Archive of Our Own ^beta

Silco had never really envied another man’s cock. 

Sure, Vander was bigger than him — prodigiously so. But Silco liked that about him, that Vander could cover him with his big body and rut against him, the fat crown of his cock teasing against Silco’s own, catching on his hole till Silco got fed up of being teased and demanded Vander split him open on it. You don’t need a big cock to get fucked so hard you feel like you’re choking on one, and besides, Silco was never much for the posturing, the dick-swinging that other men tended to do. It felt childish.

But Vander … well. He had this tendency to make Silco want.

It first happened with him sitting on Vander’s face, nails digging harder into the shitty drywall with each clever swipe of Vander’s tongue across his swollen sex. Vander knew how to suck cock till Silco’s knees shook. His hips twitched as Vander did just that, fingers biting deeper and deeper into Silco’s thighs. 

“Fuck, puppy,” Silco swore, bucking as Vander sucked harder, edging into just this side of overstimulating. “You like that? Like when I smother you with my cunt?”

Vander groaned an affirmative. His eyes were hazy, like he was somewhere a million miles away. He slid his hands up and down Silco’s skinny thighs, over his slight ass, spreading him wider to seal his mouth over his entrance and collect a dribble of slick on his tongue. 

“You look good like this,” Silco continued breathlessly, “gods, Vander, I wish I could fuck your throat.”

And it was that —

Vander moaned, louder than Silco had ever heard him before, and Silco felt him jerk, hard, underneath him, his grip so hard it’d surely leave finger-shaped bruises stamped into Silco’s flesh. His mouth was slack, breath stuttering, hot air washing over Silco’s cunt and making him shiver. Vander was trembling, and Silco opened his mouth to chide him, to demand his mouth back, but he knew all too well what it meant when Vander got like this. Twisting at the waist, he saw that there was a wet patch slowly growing in the front of Vander’s trousers.

“Puppy,” Silco breathed, disbelieving, “did you just come from that?”

“M’sorry,” Vander said, pulling away from Silco with a filthy pop . He was scarlet, his pupils gaping black pits. Silco could feel him panting, warm wet breath ghosting over his cock, making him twitch. “Dunno what got into me, that’s never happened before —”

“D’you think about that a lot?” Silco blurted, because he couldn’t help himself. “Choking on a cock?”

Vander blinked. He looked obscene, only his eyes and nose visible past the negligible swell of Silco’s belly, his pubic mound, and he was flushed so red it made Silco’s pale skin look even starker. “N-not a cock, really?” He stammered, unsure. “More like your cock.”

Silco had never envied another man’s cock. This was still true, but the way Vander said it – your cock — made Silco dizzy with want, a need to give this to Vander. He’d never seen Vander suck anyone else off and the thought of him on his knees, teary-eyed and needy as Silco fed him his cock, had him shivering.

“Silco,” Vander half-pleaded, fingers coaxing his hips back down, “your cock is fine. Quit bein’ weird and sit on my face already.”

“All right,” Silco said breathlessly, allowing himself to be led. “Vander. I’m going to ride your face until you’re hard again, and then you’re going to split me open on that ridiculous thing in your pants and tell me all about what you’d like to do with my cock. In vivid detail. Understand me?”

Vander groaned, his fingers tightening in the meat of Silco’s thighs. “Already half-there. The mouth you’ve got on you, luvvy —” he squawked as Silco reached behind him and tweaked his nipple, hard — “Fuck! yes, fine, anything to get my mouth back on you, you bloody terror — now c’mere!”

He hadn’t thought about it since. The pair of them were not quiet in bed, and both of them, Silco especially, were prone to making bizarre promises and weaving intricate sexual fantasies while teetering on the knife’s edge of orgasm. Vander still hadn’t let him live down a particularly lively exclamation involving a litter of puppies. The image of Vander swallowing down a cock was neatly tucked away in Silco’s mental file of material to beat off to when the foreman got sick of their shit and scheduled them on different shifts three days in a row.

Until the evening Silco was cutting through a night market and was stopped dead in his tracks by a — er, novelties stall.

Well, a sex shop. Compact, too. There were shelves of dildos, some flesh-colored and some distinctly not, fashioned out of dyed silicone in wondrous colors and shapes. Mannequins set up on the far counter displayed lingerie and harnesses, some spanning the chest, others sitting over the hips. One covered the mannequin like a pair of underwear, a shiny silver ring strapped in place over the front. 

These were luxuries, either pilfered off a shipment leaving Piltover or crafted by some undercity leatherworker in their downtime, and he was totally unsure of the sourcing on the toys themselves. Pilties were so uptight that their brothels were often coyly named tea houses; he could barely comprehend anyone topside owning anything so crude as a leather harness or a rubber cock. 

But, for the first time in his life, something as silly as this was within his own reach. He and Vander had just last week successfully fenced a shipment of top-shelf whiskey themselves, and he had quite a bit more silver burning a hole in his pocket than usual, and it made his head swim with possibility. Silco thought of how the harness would look on his body, the leather strap snug against his cunt. He thought of a cock installed into the ring, balancing the heft of it in the palm of his hand, tapping it against Vander’s cheek, his wet tongue. 

What color would he like best? Something realistic? He found his eye drawn to one in particular, a shimmery purple creation, thick and nicely curved and not at all proportional to Silco’s body. He thought of how Vander would sound being split open on it, his deep voice gone deeper and rougher, desperate to be ruined. He found himself starting to drool.

“Something catch your eye, dearie?”

Silco nearly jumped out of his damned skin. The question seemed to come out of nowhere; he glanced left and right, trying to find the source of such a small, raspy voice, until he realized it was coming from underneath the stall. Or, rather, beneath the clerk’s counter. Silco watched as a stool slid, as if by magic, toward the counter, and up hopped an ancient Yordle woman. Her hair was an astonishing teal color, matching the paler tone of her skin, and she held a long pipe, an ornate Ionian piece of craftwork by the looks of it, in her clawed fingers.

“You were starin’,” she said.

“I …” Why was his mouth dry all of a sudden? He was hardly a prude, but then again he’d never had to go shopping for a cock. Toys were mostly luxuries to him and Vander. Until now, they made do with their mouths and their hands. “Suppose I was.”

“No shame in that,” she shrugged, taking a drag off her pipe. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“Er.” This would be a lot easier if she could just read minds. Explaining I want to fuck my man but my cock doesn’t quite cut it out loud was easier said than done.

“Okay,” she said slowly, leaning in and gesturing for Silco to do the same. “Is it for you, or for someone special?”

“Both,” Silco admitted. She blinked, large eyes intrigued, but waited for him to continue. “My —” Boyfriend? Lover? “— partner let slip he was interested, and we both sort of forgot about it, until I was cutting through here, and your stall was …” He trailed off. “I need a cock,” he finished, lamely.

The shopkeep laughed creakily, coughing a bit on the end. She wiped at a stray mascara tear trickling out of the corner of one eye. “An equipment issue, then.”

“Sure, whatever you want to call it.”

“Well,” she said, leaning in even closer, and Silco could smell whatever rancid plant she was smoking. It was sickly-sweet, almost the sort of thing one might smell in a brothel, and it made Silco’s nose itch. “What hole are we looking to fuck?”

Gods, was there really no other way to put it?

Silco curled his lip in distaste. “His ass.”

“Mm. You’ll need something a little more rigid, then.”

“All right.” It was a little embarrassing how little he knew about this sort of thing considering how often he’d had Vander’s cock up his own ass, but whatever. Silco’s eyes strayed, once more, to the shimmery purple dildo. He nudged his head in its direction. “Would that work?”

The shopkeep followed his eye. “Oh,” she said, “you’re a man of taste.”

Silco reddened. “I’m sure you say that to everyone with a fistful of cogs in their pocket,” he muttered. 

She either missed that comment or elected to ignore it. “That’ll do just fine, boyo. Though I will warn you, it’s pretty big.”

“It’s … proportional,” Silco said. 

“You got a big boy, then?” Now the shopkeep was leering, a wide grin plastered over her catlike face. “Janna, how I’d like to see that.”

“I’m sure,” Silco said, flatly. “And the harness?”

“Great pick,” the shopkeep exclaimed, turning to yank the harness off the mannequin and clamoring back up the stool to present it to Silco. She turned it over in her hands, showing off the buckles. “It’s real leather, very comfortable, won’t budge.”

“You don’t need to pitch it to me,” Silco said, “it’s the only harness you’ve got.”

She frowned. “Nothing gets past you, huh.”

“I just need to know it’ll fit.”

“Oh, it’ll fit. Even on a skinny thing like you. Don’t you worry your pretty head, boyo, the straps can go quite snug.”

Silco sucked on his cheek. “So, how much do you want for both?”

The shopkeep squinted at him. “One gold.”

Now it was Silco’s turn to frown. He was more than good for it, for once, but he knew a high markup when he saw one. “You’re out of your damned mind. That’s a whole week’s pay!”

She shrugged. “You’re paying for quality.”

“More like I’m paying for the only harness in the only sex shop this side of the Lanes. I know all about smuggling contraband, lady, I’d expected an offer less insulting.”

“Hmmm,” she took another drag off the pipe and blew it directly in Silco’s face. “You drive a hard bargain, kid. Four silver, two bronze.”

Silco coughed, waving the perfumey smoke out of his face. “A ten percent discount off an inflated markup’s hardly what I call a deal.”

The merchant’s face drew into a deep, annoyed frown. “Janna’s tits, boyo, never in my hundred-fifty years did I get someone haggling over a cock like this. Four silver, two bronze, I throw this in for free and you get outta my hair.”

She smacked a couple of large packets of lubricant and a weird silicone something that Silco couldn’t really recognize on the counter.

“What …”

“You stretch it over the bottom of the thing —” she reached for a spare dildo, rolling it over the base, showing it to Silco. It was textured, with nubs running down the middle — “And when it comes time for you to put it in, so to speak, it —”

“It’s for grinding,” Silco murmured, taking the dildo from her and examining the nubs, running the pads of his fingers along it. Yes, he could see it now, how each thrust would send sparks up his spine.

“Feels heavenly,” she smiled, taking another puff on her pipe and winking at him. “Lots of satisfied customers.”

That lightheaded feeling was back. Silco thought of Vander again, spread out for him on the mattress, voice gravelly and utterly wrecked as Silco fucked into him, as each roll of Silco’s hips worked his little cock against the grinder, and once again he could feel saliva starting to pool under his tongue.

“Oh, hells,” Silco relented, tossing the cogs on the counter. “Wrap it up for me before I change my mind.”

With his purchases tucked into a discrete paper bag and his pockets a good deal lighter, Silco fought the urge to sprint back to their little apartment. Vander was on shift that evening, which meant that the place would be empty, which meant Silco could try it on —

“Gods, Silco,” Vander exclaimed, startled, as Silco slammed the apartment door open. “What happened? Is someone dead?”

Silco looked at him blankly. “You’re not supposed to be home yet.”

“There was a cave-in, they sent everyone home early —” Vander stilled, eyebrows knitting together suspiciously at how displeased Silco was to see him — “hells, luvvy, curb your enthusiasm a little, will you? Your excitement’s killing me.”

Silco remained rooted to his spot on the threshold. He was suddenly very aware of the paper bag in his hands and it felt like it was burning him. Setting it down as inconspicuously as he could manage, Silco shoved it lightly toward the door with one foot.

“What’s that?” Vander asked.

Silco grimaced.

This was far more easily planned when it was his dick doing the piloting at the market stall. Now, the thought of pulling out all that equipment from the bag and doing show-and-tell was mortifying; Vander had just gotten home from a long shift and the last thing Silco wanted to introduce into the equation was any kind of fuck that involved more than the bare minimum of critical thought.

He kicked the bag further behind him and slunk closer to Vander, winding his arms around his shoulders. He did want him, badly so; could smell the musk and sweat that clung to his skin, his neck. Silco nudged his nose into Vander’s pulse point and licked, pleased to feel the rabbit-quick pulse of his heart under the flesh.

“If I let you have me however you like,” Silco bargained, fingers curling into Vander’s shaggy hair, “will you leave the bag alone?”

Vander hummed, breath catching as Silco bit down, worrying at the skin till it was red and swollen with the abuse. His hands dropped lower, spanning Silco’s ass, thumbs hooked into his back pockets. He pushed one knee between Silco’s, grinding into him, and Silco gasped softly.

“Lemme put my tongue in your ass and I’ll forget all about it.”

Silco breathed out a shuddering laugh as Vander squeezed him roughly. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

They did forget all about it until Progress Day.

More importantly: Vander’s birthday.

He’d had the misfortune to be born on the very same day and, up until he met Silco, made do with double-duty gifts, if he received any at all. Silco, whose parents had died in his childhood, didn’t remember his own birthday. When he found out the date of Vander’s, a wicked smile had cracked his face.

“So today’s your birthday,” he’d said, the very first year they’d met. 

It was the only holiday they’d gotten off work, mainly because the bosses’ bosses were too preoccupied with rubbing elbows at topside showcases to bother keeping the mines running that day. They’d been sitting on the bridge to Piltover, enjoying the rare bit of direct sunlight as their legs swung back and forth through the railing. Silco had bought them both ice cream, and Vander still remembered the taste years later, sucking sticky-sweet juice off the sides of his hand. “Well, then. I’d rather have you than a hundred thousand Progress Days.”

They hadn’t even fallen into bed together back then. Vander had thought about that comment all the way back home, ears pink. I’d rather have you.

These days, Silco didn’t even mention Progress Day. He’d elbow Vander in the ribs till he was awake and then sit on his chest, kissing him languidly till Vander’s morning wood was far more than just half-mast.

“You have morning breath,” Vander complained between kisses, even as he gripped Silco by the hip and made no effort to move him. “S’gross.”

“I might believe you if you weren’t pushing that monstrosity you call a cock against my ass,” Silco murmured back, tangling his hands in Vander’s hair and tugging, drawing a soft sound out of Vander. “This is my favorite day of the year. Don’t be a pill.”

“I thought this was supposed to be my favorite day of the year.”

Silco blinked at him. “Isn’t it?”

Vander smacked his ass. “I’m playing with you, love. Lemme up so I can at least brush my teeth.”

Silco had a plan.

They fucked that morning, rutting lazily till Silco took Vander in hand and jerked him off till he grunted and came all over Silco’s belly. Vander fell back asleep, snoring lightly as Silco excused himself to clean off, and as he padded toward their tiny shared bathroom he passed the paper bag, unmoved for weeks. The top was still folded innocently shut. Vander had obeyed him; the realization made Silco hot all over.

He hadn’t gotten Vander a gift, because Vander was impossible when it came to gifts. Silco would ask him, and the answer would always be the same: I don’t want anything, Sil. Which was a damn lie, of course; he wanted a bar more than anything in the world, wanted to be able to quit working the mines even part-time, but that wasn’t within the realm of possibility yet.

But Silco could give him something else he’d needed.

Glancing over his shoulder at Vander, who was still mostly asleep, Silco picked up the paper bag. With it in hand, he slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

The merchant had been right; the harness fit well enough once Silco had pulled the straps as tight as he could manage, and he considered himself in the grimy mirror, smoothing out his pillow-mussed hair, tracing one fingertip around the polished metal O-ring that sat over his pubic mound. He felt a little silly, naked save for the harness, but there was something dirty about it as well, how with each shift of his hips he could feel the bite of leather into his skin. He tugged at the underside and felt it slide against his cunt, already a bit wet from anticipation, and exhaled shortly.

There was a sharp rap at the door, making him jump. Silco scrambled for his trousers, shoving them on over the harness. “Yes?”

“I’m making breakfast,” Vander’s voice was soft and sleep-rough through the door. “You want one egg or two?”

Silco straightened up, buttoning the fly. “You bought eggs?”

“We’re not eating porridge on my birthday. I already decided.” Silco leaned against the door and could almost feel the heat of Vander’s body on the other side. “‘Sides, you need to eat more or you’ll blow away.”

Silco smiled as he taped his breasts flat to his body, wriggling into his shirt. “Well, if the birthday boy says so. Two eggs, then. Fatten me up.”

Vander hadn’t just bought eggs. He served them on fresh, crusty bread, loaded up with sweet margarine. It was the most decadent meal either of them had eaten in months, and Silco found himself messily sucking bits of egg and margarine off his fingers. He froze when he realized Vander was watching him, his eyes impossibly warm and his chin leaned in his palm.

“Sorry,” Silco said, through a mouthful of egg and toast, “dunno what got into me.”

“Don’t apologize,” Vander said softly, “I like feeding you.”

Silco’s ears burned. “You big dope.” He smacked Vander’s bare shoulder. “Go get dressed and I’ll wash up. I want to go out.”

It was a nice day, for once; the smog was a little thinner than usual, and the streets bustled with activity, filled with miners and other day-laborers who had the day off. They threaded their way through the crowds at the markets, picking over jewelry and knickknacks, many of them fashioned out of junk and salvage. Stopping at one of the stalls, Silco picked up what looked like a small ingot of brass with holes drilled into the side of it.

“Whatcha got there?” Vander asked, hooking back around when he realized Silco was no longer following him.

Silco examined the piece more closely, holding it up to show Vander, who was peeking over his shoulder. “Dunno.”

“Oh!” Vander said, plucking it out of Silco’s hand and raising it to his mouth. “It’s a harmonica. Listen to this.”

He pressed his lips over some of the holes and blew into it, producing a tinny, wavering note, bending it with a flutter of his hand. He stretched the note out longer, playing a sequence, and when he finished, Silco gave him a small round of applause.

“What’s a virtuoso like you doing in a rathole like this?”

“Aw, come off it, mate. My ma taught me when I was a youngling.”

A thin, light hand shot out and snatched the harmonica out of Vander’s hands. They turned to find the shopkeep fixing them with an annoyed look, wiping the instrument down with a cloth. “Don’t put your mouth on the merchandise.”

“But how’re we supposed to know the merchandise works?” Vander scoffed. 

Silco narrowed his eyes at the shopkeep. “You should be so lucky someone with even half his talent would buy such a cheap hunk of brass,” he grumbled, hooking his fingers in Vander’s elbow and dragging him away.

“You’re bein’ uncharacteristically nice to me,” Vander said, laughing, as he allowed himself to be led.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“Sure. Hey, speaking of — what’s the bag all about, anyway?” Vander asked, as the bag in question knocked between their bodies. “You never carry bags.”

“It’s your birthday gift,” Silco said.

“You know you don’t need to get me anything, Sil,” Vander said, eyebrows raised.

“Even if I know you’ll like it a lot?”

Vander stopped in the middle of the walkway, his eyebrow raised. “How much?”

Silco hummed. “Remember the first time I let you touch my tits?”

It’d been a major gesture of trust, but Silco had wanted it badly enough to try. He remembered Vander’s hot breath condensing on his skin, his fingers skating all over his ribs like he didn’t know where to put them, till Silco had covered his hands with his own and pressed them firmly to his unbound chest. His breasts were small but Silco had never let anyone see them, let alone touch them, but Vander was Vander and the pads of his thumbs were rough over his nipples and Silco had gasped as Vander finally got the memo and pinched, murmuring Wow, oh wow as Silco arched into his touch.

Apparently Vander was remembering it as well, if the mottled blush coloring his face was anything to go off of. He swallowed, suddenly knocked off-kilter. “Yeah?”

“Better than that, I think.”

Gods. If Vander had a tail, Silco imagined he’d be wagging it. “Can … can I open it?”

“Nope,” Silco said, swinging the bag over his other shoulder.

“Why not?”

“It’s the second half of it. You have to figure out the first half.” Silco had never forgotten about the harness. He could feel it with each step. He’d worn thin trousers on purpose today. All Vander needed to do was touch him the right way and he’d be able to feel the straps. “I’ll give it to you when you do.”

Oh, he’d give it to him, all right.

“You’re mean, luvvy,” Vander groused, shuffling his foot through the dirt in an exaggerated expression of annoyance. “Do I get a hint?”

“Hmm…” I’m wearing it could end the whole thing right here, but this was their only day off together in weeks, and he wanted to make a day of it. “No.”

“Mean,” Vander repeated, put out.

“You have all day to figure it out,” Silco shrugged, hooking his fingers in the crook of Vander’s arm. “You’re a smart boy. I believe in you.”

“Not sure if I do,” Vander muttered, allowing himself to be led through the rest of the market.

Vander stopped them outside of a little shop with a sign set out advertising a special on photo portraits. He peered into the windows, hands cupped over his eyes.

“Never took you for the sentimental type,” Silco said, as Vander stepped back.

“Usually m’not,” Vander said, crossing his arms. His brow was furrowed, muscle in his jaw twitching in that way it did when Vander was thinking something but unsure of how to verbalize it. He shifted from one foot to the other, lip caught between his teeth.

Silco leaned in to look at him sideways, hands clasped behind his back. “I can’t read your mind, y’know.”

“Well — we don’t really have any pictures together, yeah?”

“Sure,” Silco agreed. He watched Vander squirm, this big man suddenly too bashful to ask for what he wanted, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little. “All right, Vander, I’ll get my portrait taken with you.”

It was a small studio, modestly decorated but comfortable enough, with a silver plate camera and a backdrop set into one corner. There was a screen separating the backdrop from the front of the house, but Silco and Vander could see the photographer was at work, her head covered by the sheet draped over the camera.

“Be with you in a moment,” she called. Then, to whoever was behind the screen: “Hold that just a few more seconds, ladies … perfect.”

The girls behind the screen giggled. Silco and Vander looked at each other — why the screen? 

The photographer stood up. She was a tall woman with a choppy haircut and tattoos that decorated the swell of her breasts, emphasized by the cinched corset she wore. Silco blinked when he saw her. He’d almost expected a little old man with a stooped back.

“Great. You can get dressed now.”

Another exchange of looks. Get dressed?

There was the rustle of clothing from behind the screen as her subjects dressed. She turned to face Silco and Vander, hands thrust in her pockets. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Silco’s throat was dry. “We were hoping to get our portrait taken —”

“— I think this is the wrong sort of studio, though,” Vander said. When Silco glanced at him, he realized that Vander’s face was burning.

The photographer looked between the two of them. Then, she burst out laughing.

“I do a lot of erotica, sure,” she said, between giggles, “but taking your clothes off isn’t a requirement. I can take a regular ol’ portrait for you boys if you’re shy.”

Her subjects emerged from behind the screen, pulling their clothes on. It was a trio of girls, clearly enamored with each other; they couldn’t keep their hands off one another. As they passed Silco and Vander, they turned inwards, murmuring: Isn’t that the Hound? 

Then, with a giggle: How’s a little slip of nothin’ like him handle all that?

Silco’s lip curled. One of the girls winked at Vander over her shoulder; he offered a weak wave.

“You’re far too nice,” Silco murmured, with an elbow in his ribs.

“Probably,” Vander shrugged, slapping Silco on the back. “But it’s how we actually get attendance at strike discussions.”

The girls paid for their time and filed out of the shop, leaving the two of them alone with the photographer, counting her silver. They hovered awkwardly near the cash counter, neither knowing what to say, how to initiate.

“The name’s Flash, by the way,” she said, not looking up, “not my real name, obviously. Can never be too careful in this business.”

“Pleasure,” Vander said, “I’m —”

Flash held up a hand. “I know who you are,” she said, a smile quirking her lips; Silco noticed that she had a single ring decorating her bottom lip. “No real names here, yeah?”

“... Alright.”

“Aces,” she said. “Now, gents, why don’t we get to work?”

She’d dragged out an armchair and set it against the backdrop. Silco and Vander circled it, considering how best to pose in it, if they needed a second chair.

“Hound,” she said, “mind if I call you that? You’re bigger, so why don’t you sit in the chair, and Slim here —” she gestured to Silco — “you lean against it. Rest your elbow on the back, like — yeah, just like that, you’re both golden.”

The two of them settled into place. Silco stood with his hip cocked toward Vander, leaning on the armchair.

“Make whatever faces you like. Just be sure you can hold it for about a minute.”

Silco schooled his face into a neutral expression. Vander was a warm, solid weight in the chair beneath him, and he found himself wishing he could touch him.

“This is about as exciting as a Piltie marriage portrait,” Vander said, through the side of his mouth, and Silco snickered. The photographer reappeared from beneath the camera’s shroud, frowning.

“You don’t have to go off my suggestion,” she said, more than a little annoyed. “Actually, I find these types of portraits dull as dirt, myself. Got a better idea?”

“He could sit on my lap,” Vander suggested, winding an arm around Silco’s waist and tugging him closer. Silco laughed unsteadily, suddenly very interested in the idea, and the photographer looked just as pleased.

“Sure. Get as friendly as you like, gents.”

Vander didn’t waste any time negotiating the pose; he simply pulled Silco bodily into his lap as suggested, arranging him sideways so his legs dangled over the side of Vander’s big thighs. Silco felt a little like a doll, just some pretty thing posed for the pleasure of its owner, and he shivered when Vander’s hand curled over his thigh, close to the join of his hip. His fingers were gentle but firm, thumb stroking the inside of his thigh, and Silco realized with a thrill that it was snagging over the strap of the harness.

By the look on his face, Vander wasn’t sure what he was feeling. His eyebrows were pulled together, questioning. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when the photographer said: “Perfect, now these are two fellas who like each other. Eyes to the camera, if you please.”

Flash of the lamp in her hand and a hint of smoke as the exposure began to develop. They held the pose as instructed; Vander’s fingers were hot as a brand even through Silco’s trousers.

“Thirty more seconds, boys.”

Silco kept his eyes fixed on the lens. He could feel Vander exhaling softly underneath him. His thumb played ever-so-lightly over his inseam. He felt dizzy. He wondered if Vander had figured it out.

Flash clapped her palms together sharply, startling the two of them out of their shared daze. “Any other poses you had in mind?”

Silco leaned even closer into Vander, looping his arms around his neck, pressing their faces cheek-to-cheek. Vander’s grip on his leg tightened for one breathless moment and then he slid his arms around Silco’s waist.

“How’s about this?”

“Cute,” she hummed. She thought for a moment, then shuffled the tripod a little closer, switching out the lenses for a better zoom. “I think this’ll look better waist-up. Better focus on the expressions.”

As she set up the next shot, Vander murmured, “What’ve you got up your sleeve, birdie?”

Silco grinned, stroking his fingers through the hair curling over the nape of Vander’s neck. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would. I think I’ve got a pretty good guess, though.” Vander’s voice was low, rough, the kind of timbre that had Silco electric with anticipation.

The flash-lamp went off once more. Silco jumped, startled; Vander barked a laugh, pushing his face into Silco’s neck and nipping at the tender skin. 

“Ow,” Silco protested, though now he was laughing too, yelping as Vander tickled his ribs.

“You’re ruining the shot!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Well, it’s fucked now,” she sighed, setting down the flash-lamp.

Vander sat up a little, as if suddenly roused by an idea. “Hey,” he said, “I changed my mind. I wanna do one nude.”

Silco’s eyes widened. So did Flash’s. A slow smile split her face. “Sure,” she said.

“What in the hells are you doing?” Silco hissed, as Vander rose with him, setting him down on his feet.

Vander pouted. “You don’t want a photo of me naked?”

“Uh —” Silco stammered, and the thought of it — a photo just for him, tucked away in his wallet, planes of muscle and fat on proud display for him to see as he pleased — almost made him swoon. They’d seen each other naked so many times it was hardly anything scandalous by now, but immortalized on silver nitrate like that — it was. Well.

“Strip,” Silco said. “Now.”

Vander obeyed. They were so focused on each other that Silco hardly minded their photographer; Vander spared her a glance, seeking permission to keep going, and she nodded.

“Keep the boots on?” She suggested, as Vander began to tug them off before his trousers. “It’s, ah, a little dirtier if you do.”

She was right. The armchair was now replaced by a battered old chaise, and when she directed Vander to lounge on it, the contrast of his bare body and his work boots had Silco near-drooling. He stood beside their photographer as she set up the shot, eyes hungrily tracing every bulge of muscle and roll of fat, and she stood back from the viewfinder, whistling lowly.

“Janna’s tits,” she muttered, “it’s like he was made for this.”

Vander’s cock was so big, even soft and lying over his thigh. Silco couldn’t wait to have him, see it so hard the foreskin was rolled back, bouncing uselessly as he was fucked. 

He wanted to make him feel good. Vander deserved to feel good.

Silco didn’t even hear the flash this time, or the second or third. The photographer was enamored with him, posing him first with his cock on display and then on his stomach, cheek to the cushion and peering back coquettishly, his back arched to present his tightly muscled ass. It would be so easy for Silco to tuck his thumbs in Vander’s crack and spread him open, greedy hole clenching around nothing, begging to be fucked. Blood pounded in his ears, in between his legs. His breath hitched as he squeezed his thighs together, raking his nails over the back of his neck. Fuck.

“Your turn, Sil.”

… Huh?

“Huh?” Silco said, stupidly.

“C’mon, s’not fair otherwise.” Vander pushed himself up into a sitting position, then stood. His cock hung heavily between his legs. “It’s my birthday, isn’t it?”

The photographer snorted. “Birthday boy in his birthday suit.”

Now Silco was sweating. If he disrobed, his cover would be utterly blown. But he wanted to do this for Vander, and he was no prude …

“Fine,” Silco huffed, shucking off his shirt. Their photographer watched him undress, took quiet note of the bandaging. “You have to cover your eyes, though.”

“Oh, please. Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Vander said.

Silco stopped undressing. His fingers hovered over his fly. “I’m serious, Vander.”

They stared at each other. That same funny expression crossed Vander’s face once more, like there were gears turning in there.

Like he was figuring something out.

“Oh, hells,” Vander said, turning around entirely and facing the backdrop, “whatever gets you naked quicker.”

Silco stripped the rest of the way like he was in a race, yanking his trousers off until he stood in nothing but the boots and the harness. He made quick work of the buckles, yanking the straps out, and as he worked he chanced a look up.

Vander was still dutifully facing the wall. Their photographer was staring, wide-eyed, at the harness over his hips. Silco pressed a sharp finger to his lips, entreating her to stay silent, and she nodded slowly as he slid the device the rest of the way off and folded his pants over it, handing the bundle over to her for safekeeping.

He doesn’t know? She mouthed. Silco shook his head.

“You can turn around now.”

Vander did. He strode across the room, eyeing Silco hungrily as he closed the gap, punctuated by the heavy tread of his boots. He was half-hard, Silco noticed, like he was anticipating something, and Silco pressed his knees together once more as his traitorous cunt pulsed. This was no place to be debasing each other, even in this context. Silco edged past Vander, ducking out of the way of an incoming kiss as he made his way toward the chaise, praying that there were no strings of slick clinging to the inside of his thighs. Arranging himself on the furniture, he said, “Is there any way you want me?”

“I have some ideas,” the photographer said, lower lip caught between her teeth. “Mind if I come move you?”

“Sure.”

She stepped closer, a tentative hand on his elbow. She was a consummate professional; despite their nudity, despite the fact that she found at least Vander drop-dead sexy, she held his gaze, her focus never drifting below his neck except when she asked, “d’you want anyone seeing your chest?”

Silco thought for a moment. As much as he’d have liked Vander to have a good reminder of his tits, some things were better left in the bedroom and not immortalized on paper. “Not particularly.”

“All right. And your downstairs?”

Silco made a noncommittal noise. “Half the undercity’s seen my cunt.”

She laughed. “Not one to mince words, I see. I like that. Here, let me pose you. I think your arm’ll cover your chest if we angle you right.”

Flash positioned him reclining along the chaise, one arm thrown over his torso, the other pillowed behind his head. She bent one knee and braced his foot against the cushions, then nudged his other leg, the one nearest the camera, toward the floor, half-hanging off the furniture. It left him on display, swollen sex parted a little and cock peeking through. He was unmistakably hard.

“Sorry,” Silco muttered, as she stood back.

She shrugged. “Not much you can do about that.” Glancing back, she said, “anyway, the Hound over there’s panting like … well, a hound, so I’ll try and speed things up.”

Vander hadn’t bothered getting dressed, so struck was he by Silco. He eyed him like he was going to eat him and Silco just gazed back with lidded, hazy eyes, pleasantly aroused. Distantly, he could hear the photographer’s voice telling him to look at the lens and he did, stretching his body a little more, displaying it for both her and Vander.

Those fuck-me eyes are devastating, she told Vander, as she emerged from under the curtain.

Vander’s expression was clouded with lust. Like this he was the Hound of his namesake, practically salivating for it. His cock twitched; his fingers flexed against his side.

“I know.” Vander’s voice was thick. “He plays me like a fiddle when he looks like that.”

Flash in three, she said, and Silco hummed.

The flash-lamp went off, and Silco held his pose. Thirty seconds passed, then forty-five. They hit sixty and Silco pushed himself up on his elbows, adjusting so he sat on the chaise, facing frontwards. He took a pillow off the end and held it across his chest with one arm, other hand skimming down between his legs.

“Can I …?” He didn’t know how far these pictures tended to go.

“Expose yourself? Sure,” she said, and Vander went rigid beside her.

Silco’s smile was sharp. Revenge. “Excellent,” he said, and the hand over his pubic mound dipped lower, fingers parting to press into either side of his labia and spread them back to reveal his swollen cock, his dripping cunt. He wriggled closer to the edge of the chaise to avoid staining the cushioning as best he could, one leg crooked to present himself better. Vander swallowed audibly; between his legs, his cock twitched.

“This what you’re getting later?” The photographer asked, glancing at Vander as she fussed with the camera. “You’re a lucky boy, Hound.”

“The luckiest,” Vander agreed. His voice had gone low and raspy. Even from where he sat, Silco could tell his eyes were nearly black.

Flash of the lamp, and Silco was up, seconds away from jumping Vander’s bones before the photographer was between them, her palms pressed flat to both of their sternums.

“Ah-ah,” she said softly, “one more for me and then I’ll let you go, all right? You both have fantastic charisma; I can already tell these are about to turn out great. I’d just like one with both of you.”

She positioned them standing and facing one another, in profile to the camera.

“Get closer,” she directed, and so they did. “Closer. C’mon, loverboys, like you mean it.”

They shuffled so close that Silco could feel the hot rush of Vander’s breath on his face. His dick throbbed.

“Hold each other.”

They did. Vander’s rough hands were gentle on Silco’s waist. His flank shuddered under Silco’s touch with each inhale.

“One second,” Vander murmured, and reached between the two of them, taking his erection in hand and feeding it gently through the junction of Silco’s thighs. He pushed them closer together, encouraging Silco to hold him; they were close enough now that their cocks were kissing, Silco’s smaller one sitting over Vander’s. Satisfied, Vander settled his hands back over Silco’s hips. “Okay.”

“Oh,” Flash exhaled softly, “that’s good.”

They barely even registered the flash this time. Vander’s eyes were pitch-black with lust, his fingertips white where they bit into Silco’s flesh. He was trembling, Silco realized, every muscle in his body coiled tight to avoid knocking him to the ground and fucking him like an animal. He knew how Vander got when he got to be like this, and Silco’s cunt pulsed in anticipation, dripping slick between his thighs and over Vander’s cock. Thank the gods the camera wouldn’t catch that, obscured by their bodies.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Vander whispered, “until you scream.”

Silco shivered.

They dressed gingerly. Silco watched Vander tuck his hard cock back into his trousers, held fast by his underwear, but he could see the thick outline of it against his thigh, pressing against his inseam. Silco bade him turn around once more and he put the harness back on quickly, tucking it once more beneath his clothing, and readjusted the knot his hair was gathered into for good measure.

“I’m only charging for the clothed pictures,” the photographer said, pushing most of Silco’s silver back over the table. “The rest are on the house, if you’re alright with ‘em going in my portfolio.”

Silco blinked. “Oh.” That was easily at least a gold hex’s worth of photography, and he was getting it for a couple of cogs. It wasn’t like he particularly cared about other people seeing these, anyway; she’d skillfully hidden or downplayed his chest in all of the other photos. “Sure.”

She waved them off, clearly pleased with such a successful session. “I should have the negatives developed in a day or two. Come back then.”

They barely made it out of the portrait studio before Vander took Silco’s wrist in one huge hand and bodily dragged him down an alleyway, away from all of the street traffic. 

It was fucking filthy back here, the smell of trash and sewage overwhelming, but neither of them cared. Vander was so keyed up that he slammed Silco into a wall and snuffled at his neck like a hungry stray dog, kisses so messy that Silco could feel hot wet spit smearing over his nape. He canted his skinny hips back, pressing his ass into Vander’s dick, sliding against him as hard and hot as an iron.

“Know what you got me,” Vander growled, biting a collar of marks into the back of Silco’s neck.

“Oh?” Silco breathed, grunting as Vander knocked him harder. He loved when he got like this, out of control and wolflike, and he wanted to keep him here, lusting after the blood thundering under Silco’s skin.

Vander’s hands were ungentle as he clutched at the bag slung across Silco’s shoulder, ripping it open and yanking free his prize: the dildo, stunning purple with a milky, oil-slick shimmer to it. He hooked his free hand in Silco’s trousers and just barely avoided tearing them off entirely as he shoved them to Silco’s knees.

“You little minx,” Vander’s breath was hot as a brand over the nape of Silco’s neck, “teasin’ me like this. Sittin’ in my lap like a coy little parlor whore. Wearin’ this,” A thick thumb hooked into the harness strap lying snug against his cunt, pulling it back and then snapping it hard against his needy, aching cock, making Silco yelp. “The whole day? An’ not tellin’ me?”

“You were the one who wanted me on your lap, mutt,” Silco argued petulantly. “And I’m glad you figured it out sooner rather than —” another sharp grunt as Vander snapped the strap once more, earning a long string of slick leaking out of him — “Later! Fuck, Vander!”

He was so fucking wet, and Vander was being so fucking mean. He needed Vander to fuck him yesterday. “You said you were gonna — unh — fuck me till I scream, Hound. Or are you just all ba — ah—!”

The vowel dissolved into a long, sharp moan as Vander stopped playing with him and finally, with no preamble, stuffed his cunt with the dildo. Not that Silco particularly needed it; he was sopping wet and starving for it, and the cock was comparable in size to Vander’s: in other words, it was perfect. Silco sobbed, clenching hard at the intrusion, slick insides sucking on it like he needed it more than air. He shuddered. Gods, he owed the merchant an apology: this was worth every last bit of bronze.

“Got something to say, pussycat?” Vander laughed, rocking the toy in him maddeningly slow, reducing Silco to jelly against the wall, propped up only by Vander’s weight against him. “Or should I just fuck you stupid?”

Silco wanted to argue. He really did. But when he opened his mouth to do so, nothing issued forth except a garbled moan.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do,” Vander said, continuing to fuck him shallowly, “I’m gonna give this thing a test spin. Since you’ll be putting it in me later, s’only fair — I wanna see who takes it better. An’ then, if you’re real nice, if you beg for me like the sweet little thing I know you are under all that scratching an’ yowling, I’ll fuck your ass too, get you all filled up and dumb on my cock. Okay, luvvy?”

Silco wasn’t sure how much dumber he could get. Language had failed him entirely. He whined and just let it happen, let Vander fuck all thought and reason out of him with the toy. Vander angled it up a little and the cockhead scraped along something deep in Silco, near the cervix but not quite a head-on hit that had him trembling and pulsing, leaking all over Vander’s knuckles where they connected with the sticky-wet outside of his cunt.

“Van–der,” Silco panted through gritted teeth. “Do that again, fuck —”

“Oh?” Vander’s voice was rough, amused. “You liked that?”

Liked that was an understatement. “M’gonna. Gonna come. If you keep doin’ that.”

Vander whistled. The sound of the toy pumping in and out of Silco was filthy, slick bubbling up wetly with each rough thrust in. “Untouched? Think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Silco said, utterly out of breath. It was taking everything he had to even speak right now.

Maybe he’d pushed all of Vander’s buttons just right, because he was uncharacteristically nice, if only for just a moment. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said benevolently, angling the toy a little more intentionally now and pumping it with purpose, so it rubbed that same spot over and over again, so overwhelming that Silco’s mouth hung open on a groan, spit dripping down his trembling lip to the dirty ground. Vander’s other arm came up and around his throat, holding Silco against him in an iron-tight headlock, and the sudden lack of movement combined with the merciless drive of the toy in him made Silco screw down tight on it and come with a gutteral sob, gushing over Vander’s hand and, hells, even the fucking wall.

Vander held him through it, breath hot and ragged in Silco’s ear as he trembled like a shock victim in Vander’s grip. As the rush of endorphins settled, Silco realized Vander still had the toy splitting him open.

“What’re you —”

“Another,” Vander rumbled, releasing Silco to settle his other hand on his cock, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as he kept the toy seated deep in him. Silco shivered with overstimulation; the sensation was both miserable and addictive, so punishing as to be good.

“I can’t —” Silco said, weakly.

“You will,” Vander said. “Gimme another. Want you to come on my cock.”

“Janna’s – aching – cunt, Vander,” Silco swore, squeezing his thighs together as another tug of Vander’s fingers on his oversensitive cock wrung another gush of cum out of him. Vander kept working him, easing up the pressure and motion till it was a slow, slick glide of his hood over his cock, till Silco could feel another orgasm creeping up on him. His breath grew more shallow, more desperate, fuck he could come just like this, and then —

Nothing. Vander dragged his hand away, wrenching a wretched groan from Silco, and instead pressed against the pucker of his asshole. His fingers were slick with Silco’s cum, spreading it all over until he was a little looser, and then Silco felt the telltale pressure against his rim, and —

Vander sunk one big finger in, just slow enough to not hurt him, and Silco thrashed.

“Nuh,” Silco babbled, as Vander held him still and fucked him shallowly with his finger. “Fuh.”

“What’s that, love?” Vander teased, even as he curled his finger forward and stroked along his insides. “‘Fraid I can’t hear you, Sil.”

“Fuh-huck you,” Silco spat, and when Vander pushed in a second finger he screamed.

“Keep yowlin’ like an alleycat in heat and you’re gonna attract other men lookin’ for a spin with you,” Vander warned. He was relentless in how he worked Silco open, pulling his fingers apart and stretching his rim till Silco was gasping for air, beating his fist against the wall hard enough to bruise. 

“Maybe I’ll — let ‘em,” Silco wheezed. “Bet they’ll treat me better’n you, mutt.”

“Thought lies were supposed t’be believable,” Vander countered, adding a third finger — gods above — and making Silco jerk against him. “Look at you, suckin’ me in like the greedy little slut you are. I’m so nice to you, luvvy, an’ you love it, an’ you don’t want anyone but me ‘cos no one else knows under that chilly-bitch act you put on you need t’be fucked till your eyes cross. Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

Of course he was right. He was right about everything, and yeah, those three big fingers in him and the dildo in his cunt did have his eyes starting to cross as he leaked all over Vander’s hand and — fuck — even the ground, but Silco would never give him the satisfaction of an admission. Because he wanted Vander to earn it. He didn’t need verbal confirmation. He needed to make Silco come so hard he forgot language altogether.

So Silco said, “put your cock in me before I fucking kill you, Vander.”

“Aw,” Vander cooed, pressing a wet kiss under Silco’s jaw, “well, since you asked so nicely.”

He pulled out so quick Silco keened at the loss, legs trembling and threatening to give out beneath him, but Vander propped him up, kept him balanced against the wall. Even when they were rough with each other like this, there was always an understanding that they could lean on the other if they needed it; Silco sagged against Vander as he hooked a thumb in his rim and spread him wide; his cunt pulsed hard around the dildo still seated deep in it, and Silco barely stifled a pathetic whine.

He could feel movement as Vander unfastened his fly, and soon the vulnerable sensation of Vander’s thumb pressed against his fluttering hole was replaced by the heavier, more solid pressure of the blunt head of his cock.

Silco stopped breathing. All he could do was push back on it, entreating Vander to push in. Vander stood back, slapping it teasingly against his hole, and the sensation made Silco growl as his dick throbbed and his cunt clenched again, wetness dribbling down the base of the toy. “Now, dog.”

Vander hummed, obviously pleased with himself, but he didn’t need to be told twice.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he sunk in. “Take it.”

“I’m trying,” Silco gasped. He’d taken Vander’s cock countless times and he didn’t think he’d ever be used to this, the way it felt bullying deep in him, so much tighter than in his cunt, so different, so fucking good. His insides spasmed, trying to figure out what to do with the intrusion, but Vander just kept pushing, building the pressure. With the toy stuffed in him, it made Silco feel full to his lungs; he fought for purchase against the alley wall and groaned as Vander pressed that last inch in, buried to the hilt.

Vander was panting like a dog in his ear. He slid a possessive hand down Silco’s belly, between the join of his thighs, and grasped the base of the toy, rocking it in Silco and making him shudder.

“Y’feel that?” Vander rasped, fucking slowly into him, “feel how fuckin’ thin that wall is? Janna, I can feel that toy in you from the other side. You lucky little thing. Bet you can feel it in your throat.”

He could. It felt like Silco was gagging on it, his body clamping down greedily on both intrusions, but he needed Vander to fucking move.

“Vander,” Silco half-begged, and his voice was so wrecked by now it made his ears burn horribly to listen to himself, “you wanted me to come again, so for fuck’s sake, make me come.”

“Say please,” Vander’s voice was hot over the shell of his ear.

Silco’s eyes shook, outraged. “Fuck you!”

Low, rumbling laughter. “Is that any way to talk to the birthday boy?”

“Fucking —” Silco groaned, frustrated. If Vander didn’t move in the next five seconds he was going to die. “Fuck me! Please!”

“You beg so pretty,” Vander said smugly, and before Silco could come up with a proper barb, he pulled out so far his cockhead caught on Silco’s rim and slammed back in, driving a sharp yelp out of Silco. He set up a punishing rhythm, his strokes rough and steady, punctuated each time with the filthy-wet slap of skin on skin. Silco couldn’t do much of anything at all except hold on for the ride, mouth caught open and eyes rolling, no smart comments left. The only vocalizations he could muster were soft, mindless uh-uh-uhs with each thrust; he was stuffed so full that everything around him fuzzed out. All that was left were the toy in his cunt and the hard drive of Vander’s cock in his hole, nudging against that thin wall of flesh, pressing the toy flush against that spot near his cervix that had Silco seeing stars. Vander’s voice was low and comforting in his ear and it made Silco shiver with overstimulation.

“Wish you could feel this,” Vander said, and that arm was back around Silco’s throat again, holding their bodies flush as Vander fucked him senseless, “gods, luvvy, s’like you’re made for me, how that little body fits me I’ll never know. Like you’re hungry an’ only I can feed you.”

“Vander,” Silco begged, and it came out utterly shattered. He was so close. Vander wasn’t even touching his cock and he felt like he could come just like this, with Vander carving into the softest parts of him, so completely at his mercy.

“That the only word you remember?” Vander’s laugh was gravelly and breathless. “My name? I fuck you good and stupid yet?”

He felt stupid, dick-drunk and hazy as Vander’s thrusts got a little less precise, like he wasn’t far behind him. It wasn’t often that Vander got him like this, even less so in public, but Silco was gone, floating off somewhere, fuzzy and warm and so wonderfully dumb. Silco said something but it came out slurred and unintelligible. Vander only laughed more.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I can feel how close you are — ‘m gonna take care of you. Gonna make you come, okay?”

Okay, Silco thought. He could only moan. He could feel his blood pulsing hard in his cock and Vander must have too when he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and started rolling the hood over it.

“C’mon, Sil,” Vander panted, “wanna feel it when you come. C’mon, you’re so close, Sil, just —”

Silco’s orgasm crashed into them both, made Silco cry out and go rigid; if there was any doubt he’d managed to squirt the first time it was put to rest as he somehow gushed even around the toy. Vander’s breath stuttered in his throat as he watched Silco spasm again, Silco’s cum splattering all over the ground between them.

“Hells, luvvy,” Vander choked, stunned.

Silco sobbed. With the next jerking spasm, his muscles tightened so hard on Vander’s cock that Vander followed with a wounded sound, pumping him so full that cum dribbled back down his rim, pulled by gravity, joining the small puddle Silco had just made. They were left panting, each sucking huge lungfuls of air as Vander continued to fill him with pulse after pulse of his release, Silco weakly milking him through each aftershock. His body was so tired but still so fucking hungry, gladly accepting whatever Vander had to give him, until Vander’s cock gave one final twitch and relented. Silco shuddered, squeezing one last time, and Vander muffled a moan into his neck, his cock slipping out of him. The last few drops of spend dripped onto the ground. Silco’s thighs were filthy with it.

“Can you please,” Silco gasped, “take that fucking thing out of my cunt already.”

Vander obliged him; as he slid the dildo out, Silco shook each time one of its ridges caught on his inner walls. It came free with a soft plop; his abused cunt squeezed inadvertently, and he could hear the drip-drop of the last of the slick and cum as it ran down the insides of his thighs and joined their combined puddle of mess on the ground. 

Vander whistled, impressed.

“Kinda wish I could take a picture of what you look like right now.”

“A mental one’ll have to do,” Silco said, yanking his pants up his trembling thighs. “I think that kills the rest of our day. If I don’t clean this up I’ll ruin my trousers.”

They staggered home, where Vander bodily threw Silco onto their shared mattress and wrung a third orgasm out of him with his lips sealed over his hole, eating his own cum out of him. Silco, jelly-legged and sated, finally extricated himself from Vander’s arms to the shower to clean off. When he got out, towelling his hair dry, Vander was dead asleep. Silco settled against him and lit a cigarette as he reached for his journal.

After an hour or two spent listening to Vander’s snoring, Silco gave up on writing and began idly sketching him on a new page in his journal. Vander hadn’t shaved that morning and there was a light shadow of stubble on his chin and cheeks. He looked less boyish. Silco ran a gentle thumb over his jaw, felt the rasp of prickly hair against his skin. Vander snuffled against his hand and caught his wrist lightly, turning his head to press his lips against Silco’s palm.

“Time is it?” Vander murmured, voice sleep-rusted and groggy.

“Time for you to get up,” Silco replied, smacking his cheek lightly. “How’m I ahead two orgasms and you’re the one that’s down for the count?”

Vander groaned, pawing at Silco’s bare waist. He pressed his face into his pale belly, stubble rubbing Silco’s flesh tender and raw. He shivered, fingers tightening in Vander’s hair. There was a flicker of tongue, then teeth.

“Want my birthday present,” Vander said, voice muffled by Silco’s skin.

“Impatient,” Silco said, but he couldn’t hide the warmth in his tone. “‘Licia’ll kill us if she doesn’t at least get to see you on your birthday.”

Vander whined, and it took everything he had not to cave right there and call it an evening, spend the rest of the night in bed. “Fuck me first, Sil.”

“No,” Silco laughed, even though he really wanted to. “You’ve got friends other than me, y’know. And besides,” Silco’s fingers crawled under Vander’s chin, tilting his face up to look at him. “You won’t be able to walk by the time I’m done with you.”

Vander’s eyes were bright, his pupils huge black pits of hunger. “Promise?”

Janna’s sopping cunt, Silco thought, I’m going to ruin him. “I swear. Get dressed, it’s getting dark.”

He wore the harness again, because — well, Silco wasn’t sure. Maybe because Vander knew about it now, and it hung between them like a dirty little secret; Vander’s hand would creep along Silco’s backside till he found one of the straps that sat along the junction where his ass met his thigh and snapped it, earning a tight jolt out of his partner. He did it a couple more times until Silco, red-faced and sweating, caught his wrist and laced their fingers together instead.

“You’re a menace,” Silco muttered, as Vander laughed.

They found Felicia, Connol, and Benzo at one of the more run-down dives they favored for its lack of traffic. Not that it mattered today, when everyone and their mother was out celebrating a day off; the place was packed, and Vander had to flag down a harried bartender with a loud “Oi!” in order to get any of their ale refilled.

“Couldn’t find you two all day,” Felicia said, raising her tankard to her lips, “Connol thought you’d fallen into the river or something.”

“Oh, I bet they did,” Benzo snorted. He had been the first to catch on when they’d started sneaking around, and ribbed them relentlessly for it. Silco had started to wonder if Benzo had some enhanced sense of smell that could pick up on the scent of sex long before it became apparent.

“Ah,” Felicia said, catching on. She shoved Vander, who steadied his own tankard of ale as it sloshed with the movement, spilling over the side. They’d all had a few and it had loosened their tongues quite a bit — especially Felicia’s. “Is that what you’n Silco’ve been up to all day? Gettin’ soaked, as they say?”

“We got out of the house!” Vander protested. “We went to the day market! We got our pictures taken!”

Felicia tapped a nail against her chin. “Only portrait studio I recall ‘round there’s a —”

Silco’s eyes widened. So did Vander’s. Benzo narrowed his, confused; Connol, who Silco could’ve sworn shared a telepathic bond with his girlfriend at times, burst into laughter.

“You didn’t,” Connol gasped, awed.

“They do clothed portraits too,” Silco said waspishly, but his face was red-hot, and it made Felicia break down into fresh peals of laughter.

“Oh, hells, Silco,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, “please tell me you two got naked.”

“Now that I’d like to see,” her boyfriend added.

“I really wouldn’t,” Benzo groaned, in the long-suffering tone of a man stuck in a friend group of two couples. He poked Silco in the ribs, earning a sharp yelp. “Especially this one. He’s all skin and bones. No thanks.”

“This bag of skin an’ bones can take a cock the length an’ circumference of your forearm, thank you,” Silco slurred automatically, and immediately regretted that he had.

Benzo was gray in the face. Felicia and Connol were beside themselves, cackling into each other’s shoulders.

“That’s not true,” Vander added weakly, “he’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Then, after a moment: “Maybe Connol’s forearm.”

“Janna’s tits, Sil,” Felicia gasped, voice muffled by Connol’s jacket, “we’ve got to get you drunk more often.”

“I’m going to take a piss,” Benzo said. He looked shell shocked. Vander patted him comfortingly on the arm. “Please change topics by the time I’m back.”

As soon as he was out of earshot and Silco was sufficiently humiliated, Vander said, “guess what my birthday present is.”

Connol and Felicia leaned in. Silco coughed and examined the wallpaper.

“Silco’s gonna fuck me.”

Awed gasp from the two of them. Then, from Connol: “I thought Benzo was the one off taking the piss.”

“I’m not,” Silco snapped, because if there was one thing he couldn’t tolerate accusations of, it was gutlessness.

“The Hound of the Underground with his face in a pillow,” Felicia mused, “you lucky dog, Silco, half the Undercity’d kill for that kind of view.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice. He’d been fantasizing about it all day. Vander pulled him into his lap, fingers lightly tracing the straps of the harness. “The luckiest,” Vander agreed, and planted a big, wet kiss on Silco’s cheek, then went to nip at his ear.

“Wanna get out of here,” Vander murmured, voice warm on the shell of Silco’s ear.

“In a minute,” Silco said, shuddering under another pass of Vander’s palm over his thigh. “Quit being so obvious with your hands, Vander. Leave some things to the imagination, hm?”

“You’re no fun,” Vander complained, but he obeyed.

“I hope you’ve got something else to talk about,” Benzo said, easing himself back onto his stool. “Say, for instance: the Pilt’s looking a little less toxic and smelly today, eh?”

“I’d say it’s about the same,” Connol said mournfully, taking another drink from his tankard.

“Silco and Vander are leaving us,” Felicia moaned just as sadly, tipping her head onto Connol’s shoulder. “They’ve got better things to do than spend time with little old us.”

“Like each other,” Connol supplied, and Felicia snickered.

“How crude!” She admonished, her eyes shining. “Silco’s got Vander’s birthday present waiting at home, is all.”

Benzo looked between the four of them. “...And do I want to know what that present is?”

“Nope!” Felicia singsonged, offering the two of them a wink. Get out of here.

They didn’t need to be told twice.

They were barely over the threshold when Silco pressed Vander against the door, pulling his head down for a searing kiss. Vander sighed against him, hands roaming all over and slipping off Silco’s shirt before settling on the notch of his narrow hips and nudging his trousers down. His thick fingers were clumsy on the buttons of Silco’s fly; Silco shooed his hands away and slid the fastenings open himself. He almost had them off entirely when a thought occurred to him.

“Shirt off,” Silco ordered, slipping out of Vander’s grabbing hands. “Don’t turn around.”

“This again?” Vander complained, but he remained facing the other wall as he peeled off his shirt.

“Just for a moment,” Silco said, installing the cock into the O-ring and giving it a couple of shakes to make sure it wouldn’t budge. “On your knees, puppy.”

What little furniture they owned shook as Vander dropped heavily to comply. Silco stepped between his knees and was stunned to find Vander so pliant already, his lovely seawater eyes dark and hazy, like he was looking at Silco from behind a veil. Silco was still wearing his pants, and as he stood over Vander with the cock jutting out of them and mere inches away from his face, he felt a surge of power, thick and heady, slipping through his bloodstream to gather down in his pulsing cock.

“Mouth open. Tongue out.”

Vander did as he was told. This wasn’t going to be one of their usual games of push and pull, negotiation, or of trading barbs. Vander’s mouth hung open, his tongue pink and wet. He’d wanted this, and Silco was all too happy to give it to him.

He took the cock in hand, slapped it lightly against Vander’s cheek like he’d thought of doing so many times today, and watched his face color red. Then he did it again, a couple of times on his tongue, watched his body jerk with each soft impact. The sound of the silicone making contact with wet flesh was obscene. Silco held it on Vander’s tongue and he accepted it gladly, watching him through lidded eyes.

“Suck me,” Silco rasped, and watched as Vander’s lips closed around the cock.

It was so unlike watching Vander suck his real cock; Vander kissed the head a couple of times, each one growing more open-mouthed, till he was sucking lightly on it, a hand drifting up to circle a tight thumb and forefinger around the base, jerking it off as he went. It didn’t even matter that Silco couldn’t feel it; he stood in rapture as Vander fit more of his mouth over it, sinking down slowly, fucking what he couldn’t reach with his fist. He gagged softly and Silco bit his tongue to keep from moaning at the sound of Vander’s throat contracting.

“Now who’s the parlor whore,” Silco murmured, carding his fingers roughly through Vander’s hair to urge him on, feeding him the rest of his cock. Vander’s eyes were glossy with lust; the cock must’ve been in his throat by now, if the tears clinging to his pretty eyelashes were anything to go by. “C’mon, show me what you’ve got.”

Vander pulled off, sucking a breath through his nose. A gossamer string of spit hung between the purple cockhead and his lips like morning dew. Silco only had a moment to admire it before Vander went back down with the most obscene slurp Silco had ever heard, drawing a startled moan out of him. He could feel Vander swallow, such was the force of it, and when Vander pulled off the second time, he licked his lips and said, “Still tastes like you.”

Silco’s hand tightened in Vander’s hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So fuckin’ good, Sil.”

Silco’s fingers slipped down the side of Vander’s face to cradle his jaw. He settled the pad of his thumb against Vander’s lush bottom lip, and Vander pressed his lips together to kiss it reverently. “Want me to fuck your throat now?”

Vander’s voice was already half-wrecked when he answered, “please, luvvy.”

Silco directed Vander to lie down; if they had a bedframe, he’d have him hang his head off the edge and fuck him standing, which was all the more reason to move out of this hellhole and find a place actually worth hauling a bedframe into. 

Another bullet point to add to their goals, then. 

Silco shucked his trousers off the rest of the way and settled himself backwards over Vander’s face, feeding his cock back down into Vander’s wet, needy mouth. He kept one foot braced against the mattress for some leverage and fucked into Vander shallowly, listening to him moan as he watched his hips twitch and roll helplessly against nothing. His dick was rock-hard just from this, tenting his trousers painfully, and the sight of it made Silco’s cunt clench. 

The noises Vander’s throat was making wasn’t helping matters — it was the wet, greedy glck glck glck of his throat contracting as he gladly allowed Silco to fuck him. Silco was so wet that each glide of the strap across his cunt felt electric. 

“Needy little boy,” Silco grunted, between short thrusts, “can’t get off without — something in your mouth, hm?”

Vander moaned in the affirmative. He put his hands on Silco’s thighs and spread them wider, presenting his pink cunt through the black wilderness of Silco’s pubic hair. He slid the harness strap aside and ran one thick finger through it, tracing over the frilled edge of Silco’s inner labia, and made a pleased sound when a string of slick drooled out from Silco’s hole and onto the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck,” Silco swore, and his thrusts grew less precise as Vander fondled him. He tweaked Vander’s nipple hard, earning a sharp gasp from underneath him. “Stop trying to get me off, idiot, this isn’t about me.”

“‘Course it is,” Vander answered, lips parting from the silicone with a soft pop. “You’re the one fucking me, aren’t you?”

His finger hadn’t left its place stroking along Silco’s slit. He pushed in just a little, huffing a laugh as Silco’s entrance grabbed at it, trying to suck the digit in.

“Wanna make you feel good,” Vander said, teasing at him, fucking into him with just the tip of his finger. “Want you to come all over my face.”

Damn him. Damn his stupid big fingers and his mouth that looked so good wrapped around a cock and his own cock, leaking a wet patch in his trousers.

“You first,” Silco bit out, turning around and pressing the cock back between Vander’s lips and shoving down, choking him with it. Surprised tears streamed from his eyes; spit bubbled up around the intrusion, dribbling down his chin, and Vander moaned, the stain in his pants growing bigger. “Think you can come like this?”

Vander nodded frantically. His fingers tightened over Silco’s hips, entreating him to go on; from this angle Silco could see his face, expression glassy-eyed and flushed.

“If only — they could see you like this,” Silco grunted, setting up a rhythm again, this time fast and ungentle, “the Hound of the Underground gagging for it like a back-alley whore.”

Vander’s voice pitched higher. His eyelashes fluttered gorgeously as involuntary tears gathered and fell from the corners of his eyes, glimmering in the dim light like pearls. Even his nose was running as he struggled to breathe. Silco’s heart squeezed in his chest at the sight.

“Maybe I ought to tie you up,” Silco gasped. His self-control was spinning out fast; his head swum with the ecstasy of power, watching this big man choke and struggle under him. “Leave you at a glory hole and let everyone else have a go with that mouth. See how eager to serve you are. Would you like that, puppy?”

That was more than enough. Vander’s eyes rolled back and he seized, short nails biting crescents into Silco’s thighs as he came untouched, soiling his pants. Silco reached behind himself and settled a palm over his twitching, spent cock, stroking him fondly as he shook through the last of his orgasm. Vander’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, the dildo slipping wetly from his mouth, foamy spit clinging to his lips.

“You should see yourself right now,” Silco said, squeezing him through the soaked fabric and earning a shuddering moan. “You’re a wreck.”

“Yeah,” Vander agreed, and his voice was fucking ruined. He circled his hands under Silco’s thighs, hitching him higher over Vander’s mouth. At the first hint of wet tongue, Silco jerked, but Vander was stronger, fingers vice-like on his hips, holding him so fast he could hear the slick sound of his labia parting.

“What’re you doing,” Silco hissed, and he gasped as Vander hooked his thumbs in his hole and spread him wide, hot breath washing over his exposed insides and making Silco swear.   

“You next,” Vander said simply, and, sealing his lips over Silco’s cunt, sucked hard.

Silco had to fight not to scream. Vander was too cumbrained to attempt eating him out with any kind of art; it was not a pretty affair by any means, but that made it even better, that he was too far gone to care. He could hear Vander’s throat click as he swallowed Silco’s cum, the obscene slurping sound he made as he got his mouth on whatever parts he could reach and sucked messily, rolling tender pink flesh between his lips, spit and slick dribbling down his chin. Silco groaned, grinding down on Vander’s face, and his cock dragged against Vander’s nose, making his breath catch in his throat.     

“You’re m–making a mess,” Silco tried to scold, but it came out toothless as Vander spread him further, working his middle finger into his cunt.

“Sorry,” Vander apologized, between open-mouthed kisses to his cock and the fat, swollen flesh of his sex. His tone was so earnest, like Silco was actually mad at him and he was trying to make it up to him. “Promise I’ll clean you up.”

He made good on that promise; Silco rode his face slowly, sighing as need coiled lazily in his belly. Vander fucked him with that one finger, not nearly enough to satisfy, and pulled away now and then to blow hot breath over Silco’s wet, twitching cock, and his body would pulse, a fresh wave of wetness washing over Vander’s tongue, which he would lick up so sweetly. Eventually Silco’s rhythm started to stutter, and the peak he was approaching so leisurely was there, and his cunt was suddenly spasming wildly over Vander’s finger; Silco’s soft moans climbed higher and higher, too breathless to warn him properly. He braced one hand against Vander’s chest and gasped.

“S’alright, Sil,” Vander whispered, having mercy on him and fucking a second finger in, “c’mon, I told you where to put it.”

Vander’s other hand squeezed his thigh, and Silco shook apart, slick pulsing over Vander’s face, over his tongue. Vander rumbled a pleased sound into his cunt, which made Silco grunt out a little Mm! as his body pushed out another, soaking Vander’s chin and down his neck.

Eventually, Silco’s hips jerked one last time, and he lifted himself off Vander on wobbling knees, falling to his back on the mattress beside him, cock smacking comically against his belly. They stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Silco’s eyes traced an old, improperly-repaired patch in it.

“Vander?”

“Sil?” His voice was still so rough, throat bruised from the abuse it took, and it warmed Silco’s insides, that he could give him something like this.

That Silco still had so much more to give him.

“M’not done yet.”

A beat. Vander rolled onto his side to look at him. “Oh, yeah?”

Silco smacked the cock between his legs, felt it slap his thigh. “I bought this thing with the intent it’d go up your ass.”

Vander grinned wolfishly. “Well, it’s a good thing I cleaned up earlier in the anticipation it would.”

The idea of Vander in the shower, hot water pinkening his skin as he worked a thick finger into his hole, made Silco swallow hard, squeezing his thighs together. He turned to face Vander, fingers skimming over his pectorals, catching in the hair that furred his chest. Silco pinched his nipples until they grew hard and peaked, drawing a soft, shuddering moan, then slid his hands into Vander’s hair and drew him in for a kiss.

Vander’s mouth was hot, and he tasted salty and warm where Silco’s slick had graced his skin. His hair was even a little wet with it.

“Sorry,” Silco murmured against his lips, and Vander’s laugh was low and scorching.

“Y’think your cum’s the worst thing I’ve had in my hair?”

“Oh, yeah?” Silco replied, and he knew he was feeling a little crazy, because he said, “should I piss on you next time?”

Vander’s fingers tightened around Silco’s waist. “Don’t say that when we’re in bed, luvvy, or I might get ideas.”

“Mm, maybe I like those ideas,” Silco said, shimmying his hand between them to unbutton Vander’s trousers and draw out his cock. He was hard again already, heavy and drooling precum in the palm of Silco’s hand, and when Silco jerked him off, enjoying the velvet glide of the foreskin over the head, Vander twitched and fattened even more.

“Ah, Silco,” Vander sighed, eyes fluttering shut, happy to just let Silco touch him, give him some small relief.

“Poor puppy,” Silco cooed, rubbing the pad of his thumb under the glans, pleased to watch it jump in his fist. “So neglected.”

Vander moaned, eyes lidded. Silco hushed him, pressing a kiss to his chin; he parted his lips, scraping his teeth along Vander’s stubble. The vein in Vander’s neck was hot, thrumming with blood, and Silco bit him gently here, tucking the tip of his finger under Vander’s foreskin and feeling his pulse roar under the thin skin.

His breathing had gone labored, chest heaving with each inhale. He was flushed to his sternum, the vast expanse of his skin sticky with sweat, matting his chest hair. Vander raised his arms to curl his hands behind his head and Silco caught the thick, heady musk of his scent, strong enough it made his head spin. He leaned in and lapped his tongue against the dense, damp thicket of hair tucked in his underarm, and Vander huffed ticklishly. Unable to help himself, he licked him again, more slowly this time, the sharp scent of Vander’s sweat blooming across his tongue. Silco’s hips rocked against the mattress. He could do this all day, if Vander would let him.

“Silco,” Vander said again, bucking his hips, “c’mon. Want you in me.”

Silco finally assented. Together, they rolled Vander face-down and shuffled his pants off the rest of the way. Vander lay panting, his cheek pressed against the mattress, his flank sweaty and shuddering. He was so big that if he got up on his knees, presenting the way Silco had imagined, the height difference was going to pose a problem. Silco dragged their pillows down the bed and stuffed them under Vander’s hips, angling his ass up a little. He petted over the backs of Vander’s thighs, into the generous give of his asscheeks, muscled and furry with hair, and when Silco hooked both thumbs into the crack to pull him open, his breath died in his throat.

Vander was a huge man, and lying on his front like this Silco could see his wide shoulders, the thick ripple of muscles in his back, a thatch of hair starting from the tops of his shoulders and thickening toward the crack of his ass, where it became matted with sweat and curling in lovely whorls towards his —

Silco shivered.

His hole. The pink, furled flesh stunningly soft and tender on this big man, hidden away under muscle and fat and a dark thicket of hair. Like a secret just for him. Silco pressed the pad of one finger to it, just testing, and felt it flutter like it was trying to suck him in. Spit pooled under his tongue as he did it again, watching it clench and wink against him.

“Fuck,” Silco breathed. “Vander.”

Vander responded with a gravelly groan deep in his throat. Silco stroked at him, marveling at the texture, and Vander shook beneath him, burying his face in his arms.

Silco felt like he was in danger of drooling. He leaned in, spreading Vander wide, and spat; a fat glob of saliva hung from his lips before gravity pulled it down, landing on that pucker of skin. Vander’s hips jerked, and did so again when Silco pressed his thumb back in, firmer now, massaging it into his hole.

“You’re so pretty down here,” Silco murmured, and Vander grunted, humping into the pillows as Silco touched him. “Oh,” he said, rubbing the pad of his thumb in a tight circle that had Vander quivering against him, “d’you like when I call you pretty?”

In lieu of an answer, Vander’s hips rocked more sharply. Silco spat on him again, teasing him till his asshole was foamy-wet with his spit, and Vander made a sound that was dangerously close to a wail.

Silco shifted onto his belly, nosing into the base of Vander’s spine and dipping lower. He tongued at the crack of his ass, slotting his tongue between both cheeks but avoiding his hole. He tasted bitter sweat, salty flesh, and Vander bucked at the sensation, whole body trembling.

“Please,” Vander whined pathetically.

“Please what?”

“Your tongue,” he begged. “Please, Sil, I want it.”

If Vander sounded good moaning, he sounded gorgeous begging. Silco felt his heartbeat pulse hard and insistent between his legs. The sheets were growing wet beneath him.

“Good boy,” Silco praised, and did as Vander asked.

He flicked his tongue against the tight ring of muscle once, twice, then over and over till Vander’s body started to relax, the delicate furl uncoiling just enough that Silco’s tongue caught on his rim. Vander pushed back on him, trying to fuck against it, but Silco pulled away, denying him. He couldn’t help smiling as Vander shuddered, his hole spit-wet and clenching around nothing.

“Calm down.” It felt silly to admonish Vander like this when the sight of his body, spread for him and aching to be fucked, had Silco’s thighs sticky with wetness. “We’ll take all night, if we have to.”

Vander glanced over his shoulder at Silco. His eyes were huge and black and he was so far gone his mouth hung half-open with each breath. His hips were still moving, twitching now and then against the pillows, desperate for some relief. Silco laid his palm flat over Vander’s lower back and stilled him.

“I don’t want you to come again until I’m in you. Understood?”

“Yes.”  

Vander’s voice was shattered.

“Can you be good for me?”

“Wanna be good,” Vander mumbled. “Can’t wait.”

“Aw,” Silco said, and he took some mercy on Vander, pushing his index finger inside. Vander opened up beautifully for him, swollen rim sucking on Silco’s finger as he sunk it deeper, ridged muscles fluttering around him. Vander’s moans pitched lower, almost animal, and it made Silco bite his lip as he worked, fucking him shallowly, spit bubbling out around him. He pushed a second finger against Vander’s hole. “Can you take another, pretty boy?”

Vander nodded frantically, body flushing all over at the name. When Silco pressed in his middle finger he found it went shockingly easy, Vander’s insides clutching hungrily at him. Silco watched, as if disconnected from his own body, as Vander’s pink rim bunched and stretched around his fingers.

“You’re so red,” Silco laughed, twisting his wrist a little and hooking his fingers against the swell of Vander’s prostate, earning a choked sound from him. “Bet no one ever calls you pretty, huh?”

“Nuh,” Vander slurred, still blushing.

“Well, you are,” Silco said, and he didn’t even bother to warn Vander as he worked a third finger in. He knew he could take it. Knew he’d be good for him. “Especially like this. Letting me take care of you.” Blood was pounding in his ears; Silco was flying on what this was doing to Vander, drunk and so pleasantly fuzzy on the power. 

His filter was failing, and so when he thought it he just said it: “My princess.”

Ah.

“Silco,” Vander sobbed, and his hips snapped, and suddenly he was coming all over their fucking pillows.

Oops.

Silco blinked. Tried to make sense of what just happened. Vander was rutting helplessly into the ruined pillows, muttering Sorrysorrysorry as he did so, glassy-eyed and so thoroughly gone that Silco could hardly believe it.

He didn’t even have it in him to be upset. The sight of Vander, pink all over and humping like a dog through his orgasm, was so catastrophically hot he had to remember how to speak.

All because he’d called him princess.

The pillowcase was soaked with cum, and as Vander’s hips slowed their movement, Silco could hear the slick side of his cock against it. His eyebrows were pinched in the middle, eyes screwed shut as he shook through the last of it, lips red and parted and panting.

“M’sorry,” Vander’s voice was hazy and distant. “Know I promised, luvvy.”

Silco bit the inside of his cheek. He must’ve been so good in a past life.

“S’okay,” Silco said, nudging at Vander’s hips to tug the ruined pillows out and flip them over. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it’d have to do. “You’ll just have to give me another one.”

Vander moaned softly.

“You can do that for me, yeah?”

He nodded his head, slowly. Silco settled himself back between his legs and set his tongue against him again, working two fingers into him as he ate him out at a leisurely pace. On the upside, Vander coming too soon had relaxed him, making Silco’s task of fucking his tongue past his rim nice and easy. Vander hummed as Silco worked, muscles in his back jumping with each curl and screw of his tongue opening him up, getting him wet. He was less desperate now, more sluttish in how he gasped and sighed, making sure Silco could hear how much he was enjoying himself.

Vander really was so pretty.

Silco ate him out for what felt like hours, until his own body, screaming for stimulation beyond just humping his little dick against the mattress, started to fray his patience. He was so wet that he’d soaked a patch into the bed sheets beneath him and suddenly he needed to be in Vander yesterday. He pressed a wet, sucking kiss to Vander’s hole, dragging his fingers out. Vander whined at the loss.

“Gonna fuck you now,” Silco said, and he had to reach down and pinch his cock between his fingers to get a fucking grip at the sight of Vander’s hole clenching greedily around nothing. He was gaped open just a little and Silco could see his lush pink insides. “Spirits above, Vander, I wish you could see yourself.”

Reaching for one of the packets of lube the merchant had given him, Silco tore it open and squeezed it generously over the dildo and Vander’s hole. He pushed three fingers in, hearing the lube squelch around the intrusion just for good measure, and pulled back out, straddling over Vander’s hips and letting him feel the wet slap of the silicone cock against his ass.

“You ready?”

“Yes,” Vander sighed, arching his back sweetly for Silco, and if he delayed this any more he thought he was going to die. Silco spread him wide, watched the furl of his hole pulse once, twice, and finally he took the cock in hand, nudged it against the twitching muscle, and pushed in.

Vander’s moan was unlike anything Silco had ever heard in all of their time together. It was deep, ragged, like Silco had carved it from the pits of his lungs with his own hands, and it was long, filling the otherwise-quiet room and not stopping until Silco had bottomed out, hips pressed flush against the bulge of Vander’s ass. It was a sound that reached directly into the pit of Silco’s belly and tugged hard. It was quite possibly the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

“Fu-uck, luvvy,” Vander rumbled, his voice thick and gravel-rough. “So big. Feels like you’re splittin’ me in two.”

Silco would have given every last gold hex he owned to hear Vander like this. A fistful of silver had been a fucking steal.

“Look at you,” Silco said breathlessly, and he laid his palms flat over Vander’s shoulder blades, using him as leverage to pull out and then fuck back in, snapping his hips sharply with each thrust. The grinder was working its magic, its ridges rubbing sweetly against the underside of his dick as he fucked Vander. “The big mean Hound of the Underground getting — unh — bred like a bitch.”

Vander liked that, if the way his hips jerked was anything to go by. Silco curled his fingernails into Vander’s skin and raked long, red tracks down his back as he mounted him, rocking his hips with such force that there was a sharp smack from each impact against Vander’s ass. Vander moaned like a whore, like this was something he’d been starving for, and Silco needed it just as much now. Needed Vander subdued and begging prettily for his cock, so eager to be used.

Fuck, he wanted to see his face.

“Turn over,” Silco rasped, sitting back and nudging at Vander’s hip. Vander went easily, shoving the soiled pillows out of the way, and Silco slid his hands up the backs of Vander’s thighs, encouraging him to fold his knees back toward his chest, exposing himself as much as possible. For a moment, Silco just looked at him, tracing the precum-matted trail of hair down his navel, then to his cock, drooling even more of it into the nest of hair covering his heavy balls. Then his perineum to his well-loved, wet pink rim. Silco crowded closer, sinking the dildo back in till his hips were once again flush to his ass, and Vander let out a warbling sigh.

“That’s it, princess,” Silco tried again, and Vander’s cock jerked, a fat drop of precum drooling from the head onto his navel. So that wasn’t a fluke — Vander really liked it.

When Silco had first planned this out, he admittedly hadn’t known how it would go. Commanding Vander was second nature when Silco was the one being fucked — he responded best to demands, to goading; Silco got the best results when he got mean and brattish, pushing Vander until he dropped all pretense of civility and bullied his way into Silco’s cunt like a street dog in heat. But Silco could’ve never guessed at this other side of him, how he was when he just submitted, surrendering his big body so sweetly to being used like this. Watching his cock, rock-hard even totally untouched, bouncing uselessly against his belly as Silco fucked him — it was mesmerizing. The sight lit a slow, scorching fire under his skin, in his very veins.

“You’re no hound,” he continued, voice hot, leaning in so his forehead touched Vander’s, so they were forced to share the same air. “Isn’t that right, Vander? Look at that big, useless thing between your legs. Don’t even need t’put it in anything to get off.”

Vander groaned an affirmative, eyes rolling halfway into his head, fingers hooking into the backs of his knees to hold himself open further for Silco. With this angle, Silco was practically fucking straight down into him, like they were — fuck, like they were mating.

“You just need to be fucked so stupid you don’t even remember your own name,” Silco hissed, and now he was getting dizzy as well; the grinder edged him along, blood roaring in his ears and pulsing hard in his dick. “Bred up till you’re all fat with my p—” his voice cracked insanely, but he was too far gone to care — “Pups.”

Vander’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment they saw each other. His pupils were so big they’d almost swallowed the lovely seawater gray of his irises whole, like twin holes in the ocean floor.

“Si-il-co —!” Vander’s voice was pitched low and animal, like a dog that had learned how to speak. His tone was shot through with surprise, like something was about to happen but he didn’t know what. He fumbled for one of Silco’s hands and threaded their fingers together, clutching so hard their knuckles turned white.  

“My puppy.” Silco was unraveling fast. He closed the gap and licked Vander sloppily, from his chin to his nose and then from his jaw to the dip under his eye. “My bitch.”

“Oh,” Vander exhaled, and came harder than he’d ever come in his fucking life, shooting long, thick ropes of cum over his belly, his chest, even catching both of their chins.

Silco had only barely noticed, still carving into him, hips stuttering as he searched for more friction, for the toy to rub him just right. Vander’s other hand slid over the slight curve of his ass, urging him on, tongue caught between his teeth as he watched Silco’s face crumple in pleasure.

“Come in me, Sil,” Vander whispered, fingers hooking in the harness. Silco’s mouth was half open and he kissed it lazily, more licking than anything else, before dropping down to gather his own cum dripping off Silco’s chin into the cradle of his tongue and swallow it. “C’mon, luvvy, knock me up, put a litter in me. Make me yours.” 

Deep in the rational parts of their minds, both of them knew this was physically impossible — that Vander couldn’t get pregnant, that Silco wasn’t in any position to knock him up regardless, but none of that mattered in the moment, their skin sticking together with sweat and Vander’s cum, Silco’s eyes screwed up tight as he fucked Vander like he was trying to burrow under his skin and live there.

And it certainly didn’t matter to Silco, who was already teetering on the knife’s edge of his own orgasm before Vander wrapped his knees around Silco’s skinny waist and begged, again, for Silco to give him puppies. 

“Janna’s soppin’ cunt, Vander,” Silco gasped, and with one last snap of his hips his cock pulsed against the grinder and then his cunt pulsed harder, soaking the both of them as he collapsed into the pillowy expanse of Vander’s chest. He moaned, the sound of it breathless and reedy against Vander’s flesh as he rode out the aftershocks, hips twitching weakly.

Vander’s fingers were gentle through his hair as they lay together, bodies heaving as they caught their breath. His other hand dipped lower, beneath the strap of the harness, and slid against Silco’s oversensitive sex; the sound was sloppy-wet and filthy as Vander stroked him slowly, enjoying how the flesh quivered and clenched against him.

“Keep touching me there and I will slap you,” Silco muttered, voice muffled by his chest. Vander took mercy on him and did as he said. He could hear wet smacking; Vander was sucking Silco’s cum off his fingers.

They stayed there for a while. Vander didn’t seem to have any problems with leaving the dildo in, so Silco didn’t move, luxuriating in the soft give of Vander’s skin. He felt a little like a cat in a bed. Vander’s arms came up to hook around his waist, cuddling him closer, and Silco felt Vander’s nose nuzzling the crown of his skull.

“Thank you,” Vander said, and Silco hummed, enjoying how Vander’s deep voice rumbled through his body.

“Was nothing,” he replied. “Much more fun than I was expecting. Didn’t know you’d get like that.”

“Like what?”

“Mm … all glassy-eyed and stupid. ‘Specially choking on my cock like that.”

“I could say the same,” Vander’s laughter was low, warm, made Silco feel hot all over. “What’s all that about making me your bitch?”

“Oh, stuff it,” Silco huffed, “like you weren’t begging me for puppies.”

“Oi, you brought it up first!”

Now it was his turn to chuckle, a smile curved against Vander’s heart. “S’pose I did.”

Eventually, Vander mumbled something about his back starting to hurt, so they rearranged themselves onto their sides. The cock slipped out of him wetly as they moved and Vander moaned softly, shivering. Silco, finally sick of the harness, slipped it off as Vander gathered him into his arms so they could lie skin-to-skin.

“… This would be a lot more pleasant if we hadn’t ruined the pillows,” Silco said.

“I’ll wash ‘em later,” Vander said. “C’mon, don’t begrudge a man his post-fuck cuddle.”

“You see me going anywhere? ‘Fraid you’re stuck with me, puppy.”

Vander was so warm, his heart thudding a heavy, soothing rhythm against Silco’s ear. He could hear each breath Vander took, feel the way his body nudged against him each time his lungs swelled with air. Silco felt fuzzy and sated; for once, he didn’t worry about how much food they had to last out the week or if the foreman would have mercy on them and start scheduling him and Vander on the same shifts again. He was exhausted. He could fall asleep just like this, damn the pillows entirely —

“Sil?”

“Whuh?” His voice was already muzzy with sleep. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Vander said. “You don’t have a birthday.”

“Not this again,” Silco groaned, and he pinched Vander’s side. “I don’t remember my birthday. S’not that important.”

“Maybe not to you,” Vander said. “But you’re always takin’ me out for ice cream and swimmin’ in the reservoir and — I mean, this time it was photos and, hells, then this, I just—”

“Vander,” Silco said, exasperated, “I do all that ‘cos I like you, and besides, I hate Progress Day —”

“I like you too, Sil!” Vander pulled away, frustrated, propped up on his elbow, and Silco was about to bitch at him for it when he continued: “So share birthdays with me!”

… What?

“What?” Silco asked, dumbly.

“I mean, we share everything else,” Vander said, and with his other hand he started counting on his fingers: “the same job, the same friends, the same bloody awful apartment, the same mattress that we’ve soiled countless times already — wouldn’t it just make sense?”

“To share a birthday,” Silco asked, voice flat, like he couldn’t believe what Vander was proposing.

Silco hadn’t been lying when he said it wasn’t important to him — all his life, birthdays were just another trip round the sun, another year older, yet another season spent crushed like bugs under Piltover’s boot. He hated measuring time like that. 

But …

That Vander would share this, this one thing that was his and no one else’s, his fucking birthday, that this could be Silco’s day as well. That he gave it without a second thought, like Silco was someone important, that he was worthwhile, like something deserving of — of —

“You think it’s stupid,” Vander said, visibly deflated. 

If he loved Vander any more than he did in this moment, Silco thought, his heart would surely burst out of his chest. 

“Come here, you dope,” Silco said, bullying his way into Vander’s arms and not stopping until Vander was forced to embrace him again. He kissed him, light presses of his lips all over Vander’s face, his eye, his mouth, till the both of them were wheezing with laughter.

“‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs,’” Silco quoted, between giggles. “Are we expanding needs to include birthdays? Are you sharing the wealth with me, Vander?”

“It’s a good place to start,” Vander asserted. Then, pressing Silco back into the mattress, he licked the shell of Silco’s ear.

“You’re disgusting,” Silco said, making no move to throw him off as Vander traced the curves of it, nipping at his earlobe. Vander’s chest hair scraped against his nipples, drawing them up stiff and pink, and Silco groped at his bare ass, digging his fingernails in as they continued to wrestle. Eventually, Vander had Silco pinned, as he always did. Silco wriggled his fingers uselessly, but Vander’s hands remained locked on his wrists, and as Silco struggled under him, he pressed his lips to Silco’s belly and blew an enormous, victorious raspberry into his flesh, earning an outraged yelp.

“Oh, stop that —” Another raspberry, and Silco was thrashing, kicking at him ticklishly. “Fine, you big oaf, you win!”

“I always do,” Vander said, lapping his tongue into Silco’s belly button and enjoying how he squirmed.

“But,” Silco said, pushing at Vander’s hands till he released him. He took Vander’s face in his hands, stroking his stubbled jaw. “Get back up here for a moment. You have to sing me Happy Birthday first.”

“A fair trade,” Vander agreed, crawling back to kiss Silco on the mouth, then his cheek. 

“Happy birthday to you.” His voice was sweet and rough in Silco’s ear. Silco always liked listening to him sing. 

“Happy birthday to you.” Vander’s tongue traced from his earlobe to his neck, where he bit down gently, just enough to leave a nice bruise.

“Happy birthday, dear Silco …” Down even further, peppering kisses on his breasts, catching Silco’s nipple between his teeth and sucking. 

Vander rolled him onto his back, dropping his attention lower even as he rolled Silco’s nipples between his fingers. He stopped just above Silco’s navel, where the hair thickened, hiding away his twitching cock. Vander kissed the slight swell of his lower belly, mouthing one last Happy birthday to you, and when he looked up to lock eyes with him, Silco rolled his own to hide his blush. 

“And many more,” Silco intoned, grinning. “Now blow me out.”