#yellowwritings

Mentally grumbling to himself, Tangocam sits in a wooden chair, deep beneath the ground of Decked Out 3, with a map in hand and the order to just stay here.

All he knows is that Tango, the actual Tango, is running some tests above ground that require someone to be here and hold onto this map. That's his purpose, to sit here and wait. It's better than nothing he supposes.

After about half an hour of groaning zombie noises there was at least some quiet when the machine that he's meant to babysit filled up.

Time ticked slowly and he bounced his leg, red eyes glossing over the map again, a hand going over his scruffy beard almost as a reflex that isn't really his.

The only sound now were faint steps in the long deepslate hallway that has been carved out as the only exit. There is no reason to bother looking up, since it is just Tango returning.

But the fall of the boots isn't as heavy and deliberate, once it actually gets closer, which does cause him to perk up.

In the entrance to this lit up cave stands someone he vaguely recognizes as Gem. He's seen her before, years ago, her hair less red, but he remembers. No way he wouldn't, even if it was just brief glances.

For a few moments, he's too distracted by the leather, the red fabrics and the way it all hugs her shape, to see Gem's actual expression.

She's smiling but in a self satisfied way.

"There you are. Thought you weren't gonna be underground this season" Gem teases, slowly walking closer, giving Tango a closer look at her tail, before his eyes dart up again.

The main issue with not actually being Tango, instead just Tangocam, is that he can't talk. So all he can do is give Gem a small wave and a smile but that doesn't deter her from stepping closer, now right in front of him.

Tangocam isn't used to this type of proximity or touch from anyone except Tango, and he knows he wants to reach out but stops himself. This isn't his place and he isn't who Gem wants to see.

Briefly, Gem looks around before green eyes settle on him again, "I was looking for you, you know?" Her words are accompanied by a brief touch over his arm that makes his already hot skin feel like it is on fire.

There are a million things he wants to say. Stuck in a hole underground, where else would I be. Or a teasing what do you need this time?

But nothing comes out.

Even Gem notices at this point, leaning back again, looking at his face with a puzzled expression. "You okay?"

Her brows are furrowed and he doesn't want to look away from her, is unable to when she is still touching him.

It takes a few moments to gather himself, but he shifts, reaching into a pocket of his pants to pull out a small pencil, almost like it is his muscle memory.

It's rather practical that he's technically wearing a copy of Tango's clothes, contents and all.

The entire time he can feel Gem's eyes on him, trying to distract him as he flips the map over and writes.

"No talking."

Turning the map back to Gem it takes her a moment, still not quite getting it.

"You... Lost your voice? Got a cold?"

If Tangocam could sigh, he would. Back to writing on the map.

"Tangocam. Not Tango."

It's not like he isn't aware that he isn't the actual Tango. But spelling it out like this twists something inside him just a little.

The realization dawns on Gems face, but instead of any expected recoil she smiles again.

"I see. Well then, Tangocam, since Tango isn't here..." Her words trail off and her fingers travel over his arm, up to his neck until she cups his cheek.

At this point he's sure his entire face is flushed, blood rushing from his face, down elsewhere and up again.

Slowly Gem leans in closer and closer and Tangocam doesn't even think about pulling away. This is the first time he's actually noticed her black horns, just because he feels like he should look away.

But he can't. And he shouldn't have to. For once, this is actually for him.

Unable, or unwilling to hold himself back, he kisses Gem. Her lips are warmer and softer than he could have ever imagined for something like this. And when her lips part for him, Tangocam wishes he could make any sound.

With Gem now on his lap, he explores her mouth with his, and her body with roaming hands, needing to commit everything to memory because who knows when he'll be around next.

While he's holding onto her waist, Gem begins to move her hips, rocking them back and forth against him.

Despite the silence, Tangocam opens his mouth, head dropped back slightly, a silent gasp escaping him, making Gem laugh.

"This good?" as if the question was even necessary. Still he nods, maybe a little bit too eager but that is all he has.

And she laughs again, causing Tangocam to surge forwards and kiss her again, to capture the sound, to swallow it.

Gem grinds her hips further against him, the feeling of closeness and absolute bliss washing gently over him.

At least until she pulls back, breathing a little heavier, lips redder but with a glint in her eyes.

"You know what I always wanted to do?" Gem asks, looking almost as if she expects an answer before just sliding off his lap and down onto her knees in front of him, eyes never leaving his.

Inside, Tangocam feels like his soul, or whatever he has instead, is about to leave his body.

He wants to make a noise, one of those that Tango is always embarrassed about, he wants to tell Gem that she's beautiful.

For a brief moment he debates reaching for the pen again, writing down the words so he's sure she knows.

But any thought gets interrupted when Gem nudges his legs apart to make more space for herself, elegant fingers already working on undoing his heavy cargo pants.

His hands reach out, stroking over her hair, along the horns, just because he can touch her. Her hair is soft and the skin is smooth under his fingers, and every bit of sensation he can feel gets committed to his memory.

"Lift your hips for me" Gem almost whispers but in the quiet that's enough.

After a brief moment of shifting himself, his warm skin gets exposed to the cold air of the cavern.

Gem is down there, grinning up at him, teasing, "Need a hand here, old man?" and he wants to chuckle in response, instead opting for the lightest tug in her hair, earning him another smile.

"Let me help you."

Nothing prepared him for the sight, the feeling of Gem leaning in and pressing just one brief, open mouthed kiss on his half hard member.

Tangocam resists the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, needing to watch every bit of what's happening.

The softness of Gems lips travels along the flesh, slowly waking it up more and more. With every kiss pressed to him, his hands bury themselves into the red mass of hair, only to let go again, an almost gentle massage.

Once Gem deems him ready enough, and without a warning, she takes his tip in, hand still wrapped around the base of his shaft.

Her lips are wrapped around him, and it feels perfectly warm and wet.

Pursing her lips she gently pushes the skin covering the tip back before letting her tongue drag over the sensitive parts.

This may be the closest he's ever been to making a sound, the way it feels like it is trying to claw its way out of Tango's throat but nothing comes from it.

But just because he's quiet, doesn't mean he's composed. It takes everything in Tangocam to not buck his hips up to meet more of Gems mouth.

He can't keep his hands from gripping a bit firmer, getting a muffled gasp, the vibrations intense around him.

At least, even without talking, Gem gets what he wants and takes him in deeper, her hand working everything she can't fit.

He barely noticed but in the hand that's not busy with holding on for dear life in Gem's hair, he's been clutching the map Tango gave him.

Deciding his priorities are elsewhere, he carelessly lets it fall to the floor, instead opting to rest a hand on Gem's cheek, making her look up at him.

An annoyed sigh leaves Tango as he walks across what is to become Graywick in the hopefully near future.

He's been testing for hours and the map in his hand worked perfectly fine up until a few minutes ago when it suddenly stopped.

His mind is already working rapidly, trying to figure out what happened. Was it a line of redstone that didn't get updated? Did he break anything when he dug himself out of the hole underground to check on the wardens?

With a brisk pace, Tango traces back his steps, making sure the glowing red line isn't getting pinched anywhere.

The frustration is growing when he can't find the cause of the issue, standing in a dark hallway, leading back to the zombie spawner where he left Tangocam before he went testing.

He needs to double check the map, maybe something is wrong with his...

With his cape flowing behind him, he quickly maneuvers through the path he carved out weeks ago, the light of the room blinding him for a brief moment before Tango sets his eyes on the scene in front of him.

The map is crumpled on the floor, the root of his issue, but clearly not the priority as he sees Tangocam leaned back in his chair, lips parted and none other than Gem on her knees, lips wrapped deeply around a member that equals his own.

For a few moments, Tango is speechless. No usual teasing, no question coming out. He is utterly silent, just watching in a mix of shock, arousal and jealousy.

There's a soft noise as Gem pulls herself off Tangocam, earning herself a surprisingly gentle caress.

"I'm slowly starting to miss your voice, you know?" Gem teases while there is still a line of spit connecting her to the dick right beneath her mouth.

"Gem" Tango feels breathless, taking a step closer into the room despite every instinct in him telling him to run. That he's intruding.

"What?" She replies as if this is an entirely normal situation. "You're gonna stand there or are you gonna come over?"

His legs feel heavy but they move on their own, towards the two.

"I didn't know you..." Tango starts but what does he even want to say? I didn't know you wanted to suck my dick? His dick?

At least Gem interrupts his racing thoughts when she begins to work open the slacks, Tango taking over to help her spit slicked hand.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks, his voice airy from nerves.

Gem just laughs at him.

"You think I'd be here like this if I wouldn't?"

Tango chokes down a laugh because he still doesn't believe that he isn't dreaming, half convinced he's gonna wake up with an embarrassing stain in his pants.

As they work on freeing him, Tangocam seems to be getting a bit impatient, gently tugging on Gem's hair to grab her attention.

"Hey, patience, skippy" Tango calls out, earning himself a glare. It is odd an odd feeling, to say the least, being stared at like this by himself.

Gem's hand returns to the neglected member, starting to work on him again, as Tango takes care of the rest of his own pants.

"Be nice" she chides, giving Tango a look. "Or you can just go back to watching."

The message is clear and Tango holds back any further tease, his dick now in his own hand, stroking himself to the sight of Gem paying attention to someone else.

For now, his eyes glance up again at Tangocam, the way his head is titled back slightly, his lips parted and the flames of his hair glowing a brighter orange than usual.

A soft groan leaves his lips as he keeps his hand going along his shaft, only briefly glancing down at the redhead using her mouth again to get more of these expressions out of him.

This is just what Tango looks like, lost in pleasure. And apparently Gem likes that?

"Enjoying the view?" Tango hadn't even realized that Gem pulled back again, her hand now reaching out to him, taking over.

Tango can't do anything but nod, entirely dumbfounded.

When Gem's grip wraps around him, he hisses slightly from how intense it is.

"Gentler. Please", he begs breathlessly and immediately the pressure lessens.

Now his eyes are only on Gem and he can see her thinking, all while both her hands are now occupied. A mumbled, "interesting" would normally spark all of Tango's focus but right now he can't think about anything that isn't Gem's touch.

"Please, more" He bites his lips, trying not to ask for too much but Gem still gives him everything.

Now he gets to feel the warmth of Gem's lips, the wet feeling of her saliva coating him as she slowly sinks down further and further.

There's no way to hold back the groans and grunts that make him feel absolutely ancient as intense pleasure washes over Tango, moaning softly as Gem takes all of him in, just to pull all the way back off again. The sudden lack of pressure and warmth is enough to drag a soft whine out of him.

"Gem," Tango pleads, green eyes looking up at him.

"Stop complaining and get behind me."

Tango almost freezes in place, his body working on its own.

He takes a few steps, and while Gem's mouth is busy again with Tangocam, her hands help expose her already slick skin.

This must be a dream, no way this is happening, is all that's ringing in Tango's head.

He gets on his knees behind Gem, his hand, still wearing the dark leather glove, travels across the pale skin of her ass, as if he's worshipping a precious artifact.

He lets the hand come to rest, the light skin contrasting with his glove, as his thumb gently strokes over her cheek, just briefly dipping between the before pulling back.

Not today, he doesn't want to get greedy.

Instead, he opts for taking the glove off, wanting to feel everything. His fingers trace over the slick folds, teasing Gem enough to get a muffled sound of complaint out of her.

Tango chuckles before he dips his fingers in, feeling her body react immediately, hips dipping lower for more, tightness clenching around his digits.

At least for a bit, Tango lets himself get lost in the feeling, the slick sounds of Gem, the ones her mouth makes and the muffled groans around Tangocam.

His other hand is busy spreading the spit Gem gave him, across himself before the need gets too large.

Tango lines himself up behind Gem, hands on her hips to guide her to an easier angle, before asking one more time, "You sure?"

Despite Gem's mouth being fully occupied, he swears he can hear the annoyance in her grunt as she pushes back.

The absolute bliss he feels as his tip starts sliding in, enjoying the stretch around him, is unmatched. His eyes fall shut, his tail wraps tightly around Gem's ankle, holding onto her, grounding himself.

It takes a few seconds for both of them to adjust, but Gem gets impatient first, beginning to move.

Not wanting to keep her waiting, his grip on her becomes firmer, holding her steady while he slowly sinks in fully, giving himself another moment to breathe in and out, not wanting to already have this end.

Finally, he begins to thrust, his mouth hanging open as he groans at the feeling of Gem around him.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he mumbles, entirely lost in her.

Once his pace steadies, deep thrusts, slightly spaced out so he can recoup between each one, he dares to open his eyes, looking down at Gem's ass, at the way he's buried inside her.

Immediately he needs to look away, already feeling a tightness in his balls.

Instead his gaze lands on his own familiar face that has apparently been watching him with a matching expression of bliss. He almost wants to tease it for staring at him and not Gem but the words get stuck in his throat, replaced by a moan as Gem clenches around him.

And now he's unable to take his eyes off of Tangocam, who's expression is all too similar as Gem takes him in deeper, head bobbing up and down, Tango's thrusts now matching the pace, making her take him in deeper into her throat.

They find a faster pace, Gem moving between the two blazeborn, working in perfect tandem.

Tango catches himself looking into the red eyes of himself more than the ass he should be focusing on, but seeing his own expression of pleasure, the way his own hands knot into Gem's hair, is enough to make him come apart.

He knows he should pull out, or at the very least warn Gem but he can't, not when she gets pushed back down onto him one last time.

With a loud groan, Tango spills, sandwiching Gem tightly between the two of them, as he thrusts forward again, leaning over her back as he rides out his high.

His thighs are burning and he feels utterly exhausted but he presses a brief kiss to her shoulder, before pulling out, seed slowly dripping out after.

He's left catching his breath on his knees, still watching the scene in front of him.

The tugging in Gem's hair grows tighter, clearly not wanting her to pull away but letting Gem go with a ragged look of longing, as she pulls off Tangocam.

Tango is about to say something when Gem gets up, off her knees, climbing up into Tangocam's lap, but making sure to face Tango.

"Okay?" She asks, briefly looking back for a nod but instead, greedy hands pull her closer as he buries himself inside her immediately.

The sight in front of Tango is better than anything his imagination could've ever come up with, his own expression one of need and want, as he presses kisses along Gem's neck, gently biting into the soft skin.

If Tango had anything left in him he'd have complained because he is the vampire here after all.

But Gem's moans distract him, her own eyes pressed shut, hands working herself closer and closer to her own climax as large hands on her hips move her up and down.

It doesn't seem to take long for her to get there, grinding her hips down hard, moaning Tango's name as she cums.

Behind her, Tango can see how his own hips are lifting off the chair just to drive himself deeper, as his own face scrunches up, mouth open in sounds that aren't coming.

For a few moments, the only sound is the breathing of all three of them slowly normalizing, Tango still unable to take his eyes off the couple in front of him.

Quickly, Gem smirks before turning her head back to find Tangocam's lips, slowly making out with him, then finally turning to Tango with a nudge of her head, "Come closer"

Already on his feet, stumbling towards her like a fool, he braces her hands on Gem's thighs, and leans in to finally kiss her, open mouthed and wanting meeting Gem's lazy pace.

When Gem pulls back, Tango follows, needing more of her, kissing the skin of her jaw, his scruff scratching her enough to make her giggle.

Still he notices that Tangocam behind her is watching him, eyes following every move as he still holds Gem secure on his softening member.

Tango doesn't know what in his brain causes him to do this but he leans up slightly and instead kisses the man behind Gem.

His own lips feel rougher, more chapped and the kiss is more clumsy, more experimental, than when he kissed Gem.

Biting his cheek with a hand on his chin, he’s staring at a line of redstone that should be powered but isn’t. In his focus Tango doesn’t notice the movement on the side of the screen, instead switching over to the spectating view of freecam to follow the faulty line. Only a moment later, he gets interrupted though, a damage tick changing the view back to first person, and Etho’s character stands in front of him wordlessly.

The evening has been dragging on, hours passing as Tango sits at his desk, working out some bug that has the rats - silverfish - die before flooding into the restaurant. It’s been frustrating, working around the limited space while racking his brain on just how to go about it.

After taking a break, to step away and get some rest, he’s back at it, now with a drink on his desk. A small joy to make the painful process of tearing out his hard work from yesterday just a little bit easier.

Scrambling to put his headphones in, he unmutes himself, before punching Etho back. “Hi to you too.”

After a moment of quiet, probably Etho also looking for his headset or fumbling with his tissue box microphone, a click can be heard, followed by the last, fading sounds of a quiet chuckle.

There isn’t a reply, so Tango has to go out of his way and ask. “What you want? Or just here to bother me?”

“Fixing the game?”

Etho hums in response, “Something like that” while turning around, looking at the chunk of redstone on wool and smooth stone. Despite being motionless on his screen, he can almost hear Etho think, trying to understand what was stumping Tango tonight.

He’s letting it sit for a moment, to see if Etho can figure out what he’s doing, and there is an unwilling smile on Tango’s lips, when the eventual question comes.

“Trying to,” is the grumbled reply, when trying to focus back on the issue at hand. “Stupid redstone. This line should be powered.”

Another hum, as Etho seems to inspect the issue, another moment of quiet before he comes to the conclusion, “the repeater down there is facing the wrong way.”

Tango didn’t quite mean it, neither the sarcasm, nor the invitation since Etho probably has something better to do anyway. So it comes as a surprise when Etho doesn’t leave or make an excuse that he has a video to work on but instead offers a simple, “what’s the next issue then?”

Of course it’s something stupid and simple like that. Checking, just in case Etho is messing with him and sure enough, he’s right. And, of course, he is right.

The noise he makes is a mix of a groan and a deeply frustrated sigh. “Right. Thanks. While you’re at it, you wanna fix the rest of the bugs?”

It takes a bit of time to explain just what the issue is and then it takes even longer to explain to Etho where exactly the issue may lie. This is by far not the fastest way of dealing with bug fixing; Tango probably could’ve tried at least one more workaround in the time he’s spent explaining but this is less about efficiency but more about the company.

And Etho is good company, listening, pointing out how he’d have done things differently. It reminds Tango of when they designed the mail system earlier this season and that they really should work on something together again.

He finishes off the glass of whiskey, listening to one of Etho’s suggestions, nodding despite the other man not being able to see it.

At least not until Tango hears, very faintly, a muffled noise that was unmistakably a moan.

Talking redstone with Etho was easy, everything Tango explains he seems to pick up quickly, and they do end up fixing the issue.

The moments after are filled with silence, Tango concentrating on getting the adjustments just right while Etho stands somewhere, not moving or saying anything and he hasn't for a while.

The hands on his mouse and keyboard freeze immediately. This has to be something else, anything else, but Tango’s brain can only provide a single reason as to why it sounded like that.

Tango knows he shouldn’t say anything, just brush it off and pretend it was maybe a noise outside Etho’s window or the unfortunate creaking of a chair but his mouth works faster than his brain.

“Did you just…”

Maybe Etho will pretend this never happened, just deny it but no, the reply comes after a moment. “Maybe.”

----

He hears another breath that Etho’s microphone must barely be picking up. “Group? Unless you want to have the risk of someone walking by.”

Why is Tango doing this? Because he heard a bit too heavy of a breath? Because it is Etho? Maybe it’s the alcohol - as if he can blame it on a single drink.

Either way, the noise Etho made just left Tango wanting to hear it again. “Okay. Okay, so we’re doing this,” he says to himself as much as he does to Etho.

“Anyone could join the group.” It’s only smart to point this out, even if his voice wavers a bit more than he’d like. Somehow, in some insane way that could lose him his job and his friends, this is part of the appeal.

One finger presses on the tab button and a list of everyone online appears. Cub. Etho. Tango. They aren’t alone on here. But what would the chances be?

“Cub wouldn’t join. Unless you invite him.” Tango isn’t sure he ever heard Etho so self satisfied because they both know he’s correct. Some tiny part of Tango’s brain is convinced he’s done this before but he can’t acknowledge this right now.

But of course, Tango actually has to be the one to go a step further. Two clicks, naming the group something stupid like “HH bug fixing” to make it as unappealing as possible for anyone else, then another two clicks, followed by the second long wait until he can hear Etho again.

For a moment it is awkward. Tango has never done anything like this before, never thought he would, the risk clearly outweighs any appeal but logic doesn’t seem to be abundant tonight, so he just sits in his chair, leaning back against the backrest, waiting for Etho to do something.

When nothing happens his mind supplies him with a stupid So, you’re doing this often? before he catches himself.

He just needs to swallow his pride and allow himself to just turn off his brain for once and just focus on the tight feeling of his pants. “Etho,” he clears his throat. “I want to hear you again.”

It feels a little too desperate and way too vulnerable to admit it like this but apparently, if Tango wants something, he has to make it clear.

His eyes dart across the screen, almost to make sure that Etho didn’t just leave him, logging off to let Tango wallow in eternal shame. No, he’s still there. Just then, he hears it again, a breathy almost moan. “Needed to change the settings,” Etho replies, entirely unromantic.

But Tango couldn’t be more grateful because next to every inhale or the faint clicking noise of Etho’s mouse, Tango can hear him shift in his chair, the quiet creak of leather, he can hear everything.

Refusing to think more about any of these questions, Tango decides it’s only polite to follow suit, as little as polite matters right now. He lowers his microphone sensitivity until he is sure every bit of movement would be picked up.

Tango’s own pants feel a lot tighter than usual, wanting to just hang onto every noise he can get. He can’t even imagine what Etho looks like, less so right now, like this.

Is he even still dressed? Or are his pants shoved down hastily?

And since when does Tango think about his coworker like this?

----

A hand rests on his thigh not quite daring to touch himself just yet, the fear that this was not really happening still lingering in his mind.

But any doubt evaporates, another ruffle of clothes is followed by a soft moan.

And now what?

With a heavy sigh, Tango asks, “How does this normally go?”

“You know best how you like it.” Tango can't help but roll his eyes at the response.

“Not what I meant” and Etho knows that, he's doing this on purpose.

“Well, how do you usually like it?”

The best response Tango can come up with is, “I usually don't do this with other people” alongside a weak chuckle but this only drags out the inevitable.

“Are you asking me how I… ” At this point they are past teasing, past this being some horrible prank.

His breath wavers, all of it getting picked up.

Swallowing anything that's left of his pride, Tango grabs himself through his pants. “Right now I'm… Still dressed. But hard. I-” Shuffling in his chair, “I need to change that.”

Every noise, his belt, his zipper, Etho is hearing that all. And just like that, Tango sits in the same spot he records in, that people watch him stream in, with his pants down on the floor, kicking them off.

His eyes find the monitor again, almost as if he expects to see anything more arousing than redstone on there. Etho's character is just standing motionless, has been for a while.

It's absurd, and Tango shakes his head, one hand now resting on his upper thigh. “I can't do this with the game up, wait-” As if that's the one offputting thing here.

Just as he's about to minimize the game, Tango sees Etho's character move, more than just an accidental nudge against a mouse.

Etho who has been making noises like he's been doing it for a while. Tango's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. “How can you get off while still playing?”

He shakes his head, trying not to think about that any further, not thinking about how often Etho may have done this already. “Way to make a guy feel special.”

Even without seeing him, he can practically feel Etho shrug. “You ignore it after a while.”

With how much time Etho has been fishing… It makes sense, even if it leaves Tango perturbed.

Tango can barely register saying the last few words when a wet noise distracts him, his own member twitching in interest at that.

Instead of actually minimizing the game, Tango just opts to lean back in his seat, his head tipped back slightly, and his eyes closed.

The tension in his body bleeds all into one place, and the hand moves up from his thigh to wrap around himself.

Just holding his member like this has Tango sigh quietly in relief.

But of course this isn't enough. “More?” is all Etho asks, his own voice breathless.

Not a single part of Tango's body is ready to disagree with that. No snark, no teasing, just the slow moving feeling of his hand pumping up and down his length.

It's a feedback loop, each noise Etho makes, gets Tango to pick up his pace, and every movement causes another sigh to spill.

He hopes Etho hears that, and if not, that at least his breathy noises are enough.

Tango has never been the loudest. But when he picks up his pace, he makes sure that Etho can hear the grunt that escapes him, only to get rewarded with more noises in return.

The fear of someone noticing is ever present in Tango's head but instead of terrifying him, it just fuels every stroke until a drop of precum beads at the top, one he quickly wipes over his tip with his thumb.

This time he doesn't hold back the moan.

With his eyes pressed close, Tango can swear he hears his name off of Etho's lips, followed by heavy breathing.

On the other side he can hear more and more slick movements, Etho's pace is fast, he must be close.

And just then, Tango hears him groan, a cut off noise.

In his mind, Tango tries to picture, Etho at his desk, only a faint memory of what that might look like. Long, pale fingers, painted white, mixed with lube, his stomach heaving.

Just as Tango feels the pressure build up, his balls drawing up tight, he hears Etho's voice, just a simple, “Tango-” but that's enough. That's the push he needed.

Tango's entire focus is on imagining that scene, every noise he hears coming from his headphones only adding to the picture it paints.

Now he's chasing his own relief, hand moving faster, all to the thought of his coworker, his friend.

The tension in his groin peaks and dissolves into pleasure, every further stroke drawing out the climax, his cum now coating his hand, spread over his shaft.

After a moment or two, the bliss gets too much and Tango's hand comes to a halt before letting go entirely.

The silence drags on for a few awkward moments until Etho breaks it with one devastating sentence.

Now they're both breathing heavily, and Tango's brain is at a loss for what to say, with his eyes now open, looking at the mess.

What does one say after jerking off together, it's not like Tango has ever done this before.

“Next time, maybe don't make an open group”

With those words and the pounding heart it leaves Tango with, Etho logs off. With anyone else it would seem cold, like a lover getting up before either manages to catch their breath.

Tango has been home again for a few days, his bruises are already healing but still very visible, especially the one around his nose, a dark patch blooming. He'd sent Jimmy a picture of it earlier because they've been texting. Back and forth. Back and forth. Having a call whenever they could. It’s been several hours since Tango sent the image, only checking once or twice for a reply, knowing Jimmy was out for the day.

In the evening, when he’s already in bed, his phone finally chimes, a notification pops up. Fumbling to open it he is greeted with quite the sight.

A shirtless picture of Jimmy, the bruises around his neck - mostly hickeys - still visible. As well as the ones on his shoulder. And his collarbone. And most definitely also lower.

Thinking for a moment, he texts back, "Different type of bruises :P" but he can't stop himself from clicking on the picture again the second after he hits send.

Of course his eyes roam over Jimmy's body, as if he hadn't studied him enough up close when they met. Every bit of slightly tanned skin that is marked in faint purple. Every bit of muscle that's clearly visible.

But once he's had his fill, and Jimmy is still typing, Tango looks at the background. Not a picture taken at a gym or the rink. He has taken it just now. The thought sends a warmth through his body, Jimmy took the photo for him. Just for him, he hopes. It must be Jimmy's bathroom then. A can of deodorant, a razor and a few bottles he can’t make out, are visible on the edge of the screen, a dark, blurred window behind him.

Sure, they’ve been talking. A lot. But this is a different glimpse into Jimmy’s life, albeit a small one. Tango finds himself smiling with a deep found fondness, when the response catches his attention.

“thought youd like the view”

And Tango can’t even deny it. Just looking at Jimmy’s body again makes him think of folding him into that locker, and with his eyes closed he can almost feel Jimmy holding onto him, his hands digging into his shoulders. Remembering the way the pain from his injury twisted into something a lot more pleasurable as he sunk into him again and again.

Heat coils in Tango’s gut before he remembers that he still needs to actually reply to Jimmy. It was easier in person, easier when they were still high strung with the adrenaline from their fight. Or when he was hearing Jimmy’s breathy moans right at his ear, with strong hands holding onto his back. 

Tango should respond but his body is already reacting to the images his mind conjures based on his memories. He's had amazing sex before, sure. But everything he had with Jimmy is so much more vivid in his mind and he can’t wait to bury his hands in his hair and feel his skin, his chest below his fingertips. 

He runs a hand through his hair, tugging for a little on a blonde strand that is still damp from his earlier shower, before running it down his face, down over his beard with a sigh. Then another message pops up. “got distracted?”

A chuckle escapes him, feeling caught but not in a bad way. Biting his lip he replies, “What if I did?” unable to keep his heartbeat just quite normal. Followed up with an immediate, “Impatient?”

Slowly his free hand travels down his chest, still shirtless, not having bothered putting one on after drying off, down along his navel and the hair below.

It's pure relief when he grabs himself through his shorts, even if it isn’t the same. How would Jimmy’s mouth feel on him? How warm and wet and just right it could be around him. Could he take all of him? Would he use his hands for help? What noises would he make and how would his face look with his lips puffed and drool running down his chin.

Tango’s hold on his phone is loose, as he looks at the shirtless picture Jimmy had sent. The glow of the screen illuminates his face in the darkness of his bedroom and he barely notices the next message, too busy drinking up every bit of visible skin.

It’s been a while since anyone has gotten to him this much.

Tabbing back out of the image may have been the best decision he’s made all night; the sight that greets him is already getting a choked noise out of him.

It’s another picture, a different angle from before, this time in what must be the bedroom, right on top of mussled grey sheets. Jimmy’s smile is just barely in the picture.

Instead the focus is on his body, the muscles along his stomach on full display. 

For a moment Tango forgets to breathe, watching the way Jimmy pulls the waistband of his sweatpants just a bit to show off the hairs trailing down, but not any lower. Though the pants themselves do little to hide anything, clearly showing off Jimmy’s shape.

But the most important thing to Tango, the part his eyes immediately zone in on, are the hickeys, the fading purple bruises he left behind on the younger man’s body.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly feeling dry while simultaneously watering at the thought of getting his mouth onto the man again. 

Tango wants to press his lips, open mouthed kisses, or maybe his entire face against the clearly visible bulge. He wants to hear the way Jimmy would gasp, wants to hear him moan his name again. 

“like what you see?”

A bit more than just kneading himself through the thin fabric of his boxers now, he tries to think of a reply. 

Settling for a quick, “wanna see how much I like it?” Tango turns to switch on the lamp on his nightstand, while shimmying out of the taut fabric around his waist. 

The room illuminates a little and Tango sits up, swallowing again as he fumbles for his camera app. 

Some rational part of him knows that sending this may not be the wisest choice but Jimmy went the first step and he can't leave the kid hanging now. 

He's holding his phone away from himself with one hand, the other around his cock, standing firmly at attention, while trying not to get his face in the picture. Just in case.

Finding an angle where it's not just his member is difficult and he keeps shifting, adjusting the way he sits or holds his phone. 

When he finally finds a position that works he takes two pictures. The first one ended up too shaky and the second one… Between the lighting and the more than unflattering view of his body, he deletes it before it can see the light of day.

It’s frustrating him, the time passing between Jimmy’s last message and Tango not responding. Not wanting to make Jimmy wait without a reply, he sends another message, “might like it too much.” He hopes it comes across with enough humor.

Giving it another shot, Tango tries a different approach, more sitting, then another one more laying down. With a sigh he even gets up and turns on the ceiling lights but he can’t help but cringe at how pale his skin looks like this, every gray hair on his chest more visible than ever before.

Tango realizes how hard it is to take a good looking picture like this and his patience is more than fraying, glancing back at the picture Jimmy had sent him again and again. There is also a hint of admiration now, at how naturally good Jimmy’s photo looks.

His phone chimes again. “i wanna see” Jimmy responds and Tango can practically hear the needy tone in his voice. 

Deciding to change his course of action Tango strokes himself to Jimmy’s picture again for a few moments before pressing the button to start a call.

It rings once before Jimmy picks up and the first thing Tango can hear is how heavy his breath is.

Tango’s own voice struggles to not come across as needy, his tone low, “Not seeing it tonight. Just want you to focus on my voice instead. Can you do that for me?”

It’s easy to picture Jimmy, especially with how clear of a picture the young man paints with just his noises alone. Tango can even hear in his agreeing hum that he’s biting his lip.

So he tries to get more out of him, “Come on, say it. I wanna hear you.” His voice is raspy, making sure Jimmy can hear how affected Tango himself is.

“Yeah, I can, I can do that.” The sound of his voice is accompanied by the rustling of sheets.

“Good. So good for me.” The praise tumbles out of Tango and hopefully directly into Jimmy’s ear. “Come on. You still got those pants on?”

Jimmy’s voice almost sounds pained, if he didn’t know any better. “Yeah, I’m still wearing them.”

“Keep ‘em on till I tell you to.” His voice is low and the hint of a smile must be audible with how the younger man is reacting. Just imagining Jimmy, all needy, hips bucking against his hand while palming himself through his pants, friction but just not enough. 

“Okay. Okay." Jimmy’s breathing is already heavier. Tango likes how he immediately gives in, just listening.

“Just over your pants.” Tango repeats while starting to lazily stroke himself, sticking with a slow pace for now. Of course he knows it’s hypocritical of him but is it so bad that he just wants to hear Jimmy whine?

A breathy “Tango,” is all he gets from Jimmy. Hearing his name whispered like this sends more pleasure directly to his groin.

Tango reaches out for the lube on the nightstand and lets it dribble over his hand before resting it on his hard member again, a deep breath when the cold liquid touches his warm skin, letting it warm up like this for a second before moving again.

“I can hear you,” Jimmy points out. Tango had hoped so, and he angles himself so that the phone is just the slightest bit closer, picking up every slick noise.

“I can’t hear you though.” Tango rasps back into the microphone. “Think you can whimper for me again?”

Of course Jimmy obliges, every breathy noise getting a little bit louder and louder until it's just needy enough. “So good,” Tango praises him and the immediate reaction is a held back moan.

More praise falls out of Tango’s mouth and he revels in every noise this draws out of Jimmy. “Don’t hold those pretty moans back, honey.” Meanwhile his own groans are low, but loud enough for Jimmy to hear.

“I can’t.” Another not quieted down noise. “Joel-”, He moans his roommate's name accidentally, “He’d- he’d hear me.”

Tango is caught between a laugh and a frown, his tone sharper now. “You better start moaning my name instead.”

A quick whimpered “Tango” is not enough though. “Moan it, for me. Please, sweetheart.”

For a second he’s not moving, just waiting until, finally Jimmy gives in. 

When Tango finally gets what he asked for it is moaned with barely any hesitancy now, which is good enough. “So well done, keep going for me. Louder.”

His own pace picks up as Jimmy begs “Tango. Please-” not even for anything specific. This leaves Tango to drag it out of him with delight. “Hm, what is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“More?” Jimmy says it like it’s a question, then switching to pleading with a shaking voice. 

Before Tango gets a chance to tease him, the desperate plea of “More please” is right in his ear.

How is he meant to resist this? “You’ve been doing so well. Go ahead.”

He wants to hear Jimmy fall apart. He wishes he could see how he’s laying on his bed with that pretty cock in his hand, sweats pushed down in one desperate motion just far enough to be practical.

The sight of Jimmy flushed and needy, shoved into the locker showed him how far down the pink-red tint goes when he gets close.

The bruises must contrast nicely with that.

“God, I just want to feel you right now, you know that? Felt so good around me, so tight.” Tango’s mind is busy imagining it is Jimmy’s warm hole, instead of his slicked up hand wrapped around himself. His pace is faster now, not restraint anymore, focused on Jimmy’s noises and the way the pleasure starts to boil.

The words spill out of Tango on their own at this point, full of need. “Want to get into my truck and drive up there and fuck you right now”

“Don’t think you’d last the entire drive.” Jimmy teases back, his own voice breathless, making the words seem more needy than probably intended.

This draws a breathy laugh out of the older man. “I’d make sure I would. For you. Couldn’t leave you hanging.” The promise isn’t too far from the truth. Tango could get into his car now and be there by morning and fuck this man senseless.

“Soon.” Tango vows. “After I take you out for dinner.” Hearing Jimmy’s half moaned laugh is just getting him closer and closer. He’ll fold Jimmy over again soon enough.

“Wanna feel you again,” Jimmy whines

This is what tips Tango over. Pleasure burns through his body and his hips fuck up into his own fist, chasing his release. Praising murmurs of Jimmy’s name spill from his lips, as his member leaks until he shoots his load over his hand and his stomach. Finally the tension in his stomach lets up.

But on the other end of the phone Jimmy’s now high pitched voice sounds, a messy mixture of Tango’s name and more pleas.

“You wanna finish too? Cum for me, Jimmy. Please.” Tango’s voice is gentler now as he’s still catching his breath. The hand around his member is still now, just holding himself as Jimmy is so close himself.

When Jimmy cums he doesn’t seem to care about his roommate anymore, not with how loud he’s moaning. Repeating Tango’s name like a prayer until his voice wavers, a beautiful sound right between a whimper and a moan.

For a moment both are quiet, Tango just basks in the audible breathing that he can hear through his phone, while reaching for a tissue to clean himself up.

Before he can even get any more praise out, tell Jimmy how well he did, the other’s voice sounds soft, more vulnerable on the other end. “Can you stay? On the phone?” The request is simple, and Tango can hear Jimmy shift on the other end, probably tucking himself in.

Unable to keep the slightest teasing smile out of his voice, he asks, “You’re not gonna clean up?”

Practically able to hear Jimmy's whine of complaint at even the thought of getting up, he chuckles. “It's okay, baby, I'll stay on the call till you fall asleep.”

Of course it would be nicer to actually hold Jimmy, to feel his warmth, the slight sweat that’s glistening on his skin. To not just hear his breathing but feel it against his own chest.

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. 

The morning sun is shining down onto Tango's face way too early. He's squeezing his eyes shut, arm coming up to rest above them to block the light out just a little bit longer while he's splayed out in bed. 

He's been up way too long with Etho yesterday, talking and... More than talking. 

His free hand, that's not busy fighting for a few more moments of sleep, slides down his body as Tango stretches slightly, coming to rest on his lower stomach, right where the small shape of Etho has decided to use him as his warm bed today. 

With a sigh, Tango gently cups him, his thumb brushing against the tiny back, enjoying this different type of closeness. He's just about to try and fall back asleep again when his body announces that it is clearly aware that morning has arrived. 

Tango is rock hard, just an inch below where Etho sleeps. Gods, he's a freak for even considering anything in this direction. 

Still, he stretches himself, hoping to distract his mind and member from the urgent need, but his hips lift ever so slightly up, brushing against his soft pants. 

A shudder exhale escapes him and Tango bites his lip, not wanting to indulge in any of this. Once more he squeezes his eyes shut but there is no way sleep is coming anytime soon now. 

Instead, Tango cracks one red eye open, staring down his body, to Etho and catching a glimpse of his more than just a little visible hardness. 

With a few deep breaths he tries to think of anything else but his mind goes back to last night and the way he held Etho close to himself, the affectionate way he touched him. How Etho teased him for wanting to kiss him, and how nice it was despite the overwhelming awkwardness. 

By now Tango's heart is pounding in his chest, probably loud enough to wake the sleeping picori up. 

In the end, Tango's restless thumb that's been pressing more insistently against Etho's back, is what actually wakes him, the mop of white hair lifting, mismatched eyes looking up sleepily. 

Tango hadn't even really noticed how his finger slipped under Etho's shirt, feeling the soft skin against the rough pad of his finger. 

"hm? Tango?" comes the half asleep question, causing Tango to bite his lip again. 

"It's nothing, go back to sleep, E." He has to fight to keep his hands still. 

For a moment Tango thinks Etho is just gonna lay back down and he can just get up and take care of this issue somewhere else but then Etho yawns and sits up to stretch his arms above his head. This snaps Tango out of his trance enough to retract his finger but not enough to take his eyes off the small figure, the way the shirt lifts to expose pale skin and hints of pale red snaking across it. 

Of course, Etho catches him. "Seeing something you like?" 

The best Tango can do is laugh awkwardly, sitting up a little in the hopes of making a little bit more space between them, not considering the effects of that in his hormone fueled panic. 

With his bed now slanted, Etho tumbles backwards, right into Tango's crotch. In this moment not even a deep breath can save him. 

Tango's face is red enough to match his eyes that he's pressing shut again as he wishes for some world ending catastrophe to call his name again, just to get out of the situation. 

It might just be worse that Etho is entirely silent while Tango laments in his embarrassment. 

Only when he dares to look down at Etho, ready to stumble over his words with an apology or maybe just a noise of deep agony, does Etho do anything. 

He shifts, clearly just pressing more against Tango, notable despite his light weight. At this point, Tango could probably feel a feather land on his member. 

"Need some help there, big guy?" 

Tango immediately buries his face in his arm again, his first instinct is to say no, to call Etho ridiculous for even suggesting it bit when he looks down he just sees a casual shrug and some of his anxiety lifts. 

"How would that even work?" His voice is quieter now, as if that makes this any less real. 

Etho hums to himself clearly trying to think of any impossible way to logistically make this work, maybe trying to think of some weird picori magic. 

Eventually he nods, "Take your pants off for me?" 

It takes Tango a second to get over himself, mumbling a quick "okay, okay," taking his pants off before his brain catches up with what's happening. 

Unable to resist, he grabs himself through the fabric once more, squeezing gently. Tango is nothing too out of the ordinary, but anything human sized would be concerning for Etho. But the others eyes remain firmly, expectantly on Tango's hand that's still holding onto his waistband. 

With one last deep breath, Tango reaches out to Etho, offering him a hand to stand on while he shrugs his pants lower. 

Immediately his freed member stands up straight, emitting even more warmth than the rest of Tango's body. 

Holding Etho so close just highlights the difference in size so much more. He's larger than Etho by... Quite a bit. 

"Fuck," Tango can't help but mumble at the sight, squirming slightly when Etho musters him before reaching out. 

A tiny hand lands on his shaft, Tango feeling every bit of pressure Etho applies. 

"Still think this is a good idea?" 

Instead of replying, Etho takes another step forward, now both hands on Tango, moving them up and down. With a deep breath, Tango leans back, just quietly watching, enjoying the minute touches. 

The sight is making Tango feel lightheaded, that must be the reason why he lets this happen and, even worse, asks for more. 

Tango's voice is hoarse, trying to hold back, "Can you... I think I need more?" 

He phrases it as a question, giving Etho all the option to say no, no matter how much Tango just wants to press the picori against himself. 

Thankfully Etho's own curiosity outweighs any need to tease Tango right now as he tries to apply himself more but even that makes Tango only long for a tightness he knows Etho can't provide him. 

"We can try something else," Etho simply offers and at this point, Tango would've said yes to anything, hips already struggling to stay still. 

--

Now Tango finds himself slicked up with lubricant and his own precum and Etho undressed in his loose grip. 

A nervous thumb brushes over his back, focusing too hard not to accidentally squeeze while lowering Etho against the tip of himself. 

Tango's other hand is holding his own member steady, pulling his foreskin slightly back so he can press Etho's bare bottom down. 

He swallows hard at just the little amount of pressure. There's no plan to actually enter the small body, not like this, but just to gently rub Etho's ass over himself. 

Red eyes trail every bit of movement, Etho's expression, partially hidden by the mask, with his eyes squeezed shut. Then down to Etho's legs spread wide to actually sit on him. 

The small body is fully in his control, Tango's hands are clammy around it and he's trying so hard to not buck his hips but it's hopeless. 

Even with arousal pooling at his tip, covering Etho's own member and ass, Tango knows he needs to pull back. 

"I can't-" He's breathless, prying his hand open, holding Etho, who is looking about as wanting, on his palm for now. "I'm too afraid to squish you and..." The thought alone is already not very arousing. 

"We can try something else," Tango immediately offers, not wanting to stop. "I just can't hold you like this." 

They try Etho sitting on Tango's tip again, hands placed on the sensitive skin as well for support, hips moving at a steady pace, drawing gasping breaths out of both of them. 

Now Tango can get a full look at Etho, the way his body tenses with every bit of movement, the way the pink lines, (scars?) trail down his left side.  He can see the way Etho's own dick twitches and the sight makes Tango switch their position. 

With a hand coming up behind Etho, he leans forward, placing the picori down on the mattress before settling on his knees above him, member pressing insistently against Etho.

Every throb makes it harder to stay right where Tango wants to be so he uses one hand to wrap around the base of his shaft, the other planted firmly on the mattress. 

"This okay?" He asks but his hips are already moving, small, gentle motions but just enough friction of rubbing against Etho. 

When he doesn't slide in, the lube helps him rub over Etho's lower body instead, drawing a soft curse out of the minish. 

That's enough for Tango to keep going, keeping his pace steady, the pressure around himself now squeezing without the fear of an incident. 

With a loose grasp, he starts pumping himself, the texture of sliding over Etho is just the friction Tango needs to fall into a mess of groans and grunts, feeling himself approach a fast but needed end. 

"Fuck, Etho, 'm close" The words are strained as he holds back but when Etho just gives him a quick nod, followed by a brief "please," Tango spills without a single thought wasted on consequences. 

Thick, white liquid lands on Etho, pooling on top of him and quickly around and below him, as it slows down to a dribble. 

Tango's hips still move, smearing it pretty much over Etho's whole body. 

Panting for breath, Tango looks at the mess he's made, Etho basically covered in cum, right beneath his dick. 

"Shit, you alright?" Tango immediately sits down, heart still hammering, as he reaches out with his thumb, half smearing the mess, half trying to clear Etho's body off the stickiness. 

The hum in reply, as Etho wipes his own eyes free, has a feeling of pure relief flow through Tango again immediately. 

His hand gently keeps wiping and when he brushes over Etho's stiff dick, it draws a low moan out of the picori. This instantly captures Tango's attention, and he repeats the motion, callous thumb rubbing with just the slightest pressure over Etho. 

Every noise he makes just spurs Tango on further, hand now gently holding Etho, who's hands are trying to pull Tango closer with a newfound desperation. 

Small hips grind against him and for a few moments this is all that matters in the world. 

Tango could keep doing this all day, drawing more and more out of Etho, before the hands turn from pulling on his thumb, to pushing him away. 

Despite the difference being only barely there, Tango stops immediately, ready to apologize but is simply hit with a demanding, "More, Tango." 

A smile spreads across Tango's face, holding Etho up a little higher. "Feeling polite, are we?" Another rub of his lower body as he earns himself a glare over the soaked mask.

"Fuck me. Please" 

Tango can't help but laugh. "Sorry but, I think you're a few minutes too late and about 11 sizes too small." 

That's when Etho replies by giving Tango's finger a tug, and suddenly everything comes together in his mind. 

He lets his thumb come to rest on Etho's stomach, seeing just how large it still is in comparison. 

"I don't know, might still be-" 

"Not your thumb, dumbass" Etho half laughs, half whines, grinding up against Tango's finger. 

Gently, Tango lowers Etho down onto a clean spot on the mattress, then putting his next finger over his abdomen. "This could work but... Are you sure?" 

Etho is already busy shifting, getting his legs wrapped around Tango's digit. "No way I'm letting you be the only one who gets to cum." 

With a lot more lube and the help of Tango's flood of cum, Etho managed to get himself as slick as possible, Tango only being able to watch as he began spreading himself on the palm of his hand. 

Eventually, he deems himself warmed up enough and gives Tango a nod, a sign that he's ready. 

With his index finger resting right at the entrance, Etho's body resting gently in Tango's free palm, he asks the picori one last time if he's sure, only to be met by annoyance. "Just hurry-" 

The air gets pressed out of Etho's lungs as Tango pushes in. The body around it barely accommodates and he's not even in to the first knuckle, but giving Etho plenty of time to catch his breath. 

Only when he starts squirming, urging Tango to keep going, does he dare to move again. 

It sure feels like he's ripping Etho apart with just one finger but every gasp Etho makes isn't one of pain. 

Slowly, incredibly slowly, Tango sinks in past his first knuckle, bending his finger just the slightest bit.

Now his own breathing stops for a second, seeing the faintest bulge in Etho's stomach. That's him. 

Despite Tango being utterly spent from earlier, this shoots right into his crotch and he groans in arousal. 

He doesn't dare to push in further, already afraid of pushing Etho to his limits, even with the ample amount of lubricants. 

Instead he pulls back, just a fraction, before sinking in again, the noise Etho makes being entirely guttural. 

The pace Tango settles for is slow, focusing fully on Etho's every expression, before rubbing over his member again with his thumb, practically pinching him between two fingers. 

"Feeling full, hm?" He teases lightly but Etho is in no realm to reply, an utter mess in every way. 

Tango can feel every clench around him as the tiny body struggles to accommodate him, every thrust being met with a tighter and tighter grip around him. 

Etho tries to move his hips but the finger inside him completely immobilizes him. 

"I got you, just let go" Tango quietly encourages, not breaking his focus until he feels warmth spread over his fingers, and eventually down onto his palm. 

"Stop, stop" 

Immediately Tango's hands still, looking at Etho's shut eyes and his rapidly rising and falling chest. 

For a moment, Tango doesn't dare to move, till eventually he asks, "Should I pull out?" 

The barely there shake of a head of white hair has him freeze entirely in place for as long as the picori needs, waiting for the uncharacteristically earnest, "now, please." 

Carefully, Tango extracts his slick finger, wiping his hand on the already ruined sheets. 

He considers setting Etho down but instead pulls him closer to his chest before sliding back to lay down himself too. 

"Need anything?" Tango eventually asks, not really wanting to break the quiet comfort between the two. 

Etho's soft, exhausted laugh calms Tango's frayed nerves. "A break. Maybe a nap. And someone to carry me around for the next few days." 

Tango chuckles, letting Etho down on his chest, hands cupped protectively around the small shape that's immediately half asleep on top of him. 

Gem sits on his hotel bed, hands on her lap, the skirt of her dress riding up just a little bit, exposing more of her thigh. Every few moments, Tango catches himself, his eyes dragging over to the tiniest sliver of pale skin that he shouldn't be seeing.

Slowly, he forces his eyes back on Gem's face, the soft, playful smile on her lips as she reaches out and puts a small hand on the worn fabric of his pants, thumb tracing over the seam of the pocket on his thigh.

"You don't need those." She's not talking about the pants, at least not only. Tango's eyes dart to the small, blue pill and the glass of water on his nightstand.

He can't help his chuckle "And you know that already?" Tango's tone is teasing but he swallows, especially when Gem's finger draws more over the inside of his thigh now.

She smiles up at him, then briefly down at the way his pants start to sit uncomfortably around his groin. "Yeah. Besides, I'll make sure you-"

"It's not you, Gem. You're..." Tango can't bring himself to finish this sentence, biting his tongue instead. "Look, it's really not you. I'm.. Old." He's trying to get Gem to see him for what he is.

This is only met with a laugh and what was maybe meant to be a playful shove but instead is more of a hand resting on his soft chest. "You're not that old."

"Gem," Tango practically pleads, hoping not to have to say it. "I'm in my 40s and you're..."

At this revelation, Gem's hand stops, still pressed against his chest. At least she's not pulling back. After a few moments of quiet that stretch way too long for Tango's nerves to handle, he gets a quiet but not uncertain, "Doesn't change anything."

This isn't making it any easier for him. "I... I already know I shouldn't but," Tango hesitates, "let me at least make this good for you."

Without thinking, he's reaching for his nightstand, taking the small pill, flushing it down with some water, hoping for the best. "Now come here."

Hoping his little helper gives him the courage he needs, Tango reaches out, placing one hand on Gem's hip, pulling her in, just a little, giving her any chance to pull back. But instead, Gem tilts her head up and leans in.

He can feel the way his beard must scratch over her cheek as their lips move together, Gem parting hers for him and Tango accepting greedily. Part of him still thinks this is not real and only a dream that will end in stained underpants and heavy shame.

His eyes are already shut but he squeezes them further, not wanting to think and instead just focus on the woman that's now pretty much climbing into his lap.

The groan that escapes him gets swallowed up immediately and he swears he can feel Gem smile into the kiss.

With needy movements, Tango's hands roam over her body, finding the zipper of her dress at her back, trailing his fingers over the newly exposed skin before tugging it off her shoulders.

After a moment longer, Gem pulls back, her lips slightly more red than before, now grinning. "That eager now. Didn't know these things work that quick"

"Gem, please." Tango would beg for her. He's already thrown so much of his caution to the wind and she's been out there teasing him with those innocent touches he's been suffering through, a hug here and there, all throughout the day, not caring about their friends or anyone else seeing them. To the others this is all innocent. He's just one of the dad's. Not someone that has a woman, 10 years younger than him, in his hotel room.

He tries to shake the thought out of his head and thankfully Gem provides a much needed distraction as she takes her dress off, over her head, in one fluid motion.

Tango has to close his eyes, feeling like this is not meant for him, despite Gem being the one to sneak into his room, more than clear with her intentions. Her hands brush over his, pulling them closer, placing one back on her hip, the other right over her heart. Tango can feel it pound under his palm and it only takes minor encouragement for it to move just a little bit lower, cupping her breast.

"You can open your eyes, you know that?" Gem's breath tickles against his cheek and when Tango pries one eye open, she's a lot closer and a lot more flushed already.

With a shaky laugh, he responds, "Don't know if I can." Still he slowly pries one eye open and Gem is a lot closer than he thought, smiling at him. Gently brushing over her nipple with his thumb, he draws a soft gasp out of her, feeling the skin pebble.

At this point Tango is very clearly hard. It's only been a couple of minutes, the effect of his little helper supposedly only setting in later. But that doesn't stop Tango from leaning in again, entirely giving in.

As he kisses her, the hand on Gem's hip guides her to move back and forth, gentle circles on his lap that drive Tango absolutely insane. Every breath gets a little heavier, groaning into Gem's mouth, making her part her lips again for him.

The need to taste more of her rises, alongside the heat in his lower stomach. Tango pulls her closer, arm wrapped around her back, wanting to feel her entirely flush against him. He stays like this a moment longer before leaning forward, gently letting Gem down till her back is on the mattress.

In an instant he's above her, kissing her again. While one of his hands has him support himself, the other one finds hers, fingers intertwining.

Only when he needs to take a moment, breath coming in a little bit shallower already, does he pull back. Without looking, he knows his entire face is flushed all the way down and Gem clearly wants to see more of that, impatiently tugging at the hem of his shirt. For a brief moment Tango considers saying no but before the words could even leave his mouth, he concedes. At least he still has the thin undershirt on.

Not giving Gem the chance to demand more, he kisses her again, this one more needy than the others, kissing along the corner of her mouth, her jaw, feeling how soft and perfect her skin is as he trails down to her throat.

While his focus is on her collarbone, only slowly traveling lower, Gem grinds her core down against his knee that's firmly pressed against the mattress, right between her legs. "Eager?" he plays her own words right back at her, smiling against her skin.

Right as Gem wants to reply, he takes her nipple into his mouth, gently sucking, so that instead of whatever complaint she had, all he can hear is a stifled moan. Taking the encouragement, Tango keeps going, paying lavish attention to the sensitive skin in front of him while pressing his knee upwards slightly.

Every noise, every little gasp, the way Gem's hand tenses in his for brief moments, Tango drinks it up.

He never dared to think about this before but now he's not sure how he'll ever look at Gem and not think about how good she can sound.

Despite the feeling in his growing hotter and more and more desperate, Tango tries to take his time, at least till Gem's free hand comes to rest on the skin of his head, pushing him down urgently.

A part of him expects some sort of tease about missing the main course or something but when he glances up he can see her almost teary eyed with need. It works almost too well on him. Tango almost immediately releases her nipple, pressing one more kiss between her breasts before sliding lower on the bed.

His eyes are on Gem the entire time, making sure there isn't even a hint of regret but all he can find is needy impatience. He chuckles briefly, giving her a fond smile, deciding not to be mean and instead hook his finger in the waistband of her panties.

Only now he notices they're red. "Really?" His eyebrow quirks up, shaking his head but unable to keep a smile off his face. Part of him expects Gem to berate him for thinking she'd do this for his pleasure but instead she laughs, even if her voice wavers slightly. "What? I thought you'd like them."

"Just because they're red?" Tango can't help but smile, shaking his head again before pulling on the thin fabric, sliding it down the pale skin of Gems legs, his other hand trailing down after it, just to feel more of her.

Before he leans in, he pauses briefly, smiling up at her. "I do appreciate it." And he does. Gem thought about this while packing. She thought about this, about him, before she even got onto her plane. Gem wants this.

Feeling a little more pressure now to make this good for her, Tango lowers his head, pressing a kiss right below her belly button, feeling the way her stomach rises and falls with every quickened breath, before slowly kissing his way lower. His hands rest just shortly beneath her entrance, stroking softly over the skin of her inner thigh.

As Gem tries to squirm up higher, clearly getting more and more impatient, Tango rests one arm right across her stomach, keeping her mostly still.

Finally he presses a kiss right onto her clit, followed by another. Gently, Tango sucks on the sensitive nub, hearing Gem as she bites her own lip to keep quiet. Slowly he keeps going, getting a taste of her as he briefly slides lower, his tongue parting her folds.

Gem's hand digs into his shoulder, not enough to be painful but instead grounding both of them.

Tango knows his beard is scratching against her thighs, especially when Gem clamps down around him, her legs wrapping around his back, heels digging in close to his spine. "Careful," the warning is raspy before he keeps going, switching his tongue for his fingers, his mouth fully focusing on the spit above.

Every thrust with his fingers has Gem trying to meet it. She's coming alive and falling apart right beneath him and Tango could get lost in it.

Under normal circumstances, Tango could keep going like this until Gem gets tired and needs a break, his own breathing now quicker and his pulse is beating loud enough that he could hear it ring in his ears. His entire body feels too hot and his breathing feels too tight and the only relief he can get is grinding down against the mow bunched up bedsheets but it's not enough.

"Gem..." He moans her name right against her core, feeling too much, too sensitive. Tango doesn't want to leave Gem hanging, speeding up his pace despite his mouth feeling dry and full of heavy spit and arousal at once. All he can focus on is the less and less muffled moans above, the hand on his head and his shoulder.

Tango doesn't remember ever being this hard, not even in his prime, and it slowly drives him insane, nearly distracting enough that he doesn't notice Gem's trembling. Only when her legs pull him in closer does Tango focus on letting her ride out her orgasm, gently slowing down, even if his need is at an all time high.

Once he is released, Tango pulls away, his fingers soaked as he wipes them on the sheets, he takes his undershirt off, feeling absolutely suffocated in the thin fabric.

Red blotches litter his skin, especially closer to the waistband of his pants. A quick glance up at Gem's satisfied face reveals that she's more than pleased with the view, biting her lip while she's still heaving.

"Please," Tango is already undoing his belt, "I need you, okay?"

With his body feeling hot, his breathing heavy, Tango barely manages to pull down his pants below his thighs, his rock hard member now fully on display, his skin flushed. Almost immediately after Gem gives him a breathless nod, he's over her, lips crashing against hers again, more uncoordinated than before as he grabs himself and lines himself up.

The feeling of how wet she is is already making Tango lose his mind and it's hard to remain patient and slow as he pushes in. "Fuck, Gem..." He murmurs the words into her shoulder, holding her tight. "You feel amazing." The words fall out of his lips when he's barely even in, just slowly sinking himself further into the heat.

But he's right, this might be the best thing he's felt in a long time, hard and feeling every bit of her clenching walls around him.

Once he's fully seated, Tango waits a few moments before he begins to move his hips. "You okay?" He asks, as he leans up, needing to see her face. Gem's lips are parted. "Yeah, keep going."

Not needing any further encouragement, Tango picks up the pace, needing to get this out of his system. At this point it's almost painful how badly he needs this.

He leans in again, kissing her neck, up towards her jaw while his hands brush some of her red hair out of her face. "You're so beautiful. You feel so good." The compliments stumble off his lips without even thinking.

It takes Tango a lot longer than it usually might but slowly he feels himself getting somewhere. "Do you want me to pull out?" He doesn't even want to think about the loss of sensation but he has to ask.

As if she wants to show how much against that idea she is, Gem wraps her legs around his hip, pulling him closer. "Don't. Don't need to"

Tango knows this is dumb but any logic is so far past his brain. And he trusts Gem, trusts her decision more than himself right now.

When she clenches down around him once more, Tango loses himself, spilling into her, feeling like his own body is too warm, too tight. He's breathing heavily against her skin, kissing her, trying to calm his pounding heart down again while staying entirely still.

A few moments pass and Tango comes to the realization that he's still hard. Painfully so.

Filled with regret, Tango kisses Gem again, and when he pulls back he doesn't know if he's red faced from the pill or from embarrassment. "Might need a little more help here..."

With a brief pause to give Gem some water, downing the rest of the glass himself, he helps her sit up, pulling her back into his lap. Her hands are around his stiff dick, immediately helping him guide her right back into her.

For now, Gem sets the pace, Tango just holding her, feeling her clench around him. "Keep going, please."

With her arms wrapped around his neck, Tango hears every moan, feeling her get louder as he moves, meeting her halfway for each deep thrust. "Hey, quiet, Pearl's room is next to mine," he shushes her but Gem gives a louder moan. "What if I need another pair of hands to take care of your little issue here?" She teases. "Bet-"

Tango doesn't even hear the rest, the orgasm hitting him hard again, eyes pressed shut in embarrassment that this picture Gem painted was what did it for him.

"Gem..." His tone is meant to be a warning, chiding her for bringing Pearl up right now.

"Come on, you could -" Tango might come to regret this but he presses a finger into Gem's mouth, unable to deal with more of this as she begins to move her hips again.

There's a soft bite on his finger at first, in surprise, which then turns into Gem's tongue tracing the digit.

At this point he's starting to feel sore and his legs and hips, pretty much his whole body is aching but there doesn't seem to be any end in sight.

So the best he can do is to enjoy it. As Gem's tongue plays around his finger, he adds a second one, trying to focus on how that feels, how warm and wet her mouth is. His other hand pulls on her hair gently, getting her attention. "Please. A bit slower."

Both, the pace of her hips and that of her tongue, slows down and it's exactly what Tango needs right now.

He lets go of Gem's hair, resting instead on Gem's thigh, thumb brushing over her clit again. Now he can feel the moans, muffled by his fingers. "So good." He doesn't even know if he's praising her or how it feels but it's all just perfect.

Gently Tango presses a kiss onto her shoulder, but instead of pulling back he brushes his teeth against the skin just to draw more noises out of her.

He pulls back for a moment, smiling sheepishly before repeating the process a few more times only leaving little red marks that will fade soon enough.

Only when he feels the next orgasm wash over him, does he bite down harder, opting to pull away instead, not wanting to hurt Gem. Slowly, he pulls the fingers out of her mouth, now fully soaked in her saliva. For a moment the sight is mesmerizing before he focuses his attention on Gem.

"You still alright?" His voice sounds a bit rougher now, feeling almost dehydrated.

Gem lets her head rest on his shoulder, breathing deeply for a few moments. "Getting a bit sore," she admits and almost immediately Tango lifts her off his still hard member. He's coated in his own seed and it's leaking out between Gems thighs and onto the sheets.

"Yeah, me too. Ugh, why am I still..." Tango doesn't even want to say it, just laying down exhausted on his back. Maybe with a few deep breaths he can just calm his body down but he knows he's only fooling himself.

It is nice though, when Gem lays down next to him, his arm instinctively wrapping around her, face buried in her hair in embarrassment. "Is this a good time to admit you were right?" Tango sighs.

Her hands trail down his chest. It's less splotchy and flushed by now at least. "I'm always right" She presses a kiss against his scruffy cheek as her hand wraps around his still hard dick.

"Just... Just hold it for a bit" He instructs her. "Bit of pressure at the tip, just with your finger"

Either Gem is incredibly good at this or Tango just comes embarrassingly quickly at this point. It's just a small dribble over her finger and onto his stomach.

"Not a word, please"

"Wasn't saying anything." Her tone is sickly sweet, not giving Tango much of a rest as she begins to pump her hand up and down his length. "Fuck, be careful, please," Tango begs into her hair, hand fisting into the messy sheet below.

They stay at a slow pace, Tango's body heaving as he gets close again. He's tensing up and nothing even comes out at this point and he needs to bat Gem's hand away for even a moment of respite. "Break. I need... I need a break"

His breathing is rough and he's just laying on the bed like he's about to pass out, eyes closed. Every bit of his body is sore and he doesn't even feel if he's hard anymore or not.

Beside him, Gem shuffles and gets up. A small part of Tango thought he may have disappointed her but a moment later he hears the noise of the bathroom sink and she nudges his legs that's dangling off the bed with her knee.

"Come on, drink something before you pass out on me. We can keep going later."

Tango almost struggles to sit up, groaning, feeling every year of his age as he takes the glass from her, smiling thankfully before downing it, then immediately falling back down onto the bed.

"I don't think I'll survive another round," he mutters, feeling Gem cuddle up beside him. Her finger trails over his arm for a bit in silence as Tango starts to at least slightly feel like a normal person again.

He's thinking about how to apologize to Gem for all of this when she sits up. "Feeling up for a shower? We can head to my room after because..." Her eyes land on the sheets that are covered in spit and cum, "I'm not doing this."

Tango chuckles, trying to stretch as he sits up again, and immediately regrets it but pulls through. "Yeah, that can be arranged."

He smiles as Gem is already standing up, offering a helping hand. Tango takes it, letting her pull him closer before leaning in for another kiss.

It is shortly after 5am and Tango is trying his hardest not to fall asleep in his armchair, Jimmy cuddled up to his side, excitedly talking about a detail in a movie that has been playing for the past hour. Sometimes their schedules can be a little… challenging but Tango can sleep in tomorrow so staying up like this is a night well spent.

He is about to doze off, head lolled against the tall shoulder next to him, when suddenly Jimmy’s ringtone makes him jump out of the sleepy haze.

With an apologetic look and a quick kiss to Tango’s head, Jimmy picks it up, his voice at least a little hushed.

“Joel? What’s up man?” Tango can only hear one side of the conversation, trying to piece everything together with the bits of information he can gather and the expressions Jimmy makes. He’s biting his lip now, nervously fidgeting with the fabric of Tango’s shirt.

“Oh. Where are you?” Tango tilts his head, squinting slightly as if that would help him hear what Joel apparently has to say on the other side.

Jimmy’s tone gets a bit whiny now, “Can’t you ask Grian?” Followed by a sigh. His eyes dart to the window, the blinds drawn, then to the clock, 5:38am.

“Fiiiine. But you owe me one. I’ll ask him.” There are weird kissy noises, loud enough so even Tango can hear them, that have Jimmy making a face on the other side.

Covering the speaker halfheartedly, Jimmy turns to him and Tango’s expression already turns soft, knowing he’ll cave no matter what Jimmy is going to ask. 

“Joel’s car broke down on his way back from the city. He probably wouldn’t make it back for a few hours.” Tango’s brain is immediately processing the words, realizing the implication. 

With his hands on his thighs, Tango already makes a motion to get up and Jimmy lets him go with ease. “It’s fine, little late night drive, hm?” He rolls his shoulders for a moment, stiff from the way he was slumped for the past hours.

Jimmy hums in agreement and already steps towards the door, but Tango catches his arm. “You’re staying here. I don’t need two vampires burning up in my car.”

There’s a pout on Jimmy’s face, the one that Tango is always struggling to resist, but this time the vampire gives in. “Don’t let Joel be mean to you.” He gives Tango a kiss, before slumping back onto the couch.

As Tango grabs his car keys and his wallet, stuffing them in his pocket, he calls out with all the fondness, “And you tell me how the movie ended once I get back.”

With that he’s out of the door, phone chiming with the location where Joel must be waiting.

The roads are empty and Tango drives a little bit faster than he should, especially considering the glass of wine he had earlier. But anything would be better than having to explain to Jimmy that his friend burned to a crisp because Tango was pausing at every stop sign at every crossroad for pedestrians that aren’t there at 6am.

He hears Joel before he spots the black muscle car on a small, empty road in the middle of nowhere between fields and a small forest. The music is blaring through the quiet of the night and Tango tenses just a bit behind the wheel before parking and getting out of the car.

Joel sits in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard, arms crossed but he jumps slightly when Tango knocks on the window, much to his amusement.

“Falling asleep at the wheel?” He jokes and from this angle he can see Joel roll his red eyes, despite the sunglasses that he’s wearing.

“Took you long enough.” Joel stretches his arms above his head, taking a quick look outside the window shield, clearly getting a bit antsy. “Towtruck should be here in a few too.”

Just to be safe and to avoid any early morning sunrays getting to him, Joel waits in Tango’s car while Tango talks to the driver, paying him as quickly as possible, before sliding into the driver's seat again. 

For a moment they are both silent, Tango already heading towards the city, instead of back to the village. “There’s a hotel nearby, sun is nearly up. I don’t think we should risk going back.”

Joel clearly wants to protest, but instead crosses his arms again, still huffy that Tango wouldn’t let him drive.

After an uncomfortable 15 minutes, they arrive at the hotel but that term might even be stretching it. Still, this rundown place was the closest around so Tango pays for a room for the day.

The room looks like it was furnished by one of the senior citizens of the town, just with a lot less love and care for it, the wallpapers bleached from the weather, the windows stained with dust. “Hey, at least it’s clean,” Tango tries to play it off, already moving the shut any light from the outside out.

Behind him Joel flops onto the bed, groaning. “This trip was a bust. Didn’t even get to find any food.” He grumbles for a moment, “You know, Jimmy has been on our asses about taking from your village.”

This makes Tango stop. He had asked Jimmy and there were no cases of missing or injured people despite three vampires staying there for months now so it makes sense but to hear someone like Joel actually say it out loud feels different.

Unsure what to say, Tango just gives him an earnest, “Thank you for that.”

Joel shrugs and while Tango knows he doesn’t need to do this, or that he owes anyone this, Jimmy often makes sure to tell him that, he makes a decision. With a few hesitant steps he arrives at the bed, still trying to find the words but they die on his tongue.

With maybe less reluctance than a priest should have and deep sigh, Tango takes a seat on the bed next to Joel even if he looks at him with slight confusion.

Only at the tip of his head, a small movement to expose his neck, does it apparently click what exactly Tango is offering and in an instant there are hands on his body, grabbing him, holding him in place.

He's never felt more like prey before, held with no direct way of escape despite being the one who has offered. There was no control of this situation.

Maybe it was naive but he'd expected at least an ounce of reluctance from the vampire, a question of whether Jimmy is alright with this. But nothing.

Just a hand on Tango's upper thigh, splayed across the skin, the other wrapped around him, on his shoulder, holding him close.

Joel could probably hear his heart pound in his chest and the way the blood rushes through his ears. Jimmy described it to him once, the sensation, the hunger and how it heightens every sense. While it was... Interesting, it also did make Tango feel like a walking bloodbag.

Now with Joel it made him feel like a piece of meat about to be devoured.

It doesn't take long till he feels the warm breath on his neck. A shudder runs down his back from the anticipation of the now familiar enough sensation of sharp teeth puncturing flesh but it doesn't come just yet.

When Jimmy drinks from him it's gentler and there's almost something affectionate about it. He holds his head with one hand, the other around his hip holding him close.

Despite how eager he seemed, Joel only lets his breath ghost over Tango's skin, and just when he opens his mouth to complain about what's taking so long, he feels it.

The bite is different from Jimmy's, different from everything he is used to so far in the few months of coming to the realization that vampires are real and that three of them have settled in his village temporarily.

He hears Joel groan against him and soon after that familiar lightheadedness sets in. Ever so carefully Tango tips his head up and focuses on a single odd spot on the ceiling. Passing out right now would be embarrassing at best, maybe even dangerous at worst.

Joel's teeth meanwhile feel like he's trying to tear out the vein in his neck, sinking in deep enough that Tango would be afraid to even move an inch, as to not actually injure himself.

Before the first drip of blood even leaves his body, there is saliva and a tongue eagerly licking up anything that spills.

Slowly, his hands dig into his knees, his knuckles light, and wonders how his life ended up this way. It was so ordinary beforehand. Now it's having his vampire boyfriend's friend, who is also a vampire, drink his blood in a run down hotel room.

Despite the dwindling amount of blood in his body, a faint flush spreads on Tango’s face at just how into it Joel seems. Even if it has little to do with Tango himself, he is already going through a lot with the sudden way of being wanted outside of his position, and this is a whole different definition of want.

The leaky faucet matches with how he imagines every drop of blood flows into Joel's mouth.

For a bit it's the only sound in the room until he hears a groaning right against his skin.

“You, uh, good there?” He asks, punctuated with a nervous chuckle.

Of course there was no answer, more so only a grunt against him. Anything else might waste a single drop and Joel doesn’t seem like the type to allow that.

Resigning himself to sit in the uncomfortable silence until the procedure is over, Tango goes back to staring holes into the ceiling but the peace doesn’t last long as the hand on his thigh starts grabbing him harder, enough to make him gasp out.

Then the hand wanders up, landing squarely on Tango’s crotch, grasp thankfully a bit gentler now but still enough to make him squeal and nearly flinch away.

“Joel-” The words get cut off when just the right amount of pressure is applied to his member, the movement broad. He tries again, “Joel-”

Tango can feel the sharp teeth detaching from his skin, a sensation he’ll probably never get used to, before Joel stares at him, sunglasses still on, “Just enjoy it, okay?” There is a moment where Joel’s hold on him relaxes just a little bit, enough so that Tango could pull away - but he doesn’t.

Just like that the pressure continues, and Tango takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and just letting the feeling wash over him. His traitorous body responds to the touch, especially when paired with a tongue quickly lapping at the blood that is running down his neck, probably already staining his shirt. Right when it borders on a gentle gesture, the feeling gets pulled out from underneath him and sharp teeth find a new spot to pierce.

Not getting much of a break for even a second, groaning while trying to catch his breath, Joel is already working on undoing the fly of Tango’s pants with the same clumsy urgency with which he feasts.

Too lightheaded to give into the shame that is flooding his system, Tango lets himself be moved, right into Joel’s lap, feeling the vampire move behind him, shrugging off his leather jacket and tossing it somewhere out of sight.

Tango feels his chest behind him and in the moment, sinks against it.

The tugging at his pants finally has an end when Joel’s hand finds his member and wraps around it not so gently and immediately starts a pace that, in a way, matches the crimes he’s committing against Tango’s blood circulation.

And it feels good.

So good that Tango barely notices when Joel has finished drinking, only feeling his head now lean against the other man, legs tensing up when Joel’s thumb brushes over his tip. Even the whimpering noise that escapes now him feels weak.

Residue from both marks on his neck trickles down and Tango’s only thought is that he hopes that none of it lands on the floral pattern sheets, not wanting to also pay that cleaning fee on top of everything else. A laugh starts bubbling in his chest at the absurdity of the thought and Joel thankfully doesn’t question it.

Just when Tango is about to warn that he’s close, Joel pulls away. Not even getting time to complain about the loss, the vampire shoves Tango onto the bed, then pulls on his legs so he lays flat. A moment later, Tango feels a hot breath on him and a hand comes down on his stomach, holding him down with more force than necessary for a man who just lost this amount of blood.

Joel is licking his lips, getting rid of any blood that still stains them, before taking Tango’s member in. This knocks all breath out of his lungs, the feeling warm and wet, the only thing he can feel right now. Unable to resist, his hips buck up a slight bit before he can steady himself.

It earns him a glance from Joel but not in anger or anything, instead his response is to take Tango deeper, slowly sinking down further and further.

While Jimmy is always so careful with his sharp teeth, Joel doesn’t seem to really care, soft flesh occasionally brushing against them, not enough to hurt but to make Tango hiss, to make his heart pound in his chest. More blood spills out, now definitely on the pillow beneath his head.

He can only groan Joel’s name, a hand reaching out, wanting to touch the soft hair, to brush the green streak out of his face, to just have something to hold on to but Tango can’t bring himself to do it.

Instead he steadies himself by digging both hands into the sheets until his knuckles go white. 

His full length is now enveloped and as if that wasn’t enough to nearly make Tango come undone, Joel’s tongue does the rest. Every bit of his length gets caressed as he pulls up, only to sink down again, lips wrapped around tightly.

“I can’t, I -” Tango stammers, unable to even give a full warning before his orgasm hits him full force. He trembles but the hand on his stomach, the other on his thigh, actually holds him steady through it.

Just like with his blood, Joel swallows every drop of Tango. The comparison makes his head spin, and all the remaining blood must rush to his face.

If he wasn’t already lying down, Tango would collapse, but for now his body just sacks, sinking into the sheets below with a newfound heaviness that he so rarely got to experience before.

Bone deep exhaustion starts to fester almost immediately but he fights it off enough to sit up, just getting to watch Joel release the now soft member from his mouth, a string of drool connecting them for a moment.

Neither of them speak for a moment, before Tango breaks the silence. “Thank you?” It’s only half a question.

“Don’t mention it.” He’s sure neither of them will ever talk about this again after today.

Still Tango feels the need to add something, not wanting to make it seem exactly like some sort of payment. This is more for his own conscience than for Joel. “You didn’t have to.” 

A shrug. “I know. You didn’t have to either.”

Tango knows he won’t get any more from Joel so he decides to just fall back down onto the sheets. His original plans of driving home evaporated the second Joel’s teeth sunk into his flesh, so he might as well get some sleep after being up practically all day and night.

The sleep comes fast and drags him in without even caring that his clothes aren’t comfortable enough, or that he hasn’t properly packed himself away yet. Those are all problems for tomorrow’s Tango.

Hours pass and Tango wakes up to something soft tickling against his face. It takes him a moment but his bleary eyes blink open to a mess of brown curls right in his face.

Then he notices the arms wrapped around his middle.

Tango freezes, suddenly very aware of his own body, his limbs that are intertwined with the other’s.

It’s ridiculous, considering what happened earlier but this feels a lot more intimate than any blowjob could.

Awkwardly he reaches for his phone. It’s already 8pm. He’s slept pretty much all day. At least the sun is setting soon and they can head back. Jimmy must also wake up again soon, if he isn’t already.

Leaning back into the sheets with a sigh, Tango gives himself a moment, then slowly, ever so carefully tries to get up without rustling the sleeping vampire clinging to him like he’s a life sized teddy bear.

But of course it is just Tango’s luck that Joel chooses this moment to wake up, red eyes blinking a few times before he also seems to realize the predicament they’re in.

Both of them freeze and it feels like hours pass before Tango is finally the one to break this unwilling standoff by untangling their bits.

With a large amount of embarrassment he realizes the state of his pants, turning away from Joel as much as he can to fix himself up.

“I, uh, I’ll go clean up. Take your time” Tango practically flees the scene.

When they leave the room, Tango is wrapped in Joel’s leather jacket in order to cover most of the bloodstain that is incredibly visible at the collar of his shirt, not wanting to freak out any people they might meet on the short walk to the car.

It actually feels… kind of nice on Tango. When was the last time he has worn something like this? Has he ever?

Before he overthinks it any further, they walk to the car and this time when Joel tries to naturally slip into the driver's seat, Tango lets him. Now there is no threat of the driver accidentally burning up and sending both of them right into the next ditch.

And besides, Tango still feels quite literally drained, the greedy gulps of water in the bathroom only helping the slightest bit to keep him upright.

The drive back is quiet, Joel turned on the radio, gave it a whole two songs before switching it off again and Tango doesn’t even try to defend himself.

After what feels like hours of the humid, dripping tunnels below the city, Tango emerges, trying to prop up Jimmy, the whirring noise supplying every second step.

During the initial diagnostic in Tango’s run down workshop he’d seen that his foot, from the calf down, was a prosthetic, an old model at that. But with the chip below Jimmy’s spine being practically fried, Tango had other worries, like keeping his customer alive.

But of course things had to be worse than they seemed, they always tend to be like that for Tango. During a short inspection, since that was all they had time for in the darkness of the probably mold ridden tunnels, Tango could see the corrosion on the metal seams and the inside definitely wasn’t going to look any better.

Not wanting to waste any time standing still, Tango has been doing his best supporting Jimmy’s weight during the rest of the walk into the wilderness that lies outside of the bustling city behind them.

The neon lights are faint in the distance, way above their heads. Down here are the ruins of old concrete buildings, overrun with nature.

It is a familiar walk for Tango, even if it has been nearly a year since he’s last been out here. His tail gives a nervous flick that Jimmy thankfully doesn’t pick up on between labored breaths.

With his half broken core chip, now restored to functioning just a little bit above 55% this must feel like a marathon for the younger man. Sharp teeth dig into Tango’s bottom lip. Etho’s cabin isn’t too far out from here, as long as he’s done his gardening within the past year.

The path is covered in some spiky berry bushes that seemingly cling to Tango’s heavy boots, slowing them down further but eventually, nestled between two old towers a cabin is visible - barely. Tango vaguely remembers Etho explaining what they were used for many moons ago. Some power source long gone or something.

With its lights off it looks like they might be out of luck but Tango knows he’ll be home. He always is.

“You still with me, Jimmy?” Tango asks, noticing his own shoulder starting to ache, the months of skipped maintenance on his own mechanical arm coming back to haunt him.

Jimmy’s reply is another wheezed breath. Even to Tango’s higher body temperature, the body next to him is burning up, the power core probably overheating to keep up with how much energy every step burns.

“Okay, just… keep leaning on me, okay? Etho’s a bit… peculiar but he’s a friend. We’ll get you all fixed up, alright?” The lack of reply is more concerning than Tango would like to admit but at least this time he’s getting a small nod. “Good, good.”

Heaving Jimmy up the stone stairs, Tango knocks at the door in a familiar rhythm, one he’s quite sure he’s never going to unlearn, no matter how long it has been.

It doesn’t take long before the door creaks open and a lanky man with dishevelled white hair stands in the frame, soft fabric mask pulled up over his mouth and nose.

“Woke you up from a nap?” Tango can’t help the tease that slips from his lips before anything else. He readjusts Jimmy, Etho’s mismatched eyes and attention dragging over as well. 

“That can’t be good for your back.” Is all that he points out, earning a strained chuckle from Tango.

And just like that, he steps away, not helping Tango with the weight, but letting the two men on the run in.

–

Tango deposits Jimmy on the ancient leather couch after knocking off an assortment of tools and parts that have taken residency there with as much gentleness as his aching body can muster. Taking a deep breath he looks around; the space has not changed since the last time he was here, nor the first time he visited so very long ago.

Etho leans against the door, eyes glued to Tango. Despite half of his face hidden, Tango can see the curiosity burning in those eyes. 

“Care for a chat while trying to fix a busted power core?” The question hangs in the room, filled with hope. Just to make sure, Tango adds, “It’s a military grade one, nothing I’ve ever seen before.” A challenge.

Finally Etho pushes himself off the wall and nods towards a workbench, making some space for Jimmy on the anti-static mat to keep either of them from getting zapped.

Trying to play it off, Etho casually replies, “Make yourself at home, you know where everything is.”

Once Jimmy, barely conscious, is laid out on his front, Tango glances up briefly, before striding across the room, tail tucked close to himself while picking out a variety of tools. A tangled data-link cable, screwdrivers, power converters, a multimeter.

“Look, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t bad. We needed somewhere entirely off Net.” Tango bites his lips, feeling Etho hover behind him as he drops his assembled tools next to Jimmy’s head onto the wood.

“So I’m here for the bad times?” The self satisfied smirk in Etho’s voice is too close to Tango’s long ear, his mind stopping for a second.

He mumbles “Not what I said.” in reply while taking off Jimmy’s button down, the light blue fabric stained with dust, muddy water and who knows what else from their grand chase through the city.

Without being asked, Etho helps him lift Jimmy to get the white shirt beneath off, leaving him shirtless, back exposed to the warm, refiltered air of the cabin. The server towers that keep this whole place going work better than any heater Tango’s shitty apartment ever had.

“There’s a chip right below this metal plate, top of the line, looks to be military maybe? Kid took a hit to the backplate though and the power supply fried. I tried to fix it up back at the shop but this is fancier stuff than anyone in the city deals with.”

Without needing to turn around, he knows Etho is nodding, humming quietly in thought. Tango’s traitorous tail wraps around the taller man's ankle, seeking comfort as his heart is still pounding a mile a minute. He would not want to look at his own diagnostics at this moment.

As Tango starts getting to work popping open the metal sitting right below Jimmy’s neck, exposing the chip, nestled into the socket, getting the small tool in his other hand ready to pop it out, Etho already hands him the power override.

“Plug him into my stuff. Keeps him breathing.”

Crunching his teeth, Tango replies, “I know that.” Still he was used to quick jobs that didn’t require a full on main power source removal. Back in his workshop, just late last night, he didn’t connect Jimmy to anything, instead working fast enough that his body could provide what was needed. But this might be a longer job.

Working with Etho is like coming home in a way that Tango doesn’t want to further think about. It’s not like they ended things on bad terms. There was nothing to end. Etho didn’t want to leave this place to come into the city and Tango was tired, swarmed with longer and longer hours at the shop, leaving just no time to travel all the way out here all too often.

Factor in that Etho is also practically unavailable in any conventional way that doesn’t involve showing up on his doorstep in the middle of the night with a dying cyborg on his shoulder, any relationship was doomed from the start. If it was even a relationship in the first place.

But right now it doesn’t feel like that long since the last time he was here. The occasional input from Etho, the helping hand handing him tools before he even thinks about what he needs next.

“Can you give me the thing, the, uh, clampificator?” Tango mumbles in concentration while focusing on what is practically the mechanic equivalent to open heart surgery. All the tiny nodes coming off the chip, hooked into silicone cables that lead deep down into Jimmy’s body, are now disconnected and hooked up to the server towers, letting the blonde man sleep peacefully.

With the tiniest pair of tweezers Tango gets to work. Hours pass and when exhaustion is making his vision swim, numbers, diagnostics hovering but he can’t focus on them. The feeling of Etho’s shoulder pressing against his jolts his focus back.

“Take a nap. I’ll take over.” For a moment, Tango hesitates. But if there is anyone he can trust enough, it is Etho.

After a little bit of arguing he settles for a sandwich on the sofa, watching Etho work while he gets some sort of rest, or at least tries to. The anxiety about Jimmy is not making this easy.

The exhaustion sits bone deep but sleep doesn’t come. With a weary sigh, he decides to at least indulge Etho while he works.

He’d never ask Tango for the details but just in the way he hovers around and offers help, Tango can tell how nosy he is.

“Jim showed up in my store yesterday just as I was about to close up shop. Could barely keep on his feet and the boss would kill me if I’d turn a customer away. Didn’t know he’d be that much trouble.” His head hits the backrest of the sofa, resting his eyes, just listening to Etho’s chuckle and the metallic scraping noises.

“Didn’t expect a mod like that, but seems like he took a hit right onto his back, fried a few receptors.” Tango thinks back to standing above Jimmy’s unconscious body, mostly concerned about how the kid is going to pay for a repair this complicated.

But not fixing him, leaving the chip damaged and working at a whole 12% capacity would be certain death. And just from a practical point of view, a dead body in his shop would be a lot more paperwork and raised questions.

Slowly blinking his bleary eyes open again, Tango continues. “I fixed him up and let him have my hammock and everything but all I got in return was someone pounding on the shutters just as I was about to fall asleep.”  His ears droop dramatically at that, as if he hadn’t just lost his whole means of existence.

He can hear Etho pause his work at that. “Didn’t know you like to play the hero.” The sounds pick up again.

“I don’t. I’m not,” Tango protests. His eyes travel from the bland ceiling over to the table where Jimmy looks more like he’s peacefully asleep, rather than in an artificially induced coma. Either way, he needs the rest.

Sitting up straight, stretching his arms above his head, Etho looks over to him. A sliver of pale skin is visible where Etho’s baggy hoodie rides up, Tango’s gaze lingering just for a moment. Of course, Etho notices and Tango can practically see his smirk through the mask and a flush spreads around his face, feeling caught.

With a soft grunt, Etho gets up and lets himself fall down next to Tango. “Right. Resident hero mechanic showing up on my doorstep at the crack of dawn with his injured boyfriend-” Tango gently punches his shoulder, “What? You’re telling me you’d do this for just about anyone?”

“Etho,” Tango drags the name out, “I barely know him and he is…” Young? Handsome? A stranger that caused Tango to be unable to return home?

Knowing that he’s right, Etho hums, one arm coming to rest behind Tango. “You don’t have to leave, you know?”

Staying here with Jimmy would be too huge of a risk for Etho. And while he doesn’t mean to get rid of the young trouble, he offers Tango an out. Guilt free with a new place to stay for a while.

But his eyes land on the laid out figure and something inside Tango, maybe guilt or fondness, actually aches. He shakes his head and that’s reply enough. 

With his tail already wrapped around Etho’s ankle, not even having noticed when that happened, Tango rests his head on the tall shoulder next to him, leaning into the offered touch.

Neither of the men moves for a while and Tango nearly manages to doze off, but Jimmy groaning in his sleep immediately has his attention.

Before he can take a step, Etho grabs his wrist. “All systems are online again, he’s just sleeping now. Best to stay hooked up during that, the chip is still damaged. Might be good to give the chip a bit of a break overnight and plug him in somewhere before it overheats again.” 

There’s a pull on his arm and as he turns around, Tango practically falls into Etho’s lap with an embarrassing gasp, one arm around his waist, the other stroking gently along the metal of Tango’s wrist, feeling the seam where barely noticeable screws are embedded. It trails up, Tango feeling the touch once it meets skin.

He can’t help the shuddering breath or the way he leans into the touch. The mix of familiarity and exhaustion allows Tango to let himself relax.

Etho pulls him closer, having Tango fully straddle his lap now, facing him.

“Let me take a look at your arm, I’ve heard the creaking.” Etho says, reaching over to the coffee table for a multitool, already pushing up the fabric of his torn sleeve. His shirt has taken quite a hit between running away from whoever those guys chasing Jimmy were, hotwiring a hovercar and stumbling their way to the cabin.

This was maybe the most eventful night of Tango’s life and his arm is paying the price for that now.

Before there is any opportunity for protest, Etho pushes up the fabric and silently gets to work. There is this slightly weird sensation traveling up from the artificial limb, at least until Etho finds the neural connector and it suddenly becomes a dead weight, disconnected from Tango’s body but Etho holds it in a steady grip, while he allows himself to slouch more against the taller man.

They mostly remain silent, Tango’s eyes trailing Etho’s fingers as they hold the tool with practiced finesse, but they are unfocused and tired, only snapping into focus when he suddenly feels the sensation return, his fingers clenching into a fist, this time without the squeaking noises or unnecessary force.

Quietly he mumbles his thanks as Etho puts the tool and cleaning cloth away, only to be met by a smug, “What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you there.

Tango’s groan comes out way too playful, rather than annoyed and exhausted, because of the smile on his face. Never change, Etho.

Still he shoves his shoulder, now looking up and his brain seems to catch up on the way they’re sitting, like lovers and every ounce of teasing leaves his body. It feels like no time has passed at all.

Slowly, so slowly, Tango’s hand, the one made of flesh and bone, strokes along Etho’s cheek, carefully avoiding the scars that litter that side of his face before moving down to the mask.

There is plenty of time for Etho to object but he doesn’t, he never has.

The fabric gives way and Tango finds himself smiling before leaning in. Etho’s lips are chapped, they almost always are, but soft against his.

For a moment, Tango gets lost in this feeling, until he remembers Jimmy sleeping behind them. Slowly he pulls back.

As if reading his thoughts, sometimes Tango wonders if Etho really can do that with his augmented eye, he pulls him back slightly. “He’s asleep.” His breath is right against Tango’s neck.

“Exactly.” Tango replies, but his nerves get replaced with longing when Etho’s hands settle on his hips.

It’s fine, this is fine. Jimmy is asleep and Etho is… home. In a way.

With a nod, Tango lets his warm hands push underneath Etho’s hoodie, exploring the warm skin with even warmer hands.

Their mouths meet again, slowly, as if they have no time to make up for.

The whirring of the servers fades into the background, only a soft gasp from both men filling the silence when Etho pulls Tango against himself. The soft pants Etho wears do little to hide his want and Tango’s own dirtied cargo pants quickly start feeling too tight.

Together they have Tango rocking back and forth on Etho’s lap and despite the fabric separating them the feeling is intense. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe he had missed Etho after all.

A kiss to his jaw distracts him from that thought, only letting Tango tilt his head up to give Etho better access.

The flames that make up Tango’s hair flicker in obvious excitement. Meanwhile his tail behind him is swiping across the floor, back and forth until he rests it around Etho’s calf, holding him tight.

With a strong grip, Etho grinds him down, drawing another noise out of Tango. This is too much, and without direct friction, he needs another outlet. Sparing not a single thought on it, Tango sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of Etho’s neck, right in the exposed spot where his shoulder begins.

He can hear him hiss, grasp tightening on Tango who doesn’t pull back. Despite his sharp teeth it’s not a brutal bite, just enough to sting and bruise.

From that their pace picks up, kisses turn messy, swallowing each other's moans, leaning into every thrust. The build up crawls to a peak, Tango definitely already making a mess inside his boxers.

With his member twitching, his climax approaches at rapid speed. Red eyes pressed shut, another bite pressed into Etho’s sweat salted skin, Tango cums. His body is running hot and he’s glad Etho is muffling his sounds for him.

The only thought in his head is how much he wants to be inside Etho right now but instead his pants are all he gets to fill, still leaving him drained and panting.

Needing a moment longer, Etho moves Tango’s hips, the body in his lap boneless, the jaw finally not locked onto his shoulder anymore. He pulls Tango in for a messy kiss, grunting as he cums. They’re both a mess but Tango is way too exhausted to care.

An unexpected kiss finds its way onto Tango’s hairline, staying there just long enough to bask in the warmth of fire and body heat. It’s so quiet, he nearly misses it but Etho mumbles, “I missed you, you know?”

This might be the most genuine he’s ever heard Etho. 

A hidden smile and a quiet chuckle followed by, “Few months go by quickly, huh?”

Tango should consider cleaning up, taking an ungodly shower in the bathroom Etho rigged himself. Brilliant engineer, less so of a plumber.

But now after his release, the exhaustion hits him twice as hard. His eyes are heavy and it doesn't help that Etho is slowly moving him to lay down on the couch. Guilt swims somewhere in his head, and Tango looks over to Jimmy. 

“He's sleeping and so should you” Etho says, throwing a thin blanket over him.

Tango wakes up hours later to the sound of Jimmy taking in a big breath, waking up to his body wanting to take over from the machine again.

Immediately Tango is there, checking and double checking, detaching the data link cable from Jimmy’s port and turning him from his side to his back. “Easy, easy. Just start breathing slowly, your body needs a moment. But you’re good.”

He tries to ignore the disgusting, sticky feeling of dried sweat and cum and instead fully focuses on helping Jimmy get a bit more comfortable without considering what happened hours earlier. “How’re you feeling? Your back must be hurting like hell from the table.” 

The joke is met with a soft laugh and Tango finds himself grinning while brushing carefully over the plate of metal on Jimmy’s back, closing the latch again and then helping him actually sit up. “Your body should be doing a whole lot better, now that it isn’t just barely hanging in there.”

Slowly having collected himself, Jimmy sits up, holding his head. Being taken offline like that for a whole night throws the body off for most. “I feel like I got chewed up and sat back out”, he laughs, causing him to wince.

Unable to help himself, Tango reaches out immediately, as if his hands could somehow fix this or ease the pain. They land on Jimmy’s shoulder, close to his neck and when he realizes that, Tango pretends to just check up on him, sharp teeth biting his own lips to hopefully keep his face from flushing. “That feeling might last another day or so, but we’re safe here for now so, uh, take it easy.”

His hand awkwardly pats Jimmy’s shoulder, trying to swallow down any other words that linger in his mouth. He normally doesn’t care this much for his customers. But Jimmy isn’t really that anymore, and not just because Tango pretty much lost his shop when those brutes broke the door open.

Trying to change the topic, Tango gets him some water, hovering around as Jimmy drinks, busying himself with sorting away some tools next to them.

Taking a step back, giving Jimmy all the time and space he needs, Tango realizes that the young man is very much shirtless. Politely he averts his eyes, now that the other is awake.

“Are you cold?” Is the best he can do.

Etho has been sitting at a kitchen counter turned work desk, tapping away at a holographic screen, eating some sort of soup out of a cheap bowl, clearly pretending not to listen in to the other two. Just by sheer coincidence, he gets up to the small bedroom in the back, that Tango is quite sure is still filled with various tools, parts and other things, leaving little to no space to actually use it for its intended purpose. Still, Etho returns with clothes.

Tango’s clothes. He recognizes that red.

He must have left them here long ago but he clearly recognizes the baggy, red fabric instantly. Awkwardly, Tango clears his throat. “Wow, haven’t seen these in a while. Feeling sentimental?” The teasing feels like a safer ground but is met with a shrug and a way too simple reply. “Why throw them out? Might come in handy when someone decides he needs to crash at my place again.”

The comment isn’t pointed or bitter, just an observation. And after earlier (or yesterday? How long had he slept?) it feels different. Closer again than Tango has been to any person in months.

Deciding not to spend more time thinking about that right now, Tango takes the clothes, noticing another pile below. Some of Etho’s dark and comfortable ones. “For Jimmy.” He merely fills in, who perks up at the mention of his name.

“Oh, right, thanks.” He immediately throws on the hoodie and it fits… Well enough. But it does something unexpected to Tango’s brain, something he doesn’t want to further explore, if he could think about anything at all besides how good Jimmy looks in Etho’s clothes.

This might be worse than having the younger man sit there just shirtless.

Hopefully unaware of any lingering awkwardness from Tango, Jimmy stretches his arms above his head again, looking towards Etho. “Right, I might wanna take a quick shower? If I can with my…” He looks between the two men.

“Oh. yes, should be alright now, the bathroom is right over there.” Tango explains, all too familiar with the little cabin.

When getting up, Jimmy’s legs give out for a moment and Tango is right there to steady him, earning an earnest chuckle. “Thanks, my legs didn’t quite want to get up just yet.”

Slowly stabilising himself, Tango lets go of Jimmy’s arm with more reluctance than there should be.

This doesn’t escape Etho, who at least has the grace to wait until Tango sinks back into the couch cushions with a heavy sigh. He slumps down next to Tango nudging his foot with his own. “You’re fond.”

Tango’s first instinct is to deny it. He’s only just met Jimmy. But the way his eyes are immediately drawn to the bathroom door betrays him.

So instead he huffs, arms crossed. “Fine, I am fond, so what? Couldn’t let him die in my workshop.”

It isn’t about that though, they both know it.

“Uh huh.” And a moment later, much to Tango’s surprise, comes the casual offer, “You two can stay for a few days. Should take them a while to find this place anyway.”