pierat

Joel’s leg thumps uneasy against the corrugated flooring of The Relation staring at the FTL engine of the latest scrap heap to roll into their hands. He’s focusing on it, on the torn accelerator cables and not the dull ever present warmth flooding his entire body; on the oxidised power links from lack of maintenance and not how hard and ragged his breath is; on that want crawling under his skin; on how wet his mouth feel; how empty he feels and how much that hurts… and avoiding Etho. 

Mostly avoiding Etho. 

“Hi Joel!” Joel scatters out of his workshop like he’s a racoon who is found in the dumpsters at the sound of Etho’s voice, disappearing in a cacophony of clattering tools.

An echo of confusion comes from his workshop, before Etho potters off mumbling to himself and Joel swallows back a shuddering groan. 

He smells so good - sandalwood and maple: sweet and woody and floral and toffee even - the rich tartness of fuel links and oil stains grows increasingly stained on Etho, lingering on him more and more each passing week: that’s his smell, metallic and musky, their scents intermingling and stained on him and the thought of that and the fact he lifts his head up to breathe it in makes his gut twist like he’s eaten a blaster shot and the mess in his pants slick and sloppy.

Joel whines as he tucks his legs to his chest, unable to be still - as if thumping them would in any way appease the carnal drive clawing against his ribs like meat hooks trying to pull him towards the closest cock with a pulse. 

He can’t even keep the green from his skin, can’t even look ‘normal’ - he’s thankful there have been no customers today.

Any thoughts of scrapping that ship are gone, subsumed by the image of Etho splayed out underneath him: letting him rut into him with reckless abandon, pleading with Joel to bre - Joel kicks a tool cart, growling in pain, hoping the sudden jolt of pain knocks the image out of his addled mind. 

It does not.

His mouth is soaking with yearning, no matter how much he swallows back, and his tongue feels like a lead brick soaked with reactor coolant. Joel feels like he’s been stuffed with explosives, bloated to the point of immobility, and Etho is a walking spark, rushing down the fuse to obliterate him.

The worst part is, if Joel asks, he knows there’s a staggeringly high chance that Etho will drop everything to help him. 

And he can’t stand that. 

Can’t stand that Etho would give himself up so easily to be his breeding mount like it’s the most normal casual thing imaginable. Etho’s weird: liking alien’s a bit more than most, but you don’t commit to a gruelling multi-day dependency where you’re getting fucked or held and void knows what else if you don’t care about someone on a fundamental level… right?

Would be simpler if Etho was using him for his fat alien cock… but he knew that was becoming an increasingly flimsy facade. When they lean on each other on the plush couch they lifted from a luxe-line cruiser binging the latest season of Space Racer Superstar, dangerously close to cuddling, laughing so effortlessly, laughing and smiling like he never has before…

…that’s more than roommates.

But they would definitely be more than roommates if Etho fucked him through his heat… Joel’s first heat with a person: not locked away in his room rutting against anything vaguely phallic or butt shaped. His chest feels like it's being crushed under the weight of a model XR-97 freighter class engine at the thought of Etho seeing him like that: soft, fragile, a pitiful little thing whimpering and shaking underneath him desperate to cling to him, unable to function without him - because despite his best efforts, he knows that’s how he would end up. 

What a drag. What a complete and utter drag.

Joel smells him before he hears him: that sweet floral tartness flooding his senses bleeds through the cracks in the ship’s sliding door before Etho’s shadow blocks the light. 

“Joel… you okay in there?” 

Joel practically throws himself against the back wall of the little storage unit he is squirreled away in. The door creaks for a moment - Etho’s hand on the keypad pressing the creaking buttons after the clattering of old sprockets and connectors cuffs knocked from the shelf by Joel’s collision. 

“Fine! SO FINE! JUST LOOKING FOR A PART!” His voice is so uneasy it makes him cringe - like he’s permanently out of breath. Maybe he is, maybe he needs Etho to breathe properly again - NO. No, he - he’s gotten through many a heat by himself. He needn’t make himself so needy.

“I can come in and help you look,” all Etho hears is another crash as Joel throws himself against the sliding door in some vain attempt to keep himself sealed - maybe he could just seal himself in here for his heat and see if his addled mind could jerryrig a fuck machine or something…

“No! I mean-” He’s so close to him. Just this slab of metal separating them. Etho flooding his senses as he clings to the door, pushing his entire weight against it, “just boring mechanics stuff ya know, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really no trouble, I happen to like your boring mechanic stuff.”

“Etho, I said NO! LEAVE ME ALONE! STOP BEING SO BLUMMIN OBSESSED WITH ME!” explodes out of Joel. 

He doesn’t mean a word of it. But even he is taken back by how vitriolic and hateful he growls those words to Etho. Sinking against the metal, Joel pants and struggles not to breathe anymore of Etho in. 

“Joel, did I-” Etho takes a deep breath and Joel hates how his neck shivers longing to feel Etho against it, “-did I do something wrong?” and here Joel thought the heat prickling his skin was the worst pain he would feel today. The way Etho’s voice drops, threatening to break, almost shatters Joel. 

Boots scuff against metal, and he knows Etho is turning away, and despite the embarrassment nailing his feet to the floor and the carnal want dragging his guts like Etho’s got a hook in him, Joel steadies himself and clambers up. 

“Wait…” trembling he lets the door slide open a peep, just enough to glance through at his business partner - who visibly relaxes as soon as he sees Joel peeking out at him, although he raises a brow and is instantly alert when he catches a glimpse of flush green skin. 

“Don’t be weird about it.” His command is brittle. Etho can no doubt hear the cracks - see them in him even through the sliver between the door and the frame: how he is yearning for him with bitter eyes welling up with whimpering conflict.

“Joel-“ Etho’s voice is… is all he needs: all he hates and doesn’t want - horribly tender, concern heavy in his mouth. The detached veneer of their quasi roommate-business relationship holding something unbelievably warm at its frozen core.

In many ways Etho is like staring at a glacier - breathtakingly beautiful and monstrously destructive. Sublime in essence. 

Swallowing his fear, Joel takes the first step up the mountain. “I mean it! Don’t be weird about it!” Joel’s voice warbles, sounding like he’s close to crying, breath ragged as his cheeks glow increasingly bright until they are glowing like dying suns.

Etho freezes for a moment. Unsure whether to move closer, clearly wanting to reach out for reassurance, or remain in place. He opts for a halfway point, leaning against the wall, to the side of the door, hand dangling in the empty space between them. “Okay, I promise not to be weird about it,” Etho reassures, pulling his mask down to his neck.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries to ignore how uncomfortably serious this is becoming… Etho doesn’t just pull down that mask for anything. Joel takes a deep breath and tries not to stare at Etho’s worn lips, “I’m in heat…” 

“Pardon?” Joel grumbles heat burning through his cheeks - glowing like radioactive run off, and mumbles it again. 

“Joel I can’t hear you-“ 

“I'M IN HEAT OKAY!” The words spray like a shotgun blast and Joel shirks away for a moment, shuddering, the words and implication hanging in the air like a noose around his neck. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A brief silence hangs in the air following the thunk of Joel’s head against the metal door, groaning not only at how his voice cracked and wavered, but also from how uncomfortable his antennae feel bent and twisting up against the door.

“Oh… I wasn’t aware your species… then again I don’t know much about your species so I shouldn’t assume…” Etho realises he’s rambling. 

“Do you need help? To find a member of your own species or would anyone do? I imagine it’s pretty rough without proper biological fulfilment,” and every organ in Joel’s body pangs with want as Etho’s eyes sparkle dangerously with barely contain-excitement. Of course they do.

But beneath his barely veiled alien fetish, Joel can see something swirl, something that unsettles and excites. Grazing over him before sharpening with focus, picking at the way his cheeks flush and sweat beat his brow - thighs squeezing tight and hands fidgeting: Etho’s attention kneads Joel’s brain like putty. 

Leaves him shuddering under the visceral feeling that Etho already has him ensnared. 

All but retreating beneath his boisterous charm - “Proper biological fulfilment - geez wait to take all the sexy out of sex Etho…” Joel chuckles, letting the door slide open before. His head aches the longer he looks at Etho, like the vast vacuum of space is crushing his skull. Eyes linger on Etho’s hand easily floating between them - like a little spaceman lost in the inky void. Joel wants to reach out, but his hand finds itself squeezing the carbonated steel of the door frame. 

Etho laughs a little, that sweet resonant sound making Joel’s shoulders relax, and a little groan crawls up his throat - which he promptly kicks off the cliff back down his throat. “Sorry sorry, force of habit… but seriously - You look pretty rough, Beans.”

“Feel it.”

“Let me help?” It’s half a question, half assertion, spoken so matter of factly. Even the idea of Etho actually wanting to breed him makes his ears burn and his eyes briefly dilate before he returns to his barley senses.   

“Etho you don’t hav - it’s not like a usual Friday night, it’s…it’s a lot more… intense. And I can just lock myself in my room… for a few days, it’s really not a big de-” the words feel caustic as they rise up his throat. He wants so badly to reach for Etho, for him to ignore his worries, to not be alone - he hates being alone through heats, always has. 

“Maybe I want… intense, ever consider that?”

“You're not that much of a freak.” 

“Try me.” Please just let this be sex, please despite everything begging and hoping let this be just sex, because that’s what Etho wants freak alien heat sex. 

“Do you want me to help you through it?” Etho’s voice is bitterly warm and direct like a blaster to his gut, and Joel whimpers through gritted fangs. The blunt ease with which he offers himself to Joel makes his guts twist and warp.

But it’s all on Joel. It’s not what Etho wants, it’s all him. His choice, and what a cruel gift to give him.

His body is moving before his mind - swaying, increasingly light headed, he all but falls into Etho. Slumping into his personal bubble, Etho’s hands loose around his back, Joel drowns in the thick scent permeating him: can taste him in on the tip of his tongue. Hands knot in his shirt. 

It’s fine. Just like they’ve totally done before. Although usually Joel is pulling him in and feeling Etho shake and whine in his hold - desperate for it. It feels remarkably alien for him to tremble and whine. 

“That… that eager to get me in bed alien fucker, add some new research to your notes?” Joel teases, words slurring ever so slightly, expecting Etho’s face to flush as he often does when Joel taunts him like this - but instead Etho’s face remains soft, waiting - and something about that makes this all too real for Joel - what if it’s more than more sex for Etho… making the pit in his stomach incomprehensible. 

“You caught me… busted,” Etho chuckles, so clearly a joke but Joel still doubts. Regardless, he coughs out a laugh as Etho helps him out of the storage unit, door grinding close behind him.

“Is there anything I should know about your species’ specific practices or rituals?” Etho asks as a hand comes to rest on the small of his back. Joel half-whimpers, shifting uncomfortably against him. Each touch feels like jumper cables connected to his spine.

The way Etho talks about it like it’s already a certainty annoys Joel: like they’ve already agreed this is happening, like they’ve agreed Etho either cares about him enough to spend a long weekend getting ruined beyond human limits or is a freak enough to want to wake up in a few days with a shattered pelvis.

He should tell him. Should tell him this would be first heat with someone - that beforehand he would just lock himself away for a long weekend and break just every toy he could find. And he doesn’t want to break Etho. But how do you tell your roommate with benefits / business partner of convenience that you worry about him, don’t know how coherent he’ll be, how rough it would be for Etho, that for once he would feel bad for hurting someone. 

“Got any experience dealing with this sort of stuff?” is all he can muster, voice bitterly dry. He sounds tired, and he feels it - like his calves are burning as he tries to stay above the surf of heat. Etho, of course, catches on quicker than he has any right to, can see him straining to keep his faculties focused on the task ahead and lets him lean on him just that bit more.

There’s a quietly focused look on Etho’s face, a flash of red slowly mellowing. Something pleased catches his lips as if he’s finally luring a scared creature from a cage. Asshole. 

Etho’s hold on him is simultaneously firm but loose, enough for Joel to jump away should he want to but… he can’t. It’s oddly reassuring if a little evil - surely Etho knows Joel is drowning in the heavy wash of his smell. 

“I happen to be an expert at dealing with heat-ginities” Etho’s dry voice makes any drool or desire in his mouth dry up - like his heat was a mirage that temporarily vanishes.

“It’s like virginity, but with heat, like heat and - ” the disapproving look Joel gives Etho is quite indescribable, “Yeah I got it Etho.”

Brushing some of Joel’s hair out of his face, Etho lets a smile catch his lips at the way Joel shivers at the digits brushing across the thin sheen on his forehead. “Anyhow, I helped a friend through his first heat at the academy - although he had been ignoring it for like a week so it was a pretty rough night, accidentally knotted me and we were stuck together for like five hours if I remember right…” 

Joel purrs weakly at the mental image of that: of Etho drooling into a pillow, whimpering, hole swallowing a fat knot all red and puffy and - he can feel something slick down his thigh and he wishes more than anything it is his guts spilling so he does not have to live with that embarrassment. 

Etho gives him a reassuring squeeze. That just makes it worse. Perceptive pervert.

“…point is, I’m all in Joel, I’ll be there for you the entire time.” Etho’s words pull him close like a fishing hook on his trachea, tilting Joel’s chin upwards while his other hand grazes over the curve of his hip before squeezing a handful of his ass through his overalls. Perceptive handsy pervert.

In an instance Joel feels his exasperation at Etho’s poor portmanteau sink beneath the rapidly rising desire bubbling in the back of his throat. Bleary eyes focusing on the beauty of the man holding him, nostrils filling with sandalwood and maple, and all but melting in the warmth bleeding off of him. 

Okay, maybe he knew what he was doing, maybe this wouldn’t be the worst thing if Etho can help his friends through heat that easily, and they were still friends so things totally wouldn’t be weird or awkward afterward! At least, that’s what Joel’s heat-addled brain tells itself - anything to bargain him into bed with Etho as soon as possible. 

“Wanna be all in you sexy,” Joel blurts out against his chest, each breath ragged like soaked sandpaper pulled up his throat. 

He knows he’s doing a poor job of hiding his frustrations: neediness consuming and fracturing all his usual nonchalant flirting but Etho doesn’t take the chance to rub it in. He likely will once Joel has all his faculties back and every other thought isn’t - wow Etho smells amazing, or I wanna put so many babies in that man we could fill all the classes of a school for two generations. For now, Joel is thankful Etho is slowly ushering him out of the unit. 

“I know you do my mate,” MY MATE hits Joel like with all the force of a planetary devastation. The moniker alone almost knocks his knees out and pulls illicitly pathetic whines from deep in his soul. 

The world blurs bar Etho who is eerily clear, bright like a star against a dead universe. He can feel his pulse screaming in his ear like an overclocked nitro engine when Etho gently brushes his thumb over Joel’s bottom lip: beautifully tender and brutally analytical gaze that never leaves him. 

“Too much?” Joel finds himself quickly fascinated with the bucket of oily rags under a shelf. 

“You’re evil for that you know…” Joel groans, the word still reverberating through his bones. 

The slow drag of Etho’s fingers soothes his annoyance [which is very annoying] coaxing Joel’s attention back to his ashen-haired [business] partner.

“Etho… just-”

“I need to hear you say it Joel. You're certainly showing you do, but while your biological imperative clearly needs this, I need to know if you do,” Joel’s mouth hangs open, drooling, spilling past his lips over Etho’s fingers as he pants and wheezes out echoes of pleasure. 

It would be so much simpler if Etho would just fuck him already. Just dump a load in him or let him pump a few into him and throw him away. None of this song and dance, no talking about it, just filling him up, taking him just-. 

Letting himself settle into every sensation coursing through him, swallowing back the guilt and disdain at his own neediness, Joel makes the best mistake of his life.  

Taking Etho’s hand tilting his chin with his own, Joel opens his mouth before he can second-guess himself. “I… I wan-wanna mate with you Etho, put babies in you, fuck, fill you till you can’t move… make you mine.” The words are heavy coming out of his mouth, and by the time Joel’s done he’s growling the last syllables and feeling like he’s on fire, unable to cringe at just how pathetic he sounds. 

Seizing Etho’s hand by the wrist, Joel lets his tongue run the length of him, from his wrist to the tip of his middle finger with that slightly dazed delirium. But there's something sharper taking focus, something more primal that seems to steal Etho’s breath for a moment after his chest flutters at the warm line of saliva cuts into his hand.  

“And I… I want to have you Joel, become your most dedicated broodmare taking everything and anything you have to give, become yours, and you mine,” Etho’s voice now a little shakier - perhaps the realisation of what lies ahead but Joel quickly pushes the thought that he is rattling with regret out of his head - is sweet on his ears. 

He almost sounds like one of those cheesy oversexualised bimbo aliens in the comics Etho reads in bed… and it might just be the heat but that is doing it for him right now… 

Etho copies Joel’s motion, licking up his wrist to his middle finger, clearly under the assumption that it’s a specific practice or ritual and Joel can’t help but growl out a laugh at that. At least he is a respectful breeding mount. It feels like a kitten is licking him. 

“So, your room or mine?” Etho asks, slowly ushering Joel back into the main workshop, hand firm on his hip as Joel tugs him down so he can press against his neck. He leans into him, like a wild lunar wolf threatening to pull him by the scruff of his neck, but instead he runs his tongue up the stretch of exposed neck from the harsh ridge of his clavicle to the base of his ear, delighting in the thin lime sheen left on him and the little shuddering moan he feels race up Etho’s throat. 

“Mine, it’s familiar, kinda half set up and…” Joel swallows back the desire bubbling at the back of the throat, releasing Etho. Watching Etho’s eyes trace the bob of his adam’s apple like he is inspecting the headsman’s axe prior to execution feels… Well, it makes him burn. “If I step into your room, your room that smells really like you - I might explode. That and your bed will break.”

Etho’s voice steadies for a moment, “Joel that bed is a orion stardust deluxe, worth the annual credit product of a small colony - they drop it from low orbit in their ads and there’s not a scratch, largely due-” Etho begins to ramble, talking about the research documents he had [totally legally acquired and] read. All of the scientific facts about the bed Joel had ‘legally acquired’ [tore out of a luxe-line cruiser he robbed] wash over him, the sound pleasant in how it fills the hallway. He lets him run himself out as they walk up the corrugated stairs - he likes listening to Etho speak, could listen to that forever. 

When they hit the door to Joel’s fuck cave [bedroom], Joel drags Etho down to eye level, pulling him from his latest rambling about how they use a needlessly expensive process to make the entire bed resistant to the drag of orbital reentry. 

“I know. It will break.” He doesn’t mean for it to come as low and gravely as it does, like a snarl from the back of his throat, but it does - and Joel’s mouth waters at the way Etho flushes, shuddering out a trepidatiously excited oh after Joel lets go of his shirt.

Sizing him up, Joel has to try very hard not to melt into him, or tear his clothes off, his brain is momentarily paralysed by the contradictory desires thrumming through him. Joel flashes Etho one last look - half way between desperation and abjection - as the bedroom door whistles open. 

It’s dim: the only light is a green lava lamp bubbling away from the corrugated shelf Joel had haphazardly installed.  There bed is a mess of blankets and… fuck. Joel forgot he has ‘totally legally acquired’ some of Etho’s old clothes: mostly just some shirts and maybe a pair of boxers he had been huffing for far too long that there is only a lingering echo of Etho staining the fabric, tucked into the sheets and blankets that had been pulled from the closet at the earlier that day.

Etho thinks it looks pleasantly intimate. A homely nest, Joel groans at the way his eyes focus on each detail, no doubt taking mental notes as his hands settle over his shoulders. Messy, yes, but Joel’s mess - Joel’s lovingly organised chaos, and fragments of himself nestled so tenderly and close. When Etho places his head atop Joels, a pleased hum filling his ears as he spots the little broken shrine dedicated to him sporadically spread through the bed, Joel turns into a glow stick with embarrassment.

“Who's obsessed now, boat boy?” Etho says very matter of factly and Joel groans but as soon as he hears the buckles of his overalls click he feels his breath catch. The straps fall from his shoulders and it’s like a weight drops from him. Etho’s fingers drag across his shirt and biceps as he starts peeling him from his work clothes, exposing more and more of his green skin.

“You know, I was wondering where I put that shirt… at least you have good taste, my most incorrigible mate,” Etho half-purrs, that word again - mate - twists in his gut like some ravenous star consuming a planet's worth of trepidation. 

That brief sparkle of dominance in Joel yanking Etho down was gone in an instance as soon as Etho presses a little kiss to his side, just before his ear. All those raging flames threatening to erupt out of him turns molten, soft, a thick syrupy warmth oozing through his bones. His antenna twitch, almost throbbing as Etho lays kisses across his cheeks, eyes fluttering and breath catching against his ribs.

Joel doesn’t even realise his overalls are at his ankles until Etho is guiding him to step out of them and into the bedroom - increasingly floaty as each item of clothing drops until he is left in his ratty boxers. 

He keeps his socks on - otherwise that would make the fact Etho is about to plough him in a multi-day fuck sesh a little gay… 

“You ready? Anything I can get you before you break my pelvis?” Etho’s voice, blisteringly attentive, rings through his head and it takes Joel a moment to piece together the words - trying to find meaning in the thick warmth clogging every ridge and crevice of his brain, trying not to just stare at Etho with those increasingly hazy eyes that no doubt look a little pathetic [but Etho probably likes that, at least that’s what the outline in his pants suggest].

Slowly, Joel tugs Etho into his room, pulling him closer and closer to the bed with knotted hands and wet eyes that betray the desperation boiling his guts. 

Joel nods but catches himself when Etho’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, almost imperceptible - but Joel knows Etho. “Yeah, bit tired of you verbally edging me… just… if it gets too much, shoot me with a blaster or something,” Joel falls back on the bed, back in the plush comforts heavy with familiar scents, his own and Etho’s intermingling across the fabrics, flooding his senses. 

Melting into bed, Joel looks back towards the door, see’s Etho framed between his open thighs and shudders - half from the anticipatory image, half from the shine dribbling across his inner thigh catching the hall light before Etho shuts the door. The thunk of the door, shuttering and groaning behind Etho moving through the verdant darkness feels chillingly sober yet pleasantly captivating - finally reaching the moment, finally here. 

Locked away with Etho, the way he is looking down at him once he climbs atop him - for a moment he thinks it better to throw himself out the airlock and become a frozen lumpy corpse adrift in space then suffer the Etho gazes at him like he’s some unexplored planet, reckon with how easily his hands splay his thighs apart and fill the void. 

But the way his mate floods his senses is like looking past the brilliantly devastating glow of an event horizon to the abyssal pearl at its centre: brilliantly devastating, pulling him towards oblivion. 

Bathing in the low green light of the lamp, Joel rescinds himself to suffer the way Etho looks at him like more than an alien dildo, it would be easy to lie to himself that he hates it should he need to once this blows up. 

Taking a deep breath, Joel lets his senses settle - acclimating to Etho bleeding into his personal space, into his lungs, into his everything - beating down on him like a supernova sun. All those overwhelming sensations taunt the barely caged dogs barking past the bars of his brain. 

Joel shifts under him, unsure what to do with his hands - unsure if he can even pick them up with how suddenly heavy they feel, like Etho’s mere presence is a gravity well. 

With a deliberate slowness, Etho lets a hand slide up his neck and hold him there. Joel almost splits his bottom lip with how hard he bites down on it. That motherfuc-

For a moment the world jumps away as his eyes screw shut and all he can feel is the unbearable warmth of Etho twisting against his neck. Fingers digging into the thumb of his muscles force all the air from his lungs in a stuttering exhale. The worn ends of Etho’s fingers gingerly rake across the verdant plateau of flesh and Joel has to try very hard to stop his eyes from rolling back and staring daggers at his brain.

Etho doesn’t know, because of course he doesn’t, because Joel hasn’t told him, because of course he hadn’t because it’s no fun to tell Etho, it is fun to keep him guessing and chasing. But Joel’s species [even outside of heat] have a massive amount of erogenous nerves in their necks [heat just makes them mind numbingly sensitive]. 

That, and in the somewhat chaste culture of his homeworld, the neck is where marriage bands [bites] are displayed, and while Joel was never one for the rules of home, that one… that one always stuck out to him. Affection, love, permanently tore into him - each breath and word passing a reminder of someone’s eternal claim on him. As if he deserves that. 

The longer they remain, the hotter they burn, threatening to brand the mossy flesh, threatening to stake an eternal claim. Something about that, something about the thought of a permanent mark of Etho stained on him - oh, clear rivulets are spilling down his cheeks despite his best efforts.

“Take a breath for me Joel,” rich coming from the guy with his hand on his throat. Although, he does promptly part from his neck and instead messages his shoulder, thumb digging into his collar bone - which just works out a knotted little bundle of tension so well. Blummin Etho and his magical hands wasted on coding and reading alien hentai. 

He breathes in Etho and his body relaxes. Breathes in the scent of sweet heavy scent flowing over him, constantly threatening to drown him beneath the smell of sandalwood and maple. But as Etho fills his lungs like seawater, Joel arches off the bed, rising upward until abdomen is pressing against Etho and a hand is being snuck around him. The sensation of drowning mellows, the spasming tightness of his lungs mellows and breathing becomes gradually easier again. 

By the time Joel catches his breath, he’s breathing the heavy sea of Etho dragging him into the depths with newfound ease. The lingering sensation of being overwhelmed remains, but it’s softer, almost pleasant, like being wrapped in a heavy fluffy blanket. 

It’s surprisingly easy. 

Blinking away the rivulets catching at his eyes, Joel is greeted by Etho cast in glow of the lamp and the dark of the room, entire body relaxing as Joel’s breathing relaxes, “Hi handsome.” 

“Hey sexy, come here often?” Joel’s faux confidence - the smirk and chevalier bravado he salvages from the warmth flooding his mind - can only mask so much. 

“Trying to make a habit of it, I’ve heard good things.” 

The drag of a still gloved hand - fingerless gloved which Joel is thankful because Etho’s fingers feel amazing - summons a groan as it reaches around to settle beneath the soft roll of his stomach, squeezing the little valley of tender flesh.

Something about the way Etho is holding him feels almost reverential - like he’s pulling him into the depths while cradling his head just above the roll of the waves. Joel knows he’ll sink beneath the wave eventually, Etho does too, but at least… at least he can be the one to lower him into it.

”Now, what’s a pretty thing like you doing without a mate during heat hmmm? That simply won’t do.” Joel swears he’s read this over Etho’s shoulder, stained on the page of vintage smutty mags he flicks through on his off hours - but the barely restrained ravenous drag of fingers across his skin drowns out any recollection.

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

“No please? my my Joel, surely you’re not so far gone to forget manne-“ Joel summons what strength he has to pull Etho down for a kiss. 

The cut off surprised yelp of Etho falling atop him is intoxicatingly endearing as opposed to the addicting flutter of Etho’s lips against his own. 

It’s slow. It’s sloppy. It’s hungry. It’s… perfect. Just feels right: the way Etho bears down on him, how Joel bites up at him and pulls him back down by his lip when he tries to take a breath, and how effortlessly their bodies slot against one another, the lingering threat of the kiss becoming more than - Etho pulling back every time Joel was just about to slip his tongue down his throat. The tease. 

Etho is saccharine cyanide on his lips. And Joel couldn’t be happier. 

When Etho escapes his hold, Joel chases him with all the zeal of a dog chomping after an ankle, settling with a whine when he doesn’t get his way. “You’re just precious, you know that right?” Etho remarks, tucking some of Joel’s hair behind his pointy ear. He’s one to talk with that soft blush and hazy eyes and messy silver hair and cute -

He huffs dismissively, although the bright streaks of arousal across his cheeks only proves Etho’s point, “You top one time and suddenly you think you’re all that huh?”

“Thought I’d make the most of it.” Before Joel can complain Etho is back on him, peppering wet kisses across his jaw line, dancing on the precipice of his neck and the thought of Etho grazing his neck makes him shiver. 

…[SLOPPY TONGUE KISSES WITH JOEL'S BIG OL’ TONGUE]

Etho tastes like home. Real home, not the dust bowl he left behind. 

[Joel ends up on top of Etho but he still fingers him working up to fisting him]

Etho slips a finger into joel and he jumps 

“Never heard of knocking?”

“With how wet you are, you’re basically holding the door open for me.” … “Plus we both know you’re tired of waiting.” 

It was November, finally the time in which the great parties for streamers took place. You had been invited, of course, after all, you had been able to remain the top creator during over five months, tightly followed by that gaming streamer, PixelDragon.

The name was a bit cringy, but he had been able to quickly rise to the high rankings thanks to his great skills on many of the different games he had tried, ranging from FPS to soul-like games.

When you finally arrived, you were greeted by the smiling sponsors, taking your hand and guiding you to the darkened room, the place being lightened by the dim red lights. You took a sit close to a masked man, the man moved to the side, allowing you to sit close to him while he checked his phone. You were barely able to imagine the face underneath, his lips shinning under the red lights.

“Are you going to drill my face the whole evening?” The man kept his gaze fixated on his screen, his fingers scrolling down mindlessly.

“How did you even---? Sorry, I was just curious about what you truly looked like under the mask.”

“Well, you are not definitely getting any glimpse if you keep it like this.” He turned off his phone, putting it on his pocket and looking into your eyes, his green orbs glistening as the spotlight moved towards where you were. Outraged, you decided to get up, rapidly taking your stuff before fleeting the scene.

By the time you were back to your usual self, the party had already reached its’ highest peak, with the music booming all over the place and the floor feeling sticky form all the drinks that had been spilled. You threw yourself against one of the many sofas that were laying around the place, suddenly hitting your head against something extremely hard. You turned around annoyed, only to find a red-faced man, his hazed green eyes shinning under the red lights of the club. “Are you ok?” Your words were a bit dragged, your whole mouth feeling a bit funny as you tried to talk as normal. “Do you hear me?” You screamed to his hear, perhaps he wasn’t answering because of the loud music. The man moved to the side, his face looking slightly annoyed.

“I can hear you perfectly, no need to scream.” He furrowed his eyebrows, moving a few strands of hair that were bothering him.

“Who are you? I didn’t see you before during the dinner.” You took out your phone, scanning through the many names of people that had been invited to the party. “I suppose you’re not the one called PixelDragon, am I right? God, that dude seems like such a prick, he’s always flexing about his skills during the collabs, even when we are supposed to be friendly about them, plus, he has been keeping his identity hidden even to his own workmates, I get that he wants to avoid leaks, but it’s not like the rest of us would be such losers, even I, who kind of hates his guts wouldn’t do something so fucking low. He always acts as if he’s far too good for the rest of us and it gets me so pissed off, though, I do have to say that he does have some good points, like his great abilities, or his deep voice, and yeah, his hands may look kind of sexy while smashing the buttons but that’s all, you know?” The alcohol was definitely getting the best of you, as you wouldn’t be able to stop your yapping even if you tried. “Are you listening to me, mister?”

“Yeah, I am. I hate to say it, but this might be a skill issue, like straight up.” The man laughed out-loud, his hand moving a few strands of his hair out of his face.

“Nice one, jackass, real funny. Anyways, how come I missed such a hot dude in the diner? You were def one of the masked ones, right? Promise I won’t leak anything, not like it would benefit me, you know?” You laid your head on one of his shoulders, turning around so you could touch the small part of his chest that was exposed because of his unbuttoned shirt. “Are you trynna get someone to accompany you tonight? You will def get a good one with me, handsome…” You smiled, enjoying how he started to react to your touch.

“You sure get comfortable with some random man, what if I’m some weird sicko that is planning on kidnapping you?” His right hand moved towards your hip, caressing it as his gaze started to darken.

“Then you wouldn’t be here, this place is exclusive for those working for our company, it’s ok, I can find some other dude, don’t wanna pressure you or anything, let’s see each other later, yeah? Next time you should tell me the name of your channel, we could make a collab or something!” You got up, leaving him with his words still in his mouth.

By the time you finally opened your eyes again, you were being taken by the arms of some random man, you quickly struggled, trying to get him to let you go, “Hey, don’t know who the fuck are you, but you’re def not someone I---”, the man put his hand on your mouth, turning on the flashlight on his phone so you could see his face, it was the hot dude at the party.

“Sorry, I saw some weird due trying to take you home, I know I can also be considered a weirdo, but hey, at least we talked, I guess, let me take you to your room, I won’t try anything weird, ok?” Your body relaxed, allowing him to carry your limp body to his room, finally allowing you to lay down on his king size bed.

“Thanks, hot stuff, promise I will compensate you tomorrow…” Just as you were about to drift to sleep, a known voice resonated from the man’s phone, it was that damn PixelDragon. Annoyed, you quickly got up, the nauseas getting to you, forcing you to stop for a second before speaking.

“Why are you listening to that jackass? He thinks he is some kind of big shot just cause the president started to pay more attention to him than to those who have been more time in the company. He may have nice hands and all, together with a real hot voice, but that is all that he has, he ain’t even that good, I mean---”

“You talk too much about him for you to simply hate him, aren’t you like lowkey wishing you knew how he looked? All your yapping about how he isn’t that huge of a streamer makes you seem even more of a fan than those crazy ones that send him his panties and stuff. Bet you want him to finger you with his slender fingers real bad, uh?” Your face flushed, feeling your head even more warm than before.

“You’re def projecting, I don’t want to fuck him or anything like that, why would I want that asshole’s fingers inside me—”

“Oh yeah? Then you will have no issue with that same asshole touching your whole body, uh? I’m sure that you have already imagined it so many fucking times. Tell me, are you really that naïve that you didn’t think eve for a moment that the man with the dragon-like mask was actually PixelDragon? It’s not like the mask that the president gave me was that mysterious, but I suppose that you can’t expect nothing great from an airhead like you, right?” The guy smiled as he started to change his clothes, leaving his jacket, gloves, and his necktie on top of the small desk that was within the room. “How about we do that collab that you wanted so much? Bet you would love to gain some more attention from my viewers, right? I can do a special live, just for you, what do you think?” You stopped for a moment, I mean, you were actually just a masked youtuber, and you were only focused on mature audiences, so, there should be no issue, right? You could probably use the mask he had used during the party. You nodded, crawling out of the bed and getting closer to the setup that he had already built for the duration of the event. “Oh, I forgot, can you plug in the cable under the table? I forgot to do it, but I have to keep on preparing the stream.” Once again, you were simply able to nod, getting on all fours and going under the table.

“Hey, there’s no plug missing or something like that, are you sure---?” You covered your mouth as soon as you heard the sound that marked the beginning of the live. You hit his leg, trying to remind him that you were still under the table, he lowered his gaze, trying to avoid making it much obvious. He smiled wickedly, moving one of his hands towards his trousers, carefully pulling down the zipper of his pants together with his underwear, the tip of his cock being left dangerously close to your mouth.

“So, yeah, we had a small gathering for the company, not that important, now it’s time to finally get back to what truly matters, am I right?” He read some of the comments that were already pilling up, answering with snarky comments to some, while he simply laughed to others. How was he even able to act as if he wasn’t with his cock out? A wicked idea crossed your mind, you could suddenly get out of there, making sure that the viewers were able to see you run out of frame, thus stealing his spotlight even further. That sounded like a great idea, of course, that changed until you realised that this little plan would lead to the boss yelling to both of you. Just as you were about to try and get out, his legs trapped you, causing you to end up almost hitting your face against the raging erection. “Oh guys, wait a sec, I gotta check that everything is in order.” He stopped the live for a second, making sure to disconnect the camera and mic. “Didn’t you want to make a collab?” Your face flushed, you weren’t really sure if it was because of how you felt your blood boiling, or maybe it had much more to do with the fact that his cock looked delicious, his tip flushed with a slight red tint. “If it’s too much for you, you can simply leave, I swear I won’t say anything to no one from the company, not like it would benefit me, right?” He moved to the side, allowing you to leave if you truly wanted to. You were about to do so, but then you realised something. Wasn’t that like admitting defeat against him? He would get the upper hand, making you feel as if you had to be grateful for his “mercy”! Not on your watch, oh no, so you swallowed all the embarrassment that you had been feeling, starting to leave small kisses all over his length. “I supposed so, oh wait, let me help you with a little something.” He got up from his chair, rummaging in his suitcase and then sitting back again, he made a sign for you to turn around, so you did, your ass facing his way. Suddenly, his slender fingers were moving your underwear to the side, a small object being inserted inside your cunt. “There, I hope this can keep my precious slut in place while I work, wait for me.” He waited for you to move back to your place, his eyes filled with a certain sense of superiority.

“Shut up, you’re just making it more difficult for me, keep your mouth shut for a while.” You nagged, trying your best not to stutter as you started to feel the small device starting to move. Just then, you heard how the live started back again.

“I’m back, missed me?” He went back to reading the comments with a playful smile. “Oh, shut up, not like I spent more than a few minutes. K, now let’s try to see who will be able to join the game….” He waited for a few minutes until the results of the online roulette popped up. “Well, congrats, I’ll send you the link to the VC, hope you all are ready.” You listened to him; it was quite impressive how he was able to keep his voice stable despite having your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. “Dude, it must be real sad to see me play almost everyday and most of you are still hard-stucks, sucks to be you, uh?” His snarky comment caused the viewers to get wild, some were praising his skills, while others had gotten truly angered by his remarks, the sound of the flow of comments filled the room. You were just about to smirk at how even his own fan hated him, but your moment of bliss was suddenly stopped as soon as you started to feel how the small vibrator had suddenly moved much more rapidly than before. You clenched the fabric of his shirt, glaring at his extremely satisfied grin. “Anyways, get ready for it, promise me not to cry in the chat, I don’t want my mods to get tired from deleting your comments.” As the game started, you could perfectly hear how he was clearly cleaning the floor with his viewers, this was of course the perfect time to mess him up, right? So you did.

You started to move your tongue, slowly licking on his tip, while sometimes wrapping it over his length, making sure to let out a few noises in case that would actually rile him up, your eyes completely fixed on his face, not noticing even a single frow. If he wanted to play hard to get, then you would simply raise the stakes. You introduced his tip into your mouth, sucking on it as you used one of your hands to masturbate what was still left outside. It was then when one of his eyebrows furrowed, his lips forming a straight line as he tried to keep his mouth closed as best as he could, you were already celebrating your victory over him when you heard the sound that marked the end of his first victory, your head suddenly being pushed further down.

“GGs, next time send someone who is at least as good as me while playing with a stirring wheel. Let’s for the next game, yeah? No need for a break.” The players were once again chosen at random, quickly preparing the next game as one of his hands kept pushing your head, only releasing it when the game finally started. Your eyes were already watering a bit from the difficulty to breath, so you decided to step your little game even more, starting to take his whole length (or at least as much as you were able to manage without feeling as if you were about to throw up. His face quickly flushed, the grip on the mouse starting to strengthen, his jaw clenching and his eyes starting to darken. Despite his clear reaction to you, he was shameless enough to start to buck his hips, forcing his length further inside your mouth, not stopping even as you hit his lower stomach, trying to get him to either slow down his rhythm, or to simply give you a small break. Sadly, none of the choices were given to you, forcing your poor mouth open, his hand sometimes lowering just to carefully caress your hair.

Once again, you were soon able to hear the chat being flooded by comments after the great crushing he had done to his helpless viewers. “I gotta go now, remember to keep on playing so you all can at least hit me with a single bullet next time. See ya.” He quickly turned off the stream, his hands quickly gripping your hair. “Bet you had fun, uh? Sucking my cock while you heard my chat blowing up, pretty sure you must have been wishing they heard you under my desk sucking my cock. You must be fucking dripping, uh? Show me just how much you’re craving it.” He lend you his hand to get up, your legs almost giving up on you as you tried to stand up, his lean arms stopping you from falling. “Oh, I was sure that you were supposed to hate me, didn’t expect you to be the type to fall head over heels, but I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with someone as hot---” His sentence was cut short as soon as you hit him on the stomach with your elbow.

“What the heck is that attitude? You kept on pushing my head against you, next time I will just bite your fucking dick off, bet that would give you more action that you have ever had.” You wiped down your tears, together with the saliva that had been running down your chin. “Why the heck would you even have something so--.” You stopped before ending the sentence, wondering just what would happen if his ego got even bigger.

“So… what? Finish the sentence.” He playfully touched your hair, his big hands petting you as if you were something precious. The heat was starting to rise to your cheeks, so you hit his hand, your gaze moving towards his temporary set.

“What is the code for this mic, pretty sure it’s one of the most expensive ones, right? Bet you must be blowing up your checks uh?” You got close, tinkering a bit with his stuff, moving all that was lying on top of his desk and looking around in case you were able to find a single tip on how was he able to keep his skills on point,  “Man you’re really—”

“Look, I’ve been trying to just act as if nothing is going on, but come on, you’re so bad at acting it’s almost embarrassing. You always walk around with that huge smile on your lips, shaking your hips as if you were trying as hard as possible for all the people around you to lick you from head to toe… You enjoy the attention, right? It gets you so high to feel as if you are better than the rest. Never had anyone show you where you truly belong, guess it’s my duty to do it then.” He took you by the arm, throwing you to the bed with just enough strength for you not to damage yourself. He quickly got on top of you, his body pressing against you as his hands started to get rid of all your clothes, your blouse and your skirt being thrown to the floor, soon followed by your bra and your underwear. “Since you want to behave like a brat, might as well and treat you like one.” He suddenly kissed you, his kiss being filled with hunger, rather than love or lust, he was planning on eating you whole.

“Come on, you’re just saying that to scare me, right? There’s no need for that, just, just let me go for now, I can, I can talk to the boss, you’re just being like this because you’re trying so hard to scare me, I get it, no need to keep this any further, just---” You put your hands on his chest, trying your best to avoid his eyes as they scanned you up and down.

“Open your mouth.” Your sentence was once again cut off, the room being filled with the sound of his clothes falling to the ground close to yours. He crawled, swiftly making his way to your face, his hardened dick facing you. “Do you expect it to suck itself? Open.” He grabbed his cock with one of his hands, the tip of his cock rubbing against your soft lips. You silently opened your mouth, unable to think about anything smart to say because of the current situation. “That’s right, open wide.” He carefully inserted the tip of his cock in your mouth, a deep breath leaving his mouth from the pleasure. “God, you should really consider becoming my own if you decide to leave the YouTube thing… you have such a pretty face and your body is just perfect, I will treat you as a queen, how about it?” His voice kept resonating inside your head, almost sounding a bit too good to pass on it, well the vibrator that was still inside you was definitely not helping you to stay sane. You sank your nails into the palms of your hands, trying to keep your own mind together while he kept on thrusting your mouth. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me…” Tears once again swelled your eyes, your nails now digging on his abdomen as you tried to get him to let you rest even if it was or a second. “Oh, it seems you’re still able to put up a fight, let’s just change this then.” He finally let you breath, coughing as you were finally able to breath, this didn’t last much more, as you were suddenly lifted by him, then letting you sit on his lap, both of you facing the big mirror that was hanging on the wall. “You just need to realise what position are you on.” He lifted your body for a moment, taking off the vibrator, slowly inserting himself into you.

“Wait! I need a second to…to adjust, it’s difficult to do this without like, actually preparing.” You let him slowly make his way inside of you, finally bottoming out. “Fuck, just what do you even--- Shit…”

“Guess I was finally able to shut that reckless mouth of you, shouldn’t you thank me?” Of course, he just refused to give you even a single moment of peace, always running his mouth even as you were clearly able to feel his cock throbbing.

“Sure, like your dick isn’t barely holding on, you talk so much shit for someone who is balls deep inside me, I may not be able to kill you in the game, but I’m damn sure I will last much longer than your sorry excuse of a dic—” Your words were cut off as soon as he lifted you abruptly, your air leaving your lungs as his tip hit your cervix.

“You really don’t have any fucking clue about when to keep your mouth shut, uh? Always answering back even when I have the upper hand… Fuck.” His hips kept on bucking against you, not stopping even as the veins on his neck pumped up from his effort of not cumming. “This is no use, fuck…” He got up, not before taking the vibrator that had been inside you, his arms still holding you from under your thigs, walking until you were quite close to the mirror. “Look at your fucking face as I make you cum, yeah? Just fucking watch.” His hips started to move again, the position making it impossible for you to grip at anything in fear of him letting you fall, still, you tried to cover your mouth with both of your hands, denying him the possibility of hearing those sweet moans that were leaving your lips. “Cat got your tongue? You’re surprisingly quiet for someone as chatty as you, let’s see if I can fix that.” The rhythm of his thrusts sped up, forcing your eyes to roll to your skull as your insides got rearranged without you being able to do anything about it. Just as you were about to cry from the overstimulation, he suddenly let you stand on your two feet, well, if not because you almost fell face first to the floor, his hands gripped your hips with strength, his fingertips leaving marks on your skin. He took out the egg vibrator he had used previously, rubbing it a bit around your entrance before carefully inserting it inside you, he then decided to play with you a little by gliding his dick up and down, his tip constantly grinding against your clit. Before you were able to say anything, he entered you at once, the stretch making you squeal as your nails once again dug into his skin.

“Sure…Sure talk a lot of crap when you have still been unable to make me cum even once, your dick is so lame—” …Well, you surely had it coming this time, maybe the previous one as well, and well, maybe more times than just the last ones. But you never learnt, apparently.

“Fucking brat, just learn your position!” His last straw had been lost as soon as he saw on one of her streams you had been non-stop laughing at his supposedly small cock and your lack of bitches. He tightened his grip on your hips even further, lifting you from the floor and slamming his hips against your tender ass, your lips parting as those lewd sounds were once again filling the room.

“St-stop! My mind is turning really weird… Give me a second please!” You once again tried to hit him as an attempt to ease the unyielding rhythm he had established. He lowered one of his hands, suddenly levelling up the small roulette that controlled the vibrations, his fingers then moving on to start rubbing your clit, a degenerated smile appearing on his face as he saw your cunt dripping and some of the juices leaving your poor hole each time he slammed himself against you. Your vision was already starting to blurry a bit by the time you felt as if he was giving you even a tiny break, even the, it didn’t seem to have any plan of stopping, not even as you could faintly hear someone’s voice and hits on the wall from the close-by rooms.

You could clearly tell that he was about to cum, his lips bucking from time to time as he tried to keep that relentless rhythm. Just as you thought he was about to cum, he rapidly pulled out, his sperm staining your cheeks and part of your lower back. “You don’t even deserve my cum inside of you, next time you’ll learn how to keep your mouth shut, brat.” He let you down on top of the bed, walking towards one of the small doors that still concealed the rest of the room. Suddenly, he was back, a warm towel being passed around your whole body, his eyes showing a slight sign of concert. “…Name’s Kinich, I forgot to say it, I’m sorry.” …Was that brat really blushing? Fuck, even you were now flushed because of his teasing… Right?