His discord chimes while he was editing the most recent past life episode till late in the evening. His brain practically begging for a distraction, immediately latches onto it.

It's a message from Etho. Odd but nothing too out of the ordinary. What is incredibly weird though, is the fact that it's a picture. From Etho. They've known each other for years, and in all that time he's never received a picture from Etho in his dms.

Should he open this? What if it was an accident? It's probably just a screenshot of some redstone but what if it isn't?

With only a little hesitancy, he clicks on the message and for a moment the image loads.

What greets him is a picture of a guy, in.... A cosplay. Of Tango's character. With spiky blonde hair, a red jacket that even has a self made patch of his logo on it. It's cute but why did Etho send him that?

He probably just found it somewhere online, and it's not a bad cosplay (probably, what does Tango know) but the picture is somewhat dimly lit.

Etho has never sent him fanart or similar stuff before. Others like Pearl and Gem, sometimes even Scar have. But Etho? Where did he even find this?

For a moment Tango is clueless as to what to reply. There is no caption or anything that hints at why he's showing him this, outside of the fact that it's Tango's character. 

Eventually he ends up reacting with just a simple thumbs up emote but that also doesn't feel right. So he sends a message, "nice cosplay"

Closing discord, he focuses on editing again, not thinking much more of it. Just as it left his brain, he gets another message, again from Etho. 

Another picture, same costume, this time showing more of the face of the person wearing it. He's maybe a few years younger than Tango - probably the oldest of the few people he's seen dressed up as him. His character. Most of them are in their teens or early 20s. 

He's smiling kind of awkwardly, as if not used to having his picture taken. But the hair, brown-blonde, spiky, fits surprisingly well and there seems to be a lot of care in the costume.

It always flatters Tango, of course, when someone likes his stuff enough to make art for it, let alone a whole costume but he never knows how to react.

And it is a bit weird. A weird situation made even weirder with Etho being the one to share these.

Still unsure what to say, he sends a hopefully not too awkward, "they did an amazing job, huh?"

This time he doesn't even have the chance to tab out before another message appears. Finally Etho says something, even if it doesn't resolve any of the weirdness. 

"Do you like it?" The message stares at him, the cursor blinking, waiting for Tango to reply.

And what is he meant to reply? Etho you're being weird tonight. did you hit your head or anything? Instead he just settles for a polite "yea, looks good =)"

Is he drunk? Does Etho even drink? Tango doesn't remember if he ever said anything.

The next picture loads and Tango nearly knocks over the mug that's a bit too close to his keyboard in a frantic attempt to tab out of the chat.

From the quick glance he managed to get, the picture was very different from the others. It was shot from further up, the angle now focusing on the broad chest. But the only thing Tango really noticed before panicking was the pale skin of stomach that was exposed as the shirt was pulled up by his hand. 

It's clearly suggestive and Tango can feel his heart pound in his chest, a hand on his head. He can feel how hot his skin is. What is he even meant to do now? Respond with an avoidant Love the details on the clothes? That would only encourage whatever this is. 

Of course Tango knows he should shut this down and hopefully never talk about it ever again, for both his and Etho's sake but while his hands hover over the keys he can't type it out.

Instead the time keeps passing and the all to familiar discord notification blinks up again.

Tango swallows heavily. Why is he still clicking on the chat when he can already guess what awaits him? Hope that this is all some sort of weird joke? Morbid curiosity?

Either way, his hand rests on the mouse and opens the discord message.

Tango is trying not to look. This feels wrong, it's probably some fan, which makes this at least ten different ways of fucked up. His eyes dart to anything that isn't the man in the center of his frame but obviously he can't stop himself from risking a glance or two.

Dark cargo pants half sit, half lean on a desk. The hand that isn't busy taking the picture is very clearly grabbing himself through the thick fabric. He isn't wearing the red jacket anymore at this point, exposing strong arms.

Practically feeling every heavy breath in his chest, Tango drags his eyes away, focusing on anything but the guy front and center of the image, instead latching onto the background. The monitors on his desk, barely visible, all turned off. A chair pushed to the side to make space. 

And a microphone, sitting inside a tissue box.

His entire vision locks in on that little detail. He knows this, they've all made fun of it often enough that Tango can recognize this setup, even if he didn't realize it up till now. 

Of course Tango scrolls up immediately, to the pictures that include his face. It is long, his hair brown-blonde and spiky, with also darker stubble on his chin. Etho has a beard. 

While Tango is busy taking in every detail he can, as if he's afraid Etho would delete the pictures now, he tries to come up with anything to possibly say now. Any reply his brain comes up with feels dumb. "that's you."

Great, well done Tango. The guy who never shows his face, shows it to Tango in the weirdest and most off-putting way imaginable and that is how he responds...

Before he can overthink more, his eyes still on Etho's face, he gets another message. Not an image this time, thankfully.

"Do you like them more or less now?"

What a fucking question. Maybe this is worse than another picture.

His fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to say no, his first gut reaction, to tell Etho to cut the crap and just convince himself that this was a very weird dream.

But what if it is better, now that he knows it is not some fan taking some suggestive pictures dressed up as Tango? Because it is, even if only marginally.

And because of that, Tango finds himself responding with a quick "better" before his brain even has a chance to catch up and stop him.

For a brief moment Etho types before he must think better of it and instead sends another image. Now Tango allows himself to actually look. His arm looks strong but not too buff, his frame is tall and wiry.

After a moment or two, he lets his eyes wander alongside the slightly veiny arm, before taking in the details of his hand, trying to ignore very hard what his fingers are doing, the way they hook into the waistband of the cargo pants. The long, pale digits contrast on the dark fabric.

But of course Tango has to look. The way Etho's bulge is visible, the fabric bunched up just above it revealing a bit of dark hair and even more skin.

Now that he knows just who he is looking at, he sees the picture in a different light. The intimacy of Etho sharing this with him flusters Tango just enough.

Then, instead of a picture, another question appears and Tango drags his eyes downwards.

"want to see more?"

The message blinks at him and for the first time all evening, Tango finds himself not uncomfortably squirming in his seat. He should say no, of course, and he knows that. Still he finds himself typing "yes"

His pinky hovers hesitantly over the key to send, giving in to a last moment of doubt. This is his coworker who is offering to send him more. All while dressed up as his stupid Minecraft skin.

For a moment Tango debates deleting the message and coming back with any quip about how this is Etho's idea of sexy. When his brain comes up with nothing, Tango just lets the message go, holding his breath as he waits to see what the response will be.

It takes a while before anything new comes in. Enough time for Tango's brain to overflow with regret.

For once he wants to shut it off, this nagging part of his brain pointing out just why this all is a horrible idea. He knows that. He knows that this could land anywhere between forever awkward or catastrophic, should this get out anywhere.

But what if it doesn't?

Etho has his whole face involved here, he wouldn't talk. And why would Tango?

He closes his eyes for a moment, removing his glasses before dragging a hand across his face, then putting the frames back on.

Looking back at the middle screen, he sees it. More than he expected. 

Etho is now sitting in his chair, shirt pulled up to reveal his stomach and his pants pulled down.

Tango's eyes hone in on the way Etho has his cock exposed, hard and in his grip, he physically cannot look away. Or maybe he doesn't want to.

No, now he actually wants to take in every bit of skin that his glance shied away from before. And to match Etho, Tango finds his own hand traveling lower, fidgeting with his belt, without taking his eyes off the screen.

Tango feels the need to say something, anything, to not leave Etho hanging now but everything his brain comes up with sounds horribly out of place. looking good, he physically cringes.

Too occupied by getting his belt off, he just sends a quick, praising "good"

The reply comes in the form of a slightly more shaky picture this time. Etho's hand mid motion. It's accompanied by another question. "You like it?"

Etho is very clearly just fishing for compliments, and Tango can't help the soft laugh that escapes him. Of course he is.

He plays with the thought of teasing Etho about this, dragging it all out, but just then his belt comes undone and Tango's own patience starts to fray once his hand brushes over himself.

"so much"

It's the honest reply, just bordering on desperate. Tango's hand brushes over himself through his pants while thinking about what noises Etho is making right now. Is he noisy or quiet? He knows he shouldn't think about this but looking at his screen again Tango can almost hear the breathy whines Etho would make.

For one fleeting moment Tango entertains the idea of starting a call, just so he can find out if he's right. This is already a bad idea, there isn't much that could make this worse.

"How much?" The reply snaps Tango out of his thoughts, and after shaking his head as if that will help dispel the thoughts of Etho moaning, he is about to reply but Etho is faster.

"I wanna see"

This makes Tango freeze up. Etho wants to see him. A mixture of disbelief and anxiety shoots through him.

Looking at what someone else - Etho - had sent him was one thing, but putting himself out there was something else entirely. 

He's never even taken a picture of himself like that before.

Tango bites his tongue for a moment, thinking if there's a non-selfish way out of this, to just ignore all of this happening, but some stupidly horny part of his brain wins over as he reaches for his phone on the desk.

Staring at the icon for the camera app won't make it any easier, so Tango pulls his pants down enough to sit in just his underpants, his own need clearly visible through the strained fabric.

Taking a deep breath, Tango reclines in his chair, as much as it would give, then spreading his legs a slight bit more. He holds his phone away from himself, careful not to get his face in frame, and just a bit of the probably ancient shirt he is wearing.

Looking at it after, it looks... Worse than what Etho sent him, barely visible, illuminated by a single desk lamp and his screens. 

This he can at least easily fix, already abusing his setup against its intended purpose, reaching out to switch on the light box. After a moment his eyes adjust and he takes another picture.

Glancing over it to make sure he didn't accidentally also include his social security number, he spots that the lower corner of his shirt has a date printed on it, partially showing. 30 1999. Maybe a bit older than he anticipated.

Not like Etho will care. Before his brain can begin to regret the decision and remind him of the dangers of sending pictures like this over the internet, Tango opens the discord app, selects Etho's chat and hits send.

To sooth his own anxiety a little he deletes the picture from his gallery the moment it uploaded.

In those few moments another message shows up at the top of his screen.

"More?"

Tango can't help but laugh at that. This time he can't stop his snark.

"That needy?"

He's still smiling but his hand finds its way down to his crotch, applying just enough pressure. His cock is straining, half hard once he slips out of the last piece of fabric.

"Could use more inspiration"

Biting his tongue again, he waits, hand wrapped around the base of himself before slowly beginning to stroke himself, eyes now on the monitor in front of him again, on the picture of Etho doing just the same. However many thousands of miles are between them and yet...

Etho types for a moment, maybe to whine about Tango being unfair, before stopping, then nothing. Tango is too far gone to be nervous about this entire situation now.

For once he is actually deeply relaxed.

Finally the next image loads, this one up closer to Etho's cock. The skin is glistening and Tango's stomach flips in response. This will do just well enough. "very good"

Back on his phone, he tries to take quite the similar picture, giving Etho a good view of just how much this is getting to Tango. Pulling up the old shirt just a little, revealing a brown-gray streak of hair just below his navel, and now fully hard, Tango takes another picture.

Giving it the same quick glance over, he sends it.

"This what you want?" He's biting his cheek at this. Does Etho get riled up more from this? Is he close?

Tango gets his answer in the silence that follows for a minute, maybe more. 

Either Etho is leaving him hanging now, or, the much better alternative, he's cumming.

Scrolling back up to the picture of Etho leaning against his desk, Tango resumes his pace, slow but firm, quickly spitting in his palm before continuing. 

When Etho eventually deems it necessary to reply, it is just a very short "yes"

Despite already knowing the answer, Tango asks, "you done?" Needing to hear it from the other man himself.

Again with the same short reply, "yes" followed up a second later by another one; "you?"

Picking his pace up, struggling a bit to reply with just one hand, Tango replies equally short. "nearly"

He closes his eyes again, imagining Etho's long fingers on him. How would they feel, wrapped around him?

The sound of a notification makes him open his eyes again.

"you wanna see?"

Tango groans at the mental image of Etho, also at his desk, panting with his release spilled over his hand. Of course he wants to see that.

"yea" Too occupied to write anything more, his gut already coiled up tight in anticipation.

He's already so close while the image loads, extra slow now, as if to test him, but when he finally sees the mess Etho made of himself, he can't hold back.

With an undignified grunt, Tango cums to the image of Etho's cum spilled across his hand, loosely in the air above his cock, more barely visible droplets on his stomach.

Tango knows he isn't looking much different now, still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, breath heavier.

Thankfully this is an easy cleanup, a tissue or two making quick work, while he can try and come up with what he can actually say to Etho now.

thanks? Or just not replying anymore? That would feel cold.

Thankfully Etho seems to still feel chatty enough to take him out of his misery. Looking up after packing himself up, he expects a message, but instead it is another picture.

Etho is also fully dressed again, and for a few moments there Tango manages to forget about the fact that Etho is wearing a cosplay of him only to be reminded now, seeing him fully dressed up in red and black again.

---

Tango didn't know what to reply to and minutes turned into hours and after a cold shower, Tango just fell into bed, promising himself to get up early the next day to finish editing before his video runs late.

Things returned to normal and neither Etho, nor Tango brought this up again. He even successfully manages to avoid opening his dms with Etho, not willing to dig this up so soon.

It's not like he didn't like it. No, the issue is more that Tango may have liked this a little bit too much, thinking back to it when he's alone in his bedroom.

So it comes as a surprise when he opens his mail one morning at the kitchen table, sorting through advertisements and bills, only to have a couple of polaroids fall out of an envelope without a return address. 

Picking one up, he immediately recognizes what this is.