to the base in one fell swoop, one adventurous grind immediately told you that wasn’t going to be an option. So, slowly, you began to bounce on him, grinding back further and further onto his shaft. You could barely think, barely even felt the way he slowly stroked your cock, his thumb grazing over the ip and under the head.

Despite Sinclair’s lack of experience, he sure knew how to work your cock. Every stroke felt like heaven, but it paled in comparison to the way his fat dick burned inside you, searing your anal cavity as you finally took him to the base. “S-Sinclair…” The hand on your hip gripped harder, as you looked down at him, the cloudy look in your eyes giving away the pleasure in your system. “Thrust… fucking thrust…”

No more words could be spoken by either of you, as you both finally began to grind against one another, truly clashing bodies with fervor, like you were trying to beat each other into submission with your bodies. Sinclair couldn’t even speak, loud sultry moans slipping from his lips, sweat beginning to drip from his brow. You weren’t in a much better state, only barely hanging on for dear life as you both fucked one another. Your head hung back, rolling to the side as you focused only on the feeling of taking him all the way inside.

“I-inside. Finish inside.” You barely managed to squeeze out, your whole body giving in as he stroked you quicker and quicker. Neither of you could last much longer, both bodies being ticking time bombs, with very little time left.

“Sinclair…!” You screeched, before blowing your load across his body, spurting rope after rope across his thin stomach, some launching far enough to drape across his cheek. He wasn’t much far behind, gripping both hips and thrusting up into you, balls deep as he came. His voice was a mess, moans and whimpers escaping from his mouth, as he drained his balls in your ass. “F-Fourteen…”

Both of you collapsed, his massive hog slipping from your gaping hole with a popping noise. You fell to his side, cradling him close as you finally came down. “Hah… damn.. You did a number on me…” Your voice felt raw, strained from screeching moans. Sinclair nodded, his hands reaching to hold you close.

‘That was… I…” You smiled, reaching up to wipe the streak of cum from his cheek. “Fun? Hot? Perfect?” Sinclair smiled wide, nodding. “Good,” You smirked, gently tapping his chest. “I’m glad I could make your first time… memorable. Now, uh… be a dear and grab a towel out of the dresser? I don’t think my legs’ll carry me.” He giggled, that beautiful smile settling across his face.

As he sat up, moving to stand from the bed, you grabbed his waist. “Wait.” Quickly, you sat up, and brought your lips to his. It lasted no more than a couple seconds before you pushed him towards the dresser, onto his feet. “Next time, you’re not gonna feel your legs.” His smile became nervous, a healthy worry in his gaze.

As he finally stood up, you looked to the mirror, smiling as you got a full view of his butt. “Cute.” You chuckled out, a blush running over your face.

The next morning, as the sinners individually piled out of their rooms, you and Sinclair left at the same time. You weren’t really going to hide what happened, as much as Sinclair might have wanted to. With so many people packed in the nebulously tight space of Mephistopheles, and such a strict schedule, the rest were bound to find out anyway.

Still, as you took your seat next to him, a gentle smile reaching your face, you were surprised to look up and see the whole bus, standing over the seats and looking to the two of you. Various smiles, giggling gestures, and the very much stone faces of Vergilius and Faust stared back at you.

You tried to come up with any words, but Ryoshu just stepped forward, puffing on a cigarette. She had a grin in her eye, one of the few that ever reached her face.”D.B.S.L.N.T.” She spelled out, before turning to sit in her seat.

The other few seemed to understand, laughs leaving lips as quickly as they went back to their seats. Rodya and Heath laughed especially hard, as you turned to look at Sinclair, who was currently beet red. “What did she say? Why’s everyone laughing?”

He looked up to you, his face burning with embarrassment, as he finally managed to speak. “D-don’t be so loud next time…” And as you finally understood, you too went red with embarrassment.

“Are you sure about this, Amir?” Your voice was soft against his neck, a hand gently stroking his chest as you were cradled up in his lap. “I know you want to get some tension out, but we could always do it the old-fashioned way.”

His fingers rapped against your sides, as his leg rapidly shook, up and down, up and down. “I know, b-but I need that comfort. I need to feel you. Like you, you, you know?”

You nodded, hand settling against his cheek. “I get you. But once we start, I’ll have almost full control of your body. Every aching muscle, every anxious joint.” You guided his face, focusing his gaze on your eyes. “That's a lot of power over you. And I'm glad you trust me with it, but are you sure that is really what you want right now?”

He nodded again, hastily. A flash of irritation crosses his face, eyes clenched. “I know what I want. Just… please.”

Sol, he looked like he was hurting. The anxiety that filled him, sat in his chest like an anvil, weighing his heart and lungs down, barely letting him breathe. You leaned in, lips just barely apart from his. “Safeword?” You whisper, breath running along his lips. “On-lyne!” He smiles, just a little bubbly.

You nod, gently pressing your lips to his… before disappearing into thin air. In the millisecond between the dissipation of your body, and the twitch that runs along his brain, there's an intangible silence… and a whisper.

His body slumps against the couch. His head moves, eyes narrowing in worry. “Drifter? Are you in there?” His hand moves without input, a cheeky thumbs up. “Mhm. Just getting used to it, puppy.” At that, he whines. He's weak to pet names like that.

You gently take stock if his body, back arching as you stretch and stand, before gently leaning back on the couch. “Would you like a specific position for this, Amir? Laying, sitting, legs in the air and violently shaking?” You giggled, in the back of his mind. He smiles, nerves starting to abade, as though your voice surrounds him in warmth. “Up to you, future. Just… do this quick, okay? That's how… how I always do it.”

At that, he feels an involuntary frown come up on his face. You didn't like that, didn't like that at all. Then, like a voice in the back of his head, you spoke. “I'm gonna take my time with you, Amir. I know I joked about wanting to make love at nine thousand miles per hour, but… not right now. You gotta take it slow for me.”

Slowly, you reach out with one hand, taking the zipper of the glove into it, and peeling the glove off in full. You do the same with the other, as you gently rub Amir's hands on his thighs, getting the feel for the dual sensation.

You can feel the muscles ache in his body, the involuntary twitching lighting his body on fire. You could feel his impatience, his little despair at the thought of having to take it slow, but you could just as easily feel the ache in his loins. Your loins. You stopped for a second to parse the exact phrasing you would use for this, and he whined. “Please, Drifter. I'm… I'm desperate here.”

A sigh left his mouth, a distinct sense of mischief crossing his mind. That was a very bad idea, he thought. “Very bad indeed,” you replied. “Beg for me. Beg me to touch you, Amir.” You scooted his body back up onto the couch, using his hands to slowly, painfully, pull down his… pants, for lack of a better term. As soon as you moved his pants down far enough, his cock sprung from its cage, dribbling softly.

“There you are…” you whispered, cradling his mind like you were whispering in his ear. “There's the tool I was looking for. Delicious, as usual. It's a shame though, that I won't be getting to play with it.” You forced him to stare at his own cock, twitching and drooling. His head fell back, body arching slightly, as if squirming in pain. “Not unless you beg like I know you can.”

His teeth ground against each other, as he tried to stop himself, but it all came tumbling out. “PleaseIneedyoutogetmeoffpleasepleaseplease-” Suddenly, his mouth shut closed, his voice muffled, akin to clamping your hand over his mouth. He didn't understand. He was doing what you asked. Wasn't that enough?

“Cohesive, Amir. Say it slowly. I know what you're saying. But I want you to say it.” Tears stung at his eyes, as his jaw finally relaxed, a small exhale leaving from the bottom of his throat as he spoke again. Slow. Steady. Measured. “Please. I just… I need you to touch me, make me touch myself. Whatever. I can't handle this torture…”

He was so busy regaining his composure, controlling his breathing… he was almost surprised by the feeling of his hand wrapping around his cock, and slowly beginning to stroke. It twitched in his grasp, the muscles of a phantom gently moving under his skin.

“There we go. Does that feel better, dear? That feel good?” He nodded violently, his head leaning back once more, as your combined efforts tangled under his fingers.

You set the pace, but it was his hand that moved.

He whimpered, stroking slowly from base to tip. A little nudging, and his thumb rubbed on the underside of his head, teasing at the frenulum. “Nice and steady,” you whispered, the ghost of a hand running across his chest sending a shiver down his skin, “it feels so much better, doesn't it? The teasing, the aching… the throbbing.”

Amir tries his best not to moan, but nothing stops you from making him open his mouth, letting all the sounds spill out from his soul. “So loud… you think Eleanor can hear you? Arthur, Lettie? Quincy? They might be hearing you, letting me pilot your body, jerking you to completion…”

Amir's head lolls down, glasses gently falling off from his face, and onto the cushion. A hand glides into his hair, guided by invisible muscle, as it grips the scalp. Moans slip from his mouth like honey, spilling out into the air. A phantom echo of pleasure rips across his body, as his hand is allowed to move just a bit faster.

“There we go. Just a bit more. Come on…” The pleasure is almost too much for him. This was an experience, unique, one of a kind. And it was all for him. The hand stroked faster. It was at a pace he was used to, but at an intensity he couldn't even fathom.

He felt so warm. Like your body was wrapped around his. Like you weren't next to him, or inside of him, but all around him in one big hug.

Amir's back began to arch, his hips rising into the air, as his hand was allowed to move even faster. You whispered in his mind, sweet affirmations, how good he was, how obedient… quickly bringing him to the edge of climax.

As he shivered on the edge of climax, mind racing and breaking under your guidance… he suddenly felt cold. Very cold. Before a second hand wrapped around his cock.

You sat on your knees in front of him, jerking him off, your lips against his cock as you pressed kisses to his tip. Even more so arousing was his glasses, perched on your nose, enclosing your eyes.

“Cum, Amir. Cum on my face. Don't hold back… let all that build-up finally come out.” You spoke softly, barely a word out of breath or out of line. Calm. Collected. Loving. “Cum.”

And that he did. He spilled ropes of seed onto your face, plastering not just his glasses, but your entire face in his load. It spilled from his cock like a tap, as he arched and moaned and whined so prettily for you.

Finally, as his load dribbled from his cock, barely dripping from the slit, you stood. He didn't even have the energy to look at you, exhaustion taking him. He almost didn't notice, as you leaned in, pressing his cum-covered glasses back onto his nose and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I'm gonna go get cleaned up, Amir. You know where to find me.” And at that, like it was nothing at all… you walked away. He chuckled softly, nuzzling in the towel that had materialized next to him.