#samturine

Ah wasn't that a familiar sight, his dearest precious rat spread out under him, skin quivering under his fingers that traced alongside the formerly created marks on the man's chest.

He looked breathtaking like this, all marked up, eyes full of passion and adoration.

A sight that had burned into his mind easily.

And such beautiful eyes those were.

Framed black diamonds bedded on clear emerald green, usually sparkling with mischief and life probably a staple for the fools.

He easily got lost within the view, adored how freely the man allowed his emotions to show in those eyes - at least toward him.

Now, in his dreams, they showed the same unending devotion he was used to from real life. His dearest most precious rat was so willing to follow his every whim. Even with Aventurine perched upon his naked hips, so close to the clearly aching desire, his beloved seemed perfectly fine with just grasping at his hips.

If it was up to the former Stoneheart?

Sampo deserved the world, yet he couldn't give him that.

But he could give him all of him, every last ugly bit.

So the gambler wasn't surprised his dream shaped out like this: able to go which ever way he desired.

The save well explored and very real route of taking lead and pleasing his rat in the way he knew and explored plenty by now.

Or to indulge in a fantasy the blonde still felt hesitant to provide.

He thought about it plenty. Of the risks, the dangers, his insecurities. Because while he undeniably desired and craved to give himself to the thief, he was afraid of his past making it impossible. It was no surprise his desires bled into his dreams. But aware of this being nothing more than a dream, he could indulge freely without any fear.

He had even, in real life, quested upon the path down his spine, running fingers alongside the way and tested out how he'd feel with burying them inside. Aventurine didn't like the sensation much. His scars felt odd, he didn't like his hands and he felt like he could barely reach deep enough to provide proper preparation or stimulation for that matter.

He used to insist on doing it himself, not wanting anyone's hand close to him. But his lack of patience and pain usually caused him to offer himself up way too early. What did it matter if he meant to space out anyway?

He did most certainly not want to space out now, thank you. But if he kept struggling with the dissonance of himself and his accursed hands he might just end that way.

So he pressed the free hand against his beloved's chest and the one formerly designated for prep ran up the conman's arm, up to the wrist, so he could pull and guide the other one's hand to where he'd been before.

“Sit up.”, came rather commanding and was followed in an instant while the arm that had been supposed to take up his task wrapped around his hip to keep him close. It was sweet, he couldn't possibly be upset about the rat missing the hint while he wrapped the man into a hug, putting his forehead against the other's shoulder before guiding him to the destination again.

He had learned by now that Sampo would need the extra incentive. Part of him knew that the thief would need proper and clear words to act like he desired because the gambler had made it abundantly clear how much he liked to be in control. But his dream was lenient and so his beloved understood the task without proper explanation.

His hand settled on his butt, wandered alongside the skin before wandering up to his midriff and then running down his spine towards its target.

“Please”, he murmured, earnestly. “I want you.”, was added, when the first fingers prodded at him still rather insecure

“I trust you.”, was apparently what did the trick to make the conman dig two fingers in.

Now, Aventurine was more than convinced that his dearest would be agonizingly careful and gentle with him – that was just the kind of person his thief was – but his mind allowed the leeway with the fact that he had put prior preparation in. And while he was absolutely certain that Sampo would reach so much deeper into him than he could possibly ever provide by himself it gave him nothing but the comfort of the thought that came with knowing that it was his lover taking care of him. It wasn't surprising, Aventurine didn't have any positive experience to call upon to provide him with a pleasant sensation, even in a dream. He'd usually space out and adding the numbness of his nerves he usually had:

well, it wasn't unlikely that being fingered barely did anything to him (oh how wrong he'd be if it ever happened in reality) .

It hardly meant that he wasn't enjoying it. Sure, he was fairly certain it would come with an awkward sensation at best but he still leaned into the experience. He clung to his dear rat. Closer and closer as close as he could get. Would he need more enticement than that? Or did reasonable preparation really take that long?

Maybe he was somewhere - subconsciously - still uncertain?

No, no he wasn't. He wanted this, he needed the other to take from him for once. He was going to be fine as long as his precious kept talking.

“Won't you take me?”, he whispered, lips touching the conman's ear while doing so. And oh, he felt him shudder and twitch, yes, Sampo was always so responsive to his words. Fingers retreated and dug into his hips instead causing a rush of excitement to run down his spine that made him rub his cheek against the other's

“Come on. I meant it.”. Ah, he could feel him nudging closer, carefully. "Just don't stop talking.", should be easy enough, right?

Even with more prep than he ever had his beloved would be agonizingly careful and slow. Aventurine's dreamself however was even more honest than his daytime version

“I need you.”, came freely, hips bearing down in the steadying grip, trying to finally get what he had been craving for so long now. So close, if he would only –

MEOW.

A loud chorus of cat noises ripped him straight out of his dream, leaving him hard, aching, unsatisfied and completely unwilling to face the world.

Urgh. Under the constant feline wailing his face dug into his dear rat's chest.