Work Text:
"Do you… You won't think any less of me, right?" Oscar is picking at his nails with his thumb, looking down, across the room.
"Of course not," Arthur says. "Not unless you have kids in the church basement or something."
"No," Oscar doesn't laugh at the joke, not in a suspicious way, more like he's nervous. "I…" He takes a deep breath. "I feel a lot of shame around sex." He pauses.
"Yes…"
"And sometimes I wonder, I wouldn't feel bad for wanting it if… If the other person didn't care if I wanted it. If I didn't have to ask. Because it's not my choice. I think…" Oscar pauses again. He's scared.
Arthur smiles. "Are you asking me to do a rape roleplay scene?"
"...Aye, Arthur. That's what I want." He exhales slowly, almost sounding pained, like the way it feels to take out a splinter or reset a dislocated joint: combined agony and relief.
-
Oscar is laying on his stomach in bed, the blankets up halfway his back. He's pretending to be asleep, but his heart only races like this when he thinks about the non-zero chance of some eldritch being taking Arthur and John away from him. He's forcing himself to keep his eyes closed. He's aware of the volume of his breath and the way the blankets shift with each inhale and exhale. He can hear the footsteps down the hall and almost feels real fear before remembering he's not in any real danger. Honestly, the thing that scares Oscar most is that he'll like it. Love it, even.
The door opens. Arthur doesn't say anything. Oscar hears the floorboards creak softly as Arthur slowly steps towards the bed. Christ, being blind must be torture, Oscar doesn't know how Arthur deals with it. He lets his eyes open a little and sees a shape move closer to him.
The bed dips as Arthur sits on his knees, facing him. Oscar opens his eyes a little wider, but not all the way. While he's very awake, the bed is very comfortable and the blanket is very soft. "Hi, Oscar," Arthur says. He looks at him carefully, smiling softly, head tilted a little. Then he picks up the corner of the blanket and throws it to the other side of the bed, pulling it off Oscar, and moves to sit on top of his thighs, a leg on either of his hips.
Oscar tenses up on instinct in anticipation, but also relaxes a little at the weight; it makes him feel safe. Then Arthur has his thumbs in the waistband of Oscar's pajama pants.
"What are you doing?" Oscar turns around, twisting to see Arthur, without rolling onto his side. He does his best to sound alarmed, but he isn't totally sure whether it comes off that way.
"What do you think?" Arthur smiles at him. Then pauses, and softer, "You okay? Like, really?"
"Aye, I'm good, keep going." Oscar looks him in the eye when he says this.
"Okay, tell me if you change your mind."
Oscar nods.
Arthur starts to slowly tug Oscar's pants down his hips.
"Wh…" Oscar pauses. What should he say? He hadn't really thought about what to say exactly at this part.
Arthur pulls Oscar's pants down to his knees then runs his hands up and down the backs of his thighs, fingertips occasionally slipping up underneath his boxers. "What?"
Oscar stumbles over his words again, his mind going not unpleasantly blank. It's kind of nice, to not have to think, for his role to only be to lie there and take it. That's all he's supposed to do in this situation. Just lie there. Jesus.
"Do you not know?" Arthur asks, sliding a hand up Oscar's boxers, just touching his skin. "Do you not know what sex is?"
He's teasing. Oscar knows he's teasing. But for a fraction of a second, Oscar thinks, what if they did this kind of roleplay again but Oscar actually pretended to not know…? He knows it's fucked up and gross, but it's… It's a very appealing idea to him. And honestly, Arthur probably wouldn't find it too strange. In the event that he wasn't already into it. Arthur seems like the kind of guy who'd be hiding something like that. The kind of guy to have some very strange secret kinks. He would ask another time. Maybe.
Genuinely, Oscar wonders about it. About whether Arthur is secretly actually into something really taboo like that. Well, he should say, something else really taboo like that, considering what they were doing could very much be considered taboo, but for Oscar, it really wasn't, he was just pretending he couldn't get up and leave.
He could. He's bigger than Arthur and decently strong. They're about the same height but Oscar could probably at least push him down long enough to buy him a few seconds to get out the door if he really needed to. He isn't sure how much muscle Arthur has, and how much of his visible muscle is only from being underweight and not having the layer of fat to cover them.
Oscar feels a little guilty for it, still, even though the whole point of the scene was so he wouldn't have to feel guilty. But still, he feels like this is still wrong, and he should push Arthur off and leave before he does something disgustingly human like enjoy sex. He isn't supposed to have wants, that's what the famous Psalm 23 is about. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Well, Oscar figures that verse probably isn't about wants but is moreso about having all your needs met, but then, that brings him into the whole topic of the horrifying amount of embarrassment he feels about having sexual needs. He, on some level, still finds it disgusting.
Arthur finally pulls Oscar's boxers off all the way and Oscar's muscles in his arms instinctively twitch to reach for the blanket to cover himself. It's genuinely a problem, his hatred of having a human form. It's often so incredibly difficult for him to walk from the bathroom to his bedroom–in his own apartment, that he lives alone in–unclothed after a shower that he brings fresh clothes to change into with him to the bathroom. The idea of being even briefly unclothed in the few steps to his bedroom make his heart race when he does it, even though he lives alone, there are no windows in the hall, and he has a deadbolt on the door along with the two usual locks.
"Oh, Oscar, look at you… You're so wet. You want it so badly." Arthur hums.
Oscar gasps into the pillow, refusing to look at Arthur again. It's almost too much, but he doesn't want it to stop. Christ, even if he did want Arthur to stop, he knew he'd still like it, at least somewhat. That's what this is about. Being able to like it because it's not his choice whether he likes it.
Arthur pushes Oscar's legs a little further apart then runs his fingertips through the slick, pausing to slowly stroke his cock. Oscar whines softly into the pillow, but doesn't say anything, and if Arthur heard him, he ignores him, and slowly starts to push his index finger in, but pauses when it doesn't go in easily, even though Oscar is so wet. "Are you okay? You're–"
"I know, I tensed up, it's from trauma. Give me a minute," Oscar's cheeks burn. He's glad he's not facing Arthur, the embarrassment of talking about it while making eye contact would be the end of him. "It's not totally in my control." Oscar does his best to consciously relax, which isn't an easy thing to do, but he thinks he feels a little different. He's never even been raped, he genuinely just has so much baggage about sex that his body, the body that is practically begging for it, stops him from enjoying it. It's absolutely insane.
"Jesus."
"Aye. Okay, I think I'm good. Try now."
Arthur does, and his finger slides in with ease. He slips back into character. "You're such a whore, Oscar."
Oscar outright moans at that.
"Are you really going to let me do this to you?"
Oscar's face burns even more and he's so glad it's buried in the pillow. He can feel his ears getting hot. Arthur adds a second finger and after sufficiently slicking it up, he starts feeling with his fingertips for what he knows Oscar likes.
"You like it, don't you? Is that the problem?" Arthur pets Oscar's hair with his free hand.
Oscar whines.
"Oh, you do like it." Arthur kisses the back of his neck, making Oscar's spine tingle. "Admit it."
"I…" Oscar breathes.
Softer, no longer teasing, Arthur starts, "You still okay if–"
"Do it, please, please,"
Arthur slaps the back of his thigh hard enough to sting and watches the skin slowly turn red. He can almost see the outline of his hand. And he feels Oscar clench. "You like this too," Arthur notes. "I cannot believe you're just laying there and taking it. Letting me do whatever I want to you and not even fighting back."
"Arthur…" Oscar's voice is weak.
When Arthur finally pushes in, they're both quiet for a few moments, trying to catch their breaths. Oscar almost needs to admit it to himself, not just for Arthur's pleasure.
"I… Absolutely love this, Arthur." He really means it.
"Love you," Arthur kisses the back of his neck.
"I love you too, Arthur. Now, please,"
Arthur moves his hands to Oscar's hips, fingers digging in enough that he knows his wooden finger must be uncomfortable, must be leaving a mark, and really gives it to him in the way Oscar has been saying he needs. Oscar relaxes into it: it's perfect. He doesn't have to think anymore, or worry about being "dirty", and there's no shame because he isn't doing anything. He can just lie there and take it. It's exactly what he's been needing.
"Wait," Arthur pulls back and Oscar whines, which makes him smile. Arthur repositions Oscar, pushing his knees up and under his chest. Being manhandled like this is… Incredible. It makes Oscar feel safe. When Arthur pushes back in, he's able to get a better, deeper angle, and Oscar almost screams.
"Oh, Oscar… Shh…" Arthur pauses, running a hand up and down Oscar's back. "Do you want everyone in the building to hear you? I don't think you're ashamed at all. I think you want everyone to know what a slut you are."
Oscar says, simply, "Mmph,"
"What do you think god is thinking to himself as he watches? His perfect, devout follower–"
"Too far," Oscar pants.
"Shit, sorry."
Oscar moves his hand back to grab Arthur's hip, patting it in a, c'mon gesture. He slumps forward into the pillow without his hand stabilizing him and can barely breathe, but he's not using what's left of his other arm to push himself up. It still hurts so badly to put weight on. When Arthur starts up again it pushes out the breath Oscar was trying to take. He loves it.
-
They reheat dinner afterward. It's considerably easier with the both of them but much harder than it should be with two people as Arthur can only see lights, shapes, and some colors, and most of Oscar's right arm was brutally chopped off with an axe. They have a joke about how with the two of them together they make up one able bodied person. Arthur shouldn't handle anything hot because he could easily burn himself. Oscar can't slice meat on his own. Etcetera. Oscar is in charge of the pan with the hot oil and Arthur gets them water.
While they eat, Arthur asks again, "How are you feeling?"
"Still good," Oscar says. "I… think you cured me." He leans back in his chair. "I really feel okay. There's the usual bit of shame I feel afterward, but it's not awful. Not soul crushing."
Arthur leans across the table to kiss him.