sleepytimejunction | oh my god there was one bed.

oh my god there was one bed.

[You know how it is. A new location opens up in the City, and then they're off to investigate despite all of the weird shit that's happened in the past. By now, not a lot surprises Daan; not to say he doesn't react to anything, but it's more with exasperation than anything else, and this isn't especially all that different.

The residential district that opened up felt off already. Most of the buildings uniform, some odd loft-like setting inside of them. More like a single room cottage than housing, but it's also the kind of place he wouldn't have minded staying as a kid. Not exactly saying much, but it's a sturdy roof over the head and, presumably, some clean furniture.

The problem is that the door has locked behind them, and there aren't windows, otherwise breaking out would be too easy. Because of fucking course.]

It's about that time that I wish I had any lockpicking skills at all. Then again, I doubt that'd do us much good here...

Anyway. If we go have anything like past patterns to go by, this should be temporary. So we've got that going for us.

[Probably.]

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[Unfortunately, its not enough to deter a certain someone from checking up on the good doctor.]

[There's a bang on the door. Another one. And then a crack - a muffled curse, as the knocker seems to realize he's used a little too much force, here.]

[Vergilius will not be dissuaded by a door, however, but he's willing to give Daan a chance. That notice is worrying. Is it a Pocketcat situation? Something worse? The man is self-sacrificial and stubborn as hell, and when he needs help is when he's the most likely to shut himself away.]

[Trouble is, Vergilius knows how it feels.]

[His ragged voice carries through the door.]

Daan? Are you there?

[Ugh. He should've expected this. Vergilius is a stubborn asshole, and he definitely threatened to rip off his door before -- something he continually mentions to rib at Vergilius about. But now is probably... the worst time for him to come by, concerned.

Even if there is that nasty part of the curse curling into him that, no, this is the perfect time. Hasn't he wanted Vergilius, after all? Hasn't he wanted to taste him, finally properly fuck him? Daan shudders and curls his lips, angry and frustrated with these sensations as he palms himself.]

Go away.

[Daan tries to sound stern, but all he successfully manages to do is speak with his voice trembling, almost pleading.

It's frankly embarrassing and a part of him debates leaping out the window to escape his humiliation.]

...

[Well, that's not a tone he's ever heard from the man before. He pauses, considering, before he speaks again.]

Daan. Is it the cat again?

[Fucking cat.]

[GOD VERGILIUS PLEASE.

Daan grits his teeth, unable to hide the needy groan that escapes him and he shakes his head furiously. Fuck, fuck--]

No. He's-- not here.

It's-- Sylvian's magic. I can't stop it.

[That's all he can manage to get out.]

[Oh.]

[Well.]

[There's a load of implications. He doesn't know what to do, now, a little flummoxed. That magic...in what sense? Its effect on others? Making him in love? He doesn't know.]

[But it sounds painful, in a sense. He thinks about it for a moment. Should he just leave him like this?]

Want me to knock you out?

Would that even work?

[No, wait-- even if he said yes, that meant dragging Vergilius in here. Which is... probably a bad idea? No, it's a good idea. No, bad. Fuck, this is annoying. He does want Vergilius in here, but he'd kick himself for getting him involved in this mess.

But he wants so badly.]

If you don't leave... I'm dragging you in here.

[It's hard to explain exactly how he's been affected, but would that threat even be enough? But it's about the last thread of his resilience, because it is taking everything to keep himself from opening the door and basically jumping the man.]

[Dragging him in there...?]

[Just how powerful was this magic, even? He's never heard Daan say anything like that. He knows better than this. He should leave well enough alone.]

[He should.]

[He....should.]

[But......it's Daan, right? Daan could never hurt him. Besides, he's a Color. He's not some hapless idiot who can't protect himself.]

It might.

[His hand moves to the doorknob.]

I'm going to come in. Stand away from the door. Or don't. I'm not your babysitter.

Edited 2023-10-26 22:13 (UTC)

[Well.

The last bit of that thread of willpower snaps finally. He shudders and starts to more aggressively stroke himself, everything in him aching. No, this is fine, this is perfect, he wants Vergilius in here.]

Come in, then.

[To his credit, Daan heckin' tried, man.]

[It doesn't take much strength - locked, no lock, he's shoving the door forward - it cracks from the force, and then he's stepping inside just to see what kind of things have been brewing with the poor doctor.]

[The air is...thick.]

[The air feels...........very thick. He doesn't know why he thinks that twice. It's as if he's been suddenly woken up from a dream, his senses bleary. In front of him is...Daan, yes, that's Daan, no hide or hair of the cat. And between his leg he's holding...]

[Well.]

...Daan.

[He moves towards him, raising his hand as if he is planning to launch a fist at him, but a wave of something passes through him. He staggers, his hand finding the other's shoulder. He can't keep his eyes off the thick member grasped so solidly in the man's hand.]

[Fuck.]

What's...in the air...?

[At this point, Daan's hand doesn't stop moving, doesn't stop stroking. His shirt and vest are open, as if trying to find a way to relieve himself of the heat running through his body, but it's hardly accomplished a thing.

A part of him wonders if Vergilius is going to actually try to knock him out, with the way his hand is held up. He'd let him do it, Daan thinks. He'd let him do anything.

But instead, the hand falls to his shoulder. Heavy, warm, solid. He wants more.

With Daan's free hand, he's grabbing for the front of Vergilius' jacket, trying to tug him closer.]

Sylvian spell. Pheromones. Just what it sounds like.

[The doctor makes a frustrated grumble -- why the fuck is this man so tall? He tries to pull him down, trying to get Vergilius down a few inches so he can try to kiss him.]

Pheromones?

[Like what, that of an insect? A plant? Daan has those?]

[The confidence in his own resistance to whatever Daan is dealing with is melting in an instant. If he was in his right mind, this wouldn't even be a question as to getting the man unconscious. But here, even as Daan's hand finds his jacket, he feels a cold sweat break over his skin, heart racing so hard it feels like his ears are thrumming.]

[He wants...this. He wants this. I want this. The logical part of his mind barely can be heard.]

[He's tugged down, and he kisses the man like its the most natural conclusion in the world.]

[As if he belongs here.]

[He needs him, after all.]

Ah- [He's going in for another one, panting a little against the man's lips.]

[Finally. The hand on his cock jerks faster, and he lets go of any pretense; he's moaning against Vergilius' lips, pressing harder, his tongue licking into the other man's mouth. Eager and hot and hungry--

He bites Vergilius' lower lip, tugging with his teeth. He lets go so he can plead against the other man's mouth.]

Touch me. Please, Vergilius. Please.

[He doesn't care what they do, just so long as Vergilius doesn't leave and helps him.]

[It's a little awkward to stand like this, bending over to have his breath taken away by kisses. So he takes the natural conclusion and moves to fall to his knees in front of the man, letting Daan continue the onslaught. Every kiss makes the heat feel like it's burning through him, ready to dissolve him into nothing.]

Ha...Daan.... [His hands are desperate as anything, ripping open the man's shirt to let his fingers trace over his bare chest, sliding them down to his exposed hips. One hand moves to grip the hand already below, but he has other plans, his brain far too gone at this point as it sinks into lust and depravity and obsession. His voice breathes hoarse against the man's lips, biting down on his lower lip.] Would you like me to suck you off?

[Where else could a pretty cock like that go at the moment, besides the back of his throat?]

[Under normal circumstances, he'd be put out at how his clothes are manhandled, but as it is Daan couldn't give a damn. He gasps instead, arching into Vergilius' touch, basking in his rough hands. Hips jerk eagerly at his grip, and he'd take that if that was all that was offered, but the suggestion makes him openly moan.

The idea is too intoxicating.]

Yes. [Daan's hand moves from Vergilius' jacket, reaching to touch Vergilius' cheek, smoothing over to stroke his hair.] Come on. Make me feel good.

Want you to.

[It's such a tender touch that it makes him falter even in this intense heat and desire - he leans into it instinctively, wanting more.]

I will. [His hands are spreading the other's legs as he dives his head down, kissing over the man's abdomen as a preamble.] I'll...treat you right.

[It's an insane thing to go from zero to 100, to be gracing his lips over the other's cock in such a short period of time, but there's no thought to be had here. He's licking over its length, slowly, before taking the tip gently between his lips.]

[Even here, he's still a tease.]

[Selfishly, he's thought about this, wanted it desperately. Daan had struggled with his better nature while Vergilius was outside his door, but right now he bears no regrets. He keeps his hand to the Fixer's head, brushing back his hair affectionately.]

Fuck.

[Daan shudders, his hips trembling, all of him wanting more desperately, but Vergilius just has to make this difficult. Oh, but it's also a sight to behold.]

You feel good. [His voice is rougher, still so desperately hungry for whatever affection he can gain. Whatever contact. More of him, more of his wet, hot mouth. Daan wants to demand, wants to beg, but he reels himself in, just enough.]

[The way the doctor's voice sounds so ragged and rough, infused with lust beyond his means, feels like its meant to be etched eternally into the folds of his brain. Vergilius hums, pleased. More. More, his greedy heart, now freed from restraint, whispers.]

[More.]

[Has he always desired Daan like this? He must have. It can't be just the spell. He takes him in fully, now, bobbing his mouth down with open jaw to swallow him down. His hot breath hisses through his nostrils, but its like...]

[Well. This is where he belongs, right?]

[His tongue circles over what heated portions it can, fingers clutching the man's thighs for leverage.]

[Fingers bury themselves as much as possible into Vergilius' hair. Most of it's in the bangs, granted, but he can't help but alternate between combing through it and then scratching at his scalp.

Shit, he feels a chill prickle up his spine as he watches how the other man takes his cock, just sliding past his lips. In the back of his mind, he knows he's wanted Vergilius, wanted him heart and body, but to actually be here and to have it.

Well. Bittersweet repercussions can be later. He just wants and finds himself craving for as much as he can be given. Daan gives a small, experimental shift of his hips, not wanting to choke the Fixer, but it feels hard to hold back.]

Vergilius-- fuck.

[He purrs:] You're perfect.

[It's getting painful. Not his jaw. The tent in his pants feels so heavy, and he has to pause so that he can dart a hand down between his own legs, unzip to free himself. He groans as he grips it for a moment, feeling hot and throbbing against his fingers.]

[The man's words ring in his ears. He wants Daan to purr everything like that. His name, especially, feels like a delicacy, and he is nothing but greedy at the banquet.]

[The fingers in his scalp aren't enough. Daan can do whatever he likes to him. Rip him apart for all he cares.]

[He doesn't even mind the shift of the hips. His breath pants against the sensitive skin - the tip of his teeth graze down the shaft as he takes him in again. And as if to add to it all, he can't help it.]

[He hums.]

[It's almost overwhelming to watch Vergilius reach down to start to touch himself. Yes, good he wants this too, and Daan wants nothing more than to find ways to bring him pleasure in return.

In whatever way he can.

As it is for now, he is utterly consumed by the teeth lightly dragging over sensitive skin, the vibration of the humming. Daan gasps and clutches at the Fixer's head, scratching and petting him as Daan starts to urgently push his hips forward.]

Vergilius. Good.

[He wants to sing his praises, but forming the words becomes impossible. So there is one other way: he cries out, thrusting harder past the other man's lips, unable to hold back as he finishes.

Finally. Finally he's reached his peak, after what feels like torture.]

[Even after all of this has worn off, and he's by his lonesome back in his dark little apartment someday, he might stay awake and think of that singular word with a rush of ashamed excitement.]

[Good.]

[The hot stream that starts to hit the back of his throat is almost a divine sensation as that word - Vergilius doesn't balk, simply letting himself be thrust into, used. He's good. He'll swallow it all down, let his jaw smart in the morning with no regret.]

[It feels like an eternity. He finally draws back after he feels the flow slow and stutter into nothing. A thin line of cum drips down the side of his lip. He moves to smear it as he leans forward to nuzzle against the man's abdomen, kissing it, panting into it, even as his hand still strokes over himself with a curt pace.]

Daan. [His free hand grasps over the other's hip, obsessively, as he continues.] I need you.

[A slow, steady sigh escapes Daan as he pets Vergilius' head, gazing down at him as he watches the man swallow almost all of him down. That little dribble on his lip sends a spark of fire in Daan's belly, ignited all the more by Vergilius' lips kissing his stomach.

And the Fixer is still touching himself. Fuck, it won't take much for Daan to get hard again, even without all of the Pheromones going off.

It's a little mean maybe, but Daan nudges the tip of his foot against the tip of Vergilius' cock, uncaring if it messes up his shoes.]

Yeah? [The hand on the top of Vergilius' head slides down to gently cradle the man's chin and jaw, and Daan gazes down fondly.] Which way?

Could fuck you. Or I could ride you.

Be good and pick.

[Daan would be happy with either.]

[He jolts at the touch to his cock, pre-cum splattering slightly against the tip of his shoe - but its a distinctly pleasurable one that makes him gasp and moan against the man's skin. He's finally pulled away from his work to be held like that, and he swallows. I'm so close.]

Ah.

[His voice feels more hoarse, like it was burnt from his earlier meal. He can still taste Daan on his tongue, and he needs more, craves more. His red eyes flicker as he looks up at the man, adoring and obsessed all at once.]

Please... [A swallow, a little whine.] Fuck...fuck me. Please. Daan.

Edited 2023-11-01 03:23 (UTC)

[Any other occasion and he might had been snippy about his shoes getting stained, but right now he's just pleased, watching Vergilius react and moan.

At the answer, Daan leans down and captures Vergilius' lips hungrily, slipping his tongue inside and tasting himself. He's absolutely unabashed about it, groaning throatily against the other man's mouth. Slowly, he parts away from the kiss, rolling his thumb over Vergilius' jawline.]

Well. When you say please, how could I do anything else?

[Daan steals another kiss, all too brief, but he isn't done speaking. He just-- he needed to kiss him. He doesn't want to stop, he could drown in this.]

Get on the couch. I'll take care of you.

[Part of him must realize how this position is embarassing - kneeling here, begging for this man to have his way with him. He's always been the one to be held up on a pedestal - but here, he feels he's at this man's mercy, instead. It makes him almost feel feverish in a way he's never felt before.]

[The kisses are taken like ambrosia, sweet and desperate. He will never get tired of them. He admits to himself that he always wanted this in his own way, wanted to feel how Daan's lips would fit against his...and now, he's got more than he ever bargained for.]

[He gasps as the man pulls back, a thread of spittle snapping between their mouths. Vergilius nods wordlessly - with a groan, he shifts up and to the couch with heavy steps. He wants to touch himself more, but he refrains for just a moment as he kicks off his shoes, pulls down his pants before laying down.]

[He shoots a meaningful look to the other, a light smirk on his face.]

Is the doctor ready for treatment?

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