fic under the cut
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It had been a while, ages even, since anyone had ignited these feelings within Arthur. His days, this endless stretch of time, was dedicated to the Hexâs cause, their mission, and with the added changes to his body and his want - no, his need, to save everyone, things such as attraction and intimacy had of course faded to the background.Â
So his confusion, and utter bewilderment of what his body wanted, was understandable when the Drifter arrived and all those wants - those needs, came blossoming up to the surface. He didnât tell anyone, of course he didnât, the embarrassment would be immeasurable and he would never live it down, but he was sure there were signs; he was grumpier, easier to irritate, more likely to snap than he had been before.Â
It wasnât as though he had completely forgotten, per say, how to deal with it when that need to be intimate swelled under his skin; he was just out of practice, and in this ânewâ body he wasnât really sure if he could find pleasure like he once did. That, and he was strangely nervous? No, apprehensive, to explore himself like that with all these unknown variables of his own body, and the threat of another wave of enemies arriving at any second, a wave that he would ultimately be in charge of dealing with.Â
Luckily it doesnât seem the Drifter notices Arthurâs growing problems, or simply takes his snappy nature in stride as do the others. There was an that some had an idea, namely his sister who had always been privy to Arthurâs deepest thoughts unless she shut them out, and Amir, who was quietly far more observant than others thought he was, but thankfully neither of them brought it up.Â
Worst of all, he could feel the Drifter too, through the link. It was most present when piloting each other's bodies, to the point of being unable to ignore, but thankfully it was quieter the further they were apart. Arthur still did his best, nevertheless, to not let anything slip through the cracks, because it would bring a whole wave of feelings and explanations he doesnât want to examine right now.Â
This completely awkward and unwanted situation, of course, led to Arthur awake at some ungodly hour in his cot. It wasnât as though he slept a lot anyways, years of always having to be in â go â mode left a person like that, unable to calm down and rest properly even for a moment. He never really caught that much sleep anyway, at most three hours if he was lucky, but getting absolutely none as an alternative wasnât something he wanted either.Â
He spent a good hour tossing and turning, cursing this odd heat under his skin, prickling and thrumming just enough that he couldnât just ignore it. Worst of all was the pressure in his lower abdomen, tight like a coil, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. To start he thought the coiled feeling would â loosen â, hopefully, but when that failed to alleviate along with the heat and the prickling no matter what he did, Arthur was forced to examine the fact that maybe these sensations werenât coming from him at all.Â
Heat blooms across his cheeks and the top of his ears at the thought, and with a low groan he lifts his arm up to press his forearm over his eyes, his back flat against the mattress and his other hand against his abdomen. Was it the Drifter? Were these their thoughts, their feelings, thrumming through their body right now and echoing onto him? And if it was them, were they up there in the backroom turned apartment with someone else, enjoying each other's bodies, or were they by themselves being intimate with themselves?Â
Straining his ears, Arthur pulls his arm away from his face to instead turn his head towards the entrance of his quarters, quirking his eyebrow as he listens intently. The mall is completely silent around him, as normal at this time of night, with only the faint sound of water dripping and machines blipping from the arcade. He supposes itâs testament to their quick thinking of making quarters for the Drifter that he canât hear anything from there, apparently it was soundproof even with the curtain door, but that could also be because heâs slightly too far away.Â
No matter if it was coming from the Drifter, or it was just himself, it was apparent that Arthur wasnât going to be able to sleep with this heat under his techrot-addled skin. With a sigh he pushes up from his cot, scrubbing his hand over his face and pushing his hair back from his face, and quickly makes the decision that maybe having a shower would help. The bathrooms are even further from everyonesâ space, meaning he was further away from everyone, and also less likely to be overheard; thereâll be no one else in there at this hour too, granting him the privacy he so rarely gets.Â
Rising from his bed, Arthur does his best to stay quiet as he pads towards the shared bathrooms, pausing every now and again as he goes to make sure that no one else was awake and witnessing him sneaking around in the dark. He supposes he could just say he was patrolling, but if anyone got close enough to see why he was so flushed and almost jumpy, it would be obvious he wasnât being completely truthful.Â
Thankfully he gets there undisturbed, and a quiet sigh escapes his lips as he pushes through the open doorway into the white tiled room. In here the showers were sectioned into walled stalls, the doors long decayed and unhinged from the frames, with a mirror and sink combo opposite and lockers with benches in the middle.Â
Itâs just as dark as it had been throughout the rest of the mall here, with a single emergency light in the corner and a thin square of moonlight beaming through quite possibly the one unbroken window left. Thankfully Arthur can see quite well in the dark, meaning he doesnât quite necessarily need the guide to start with, and he quickly makes his way to the furthest stall from the door - just in case.Â
As though aware of what Arthur was currently doing, the feeling in his abdomen shifts, the pressure becoming heavier and coiling tighter, the heat rising to an almost unbearable height in a few short seconds, and he can practically feel the flush in his cheeks going from pink to what must be an unbecoming shade of red. Worst of all, not for the first time since all this had started happening but at an urgency that Arthur canât ignore like he usually did, Arthur feels his cock start to throb behind the confines of its protective pouch.Â
Ah, so his affliction was definitely partially his own, and partially the Drifters. Hurrying now into the stall and yanking the door behind him, Arthur lets his thoughts run wild for the first time in quite some while, something he never allowed himself to do through some sense of proprietary. What exactly was the drifter doing in their room? Were they alone, or with someone else? Arthur tries to ignore the pang of jealousy that goes through him at the thought, eyebrows furrowing as he reaches out and quickly yanks on the taps to get the water going, instead going back to his original train of thought.Â
Were they stretched out across the bed? Limbs askew and their clothing haphazard, maybe their shirt ridden up to expose the expanse of their abdomen, the line of their adonis belt sharp in the lowlights?Â
Feeling sufficiently hot around the collar Arthur slides under the spray of the shower, groaning as he tips his head back into the spray, eyelids slowly closing at the onslaught. It felt heavenly against his tech-rot addled body, against his scalp, but it seemed almost on purpose when he shifted and suddenly it was running the perfect trail down his body to run over his crotch.Â
Again, his cock throbs behind its confines, aching at this point to escape as the little seam at the top parts as he expands. Arthur canât remember the last time he was this hard, perhaps when he was younger, but he remembers now how impossible it was to ignore the incessant throbbing , the need to do something about it.Â
Hesitantly, Arthur runs a hand down his abdomen, water licking over the digits of his fingers, until his palm slides across his crotch and he lets out a low groan at the pressure, eyelids fluttering shut as he cants his hips into the feeling. Turns out, even with the techrot, his body responded just the same as he remembers, maybe even leaving him more sensitive than he had been before from the years of neglecting himself and his needs.Â
âFuck.â he growls, voice loud as it bounces around the tiles and into the empty room. In his abdomen the pressure spikes, and he no longer can tell where his pleasure starts and the Driftersâ ends. Continuing with the hazy fantasy in his head, Arthur palms himself more firmly; were they teasing themselves? Running a hand down their own abdomen to slip under their pants, sliding against where they were aching and hot and desperate? Were they thinking of Arthur too, all alone in their big bed?Â
Finding it painful at this point to keep himself contained, feeling even through the barrier how hard and heavy he was already, Arthur finds the seam at the top of his crotch that was already pulling apart and pushes the tips of his fingers into it. The first brush of his fingertips, barely able to fit, against his actual skin, the skin that hadnât been affected, makes another loud noise leave his lips as his body jerks like he had been electrocuted.Â
When he had first found himself like this, Arthur had tried to figure out what exactly makes his protective pouch work, under what circumstances it opened and if he could force it. It turns out he never had too, seemingly knowing when he needed it open to use the facilities; the only problem this had lead to was when Arthur was aroused and it had tried to open, there was a while at the start where after a particularly steamy dream he had awoken to find himself completely bared to anyone who might come in, but he had gotten good over the years at ignoring it so that it wouldnât even get a chance to open.Â
Now, under these circumstances, it opens easily as Arthur runs his fingertips over the invisible seam, originally thinking he was going to have to coax it out but finding his body was all the more willing to comply and do so itself.Â
Arthurâs cock springs outwards, past the boundaries of his fingers, and slaps against his abdomen, leaving a trail of slick before hanging naturally. The techrot had gotten to him in places here too, his cock close to his original skin color but with little glowy circles going down the sides, glowing faintly, the wetness seeping from the tip also faintly iridescent and shimmery.Â
Not letting the nervous shudder that goes through him get in the way of this, the voice in his head telling him this wasnât appropriate, that he shouldnât be doing this, Arthur wraps the fingers of his right hand around his cock loosely and experimentally strokes upwards. Pleasure surges through him, raw and powerful, making him have to lean back against the wall underneath the shower spray as he rocks his hips into it.Â
Now that he has begun, he canât stop. Itâs like a dam had broken, his body remembering just how good this felt, how he could bring himself pleasure so easily, and he quickly finds himself getting overrun by the feeling.Â
As though reacting to his own pleasure, the connection pushes through more feelings that Arthur can only assume are coming from the Drifter. He realizes, a beat too late, his hand on his cock and his head tipped back against the tile wall, his bottom lip caught between his sharp canine, that if he could feel the Drifters pleasure then they could undoubtedly feel his too. It makes him pause for only a second, embarrassment making the heat in his body surge, settling in his chest, but if he was going to pretend this had never happened it was already too late now, it was obvious what he was doing and how was reacting to the Drifter.Â
Gods help him, how was he going to look the Drifter in the eye tomorrow?Â
Still, his hand on himself doesnât slow, doesnât stop. In fact, Arthur strokes himself faster, letting a stream of swears fall from his mouth. He wonders, if the Drifter is reacting to him too, have they finally given in and kicked off their bottoms, exposing their sex to the cool of their room? Were they already as desperate as Arthur felt he was, soaked and aching under their fingers, a blush settling high on their cheeks as they pleasured themselves too?Â
Would it feel as goddamn heavenly as his own hand on his cock to stroke over their supple skin, finding the places that made them whine, that made them sweat. Would they allow Arthur to worship them as much as he suddenly wanted, yearned, too? He growls low in his throat at the thought of getting on his knees in front of the Drifter and pleasuring them with his tongue, his mouth, scritching them with his short-shaved stubble, leaving marks that would ache and burn tomorrow underneath their clothes.Â
âFuck.â Arthur lets himself swear, tightening his grip around his cock and squeezing towards the tip, collecting his pre. Heâs so wet, he doesnât ever remember getting this wet before when he had touched himself, absolutely none of it having to do with the water running over him from the showerhead above him.Â
Hazily, through their connection, like it was muffled with either pleasure or the hour of the night, Arthur feels the Drifterâs own pleasure spike and he knew, undoubtedly, that the Drifter was now touching themselves too. Arthur is overrun with the sudden urge to storm into the Drifterâs room and take what was his, or let the Drifter take what was theirs. He barely keeps himself back, digging his fingers into the grout of the tiles on the wall behind him, hearing them scrape. It would be too much, which was laughable really considering what they were already both doing, but it would.Â
Growling low in his throat, Arthur turns in a sudden movement so that heâs facing the wall, leaning in to rest the heated skin of his forehead against the cool tile, his free arm coming to do the same just above his head in a crooked position. Widening his stance, Arthur starts rolling his hips into the fist of his hand, fucking his cock into the circle his fingers had created as he pretended it was the Drifter taking his cock; whether it was their mouth, or their tight hole, Arthur didnât care, he just wanted somewhere warm and wet to sink his cock inside.Â
âDrif-ter,â Arthur grunts, not daring to use their real name, their full name, worrying that it would somehow make them materialize beside him, inside of him as the host of his body, but needing to get the sounds of his pleasure out. âShit.âÂ
As though they knew he was calling for them, Arthur inexplicably felt it as their pleasured heightened, bizarrely felt their hands on their body too through his connection, could sense the faintest ache of their body where it was warm and wet. Arthur slowed for a second, desperately trying to cling to it, to see if the connection he had with the Drifter could give him any more of what he was desperate to know to surge his own pleasure further.Â
Unluckily for him, it seemed their connection didnât work through his own personal whims, and Arthur was met with nothing but the same faint feeling as before. Growling in frustration, Arthur instead speeds up the pace of his hips, fucking roughly into his hand now, feeling the heat inside of his body grow and the coil in his abdomen tighten.Â
He probably looked fucking pathetic, grunting as he fucked desperately into his own hand, like a teenager who had just found out the pleasure their bodies could give instead of the grown man he was. He hadnât been loved, touched, fucked in years, hesitant to even approach those feelings of lust or pleasure in his own body once the techrot had began setting in, and so now here he was. The only thing that kept him from curling into a ball of embarrassment was the fact that the Drifter seemed to really be into this, even if they couldnât currently see him, only feel him through the connection they had.Â
Through the bond, he feels the Drifterâs pleasure peak too and Arthur realizes it must not be just him who felt that way. Feeling his knees weaken, his movements becoming uncoordinated and sloppy at how desperately he wanted this orgasm, needed to make himself cum, Arthur let himself sink to his knees on the tile below him.Â
In his position he was right underneath the spray, the wall in front now too far to reach out and press his hand against, and so instead he brought it up to his mouth and bit harshly into the meat of skin between his thumb and pointer finger, no longer trusting himself to keep quiet enough as his heartbeat pounded through his ears.Â
âFuck, please-â He groans, muffled, being rough with himself now as he alternated between fucking into the fist of his own hand and using his own hand to stripe over his cock. The coil in his abdomen was almost uncomfortable now, his entire body feeling overheated like there was fire running through him. He wonders how much is from him, and how much is the Drifterâs own pleasure raising just as quickly as his own.Â
Tipping his head downwards, Arthur lets the water stream over the crown of his head, the locks of his hair sticking to his forehead and hanging into his eyes. The tepid water dripped down over his eyebrows, collecting at the tip of his nose, running over the flesh he had still clenched between his sharp canines and his hand. Below him the sight of his own body swims in front of him, the glinting of the tiles, the steam rising from the bottom of the shower, the weeping head of his cock pushing out from between the ring of his fingers.Â
Itâs arousing, deliberately so, watching himself lose the carefully controlled composure he usually keeps to something as simple as bodily pleasure; but it was different, this was different, this was shared pleasure between him and the Drifter, and Arthur was impervious to resist apparently.Â
âShit.â he grunts, trying to stop himself from the inevitable too fast, trying to slow the peak he can feel himself reaching already. Itâs impossible, though, when suddenly in his mindsâ eye heâs treated the sight of the Drifter in front of the mirror in their room, their connection finally seeming to give him a reward, Arthur seeing their body through their own eyes, their hand working desperately between their thighs and itâs too much - oh fuck, itâs too fucking much.Â
âFu- uck, Drifter.â Arthur swears, raising his voice enough that it still echoes around his hand and against the tiles around him. His body jerks and he desperately fucks his cock into his hand, the pleasure surging through himself having finally reached its peak and crashing over him, making his hips stutter and he has to bite down hard enough into his hand to draw blood as he stripes the wall in front of him white, painting the tiles in his cum. In the back of his mind he feels, almost like the Drifter was right in front of him, as they cum too, catching him off guard and causing a choked moan to escape his mouth as a second smaller orgasm rushes over him, causing a few more spurts of cum to spurt from the head of his cock and collect on the tiles below him before quickly being washed away by the water.Â
He kneels there for what feels like hours, blinking away the white stars appearing behind his eyes, the water rushing over his body. He lets himself rest sit there for a while, enjoying the warmth he feels from the Drifter still coming through their connection until eventually it quietens as the Drifter heads to bed. Only then does he finally grunt and stand up, wincing as he tucks his flaccid oversensitive cock back into its sheath and shuts off the water.
As he steps out of the shower, guilt is already beginning to surge through him. It wasnât appropriate what he had done, what he had started, and if it hadnât been so obviously reciprocated by the Drifter themselves Arthur doesnât think he would be able to forgive himself. Itâs only because of how quickly the Drifter had responded, had touched themselves at the same time, had allowed Arthur to see them through the connection in their head, that heâs able to push that guilt back and shoulder it as he dries himself with a left behind towel.Â
The first thing in the morning he would have to search them out, talk about it even though he was absolutely shit at communicating when it came to personal things, face his own cowardice and approach these burgeoning feelings that - if he were being honest - had been apparent for a while now.Â
With that decided, Arthur discards the towel and begins the journey back through the mall to his own cot, feeling exhaustion begin to settle into his bones. At most he would probably get four hours, but none of them got much sleep these days.Â
As heâs walking an ache in his hand snaps him from his inner musing and holds it up in front of him, able to see even in the lowlight, the twin marks of his own teeth against the meat of his palm, evidence of what had just transpired. Dropping his hand again, Arthur shakes his head and lets a small grin pull at the corner of his lip, rubbing at the marks with his other hand, and walks a little more leisurely to his cot.Â
He hopes the mark stays, at least for a while.Â
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