#drifter rem

Bonus pre-rework scrungles for comparison. Old Rem looks like an NPC quest giver, waxy-ass dead-eyed mf

Drifter on the left belongs to @lowdicrous, Drifter Rem on the right is mine 😙

It’s like a switch has been flipped. Since his KIM confession, Arthur had expected Rem to continue his measured pace of courting Arthur, but how fast is too fast when you only have a year? (An eternal looping year, but still.) There’s no time to waste, apparently.

But as soon as Arthur gave the green light on their relationship, it’s like Rem is making up for lost time. Whenever he’s around, it’s rarer for him to not be touching Arthur or hovering in his space in some way. Anyone else and Arthur would be sick of them, but Rem’s easy affection filled the pit in Arthur’s life that had been hollow for a long time.

Days are quieter in winter. Slower. Less missions to go around with a sudden drop in activity; maybe the Scaldra still observe Solstice, too, Eleanor jokes. That’s not to say that there’s nothing to do, far from it. But the chances to catch their breath between missions seem to grow longer as the days grow shorter. Maybe now I’ll actually have a chance to show Drifter a good time.

When the first signs of the Helminth strain started to show, steel-hard carapace taking over flesh, the churning, writhing sensation of a body being taken over, the feeling of disgust, of undesirability had settled in quickly. Who would ever love a monster? Who wouldn’t shy away from a man who was broken even before Entrati came and fucked everything to hell? (Apparently, the answer is the man who had nothing.)

Arthur startles as arms snake under his apron, nearly knocking into the bowl of pancake batter he’s mixing on the counter. Cold palms press against his lower belly, where the waistband on a pair of pants would sit, tantalizingly close to his groin plate and soaking up heat. Rem’s body sags against his back, a soft pair of lips brushing along Arthur’s hairline, right above where his carapace ends. Arthur sets down the whisk and covers Rem’s hands with his own.

“Good morning, love,” Arthur murmurs. Rem hums sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of Arthur’s neck and pressing lingering kisses there. “Hungry?”

Sharp teeth gently digging into his skin startles a yelp out of him, his neck buzzing with his lover’s growl. Hands move to his hips, squeezing. “Very.”

“Ah, darling – ” Arthur gasps as Rem’s tongue drags a hot line up his neck and ends in a kiss behind his ear, the other man straightening and falling forward to pin Arthur against the counter despite the height difference. “Someone’s very spirited this morning.”

“Don’t you want to feed me properly, Artie?” Rem’s morning voice is gravelly and heated, roving hands seeking out Arthur’s weak spots and massaging at his chest and hips. He shuffles impossibly closer, pressing himself so completely against Arthur like he was attempting Transference. “Can’t let your boy starve, right?”

“Don’t you want to wait until we’re somewhere more comfortable, love?” Arthur asks. He slips an arm out to reach up and run a hand through Rem’s short hair, making the other man purr. “Why don’t you get me finish cooking first. I’ll even make them square for you.”

Rem snorts a laugh. He pulls back and spins Arthur around, grinning mischievously. “Maybe an appetizer first. Will you let me?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Mm…” He fits a thick thigh between Arthur’s, rocking forward gently and relishing feeling the swell of flesh under thick carapace. “Let me suck you off? I’ve been told getting off once helps keep your stamina up for the second round.”

The image of Rem on his knees, looking up at Arthur was too good to pass up.

The eager roll of Rem’s body against his, a smiling mouth pressing sharp teeth against the front of his throat. The tangle of scarred fingers with his own, only breaking to lift Arthur’s apron as Rem slides down and under it to kneel. Arthur’s not sure he’s ever had someone quite so happy to be with him.

Rem mouths at his hip, moving toward his groin plate and inhaling greedily, and Arthur might’ve been embarrassed at the shameless display if he wasn’t the hardest he’s ever been in his life. Lots of firsts and first places Drifter was taking, Arthur realizes with a rush of affection.

He lets the carapace open and Arthur’s cock slaps heavily against Rem’s face, long and ridged from the Helminth strain’s influence (the ridges, not the length, thank you very much), bordering on tentacley. For a brief moment, Arthur feels self-conscious of the mutation, the unnatural reddish purple tinge and alien textures, the slit where he protrudes from instead of regular skin, and is immediately reassured as Rem swallows down as much as he can fit in one go with no hesitation, moaning like he’s on the receiving end.

“Sol, you’re good at this,” Arthur gasps. He clenches their hands together at a particularly strong suck. “Way too good. Did you have dildos on the Zariman or something? Shit… did you find one here?”

Rem pulls off with a lascivious slurp. “I think about this all the time,” he admits, rubbing his lips along the length. His voice is slightly muffled under the apron. “For months. All the things I’d do to you if you let me, all the things I’d let you do to me. And well. I like to be prepared.”

He scrapes his teeth over a hipbone before biting down, releasing one of Arthur’s hands to wrap around his lover’s cock and let him fuck into his fist. “Can you tell I don’t have a gag reflex?”

Arthur laughs breathlessly as warmth envelops him again. “Yes, darling, I’m well aware, fuck…” His thighs quiver as a telltale rush of heat warns of his impending orgasm. “Love, I won’t last much longer.”

 “Can I try something? Do you trust me?”

Arthur nods.

Rem takes Arthur’s cock into his mouth again, bobbing his head and working his tongue, and then reaches up to place a hand over Arthur’s heart.

The hot-cold-buzzing feeling of Void energy isn’t entirely foreign, but the feedback loop of emotion and sensation is. It’s different from the memory of Rem taking Arthur’s pain in the reactor room. Then, it was like a blanket, leeching the excruciating pain of his body succumbing to the Infestation and leaving behind a cotton lined feeling of care, of “I’m here with you.” A cool breeze on a sweltering day. A conversation, send and receive.

The borderline overstimulating communion he feels now, the lines of what he feels and what Rem feels, the mouth around his cock and Rem cupping himself to find some relief, every bit of light and sound and smell amplified – it threatens to shatter him in the best way. There is no Point A or Point B, no angle or space that is occupied by one or the other, just the singularity of their bond.

Rem lets Arthur slip out of his mouth just enough to take a deep breath and then pushes forward until his nose is pressed to Arthur’s stomach. He swallows, and the vise grip of his throat sends Arthur over the edge, hands cramping with the effort of cradling Rem’s head without forcing him in place. There are sparks behind his eyes, or maybe the fluorescents over his head really are flickering. An overwhelming wave of sensation as he spills his load down Rem’s throat, heart hammering in his chest and their consciousnesses stuttering between separate and together as Rem’s hand slides away from Arthur’s chest.

Finally, Rem releases him with a wet noise and Arthur feels more than sees his cock retreat into his slit and his groin plates fold into place. Overheated, Arthur yanks the apron off and tosses it on the counter behind him, sweat cooling as the air conditioner blows over them. Rem still hasn’t cum but seems content to wait for Arthur to recover, pressing his own sweaty face to Arthur’s thigh to catch his breath as he rocks idly against own hand. Arthur closes his eyes and cards his fingers through short, dark purple hair, separating the damp strands and luxuriating in the afterglow.

“As much fun as you two are having, I’d much prefer it if you didn’t further sully one of the last working kitchens in the mall.”

Eleanor’s voice in both their minds is like ice water and Arthur leaps away from Rem, barely reaching back out in time to catch the man from face planting into the metal island.

“Eleanor, what have I said about eavesdropping?” Arthur hisses. He helps Rem to his feet, steadying the man as he gets feeling back in his legs.

“Trust me, Artie, listening to my dear baby brother and his very handsome lover have incredibly graphic intercourse is at the bottom of the list of things I’d like to tune into, but it turns out Void energy makes your psychic experience very loud and difficult to ignore. You may as well be projecting it over a loudspeaker.”

 Arthur blushes and Rem laughs. “Sorry, El,” Drifter says.

[Rem “hunts” Arthur to the backrooms]