Thinking about a doujin artist!reader whose art is a little too detailed to be entirely fictional...
Masterlist
It's not as if you're the only artist in the Japanese Professional Volleyball fandom, but you’re by far the most popular. Your page has everything from the most popular players like Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi to the more niche ones from lower divisions like Tsukishima Kei and Shibayama Yuki. You even have works involving the Olympic team’s staff, Kuroo Tetsuro and Iwaizumi Hajime.
It seems like you have a new piece coming out every other day, and your followers aren’t sure how you have time to do anything except draw with how much content you put out a week.
user milkbreadhole commented: omg that kageyama/reader/oikawa piece yesterday? perfection. I was creaming more than tooru was in that last scene.
user bokeballs commented: msby/schweiden adlers crossover piece please! I need reader-chan to get railed from both ends by our favorite volleyboys.
user nuffnuffnice commented: all of the setters have such pretty hands. OP must have been up close and personal with them to catch all that detail.
That last one has become kind of a running joke in your fanbase. It’s true that the detail in your comics is immaculate: your portrayals of them are correct down to the most trivial things. Favorite foods are mentioned, graduation years are on point, even the relationships between the players involve interactions that mirror their real-life counterparts.
Some details are so accurate to the point of being uncanny, such as when a livestream done from Bokuto’s home revealed the trophy shelf above his bed was set up in the exact same way as the shelf drawn in your comic.
atsumuspiggy: OP is either psychic or she was in his bed last night.
That comment garnered five thousand upvotes in a single day before it was removed. Still, no one took the accusations too seriously.
Until…
It was a force of habit. That’s the statement that Sakusa Kiyoomi gives to the MSBY Black Jackal’s PR manager when she blows up at him for the second time that day.
The team was holding a special public fundraising match against the Schweiden Adlers, and Sakusa had just scored a mean spike against Hirugami’s block. Amidst the cheers, he had lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
“I usually wear a compression shirt under my uniform. I guess I forgot today, and…”
An inky tattoo of a viper curving around Sakusa’s ribs, from under his left pectoral down to just above his navel. He’s been so careful to keep it covered, and no one, not even the most dedicated paparazzi, had caught a glimpse of it before.
At least, no one in real life. Every brushstroke was the same size and weight as the one featured on Sakusa’s body in your doujins.
Not even five minutes passed before your Twitter began to blow up. Dedicated readers crowing that they knew it, it’s all real, and others that are dumbfounded beyond belief. Before long, a website has been set up with a running tally of the players and their statuses. Some of them, like Sakusa and Atsumu, have been confirmed beyond a doubt. Others like Ushijima and Kageyama are still only plausible.
The only question that the fanbase has yet to answer is who are you, exactly?
September 2023, 3:09 pm. Commercial Fashion Studio, Shibuya, Tokyo Prefecture.
Fading Sunlight masterlist
A Hinata Shoyo x childhood best friend!reader timeline.
↳ A collection of things that have happened, between you and the boy who taught you how to fly.
A/N: Most of the timeline is SFW, but this particular part is 18+. MDNI, this is not for you!
“And cut!” The studio director caps the camera lens. “That was perfect, Hinata.” He grins. “The ladies are going to love this one.”
Hinata, clad only in scanty boxers and a sheer, practically see-through coverup, smiles back. He spins the volleyball in his hands, unable to let go of it even though it’s just a prop. “I’m just glad to get a package of these for free!” He twirls around, tugging on the thin fabric around his waist. “These are like, the perfect things to wear during long games.”
He bounces on the balls of his feet, and you hide your smirk behind your hand as your eyes are drawn across his body, the studio lights doing absolutely everything they could to outline every curve of muscle on his bronzed skin. There's a faint lipstick mark on his chest, painted on by the careful hands of a makeup designer. You want to leave one on him for real.
As the crew begins to clean up the set, he waves you over.
“So, did you enjoy the show?”
“You have no idea.” You draw your finger down his chest. “I still can’t believe it sometimes.”
“What? That you married me?”
“Well, yeah. And that my skinny next-door neighbor became,” you wave your hands towards him. “All this.”
He grins. “I’ll show you all this once we’re back at home, baby.”
Everyone loves Captain Tadashi’s girlfriend a little too much!
Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, Kei Tsukishima, Tadashi Yamaguchi x fem!reader
Tags: General pervertedness, grinding, voyeurism, male masturbation, panty sniffing, implied Tsukiyama, pussy eating, vaginal sex, creampie, nudes.
SMUT AHEAD! MINORS DNI, THIS IS NOT FOR YOU.
@sugioki this was personally written for you :)
There’s a certain amount of camaraderie that comes with being teammates, especially on a team as tight-knit as Karasuno. The team spends hours a day together, often in close contact until the sun goes down. For Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, and Kei Tsukishima, this camaraderie extends to their Captain Tadashi Yamaguchi’s beloved girlfriend.
Shoyo Hinata is sweet. He’s always been sweet but with you, he’s positively saccharine. Running up to you to sweep you into hugs after a game, muscular biceps squeezing around your waist, laughing innocently as if your breasts aren’t pressed against his chest. Helping carry the crates full of water bottles back to the bus during away games, positively preening as you praise him for his strength. Offering to teach you how to receive, sliding up against your ass from the back as he corrects your form.
Hinata is also sweet as he tells you how good you look in your uniform skirt, those pretty sunset-brown eyes fixed on the curve of your exposed thighs as you bend over to retrieve a loose ball on the court. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he prays he’s lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your panties.
Tobio Kageyama’s never been one to listen well, except when it comes to you. He’ll do anything you say, whether it’s tidying up the gym or studying so that he isn’t banned from the next away game, just as long as you say his name. You can practically see the shiver run up his spine when it falls from your pretty pink lips, cock hardening painfully in his gym shorts and straining against the thin fabric. He’s positively shameless about it too, begging you to call him by his first name because you’re friends, and that’s what friends call each other, right?
It’s over for him the moment he hears you call him Tobio– He has to excuse himself to the bathroom to clean up the mess in his boxers. Still, it doesn’t stop him from fisting his sensitive, overstimulated cock right there in the stall, whimpering out loud from the memory the shape of your lips around his name.
Kei Tsukishima hates being jealous, because it would mean admitting that someone else has something that he really, truly wants. And really, he’s not jealous. He doesn’t even like you! It’s obvious in the way he’ll never look you in the eye when you visit the gym, making up something or other as an excuse when Yamaguchi invites him out to dinner with the two of you. He’ll walk home on his own, thank you very much, but not before doubling back to the clubroom, eyes flickering back and forth surreptitiously as he unlocks the room.
He knows what you and Tadashi get up to when you think the team’s gone home for the night, up against the shelving and the desks, and he also knows where you swap out your extra pair of panties for when the ones you wear are too ruined by his best friend’s cum to wear home. Digging around in the lockers, he pulls out the freshly-stained garment, still damp from your arousal and Tadashi’s own essence. Too impatient to wait until he gets home, Tsukki presses them harshly against his nose, inhaling the mixture of sweat and yours and his best friend’s love, letting out a deep groan. Thank gods he’s often responsible for the clubroom key after club hours are over.
Tadashi Yamaguchi isn’t the bright-eyed naive first-year he was when he first came to Karasuno. He’s grown a considerable amount in both brains and brawn, and it shows in the way he runs the team– both visible and invisible. On the court, he’s jovial and supportive, teaching his juniors how to improve their skills and rallying them when game time begins. And off the court, he isn’t opposed to giving the other third-years crumbs of you if it bolster their team spirit. So long as he’s the only one who gets to hear you crying out as he presses you into the mattress, slurping noisily as he eats you out for the third time that night.
He soothes you with inaudible praises as he spreads your pretty pussy, wrapping his lips tightly around your clit and sucking it into his mouth. The raw little bud must be throbbing so much right now, so just let him soothe it with his tongue even as you cry out “‘s too much, Yama, I’m gonna squirt!” You’re his pretty girl– he knows you can take it. Just give him a couple more minutes between your legs and he’ll be ready for the main course. Then you’ll get to enjoy cockhead giving your pretty cervix kisses right up until the moment he floods your womb.
Of course, Captain Tadashi is a generous man, so he makes a deal with himself. He’ll snap a picture as his cum leaks out between your thighs and send it to Hinata, Kageyama, and Tsukishima if they make it to nationals this year.
Thinking about Hinata Shoyo who sets up a competition for the MSBY Black Jackals with a twist… and Miya Atsumu, who takes it more seriously than anyone expects him to.
Miya Atsumu x reader x Hinata Shoyo
MDNI! NSFW imagines ahead.
Masterlist
It starts out as a joke, told in the locker rooms behind the stadium. Whoever is the MVP in the upcoming game against the newly-rated D1 team the Sendai Frogs will get a turn with Hinata’s beloved wife. The opposite hitter’s got a competitive streak that makes it impossible for him to turn the challenge down, and besides, he wouldn’t lose anyways. There’s no one that gets more heated during a match than Hinata.
Well… almost. It’s true that Hinata is playing at his best, but it seems his offer in jest has lit a fire under Miya Atsumu, MSBY Black Jackals’ setter and the man who’s had his eye on you ever since you first met. When he executes a game-winning setter dump that has the crowd positively roaring in their seats, Hinata knows he’s done for.
“Now, now, Hinata. ’m ready for my reward. I’ll make it a good show fer ya, I promise.”
He’s being sweet on purpose, Hinata thinks, when Atsumu finally gets his hands on you. The setter’s never this gentle, but with you he’s all languid, open-mouthed kisses and saccharine words while those pretty fingers massage you open. You gush around his slender digits faster than Hinata’s ever seen before, and he grits his teeth from the desk chair where he sits, painfully hard against his gym shorts.
“I’ll go slow fer ya, sweetie. I know yer not used to somethin’ stretchin’ ya so much. Just relax fer me, okay? I gotcha, I’ll make ya feel real good.”
He meets his ginger-haired teammate’s gaze over his shoulder as he pushes in, and there’s nothing Hinata can do but watch while Miya Atsumu fucks– and swoons– his wife.
₊˚ ✧ Men ain't shit... so treat them like it! ✧ ₊˚
Man’s Best Friend: Series Masterlist
Read on Ao3!
↳ Comment to ask to be added to the taglist!
Sugawara Koushi x maneater!reader
WORD COUNT: 1k
SUMMARY: You've never understood the appeal of volleyball, but the players seem to find their way into your sheets anyways. When College Nationals rolls into town, you take advantage of the opportunity to sample the whole platter.
SERIES TAGS: fem!reader, college AU, NSFW, maneater/heartbreaker reader, desperate, lovestruck boys, reader is not a good person in this, manipulation, smut.
CHAPTER TAGS: manipulative & mean reader, smut, car sex, pussy eating, clit play, praise kink.
MINORS DNI
There’s little interest to be found in what Sugawara is yapping on about, but at least it takes little brainpower to process.
“... and Hinata’s grown so much over the past few weeks! Daichi was furious when he heard that the little troublemaker had snuck his way into training camp, but if you ask me it did him more good than practicing at home ever would.”
Who was Hinata again? Maybe the clueless-looking sop with the black hair.
“Mmhm…” You stir the little porcelain stick in your cup of hot chocolate, the whipped-cream topping slowly dissolving into the drink. “Sounds wonderful, baby.”
Truth be told, you were a little annoyed at the fact that Suga had seen you before you had seen him first. He mentioned that Daichi had spotted you, which meant that the captain had recognized your face from the single time you had watched their practice at the beginning of the year. He must have mistaken you for Sugawara’s girlfriend. And from the way Suga texted you this morning, it seems that Sugawara himself has mistaken you for his girlfriend too.
You contemplate on this new development as the waiter serves you your meal. Letting him bask in his fantasies wouldn’t hurt, but that meant most of Karasuno’s roster was off your list for the time being. A shame, really.
“So what do you think?” He’s finished his little tirade, leaning forward in his seat across from you and eager for an answer.
“Hmm…” you pick at the plate– fresh lox on a bagel that’s toasted to perfection. “I think we should get some to-go boxes, baby.”
“W-what?” you don’t miss the way his breath hitches when you call him that, inquiry already forgotten. “But the food just got here.”
“Yeah, but…” you shift your feet under the table, the toe of your boot dragging ever-so-gently up the side of his calf. You can practically see the shiver ripple up his spine. “I think I’m craving something else. You can help me with that, right?”
You bat your eyelashes, and he gulps. Suga scoops up the check from a nearby server within the minute, and you’re out the door and into the parking lot without another word.
Oh, how you love a man who would do anything for you.
The cold January air nips at your face and nose as you tug Sugawara behind you through the rows of parked cars, to a cute white Prius C with tinted windows parked two rows behind the cafe. You’re careful enough to position yourself in between his line of sight and the license plate before unlocking the doors and bundling him into the backseat.
He gasps when you attach your lips to his neck, drinking in his breathy moans as you reach behind yourself, reclining the seat and pulling his body close to yours. You’re craving that softness that he brings– all fluffy hair and creamy-white skin as his shirt is tugged open and jacket discarded. He looks as fresh and clean as the snow falling outside, and it makes you want to ruin him.
Pulling away, you admire the purpling bruise that’s begun to congeal at his collarbone while you tug off your own shirt and pants. He sucks in a breath at the sight of your lacy bra. His fingers ghost over your sides, eyes roaming down the curve of your bare shoulders. “You’ve been waiting for me, huh, sweetheart?”
He’s getting too cocky for his own good. Stripping off your panties, you take a fistful of his soft, downy hair and pull him towards the junction of your legs. “Give it to me, then.”
And finally, finally have you have his mouth where you want it. You let yourself fall back onto the backrest, whole body relaxing with a moan when his nose nudges between your folds. Flattening his tongue against your slit he begins lapping like a dog, laving wide strips over your pussy.
“So good,” Sugawara whines, muffled. He laps at your cunt like a man starved, drinking up your essence like he needs it to live. His hips are rutting against the edge of your backseat, bucking desperately as if it’ll give him the release he wants. “My pretty girl, all mine…”
“All yours, Koushi,” you sigh. For now, you add in your head, but he doesn’t need to know that. All he needs to know is how to make you cum good and proper. Flexing your fingers, your nails scrape his scalp as you direct him upwards to suck on your clit, lips forming an ‘o’ around the sensitive little bud and rolling it under his tongue.
“Making me feel so good, baby.”
You’ve trained him well, you think as your swollen clit begins to throb between his worshipping lips. You can feel every whimper and praise he makes as he feasts, and as you approach that high your back arches and you tighten your hold, pressing him so deep into your pussy that surely his breath is cut off. Gushing against his face, you grind on him, letting the ecstasy course through you into a pleasant, subsiding hum.
Suga is gasping for breath, but he focuses on pulling your limp body close to him. “You were amazing, sweetheart.”
His cock is still hard. You can feel it throb against you as he cuddles up to your side, but he doesn’t ask for a single thing as he showers more praises upon your spent body. The poor boy doesn’t even complain when you take his team jacket to wipe off, pushing him out of your car and condemning him to walk back to his hotel in the freezing cold without it.
That’s just the way Sugawara is. He gives and gives, and you’re more than happy to take what he offers.
Thinking about a doujin artist!reader whose art is a little too detailed to be entirely fictional...
Masterlist
It's not as if you're the only artist in the Japanese Professional Volleyball fandom, but you’re by far the most popular. Your page has everything from the most popular players like Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi to the more niche ones from lower divisions like Tsukishima Kei and Shibayama Yuki. You even have works involving the Olympic team’s staff, Kuroo Tetsuro and Iwaizumi Hajime.
It seems like you have a new piece coming out every other day, and your followers aren’t sure how you have time to do anything except draw with how much content you put out a week.
user milkbreadhole commented: omg that kageyama/reader/oikawa piece yesterday? perfection. I was creaming more than tooru was in that last scene.
user bokeballs commented: msby/schweiden adlers crossover piece please! I need reader-chan to get railed from both ends by our favorite volleyboys.
user nuffnuffnice commented: all of the setters have such pretty hands. OP must have been up close and personal with them to catch all that detail.
That last one has become kind of a running joke in your fanbase. It’s true that the detail in your comics is immaculate: your portrayals of them are correct down to the most trivial things. Favorite foods are mentioned, graduation years are on point, even the relationships between the players involve interactions that mirror their real-life counterparts.
Some details are so accurate to the point of being uncanny, such as when a livestream done from Bokuto’s home revealed the trophy shelf above his bed was set up in the exact same way as the shelf drawn in your comic.
atsumuspiggy: OP is either psychic or she was in his bed last night.
That comment garnered five thousand upvotes in a single day before it was removed. Still, no one took the accusations too seriously.
Until…
It was a force of habit. That’s the statement that Sakusa Kiyoomi gives to the MSBY Black Jackal’s PR manager when she blows up at him for the second time that day.
The team was holding a special public fundraising match against the Schweiden Adlers, and Sakusa had just scored a mean spike against Hirugami’s block. Amidst the cheers, he had lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
“I usually wear a compression shirt under my uniform. I guess I forgot today, and…”
An inky tattoo of a viper curving around Sakusa’s ribs, from under his left pectoral down to just above his navel. He’s been so careful to keep it covered, and no one, not even the most dedicated paparazzi, had caught a glimpse of it before.
At least, no one in real life. Every brushstroke was the same size and weight as the one featured on Sakusa’s body in your doujins.
Not even five minutes passed before your Twitter began to blow up. Dedicated readers crowing that they knew it, it’s all real, and others that are dumbfounded beyond belief. Before long, a website has been set up with a running tally of the players and their statuses. Some of them, like Sakusa and Atsumu, have been confirmed beyond a doubt. Others like Ushijima and Kageyama are still only plausible.
The only question that the fanbase has yet to answer is who are you, exactly?
Thinking about a doujin artist!reader whose art is a little too detailed to be entirely fictional...
Masterlist
It's not as if you're the only artist in the Japanese Professional Volleyball fandom, but you’re by far the most popular. Your page has everything from the most popular players like Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi to the more niche ones from lower divisions like Tsukishima Kei and Shibayama Yuki. You even have works involving the Olympic team’s staff, Kuroo Tetsuro and Iwaizumi Hajime.
It seems like you have a new piece coming out every other day, and your followers aren’t sure how you have time to do anything except draw with how much content you put out a week.
user milkbreadhole commented: omg that kageyama/reader/oikawa piece yesterday? perfection. I was creaming more than tooru was in that last scene.
user bokeballs commented: msby/schweiden adlers crossover piece please! I need reader-chan to get railed from both ends by our favorite volleyboys.
user nuffnuffnice commented: all of the setters have such pretty hands. OP must have been up close and personal with them to catch all that detail.
That last one has become kind of a running joke in your fanbase. It’s true that the detail in your comics is immaculate: your portrayals of them are correct down to the most trivial things. Favorite foods are mentioned, graduation years are on point, even the relationships between the players involve interactions that mirror their real-life counterparts.
Some details are so accurate to the point of being uncanny, such as when a livestream done from Bokuto’s home revealed the trophy shelf above his bed was set up in the exact same way as the shelf drawn in your comic.
atsumuspiggy: OP is either psychic or she was in his bed last night.
That comment garnered five thousand upvotes in a single day before it was removed. Still, no one took the accusations too seriously.
Until…
It was a force of habit. That’s the statement that Sakusa Kiyoomi gives to the MSBY Black Jackal’s PR manager when she blows up at him for the second time that day.
The team was holding a special public fundraising match against the Schweiden Adlers, and Sakusa had just scored a mean spike against Hirugami’s block. Amidst the cheers, he had lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
“I usually wear a compression shirt under my uniform. I guess I forgot today, and…”
An inky tattoo of a viper curving around Sakusa’s ribs, from under his left pectoral down to just above his navel. He’s been so careful to keep it covered, and no one, not even the most dedicated paparazzi, had caught a glimpse of it before.
At least, no one in real life. Every brushstroke was the same size and weight as the one featured on Sakusa’s body in your doujins.
Not even five minutes passed before your Twitter began to blow up. Dedicated readers crowing that they knew it, it’s all real, and others that are dumbfounded beyond belief. Before long, a website has been set up with a running tally of the players and their statuses. Some of them, like Sakusa and Atsumu, have been confirmed beyond a doubt. Others like Ushijima and Kageyama are still only plausible.
The only question that the fanbase has yet to answer is who are you, exactly?
Thinking about a doujin artist!reader whose art is a little too detailed to be entirely fictional...
Masterlist
It's not as if you're the only artist in the Japanese Professional Volleyball fandom, but you’re by far the most popular. Your page has everything from the most popular players like Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi to the more niche ones from lower divisions like Tsukishima Kei and Shibayama Yuki. You even have works involving the Olympic team’s staff, Kuroo Tetsuro and Iwaizumi Hajime.
It seems like you have a new piece coming out every other day, and your followers aren’t sure how you have time to do anything except draw with how much content you put out a week.
user milkbreadhole commented: omg that kageyama/reader/oikawa piece yesterday? perfection. I was creaming more than tooru was in that last scene.
user bokeballs commented: msby/schweiden adlers crossover piece please! I need reader-chan to get railed from both ends by our favorite volleyboys.
user nuffnuffnice commented: all of the setters have such pretty hands. OP must have been up close and personal with them to catch all that detail.
That last one has become kind of a running joke in your fanbase. It’s true that the detail in your comics is immaculate: your portrayals of them are correct down to the most trivial things. Favorite foods are mentioned, graduation years are on point, even the relationships between the players involve interactions that mirror their real-life counterparts.
Some details are so accurate to the point of being uncanny, such as when a livestream done from Bokuto’s home revealed the trophy shelf above his bed was set up in the exact same way as the shelf drawn in your comic.
atsumuspiggy: OP is either psychic or she was in his bed last night.
That comment garnered five thousand upvotes in a single day before it was removed. Still, no one took the accusations too seriously.
Until…
It was a force of habit. That’s the statement that Sakusa Kiyoomi gives to the MSBY Black Jackal’s PR manager when she blows up at him for the second time that day.
The team was holding a special public fundraising match against the Schweiden Adlers, and Sakusa had just scored a mean spike against Hirugami’s block. Amidst the cheers, he had lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
“I usually wear a compression shirt under my uniform. I guess I forgot today, and…”
An inky tattoo of a viper curving around Sakusa’s ribs, from under his left pectoral down to just above his navel. He’s been so careful to keep it covered, and no one, not even the most dedicated paparazzi, had caught a glimpse of it before.
At least, no one in real life. Every brushstroke was the same size and weight as the one featured on Sakusa’s body in your doujins.
Not even five minutes passed before your Twitter began to blow up. Dedicated readers crowing that they knew it, it’s all real, and others that are dumbfounded beyond belief. Before long, a website has been set up with a running tally of the players and their statuses. Some of them, like Sakusa and Atsumu, have been confirmed beyond a doubt. Others like Ushijima and Kageyama are still only plausible.
The only question that the fanbase has yet to answer is who are you, exactly?
choso is a perv... still ended up in your bed tho .ᐟ mdni 18+
𝜗𝜚 cw: dom!reader, sub!choso, fem!reader, roommate!choso, riding, choking, kind of a pain kink, panty-stealing, teasing, edging (kinda), mentions of weed, cervix kissing, pervy!choso, biting, sadist!reader?, masochist!choso??, he whimpers n he begs (as he should), slightly oral fixation!choso???
𝜗𝜚 wc: 1.2k
if choso had known that stealing your panties would eventually have him propped up against your headboard with your soft thighs caging his sturdy hips and your tits bouncing heavy in his face– he would have gotten caught way sooner.
“ngh– fuck,” choso’s voice breaks around a whimper, his brows furrowed together and sweat beading down his temple as you bounce yourself fucking stupid on his cock. you should be mad at him right now; your roommate had been stealing your favourite pairs of panties for months and you’re rewarding him by fucking him?
but christ, who knew such a meek and pervy guy who smokes weed next to the bathroom window was hiding not only an insane sleeper build, but a monster cock embellished with veins and a mushroomy tip that was bullying your cervix with every bounce.
“nnh— what did you do with them, cho?” you purr, dragging your thumb across choso’s bottom lip, your other hand planted firmly on his unfairly chiselled abs. his abs tense under your touch, his core fighting for movement but alas, he lost that privilege the moment you caught him fisting his cock with your latest pair of missing panties– and in your bed. said panties are wrapped tight around his wrists behind his head, lightly damp with his own pre and sweat and making his biceps bulge so deliciously.
oh how you want to sink your teeth into them…
“p-please–” he begs, drool collecting at the side of his mouth as you rolled your hips into his, a deep satisfied sigh pouring from your lips as the blunt head of his cock nudged against that spot inside you that made your tummy drop.
“c’mon, baby… don’t be shy on me now,” you tease, pressing your thumb against his bottom lip until he shyly parts his lips, eyes droopy with lust and need as you press the pad of your thumb to his tongue.
“m’sorry—“ saliva drips down his chin as you press your thumb against his tongue, the wet muscle fighting against the pressure, lips loose around your thumb.
“s’messy, cho,” you coo, your free hand scraping your nails up his chest, his body shivering with the mix of pain and the mindfucking pleasure of your pretty pussy wrapped snug around his aching cock.
he’s so rock hard it’s fucking painful— and you’re teasing him. and he’s letting you because he would rather let you fuck him until he was shooting blanks, than go back to jerking himself off with your panties choking the base of his reddened cock, or humping his mattress with his face pressed into the shirt you’d worn to the gym the day before, or having to excuse himself to rub one out over his sweats when you asked if your outfit looked cute for your night out with your girls.
he’d let you do fucking anything to him right now.
your pretty manicured hand wraps around the base of his throat, finger and thumb squeeeezing the muscles on either side.
your thighs tense as you lift yourself almost aalllll the way off his cock before dropping back down. you bounce and roll your hips, the wet bap! bap! of your ass meeting his thighs forcing choso’s hips to buck, wanting to fuck his mushroomy tip further into your cunt, as if he could bully past your already bruised cervix.
your teeth sink into your bottom lip, biting back a loud moan because he’s so stupidly big and has no earthly idea.
his fucked-out gaze draaaags down your pretty tits and the expanse of your soft tummy before settling on the translucent ring of cum that settles around the base of his cock, watching as your greedy pussylips swallow his length n’ your slick drips down his tight balls and pools against your pale bedsheets.
choso’s lips pull off your thumb, head thrown back and hitting your wall with a quiet thud because if he keeps watching, he’s gonna fucking cum, “ngh, f-fuck—“
“you like that, hm?” you sigh around a moan, feeling his cock twitch inside you.
choso nods mindlessly, humming out an unintelligible noise as you slowly press yourself uuuup n’ dooown on his cock.
“c-can you go f-faster?” the question is a broken whine, his breaths hot and heavy as they fan across your throat. “please–”
choso feels the hand around his throat sneak higher, pressing tighter around his windpipe and forcing his eyes to roll back as you lift your plush hips off his cock just to plummet back down with a mean roll– but it’s still too slow for poor, sweet choso.
he whimpers again, the sound gurgled and forced from the pressure of your hand around his pretty throat.
choso’s eyes glaze with tears, “pleaseplease– i wanna cum–”
he can feel his balls tighten, feel the heat curl in his abdomen only to shy away when you lift your hips, just to fuck yourself with his tip, feeling the swollen tip catch and stretch your throbbing hole.
“ngh, ngh– pleeeaaaase–”
you grin devilishly, pressing your lips to the corner of his eye to kiss away the salty globs. your grip on his throat loosens, but still holding possessively. the corded muscles of his biceps are taut behind his head; tensing and straining with the desperate need to grip you–
riiiiip–
you still your movements and choso’s eyes blow wide.
he ripped your fucking panties.
the remnants of the lacy black fabric hang loose around choso’s red wrists, deep lines indented into his pale skin from pulling and tugging against the delicate elastic.
his pretty puppy eyes, filled with tears, glance up at you, “m’so sorry–”
you tilt your head to the side, a faux pout tugging at your bottom lip, “you wanna touch me that bad, cho?”
you run your hand through his hair, nails scraaaping against his scalp, “but you ruined my favourite panties.”
you feel choso’s cock twitch against your gummy walls, revelling in any type of affection you give him.
perv.
“i’ll make it up t’you,” choso mutters, hands landing very cautiously on your hips.
“oh, you will?” you lean in close, pretty lips brushing the shell of his ear, sending a mean shiver up his spine as your tits press flush against his broad chest.
choso moans against your shoulder, “yesyes– i promise.”
“how’re y’gonna do that, cho?”
you’re teasing him harder now, just fucking with him because he’s too pussydrunk to know what’s good for him.
“i-i’ll be s’good, i promise– i’ll make you feel sooo good, baby, please–” he’ll say anything to get you to bounce on his dick right now.
you grin against the hot skin of his neck, lips brushing down the thick muscle that tenses under your touch, “oh, yeah?”
“yeah– yesyes,” he whimpers, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and fingers curling into the meat of your ass as you nip and bite at the side of his neck.
you pull away, the hand sitting at the base of his throat curling to grab his jaw, fingers squeezing his cheeks and forcing his lips into a cute lil’ pout.
your eyes look him up… n’ down.
“prove it, perv.”
𝜗𝜚 a/n: ...do i like subby men? is that what i've discovered about myself?
milf!reader and yuta… someone’s 25 year old son who wants that milf cookie so bad .ᐟ mdni 18+
𝜗𝜚 milf!reader, reader has a son, divorced!reader, 7 year age gap, pussy eating, virgin!yuta, grad student!yuta, obsessed!yuta, sub!yuta, begging, he whimpers, he cums in his pants, power imbalance, professor!reader, crazy first post
grad student!yuta who would simply do anything for his favourite professor. and he's always been your best student; observant, quiet, polite and always seeking feedback. so him popping by your office or finding you after class is nothing new.
grad student!yuta who notices the stress after your divorce, the slight tiredness in your voice, the baby hairs and flyaways that frame your face after you've run your hand through your hair for the nth time. and of course your son, who stays glued to your side or occupies himself with a colouring book under your desk.
grad student!yuta who is just helping when he pops by your office to help you grade papers for one of your other classes. just helping when he sits with your son on the floor while you work late into the night. just helping when he carries your sleeping son to your car, fastening him in his car seat in the back. and of course, just helping when he gives you his personal number, insisting it's just in case you need a babysitter on short notice or more help with grading papers... because he can only imagine how much stress you're dealing with :(
you, now a single mother... though, you've been raising your year old son on your own since he was born; the divorce was just waiting to happen.
and you, who knows exactly what yuta okkotsu is getting at when he just drops by your office, or asks how you're doing after almost every class, who gave you his personal number as if that didn't come with a million implications. he's a smart guy; but you're smarter.
grad student!yuta who texts you asking if he can drop by your office for some assistance with his TA work, because why would he ask anyone else when he can ask you?
and you, who is not in the office that day... and yuta knows that.
and you know it's a bad idea when you text him back, sending him a ping of your address and telling him– 'i'm not in the office today, but come by here at 6, yeah?'
grad student!yuta who is wracked with nerves when you open your front door, hair loose, wearing denim shorts and a lace cami and nursing a glass of red wine.
grad student!yuta who is so sure he's never been this hard in his life–
and you, who asks him, "did you want a glass?" gesturing with your wine glass vaguely.
"uh–"
"wait, you're old enough, right?"
"i'm 25."
fuck, this is just a terrible idea.
grad student!yuta who can't stop staring at you when you tie your hair up and your glasses are perched on the edge of your nose as you look over his notes. and he's not listening to a damn word you're saying.
and it's innocent when you grab his shoulder, leaning over the corner of the dining table to point out a paragraph he could edit. but he's not listening. his eyes are glued to the way your tits press together as you lean over, how the strap of your cami has just slightly dropped off your shoulder, how his dick hardens more when you hook one of your legs over the other, your bare foot brushing the inside of his calf under the table.
grad student!yuta whose breath catches in his throat, fist clenching atop his thigh while you talk, tired eyes so wide with feigned innocence.
"you okay, yuta?" your lips part just slightly, stained a little red from the wine and the ultimate object of yuta's desires right now.
grad student!yuta who has a surge of courage amidst the silence; falling victim to your pretty eyes and the way you bat your lashes so innocently as if you don't know exactly what you're doing inviting him into your home.
grad student!yuta whose large hands twitch in his lap as he pushes forward, capturing your wine-bitter lips in a chaste kiss. it lasts barely a second and his cheeks and ears and blooming with red when he pulls away.
"i-i'm so sorry– shit– i-i didn't mean–"
and you attempt and fail to fight off a smile, "you got a little crush on me, yuta?"
and yuta breathes hard, "...with all due respect, ma'am, i don't know of a single student in your class who doesn't."
and you hum, amused, ego a little (very) stroked, "mm... luck you then, hm?"
grad student!yuta who holds your hips down against the dining table with shaky hands; body rampant with nerves, arousal and adrenaline. your lips are driving him crazy; open-mouthed kisses against his jaw, tongue slipping in his mouth and swallowing every whimper and whine that leaves that pretty, unmarked throat.
grad student!yuta who feels hot all over, hands pinning your hips to the table to keep you from grinding your clothed cunt against the bulge in his jeans. because if you do, he's gonna cum.
grad student!yuta who can't help but whimper when you lean back, peeling your cami off your body, exposing your pretty lacy bra that you totally didn't dig out of the bottom of your closet just in case.
your lips are on his, fingers tugging at the hair on the back of his head. your free hand drops to his at your hip, tugging on his wrist and cupping it over your soft tit.
"scared to touch me?"
"no– fuck– i'm just–" his hand moves to the clasp at your back, desperate to taste the skin your bra is hiding.
grad student!yuta who has never had the pleasure of unclasping a bra, who has to peer over your shoulder while you suck and bite at his throat.
"fuck."
you smile against his skin, "need some help there?"
grad student!yuta who nearly creams his pants at the sight of your tits, so full and round and right there–
your thighs clamp around his hips, his mouth panting and salivating before he tastes the sweat on your skin, tongue draaagging up your breast and flicking over the hardness of your nipple.
they hadn't been sensitive before you had your son. but now–
"mm– fuck, yuta–"
you press your hips into his, rolling and grinding your cunt against his cock straaaining in his jeans. your panties are almost soaked through and every nudge and griiiind of your hips rolls your throbbing clit against the slick fabric.
grad student!yuta who can't think straight as you roll yourself against his cock, heat pooling in his stomach so painfully.
grad student!yuta who whimpers at every tug of your fingers in his hair, face hot and flushed as he licks, rolls and sucks on the prettiest tits he's ever seen in his life.
grad student!yuta who tries desperately to recall anything he's learned from porn to try and impress you, to make you want to do this again.
grad student!yuta who–
"f-fuck– ngh"
–just can't stop himself from cumming in his pants from humping against your shorts and squeezing your tits in his palms. hot ropes of sticky cum pool in his jeans and he feels utterly humiliated.
"haah– i-i'm so sorry."
sweat beads down his forehead, hair sticking to his skin as he looks up at you with those adorable, tired eyes. his hands cling to your hips, holding your clothed cunt flush against his pulsing cock.
you can see the slight wet patch in the fabric, the slight twitch of his poor cock in his boxers.
"s'okay, sweetheart," you pet his hair, hand resting against his throat.
his eyes are pressed closed, his senses overwhelmed as he attempts to shake off the tingling of his high.
"why don't i get you some water, hm?"
"b-but what about you?"
you press a peck to his cheek, "s'okay, i had fun."
"i–" his tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips, "i could–"
you tilt your head slightly to the side, stroking the clumped strands of sweaty hair off his forehead.
his voice is low and his breath shudders, "i wanna eat your pussy."
it's meant to be a question but the way he asks? it's like he's begging.
"...you wanna do that?"
yuta's brows furrow, a heavy breath forced out of his lungs as he simply beeeegs– "please."
and who are you to deny a starving man?
grad student!yuta who sinks to his knees like it's the most natural thing in the world. like he's meant to be between your warm thighs with his nose nudging at your clit through your shorts and inhaling–
"smell s'good," he whines, fingers curling into your shorts and panties and tugging them down in one, albeit awkward, motion.
grad student!yuta whose mouth waters at the sight of your glistening pussy, positively dying at the thought of tasting you, of having the sweetness and musk of your slick linger on his tongue for days; dying at the thought of making you cum.
grad student!yuta who makes out with your pussy like he did with your tits, revelling in the sweet noise of pleasure you let out as he presses the flat of his tongue over your hole.
grad student!yuta who lets you guide him exactly where you need him–
"f-fuck– right, there– yes–"
grad student!yuta who rolls your clit with the tip of his tongue, forcing you further onto your back as his hands dig into your thighs, prying them further apart so he can fuck his tongue into you.
grad student!yuta whose cock twitches in his pants, painfully hard and untouched yet completely overstimulated.
grad student!yuta who wants to please you so badly. he listens to every nudge and guide of your hand and hips. attention pricking at the sound of your moans catching in your throat and the feeling of your thighs tensing against under his hands.
"s'good, yuta– ngh"
grad student!yuta who is nearly frightened out of his skin by the sound of your phone vibrating on the table.
you peer over, scoff at the caller ID of your ex-husband and ignore it, fingers tensing in yuta's hair and forcing his mouth against your cunt.
your phone buzzes again... and again... and again before you finally answer.
"hello?" your teeth sink into your bottom lip.
"sato's god a fever–"
"well did you give him medicine?"
"no, i don't have any–"
you bite back a moan as yuta spreeeaads your folds apart to suck on your swollen clit.
"i always pack some in his bag– fuck."
"are you on a run right now?"
the air is forced out of your chest when yuta's tongue prods at your clenching hole–
"no– fuck me– can you do anything without having to call me– ngh"
"...are you having sex right now?!"
"no–"
yuta's fingers curl around your phone and tug it out of your grasp. his mouth is glistening with your juices, cheeks flushed pink and he has a pussywhipped look his eye.
"she'll call you back."
𝜗𝜚 a/n: hope you like!!! i'm such a choso, megumi, gojo girlie and i wrote for yutttaaa fiiiiirst??? anyway :3 likes, reblogs and comments are much appreciated!!!
₊˚ ✧ Men ain't shit... so treat them like it! ✧ ₊˚
Man’s Best Friend: Series Masterlist
Read on Ao3!
↳ Comment to ask to be added to the taglist!
Oikawa Tooru x maneater!reader
WORD COUNT: 1.7k
SUMMARY: You've never understood the appeal of volleyball, but the players seem to find their way into your sheets anyways. When College Nationals rolls into town, you take advantage of the opportunity to sample the whole platter.
SERIES TAGS: fem!reader, college AU, NSFW, maneater/heartbreaker reader, desperate, lovestruck boys, reader is not a good person in this, manipulation, smut.
The ball goes up, and then it comes down… So what? It was always just moments from submitting to gravity and plummeting back down again. Nothing good ever came from getting so sweaty.
Well– almost nothing. The players were something else entirely.
Sweat-slicked thighs pumping as they run to bump the ball; broad shoulders and backs that heave to catch breath stolen by exertion; the veins in biceps that flex when diving for a missed spike… The desperation before the inevitable is almost cute. They reminded you of puppies with their tails wagging, always ready to retrieve something for their master. Volleyball players had a way of finding their way into your DM’s in one way or another.
The 2013 College Nationals tournament was already in full swing when you arrived, fashionably late as always. Your hair was done up in a pretty ponytail and you had the kind of makeup on that obnoxious men think of when they say “I want a girl with no makeup.” You went a little heavier on the blush today; the bright stadium lights would wash out your face if you didn’t.
Breathing in deeply, you could almost taste the adrenaline. You wet your lips, thinking of the delicacies that would be served to you later that night. Some of the men would be high on victory with blood still pumping through their veins and others would be under the crushing sensation of defeat and desperate to prove themselves. You could snag a bit of both if you played your cards right.
But first…
Clutching your purse in one hand and your phone in the other, you head into the seating arena with a perfect, practiced pout sitting on your rosy pink lips. The railing overlooking the court is perfect— you can look adorably confused in full view.
As expected, it doesn’t take long for someone to approach.
“Hey there, cutie. What are you doing out here all alone?”
You smile, turning to look at the greeter. Hazel eyes and a mop of messy chocolate hair to match, swept to the side just enough to frame that handsome face. He has that windswept, effortless look, but you can tell the comb job was deliberate with the way the lines drag deep all the way to the ends.
He’s not half bad, but he’ll need more than a little one-liner to lure you in.
You drop a hook of your own. “Oh… not much. Just wondering about everything going on.”
You wave your hand vaguely to the match going on. A team in orange and black uniforms is playing against another in blue and yellow. The colors clash so horribly you almost need an Advil. Still, you keep your lips drawn up, nibbling on the bottom one just enough to purse them without smudging your lipgloss. “It all happens so fast, you know?”
Never mind that you know exactly what's going on. Getting him talking is just the first step.
“Well, I can help you with that,” he says. He leans on the railing, elbows propped up on the metal and a foot set on the lower bar. The pose makes his back arch ever so slightly. “Those players down there all have different jobs on the court. I’ll explain them to you.”
“Mmhm.” You make just enough noise so they think you’re interested— that’s the tried and true method with these guys.
“The ones hitting the ball to score points on the other side of the net are called wing spikers. They’re the attackers for a team. The middle blockers are the defense. And over there, the one in the middle… that’s the setter. The most important job on the whole court.”
His name, you come to learn, is Oikawa Tooru, and he’s a setter for Aoba Johsai University who regrettably, did not make it to Nationals this time. A shame— you would have liked to add a bit more diversity to your meal choices for the week.
He certainly likes to listen to himself talk, you think.You amuse yourself by imagining how he feels under that checked flannel of his. It’s too loose to give you an idea on his build, but his sleeves are rolled up to mid-bicep and you can spot the corded muscles in his forearms twist as he gestures down at the court. You imagine his shoulders might be a little lean but with a good amount of solidness to them from strength training. You’d love to dig your perfectly-manicured nails in if you got the chance.
“So, Oikawa Tooru,” you roll the O’s in his first name on your tongue as if savoring them, bringing a finger up to your lips as if pondering something. “You’re pretty smart about this court stuff, then. Do you think you could— oh!”
A quick slip of your fingers and the edge of your lip gloss smears downwards, leaving a strawberry trail down the corner of your lips and to your collar.
Crossing your arms under your chest and pushing upwards, you pout. “What a shame.. I like this shirt. Guess I’ll have to head to the bathroom to fix it up.”
“I’ll come with you,” Oikawa says smoothly, but you can hear a creeping edge of hunger in his voice. It’s pathetic how quickly he volunteers, but whatever. You won’t complain about a free meal.
Leading him around and through the stands, you take note of the other teams warming up. Inarizaki’s captain has the sexiest back muscles you’ve ever seen. There’s a team with bright red jackets with NEKOMA emblazoned on them — you know their captain well enough, and the one with the two-toned hair catches your eye too. The quiet ones like him are always freaks. Nearby is a boisterous man with a striped shock of hair like an owl— he’s bragging about something or other to a watchful, dark-haired companion. You’d have to lure him away from his sentinel if you wanted a taste. Of course, you could always just invite the other to join too.
You don’t look back as you slip into the single-user bathroom, your brown-haired companion following close behind. He barely has time to close the door behind him before you seize his collar, pushing him up against the wall as you undo the buttons on his shirt.
“Eager, aren’t you?” Oikawa smirks, but you can hear the breathlessness behind his voice.
You don’t respond, instead opting to tug the flannel from his body. Dropping it at your feet, you kneel on the soft fabric. He’s wearing slutty black slacks that wrap tight around his ass, and you take the time to run your palms over his muscular thighs before unzipping them and pulling them down.
He’s semi-hard and probably reasonably large. Among everything you’ve seen though, he seems quite average. Those Date Tech guys were really packing, and it kind of ruined your perspective on the matter.
Working up a mouthful of saliva, you begin leaving wet kisses on the underside of his shaft. Oikawa’s moan is loud and high, much pitchier than his charming looks would suggest. There’s a little mole on the underside of the head and you give it a few flicks with your tongue to watch him squirm.
As if warned by a second sense, you’re alerted to his hand coming up towards your hair. It took hours to get your hair to look as great as it does– no man gets to touch it, not even setters with the prettiest, slender fingers.
Drawing back immediately, you slap his fingers away with a snarl.
“No touching, slut.”
Oikawa doesn’t even have the balls to look offended. In fact, it seems your words had the opposite effect on him. His pupils have blown wide, and he lets out an audible gulp, nodding.
Satisfied, you go back to your treat. The setter’s cock has hardened considerably, and you fondle his balls, heavy and twitching. He’s well-groomed and clean, and you have no reason to hold back. Puckering your lips, you take him into your mouth and swallow his shaft in one smooth motion.
Oikawa Tooru is a whiner, you learn as you bob your head. He even lets out a high pitched squeal when you let your bottom teeth graze him slightly. The smoothness of his skin is delightful under your tongue and he tastes like salted caramel. He has such a pleasant dick– too bad the rest of him isn’t nearly as entertaining.
Continuing to work him in your mouth, you bring up a hand to stroke what little of him you can’t fit. Eyes flicking upwards, you watch him flail his arms, gripping his own thighs and the paper towel dispenser on the wall to keep himself upright. Mentally, you begin a timer. You bet to yourself that he’s got less than a minute before he loses it.
Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…
A high-pitched jingle echoes in the tiled room, and your phone lights up on the counter playing an instrumental version of Manchild. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the text ID. The number isn’t saved in your phone, but the profile picture is a gray cocker spaniel, and you immediately know just who it is.
Sorry, pretty boy. There’s a better snack waiting for you.
You pull off of Oikawa’s cock abruptly.
He lets out the most pitiful, broken whine as his release, so deliciously near, begins to decline unceremoniously.
Standing up, you pull his flannel out from under your knees and smooth out your skirt. Hacking up your extra saliva, you spit it into the shirt and wipe your mouth, then toss it back to him. It hits him in the chest and falls back onto the floor.
You take one last look at him. Hair mussed from his own hands, tears gathered in the corner of those deep brown eyes. His mouth is half open, nearly drooling himself, as if he’s going to beg you to stay.
How cute. You almost want to snap a picture. Picking up your phone from the counter, you breeze out the door.
One new message from (784)-292-7256
Hey pretty :)
Daichi said he saw you in the stands. Did you come to see me play? You’re so cute.
Meet me outside by the merch table. I’ll grab you a bite to eat as a thank you <3
How convenient. Seems that your next meal is lined up already.
₊˚ ✧ Men ain't shit... so treat them like it! ✧ ₊˚
Read on Ao3!
A Haikyuu!! x maneater!reader series
SUMMARY: You've never understood the appeal of volleyball, but the players seem to find their way into your sheets anyways. When College Nationals rolls into town, you take advantage of the opportunity to sample the whole platter.
Series Tags: fem!reader, college AU, NSFW, maneater/heartbreaker reader, desperate, lovestruck boys, reader is not a good person in this, manipulation, smut.
“The Deliverer boy looks naive, but he knows exactly what everyone wants and how much they’re willing to pay"
Pairing: Dan Heng x trailblazer!reader x Phainon (+ bonus mystery character)
Word count: 9.1k
Summary: Dan Heng’s feelings for you reach an impasse when the newest member of the Astral Express complicates things.
Tags: true love triangle, Phainon is an Astral Express member, Dan Heng centric, pining, friends to lovers, implied past Phaidei and Renheng.
Smut Tags: afab!reader, m/m, m/f, threesome, switch Phainon/Dan Heng/reader, oral (male recieving), vaginal sex (reader recieving), anal sex (Phainon recieving), bath sex, double penetration (two in one hole), Dragon Dan Heng, clit play, creampie, overstimulation, praise, voyeurism.
A/N: Dedicated to @princesscas-ao3. Dan Heng situationship go brrr. Reminds me of high school.
MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI
Dan Heng would like to think he has good self control. He’s always been the steady one, the one with the good ideas. When he feels something, he keeps it tightly within his grasp, a veneer of calm over the vastness of space inside of him.
The others on the Astral Express perceive it as reliability. “You’re so dependable, Dan Heng.”
He nods when it comes from the others’ mouths; he smiles gently when it comes from yours. But when it comes from the newest member of the Nameless, it seems to be charged with something more.
“You’re so dependable, my friend.” Phainon says with a smile. “Checkmate”. He holds the white knight piece in his fingers, moving it in the L-formation to bump against Dan Heng’s king. The black king tips over onto the board with a light clatter.
Dan Heng frowns.
“Woah. Someone actually managed to beat Dan Heng at chess? That’s a first.” You pipe up from beside Phainon. You’re lounging on the wine-red seats of the parlor car, belly down and propped up by your elbows. Almost all of the pieces are crowded around the edge of the coffee table, taken in a back-and-forth battle between the two players. “How did you manage to pull that off?”
“It’s all about predicting the battlefield.” Phainon replies proudly. “I was lucky enough to have the esteemed Imperator as my mentor.” He leans onto the backrest of the seats and glances at Dan Heng. “And an audience worth putting up a fight for.”
“It seems that the esteemed imperator did not teach you basic chess etiquette,” Dan Heng counters. The loss of a game, especially in front of you, stings. He picks up the black king, setting it right side up on the board. “Your last action was a violation of touch-move rules. A player should never make contact with the opposing side’s pieces, with the exception of a capture. According to volume 5 of the IPC’s official galactic chess federation rulebook, such a fault would result in a time penalty during the match.”
“Come now, my friend. No need to be so formal.” Phainon replies with an easy smile. “A time penalty is hardly possible now, unless my partner here remembers how to use Oronyx’s prayer outside of Amphoreus.”
Dan Heng is steadfast. “In this case, I believe a rematch is in order to determine the best possible outcome.”
“A rematch?” Phainon asks, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to leave you unfinished.”
“A rematch?” Your eyes light up. “I’ll do you one better. Whoever wins this round gets to decide what’s for dinner, on me.”
“Perfect!” Phainon beams. “You know I love your cooking, Partner.”
He begins to set up his pieces again, lining them up on the board. Dan Heng follows suit. There’s no way he’d let the Deliverer slip by his defenses again.
“Pawn to e4”
“Pawn to d5”
“Knight to f3”
“I capture your pawn on e4.”
“Knight to g5.”
The ensuing game is much, much briefer than the first. Before Dan Heng can blink, his queen piece is captured, and his king is in mate in only a few more moves.
“Good game, my friend.”
Dan Heng doesn’t dare lift his eyes from the board.
He hears you giggle. “Grilled fish with salad, then?”
“You know me too well.”
Your shoes get up and shuffle around the table before you take off for the kitchens. Phainon follows suit, stopping briefly by his side. A large, gloved hand grips his shoulder, patting him on the back once. “Try not to let it get to you, yeah?”
+++
Dan Heng cuts his losses and spends the next few hours in the bowels of the Archives room, letting the darkness soothe his bruised ego. He left the chessboard and the rest of the pieces standing where they were. The Deliverer won their match– he could clean up the proof.
His stomach growls. Normally, skipping dinner would be fine for him– his Vidyadhara side means that he eats lightly and gets the missing energy from sunlight. But the Express gets very little in the way of sunbeams out in space, and the tiny radiator in the corner of his room doesn't do much to substitute.
He sighs. Tonight is movie night, anyway. The rest of the crew members would be concerned if he didn’t show up. Pushing himself to his feet, he makes his way through the corridors down to the theatre car.
The soft lighting of the theatre room does wonders to lift his mood as he slides open the heavy oak doors. Comfortable couches and chairs modeled after Penacony’s cinema seats circle the room amphitheater-style, with a large, arching screen acting as the centerpiece. Raven statues and black and white movie posters line the walls, reminding him of past film capers with you and March 7th, from the space themed scenes taken from Dreamjolt Havoc to the darker, more surrealist posters of Possibly in The Reverie.
March had warned you against watching it, since it was supposedly cursed. She had left the room early, leaving just you and Dan Heng to lean against one another in the darkness. Later that night, you had been so nervous that you couldn’t sleep, so Dan Heng had moved his cot into your room for the rest of the week.
Speaking of March 7th, he spotted her in her usual chair at the front of the room, a scattering of colorful snacks around her feet. She’s already halfway through a pack of trick snacks. Her mouth is too full to talk, but she beams at him as he passes. Dan Heng suspects that she’ll get up halfway through the movie to refill.
He makes his way over to a certain seat toward the middle-right of the room. It’s a loveseat with well-worn blankets tossed over the side. Just like every week before, you’re curled up in the corner with your phone open, waiting for the movie to start.
“Dan Heng!” You perk up immediately when he approaches, pulling back your legs to let him sit down. He settles in next to you, letting you rest your ankles in his lap. It comforts him to have this routine, sitting in the same spot in the same position with you, even if the others tease him about it.
He couldn’t recall it himself, but according to Himeko, he had once audibly growled and snapped at Sunday when the former had sat in this spot during his first week on the Express. Himeko had called him possessive. Dan Heng just liked to think that he didn’t like change.
“Did you see the group chat? I convinced Mr. Yang to play The Princess Bride for you tonight.” You’re wearing a loose red tunic, he notices, with one of Himeko’s gold accessories tucked into your collar. You’re clearly trying to imitate the princess’ outfit from the movie, and doing a pretty good job of it at that.
“It’s my favorite.” He smiles, pleased that you had remembered. “Mr. Reca had to be removed from the set several times while they filmed the Fire Swamp scenes. He kept muttering to himself during the filming which was picked up peripherally on the microphones.”
You smile at him and nod, even though he’s definitely told you that fact a hundred times before. “You didn’t join us for dinner today, and you didn’t respond to my messages. I was a bit worried about you.”
Your eyes are so sincere. Dan Heng winces. “I was a bit tired,” he mutters. He doesn’t want to admit that he avoided reading the group chat messages because he didn’t want to see Phainon’s name anywhere near yours after that morning. “I must have slept through the notifications.”
“I figured. The fridge in the kitchen car has an extra portion for you, if you want it.”
“I’ll go get it. I’ll be back in a second.”
The grilled fish is exactly where you said it would be, packed neatly in a tupperware with a bed of rice. He smiles to himself as he thinks about you taking the time to prepare this just for him. He can even tell from the smell that you added extra spices to his portion, along with a scoop of curry in the second compartment. He places it in the microwave, picking out a few snacks from the pantry while it turns under the artificial lights.
He wasn’t gone for more than five minutes, but the others have filed into the room while he was busy. As expected, March’s snacks are nearly all gone. She’s engaged in what seems like a very one-sided conversation about chimeras with Sunday, who, to his credit, is trying his best to follow along. Dan Heng takes out a packet of Sour Dream candies from his pocket and places it on the armrest next to them as he passes.
Himeko and Welt occupy luxurious recliners near the back of the room, a mug of coffee in the cupholder of the former’s. They’re conversing idly about something that Dan Heng is too far away to catch. He gives them a nod, intent on getting back to his seat so the movie could start. He’s almost there when another body brushes past him and plops down into the spot next to you.
Phainon’s distinctive white jacket and blue-and-gold cape are gone, leaving him in just his dark undershirt. A haphazard black eye mask sits in his messy white hair. “Ready for the movie, Partner?”
The chatter in the room dies instantly. March audibly gasps, slapping her hands over her mouth.
Dan Heng clears his throat.
“Black isn’t your color, Deliverer.”
“Hmm?” Phainon turns to look at him. “Oh! There you are, my friend. We missed you at dinner.” He gestures to the container in Dan Heng’s hands. “I hope you like the fish. A little birdie told me to make it just how you like it.”
“You’re in my seat.”
“Oh, I am?” He laughs. “Sorry about that. I was just saying how excited I was for my first movie night aboard the Express. I even dressed up for the occasion!”
Dressed down is more like it, Dan Heng thinks. He lets his eyes roam over the muscles under Phainon’s compression shirt. The Deliverer’s pectorals aren’t leaving much to the imagination. “I can see that. It’s a little… small for you, isn’t it?”
“Size has never been a problem for me.” Phainon smiles self-assuredly. “You’ll let me sit here for tonight, right? You’ve all been so welcoming.”
Dan Heng opens his mouth. He knows the eyes of every other crew member is on him, but the ones he is most aware of are yours.
The retort dies in his throat. He doesn’t want to disappoint you twice in one night. “Just this once.”
March’s mouth falls open.
Dan Heng slinks away to sit in a single armchair just behind the two of you. He tries to get comfortable, but the cushion is much stiffer than he’s used to.
The movie begins. The light from the screen illuminates the silhouette of your head in front of him, huddled close to Phainon’s.
“Since they were filming during the winter, Robin told me she got cold wearing just her character’s dress. The guy who played Fezzik would help keep her warm by covering her head with one of his hands.”
“The tapestries in the castle are real Oak Family relics dating back to the creation of the Dreamscape. Mr. Reca said he wouldn’t continue filming if his sets weren’t authentic enough.”
“Mr. Reca had to send hundreds of emails to the original author of The Princess Bride in order to get permission to turn it into a movie. Apparently it was his favorite thing that he had ever written, and he didn’t want anyone making the story into something he disliked.”
Phainon nods eagerly at everything you say. He leans in closer every time you tell him a new fact, replying in a voice so quiet that Dan Heng can’t catch it. It was like staring into a mirror image of himself, watching you relay all of the facts that Dan Heng had once told you, to someone new.
Just before the halfway point in the movie, after the man in black and the princess share a kiss, Phainon lets out an obnoxiously loud, exaggerated yawn. He stretches his arms upwards, laying them over the back of the couch and around your shoulders. Dan Heng watches the muscles under Phainon’s tight shirt flex as he pulls you closer, and sulks.
By the end of the movie, you were fully snuggled into Phainon’s embrace, head resting on his chest. You look so warm and comfortable, lost in a dream that Dan Heng hopes is sweet. The others file out of the room as the screen goes dark. Phainon stays still, arms securely around you.
Dan Heng approaches. “I’ll take them back to their room.” He goes to wake you up, but Phainon stops him.
“I’ll take care of them.”
He watches as Phainon lifts you up gently, carrying you all the way back to the passenger cabin. Phainon pauses at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the second floor, where yours, Phainon’s and Sunday’s rooms are. “Good night, my friend.”
Dan Heng chooses to keep his peace.
+++
The Deliverer has done a good job of monopolizing your time over the next two weeks, and Dan Heng rarely sees you outside of mealtimes and group settings. Word had spread quickly about Phainon taking his crown in chess, and what used to be your weekly one-on-one matches on Saturday mornings have turned into a public spectacle with a scoreboard. The current tally is 12 to 15, with Phainon on the winning end. Dan Heng misses when it was just you and him.
“We only have a few hours to spare, so don’t go too overboard.” Himeko instructs everyone as they disembark at the docking station at Aurum Alley. “We’ll meet up at midnight back at the Express. Keep the sugar and alcohol to a minimum and don’t buy too much.”
She directs the last statement towards March, who is already bouncing on the balls of her feet. Dan Heng reaches out and catches her shoulder before she can run off, earning him a thanks from Mr. Yang.
“Look! Tall Auntie’s stall is having a collab with Love and Deepspace!” March points to an advertisement posted outside of a building The chalkboard is crudely penciled in with the icon of her favorite otome game, and the dates that the collab was running for. “Do you think they have any merch of Sylus left? He’s my favorite.”
“Of course you’d like the head of a crime syndicate,” Sunday shakes his head and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Isn’t there more beauty in life to look for than a proclivity for violence and a deep wallet?”
“But that’s what makes him hot! Besides, you can’t say anything. You took one look at Caleb on my homescreen and downloaded the game the next day,” March shoots back. Sunday has the decorum to look embarrassed, but makes no move to correct her.
“Personally, I think Sunday wins this one,” you add from Dan Heng’s other side. “Caleb is cute. Plus, I’m a sucker for a good friends to lovers story.”
Dan Heng smiles at that.
“Caleb? Who’s Caleb?” Phainon appears over Dan Heng’s shoulder in an instant. He wears his usual smile, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“He’s a character from March’s favorite dating simulator,” Dan Heng explains, mystified. He’s never seen Phainon like this before. “He’s not a real person, if that’s what you’re… worried about.”
Is that what I look like around you?
Just like black, jealousy is not a good look on the Deliverer.
March yelps. “You’ve never heard of Love and Deepspace? Oh, that changes tonight.” She grabs ahold of Phainon’s forearm before he can protest. “You’re coming with me! You can help me decide whose washboard abs are the hottest.”
“I can do that! I’ve got loads of experience!” Phainon replies with a grin, causing Dan Heng to raise an eyebrow at him. He links his arm with March’s as he’s led off, Sunday bringing up the rear.
You and Dan Heng are left alone at the dock under the streetlamps. “Sushang texted me earlier today. She told me about a bookstore down the street that opened last month.” You smile at him. “Let’s go check it out together?”
“Mm-hm.”
+++
By the time you’ve finished up and paid, the moon is bright yellow and rising above your heads. Though it’s still a little while before midnight, you and Dan Heng decide to head back to the loading docks early to wait for the others.
The streets have become bustling; every vendor set up along the way calling to you to catch your attention.
“Cheap and tasty chop suey!”
“Try your luck betting on jade!~”
“Fresh herbal tonics for your skin! Eternal youth! Apply once a day and look 200 forever!”
Dan Heng cringes at that last one, moving in the opposite direction from the stalls. He feels your hand grasp his, leading him down a quieter side street.
“You’d think the Cloud Knights would be here in an instant to shut that down,” you remark as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Are you okay? I know you told me about that encounter with Dan Feng’s shadow on Amphoreus…”
“Mhm.” Dan Heng nods. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve made my peace.” The shadows cast by the street lamps flicker over his face. “Losing you down in the depths of that world, going on that thousand-year journey just to find you… I can understand it now. Why he did what he did.”
“I wondered when we’d get a chance to talk about that again,” you say. “It’s hard to believe we really only spent a year or so there, in the scepter. No one else wants to talk about it, with everything that happened, and I can’t really blame them.”
Dan Heng nods.
“... But I wanted to tell you how much it meant to me, that you came to find me when I was down in that cave.” You continue. You’ve stopped walking now, at the edge of the docks, grasping his hand still. “Even beyond the whole saving the universe from destruction thing. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. How much you mean to me.”
You're gazing at him, your face just inches away from his. He barely dares to breathe.
Are you leaning in? He can’t tell.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you two!”
You pull back abruptly, and a cold breeze fills the place where your lips were seconds ago. Dan Heng straightens up, disappointed.
March 7th waves to you from up the street. Her arms are full of merch of her favorite character’s face, some of which drops onto the paving stones when she does. Sunday picks them up for her. “Phainon, they’re over here. You can stop fretting now.”
“Oh, Partner!” The white-haired man rounds the corner, hurrying over to you. “It’s getting windy tonight! You must be cold. Here, take my jacket until we get back onto the train.” He unwraps the white coat from himself and lays it across your shoulders. “Did you have fun?”
“I did,” you smile at him. “But I think Dan Heng might be colder than I am, since he’s part dragon and all. Here.” You pass Phainon’s jacket off to Dan Heng, who accepts it awkwardly. He can feel Phainon’s eyes linger on him as you help him drape it around his shoulders.
“I don’t see any merch on you,” You observe to Phainon. “Did March not convince you to play?”
Phainon laughs, eyes still on Dan Heng. “March and Sunday– well, mostly March– showed me some photos of abs from the guys in their game, but to be honest, I’ve seen better.”
“I’m sure you have,” Dan Heng snips. He wonders if Phainon is talking about himself and the rather impressive physique that hides under his armor, or a certain blonde-maned prince back on Amphoreus. Maybe if he sent the Deliverer back in a box, Mydeimos would keep him there.
“Welt and Himeko must be waiting for us by now.” He tugs at the jacket. “The sooner we get inside, the better.”
He tries to catch your eye as Phainon leads you away. The Deliverer’s broad shoulders block his view.
+++
1 message from you to Astral Express Family
Cold_Dragon_Young: Busy with data bank on last trailblaze mission. Will be absent from dinner tonight. Don’t wait up.
It’s easier to hide in the Archives room under the guise of completing data bank entries than it is to find you and ask you what your intentions were that night in Aurum Alley. If it was up to Dan Heng, he would have continued to run on nothing but the warmth of his radiator for a week if a knock at his door hadn’t disturbed him.
He wonders if it’s you, but when he slides the partition open he nearly gets a faceful of solid chest covered in a gold-lined breastplate.
“Hey there, my friend.” Phainon smiles down at him. The Deliverer is leaning against his doorframe like a loitering teenager, biceps crossed one over another.
“Your jacket is on the table in the laundry car.” Dan Heng goes to shut the door, but Phainon’s annoyingly muscular shoulders are in the way.
“Hold on a second.” The Deliverer shoves a foot in the door and steps into the room without asking, and Dan Heng’s annoyance grows further. He wishes he could glare at Phainon without craning his neck. Unfortunately after leaving Amphoreus he had lost the extra height gained from the Coreflame of Earth. He was sure that with the coreflame, he was just a bit taller than Phainon.
“Mr. Yang told me that you were working on the data entries on Amphoreus,” Phainon explains. He’s surveying Dan Heng’s room as he speaks, and it makes Dan Heng feel exposed. “He suggested I come and help you, since you didn’t have much time to spend in Okhema before everything… happened.”
“Oh.” Dan Heng isn’t the happiest with that arrangement, but he respects Mr. Yang too much to refuse. “Yes, that would be helpful.” He goes to pull up a stool next to the rolling chair at his desk.
“Thank you.” Phainon sits down, the seat almost comically small compared to his frame. “So what do you have so far?”
Dan Heng types his password into the login. Long rows of text pop up on his monitors.
CHIMERAS
Chimarae okhema
An intelligent life-form created by Amphorean researchers in the Garden of Life. The Chimera shares a common ancestor with the Chryseus Leo of Castrum Kremnos (see Mydeimos[1])
“Awoo~”
DROMAS
Dinosauria georios
Large beasts of burden created by Georios. Prefer earth as sustenance. Prime material for insults due to their perceived low intelligence, despite scientific consensus stating otherwise. (see Anaxagoras[2])
“I don’t think I need much help on the ecology index.” Dan Heng muses, skipping the page.
HYACINTHIA
Demigod of Sky. A physician and scientist descended from the skyfolk. Her companion Little Ica has a digestive tract that defies all biological reason. A good library companion.
AGLAEA
Demigod of Romance. Wise and fair in judgement. Runs the teleslate communication in the Holy City. (see Okhema[10])
Note: Refrain from sending anything improper by teleslate. Search history cannot be wiped.
ANAXAGORAS
Redirected from: “a dromas draped in finery”
A scholar and professor from the Grove of Epiphany. Expert in alchemy and life sciences. Talks a great deal about things that annoy him. (see “Aglaea[11])
PHAINON
Deliverer from Aedes Elysiae. Skilled with a sword. A personality quite unlike any other. (see "笨蛋"[12])
Phainon points to the words under his own incomplete entry. “What does that mean?”
“It’s not important.” Dan Heng hastily deletes the Xianzhouan text and scrolls away.
The bottom section is Dan Heng’s most recent entry, and one he thinks the Deliverer will find most favorable. “Here. This section needs working on.” He turns the screen towards Phainon.
AEDES ELYSIAE
A small agricultural village on Amphoreus. Known for its abundant wheat harvests and fishing. Hometown of the two heroes of Amphoreus, Phainon and Cyrene.
Dan Heng opens the dropdown tab under the page. An unfinished swath of colors on a grid marks the bottom half of the screen. “I wanted to model a comprehensive map of different fish species and their habitats near Aedes Elysiae,” Dan Heng explains. “Using geospatial data and mapping systems provided by Madam Herta, we can track movements of populations and their habits. I’d like to add your local expertise and anecdotal knowledge to our database, if possible.”
Dan Heng can tell that Phainon is pleased with this assignment. “Of course,” the Deliverer nods eagerly. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”
The more Phainon talks, the more Dan Heng finds himself beginning to relax. He can understand now why you enjoy Phainon’s company– the Deliverer is charismatic and intelligent, beyond the cocky exterior. Alone with him, Dan Heng can stop scrutinizing every action the Deliverer makes towards you and instead listen to him talk. Phainon paints a picture of golden kernels of wheat against a sky the same color as his eyes, and clear rivers brimming with simple childhood promises.
The digital clock in the corner of the screen ticks by four hours before Dan Heng stands up. “That’s enough work for today. I need to give the data bank time to upload. He regards the Deliverer. “Thank you for your help.”
“Thank you,” Phainon replies with a sincere smile. “It was nice to relive those memories again.” He stands up from the tiny stool, stretching out and arching his back sharply. “Say, why don’t you join me for a soak in the bath parlor? You can experience an Amphorean tradition for yourself, instead of just writing about it.”
Cultural immersion? Dan Heng is familiar with the concept. “I suppose I could. I’m not sure how accurately you could recreate an Amphorean bath with just the materials we have aboard the Express, though.”
“That’s not something you need to worry about,” Phainon laughs. “I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”
+++
The third floor bath parlor is vacant when the two men step inside, sliding the door shut behind them. White-and-gold marble tiles and personal cubbies line every wall, with heavily tinted arched windows giving the passengers inside a view of space without letting any prying eyes see in. Two long benches run down the middle until they reach a large, steaming pool reminiscent of a hot tub in the center, and individual showers are located near the back wall with curtains to protect one’s privacy. Various cart tables around the room hold bathing supplies and fresh towels.
Dan Heng makes a beeline for the cubbies, placing his phone and earpieces inside. He hesitates before taking his clothes off— he isn’t terribly uptight about showing skin, but being completely naked in front of someone is different.
Phainon, however, seems to have no qualms about stripping down. Dan Heng watches surreptitiously as the Deliverer unbuckles his harness and belt, taking off his cape and armor pads and folding them neatly before putting them to the side. The loose-fitting vest and tunic come next, leaving him in just the tight black compression shirt that he had been dressed in during movie night.
Phainon catches his eye, and Dan Heng turns around quickly, shedding his own coat and tugging off his shirt and pants before wrapping a towel around himself. When he turns around again, Phainon is fully bare, from his broad shoulders to the valley between his pecs and abs. Instead of wrapping the towel around his waist, Phainon has it slung over his shoulder. His skin is evenly tanned, and Dan Heng can spot a faint silver trail leading down his stomach to…
“You have an impressive physique.” Phainon’s voice cuts into his thoughts. He has his hands on his hips, and Dan Heng can feel his gaze roaming over him, assessing every dip, curve, and tone laid out in front of him. He opens his mouth to thank Phainon.
“… For an archivist,” the Deliverer finishes with a smirk.
So the peace was too good to last. Dan Heng turns away. “Just get in the bath already.”
He climbs into the steaming pool, sighing as the warm water soaks into his muscles and draws out the long-standing aches .
Phainon steps into the pool on the opposite side. “Ahhh…” He leans back against the side of the pool, arms thrown over the rim and eyes closed. “A long bath always hits the spot after a hard day at work.”
Dan Heng murmurs in agreement. He doesn't broach any subject in particular, but Phainon keeps talking.
“You know, you’re quite the expressive person once you’ve been coaxed into something. I’m starting to believe that you have a heart under there after all.”
Dan Heng glares at Phainon through the steam. “I thought this bath was supposed to be a relaxing affair, not a dissection.” Without his armor, the Deliverer looks less like a hero and more like a siren in the heat, hair damp and loose, moisture accumulating in droplets and rolling down muscular shoulders. The skin on Phainon’s neck and collarbones are clean and white. Dan Heng thinks about what it would be like to bite down there. Maybe that would shut him up long enough for him to get the hint.
“Ah, well. It’s all in jest. I’m just getting to know my new cohorts. Besides, we all want reciprocation, don’t we?” Phainon’s words echo on the tiles, dancing across the gap. “I can’t help but notice it when you look at a certain companion of yours.”
Dan Heng freezes. “Leave them out of it.”
Phainon smirks, and Dan Heng knows that Phainon knows he’s caught him. “Come now, my friend. You don’t have to be shy about it. You wouldn’t be the first person to find them so… alluring.”
What is that supposed to mean? Is Phainon alluding to something that Dan Heng doesn’t know about? “There are far more dignified words to describe them than alluring,” he replies, stone-faced. It’s true, to a degree. Dan Heng doesn’t dare let himself think about you that way. You deserve far more than that.
And yet… a small voice in the back of his mind nags him. He feels the blood rush southward when he thinks of how you might look here in the bath with him, sitting across from him and the Deliverer.
Phainon meets his gaze steadily. “And yet you don’t deny it.”
Dan Heng doesn’t, and that’s the worst part. He stands up abruptly, water falling off of his bare body with a swash. “I have no reason to discuss something so tasteless with you, Deliverer.”
He climbs out of the pool and strides back to the lockers. He hears the water ripple behind him as Phainon follows him. “I’m just saying! Be too slow about it, and I’ll have to swoop in and make my own move.”
Dan Heng hastily grabs the towels from the cart and wraps it around his waist to hide the forming erection between his legs. He disregards drying off his hair to gather his things quickly. Anything to ignore the other man behind him.
“You seem frustrated, my friend.”
Dan Heng says nothing.
“So you’re just going to ignore me, then?” The Deliverer is annoyingly persistent. He sits on the edge of the marble bench, still bare. Water still drips from his hair. “What a shame. And here I thought we might have so much in common.”
Dan Heng marches up to him. “I am not frustrated, nor do we have anything in common,” he hisses. “Choose your next words carefully, Deliverer, or I’ll…”
Phainon’s smirk widens. He’s leaning forward now, elbows resting on his spread knees, clothes sitting in a pile beside him. The curve of his cheek is dangerously close to Dan Heng’s nether region. “You’ll what?”
The ghost of his breath caresses Dan Heng through the thin towel, and that’s the last time that Dan Heng ever thinks about reasoning with the Deliverer.
His hands seize into Phainon’s hair, shoving him hard against the erection that’s been long since straining between his legs. The towel falls without anything to support it, pooling between his feet and Phainon’s. Dan Heng swears he sees the white-haired man smirk, and barely a second later, his snarl turns into a gasp as he feels lips, and then tongue, as Phainon swallows his length whole.
Size has never been a problem for me, Phainon’s earlier words echo in his ears as he tries and fails to suppress the gasp he lets out. Dan Heng wonders how many times he had to train with the prince of Kremnos before becoming this talented. He feels the quiver of Phainon’s throat as he bucks his hips deeper, a fantasy he would never enact had it been you on the receiving end, rather than a rival made by his own words.
The Deliverer is enthusiastic, bobbing his head in time to Dan Heng’s thrusts. “Fuck,” Dan Heng throws his head back and moans. How long has it been since he’s felt something like this? A memory of a previous white-haired companion flashes in his mind. Dan Heng digs his fingers deeper into Phainon’s scalp and pulls him off of his cock with a wet pop before he can cum.
“There’s that fire I saw during our chess game,” Phainon laughs, panting. He stands up, picking up the towel to wipe the drool hanging from his lips. “I knew you had a different side to you. I just wasn’t sure how far I’d have to go to bring it out.”
There are still far more sides to me, Dan Heng thinks of his more draconic forms. “How long were you prepared to wait for it?”
“As long as I needed to,” Phainon replies. He leans down, nose brushing Dan Heng’s. The Deliverer smells like the soap from the baths and radiates warmth. The kiss that follows is heavy and deep, and Dan Heng can feel the saltiness of his own precum on Phainon’s tongue.
Dan Heng begins pulling him back towards the baths, but Phainon stops him. “Hold on for a second.” He goes to a side cabinet and crouches down, fiddling with the lock on it. When he stands back up, there’s a bottle of clear, viscous liquid in his hand.
Dan Heng raises his eyebrows. “You store a bottle of lubricant in here?”
Phainon shrugs. “No one uses this car except me. I might as well make use of the privacy.”
“There are sleeping quarters right downstairs.”
“I’m quiet, I promise.”
Dan Heng gives him a look, but doesn’t push it further. He takes ahold of the Deliverer’s other arm, leading him into the water once again. As the warmth envelops them, Dan Heng pulls Phainon in for another kiss. This one is less aggressive, and Dan Heng finds himself nibbling on the Deliverer’s bottom lip before he turns him around, bending him over the side of the bath.
He takes the lube, smearing an ample amount of it onto his fingers before spreading Phainon’s ass. As soon as Dan Heng’s digits make contact with his rim, Phainon shivers, the small movement rippling up his spine. “You run a little cold, you know.”
“It’s the vidyadhara biology,” Dan Heng replies, sliding a finger inside and stretching him. He takes another portion of the lube and begins spreading it on his own length. “I can change my outward appearance at will, but the inner processes of my body will always stay the same.”
He presses his tip to Phainon’s hole and begins to push in. The Deliverer lets out the most delicious moan, and Dan Heng groans as well, letting the feeling envelop him. Dan Heng begins to rock his hips gently, slotting himself into the curve of Phainon’s ass as he sinks into him.
“Maybe– ah– maybe you should change, then.” Phainon pants. The teasing lilt in his voice is still there despite the obvious difficulty he’s having in speaking. “This form is a little small for my tastes.”
“Small?” Dan Heng scoffs. “You’re barely stringing a sentence together, Deliverer.” Dan Heng is having trouble thinking straight himself, with the way Phainon’s inner muscles grip around him.
Dan Heng chokes when he feels Phainon suddenly clench on him. “I can take more.” The Deliverer’s voice is clearer this time, with a hint of challenge in it. “Show me the side of you that you wouldn’t dare show your precious companion.”
“Don’t ask for things that you can’t handle,” Dan Heng grits out, but he complies. His shoulders broaden and horns sprout from under his hair. Phainon lets out a strangled cry as he feels the cock inside him grow, stretching him past what he imagined was possible. A second member springs up just underneath the first, arching underneath Phainon’s ass and rubbing textured scales along his thigh as Dan Heng speeds up his thrusts.
He’s pounding into Phainon now like his life depends on it, losing himself in the sensation of the contraction of Phainon’s insides around him. The Deliverer himself is crying out, moaning louder than Dan Heng would ever have thought possible. He already came, Dan Heng observes, sticky strings of white trailing off of his swollen cockhead and making a mess on his abdomen.
Dan Heng feels himself reaching his peak quickly. He braces himself, grabbing onto a nearby pipe and clutching it as hard as he can as he cums with a loud gasp, filling the Deliverer with his spend. His second cock paints the inside of Phainon’s thighs white, dripping downwards as it settles. Dan Heng collapses on top of Phainon’s back, panting.
Returning to his normal form, Dan Heng’s softened cock slides out of him. “Phainon–”
Both men pause when they hear a screeching of metal and a cracking sound. The pipe that Dan Heng had grabbed ahold of is trembling. As they watch, it begins to split apart from the main and spray water in an arc across the room.
Dan Heng curses as he dodges the jet, pulling away from Phainon. He had forgotten to account for the extra strength he gained during his Permansor Terrae transformation. “Grab some towels, quickly.”
Phainon pushes himself up onto his knees before staggering upwards. “Looks like you were a little too boisterous,” he huffs, his voice hoarse. He limps over to the towel cubby, grabbing an armful. It quickly becomes apparent that this is a problem bigger than the two of them can handle alone as the room begins to flood, waterlogging both the floor and the towels they used to try and contain the mess.
“I need to inform Himeko,” Dan Heng ignores Phainon’s jab at him. He hops between puddles, picking up both his and Phainon’s clothes from the bench. “Get dressed and go back to your room. The second-floor bathroom has showers; you can go clean off in there.”
The two men hastily don their clothes and shoes. Phainon’s gait has improved enough to make it down the hall. “Didn’t know you had it in you, my friend.”
“This means nothing, Deliverer.”
“Sure.” Phainon says lightly. “Remember what we talked about.”
+++
At dinner, Himeko is twenty minutes late and changed into a fresh pair of clothes when she joins the rest of the Express cohort at the table. “I was able to fix the pipe, but the flooding was already pretty extensive when I got there.” She nods at you. “I apologize, but I wasn’t able to contain all of it before it seeped through the ceiling.”
You sigh, propping up your head with your elbows on the table. “Just my luck that my room is right underneath the bath parlor.” You pick at the plate in front of you. “At least I wasn’t in there when it started, and nothing seems too damaged so far. I think I can dry everything out with a bit of time.”
Guilt rises in Dan Heng’s belly, and he shoots a glance at Phainon, who’s seated next to him. The Deliverer’s expression is serene, but the corner of his mouth is quirked upwards in an amused expression that makes Dan Heng scowl at him.
“I can call Madam Herta to see if we can make a stop for fresh bedding at the Space Station,” Mr. Yang says. He gestures for Sunday to pass him the bowl of baked potatoes. “In the meantime, you’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep for the time being.”
March throws her hand up so fast that she nearly smacks Dan Heng across the face. ““Ooh! A sleepover! You can come stay with me–”
“I have room.” Dan Heng cuts her off. He shoots March a look from across the table, but she doesn’t seem to absorb his meaning at all.
“The archives? But there’s no space in there! Where are they going to sleep, on your bookshelves?”
“I have a bed, you know.”
“Sure, if that’s what you call that pile of tissues on the floor.”
You laugh. “Tissues? What have you been up to, Dan Heng?”
“March is right,” Mr. Yang says, shooting you a look. “You do have a limited amount of space in the archives room. Plus, your room is on the first floor. It would be a hassle for them to have to carry their things down a flight of stairs. And you’re on dish duty today– you can’t help.” Mr. Yang turns toward Phainon and Sunday. “Since you two also have your rooms on the second floor, would one of you be willing to share instead?”
Sunday flushes, standing up and excusing himself from the table abruptly.
Phainon beams at you. “Of course! You can stay with me for as long as you need, Partner.”
He’s clearly welcoming this opportunity with open arms. Dan Heng scowls.
“Thanks, Phai,” you smile back at him. “I’ve got quite a few things that survived the worst of the flood. Would you help me carry them?”
“Of course!” Phainon stands up. “We can start now, if you’d like.” He takes your hand, leading you towards the door to the parlor car. “I’ve got something that I wanted to ask you, anyways.”
His eyes meet Dan Heng’s over his shoulder as he leads you out.
Dan Heng stays frozen in his seat, stomach churning. For ten minutes he tries to stay, but the apprehension overtakes him.
“Take my dish duty for today,” he mutters to March as he gets up. “I’ll owe you one later.”
She tries to protest, but Dan Heng hurries out before she can.
+++
Racing through the parlor car and the party car, Dan Heng nearly trips over the conductor on his way to the escalier. He takes the flight of stairs two at a time, heart pounding, but finds your room empty save for the heaps of towels on the floor. Slowing to a halt, he backs out before making his way down the hall to Phainon’s room, hoping he isn’t too late.
He slides open the door. “(Y/N). I have something to tell you–”
Dan Heng freezes, breath catching in his throat.
You’re splayed on your bed, naked from the waist down with Phainon looming over you. His broad frame cages you in, and you’re locked in a passionate kiss. One of his hands is buried between your legs, and your back is arched, exposing your midriff as your shirt rides up. You’re letting out small whimpers, hips bucking up into him as he pins you down. The Deliverer’s wrist flexes as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, no doubt brushing against every sensitive spot inside of you.
“Nice of you to join us, my friend.” It takes Dan Heng a second to realize that Phainon is speaking to him. The Deliverer sits up, pulling his fingers out of you and wiping them on his slacks. His shirt is halfway open, giving Dan Heng another taste of what he had already seen earlier that day. “Why don’t you say hello to him, Partner?”
Phainon pulls you up into a sitting position. “Hi, Dan Heng.” Your voice is breathless. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Your hair is mussed and your shirt is wrinkled, and Dan Heng thinks that you couldn’t get any more beautiful. His eyes trail over every inch of exposed skin he can see, feeling like the greediest man in history.
“He’s glad he’s here too,” Phainon smirks. Dan Heng looks down to see a tent forming in his pants. He ducks his head, cursing the obviousness of his feelings. “There’s no need to be shy. We all know you’ve wanted this for a while, right?”
“Mhmm.” You walk over to him, taking his hands in yours. “Come here, Dan Heng.” Leading him back to the bed, you press soft kisses to his cheeks while shedding his coat. Wisely, Phainon has stepped aside and pulled out his desk chair, sitting down and unbuckling his pants.
“I wanted you to kiss me that night in Aurum Alley” Dan Heng murmurs. He couldn’t care less about Phainon beginning to stroke himself at the sight in the corner of the room. He leans in further as your hands cup his cheeks. “I just couldn’t tell if you wanted to kiss me too.”
“Of course I did. And I would have, if we hadn’t been interrupted.” You smile fondly at him. “You mean the world to me, Dan Heng.”
Your lips press against his, and finally everything Dan Heng has ever wanted is right in front of him. He doesn’t pull away until you come up for breath, and even then, he presses one last peck to your lips before you do.
“Isn’t that sweet.” Phainon huffs in amusement from his chair.
Dan Heng eyes the Deliverer’s cock, which stands at full mast. “You liked it.”
“I did,” Phainon replies easily. “I went through a lot of trouble to make sure this happened, you know.” He reclines back, gesturing to his length. “The least you could do is help me enjoy it.”
Despite everything that had already happened, Dan Heng feels his face heat up. He glances towards you, as if asking for permission. You’re nodding at him eagerly, so he goes and kneels in front of the Deliverer.
He feels one of Phainon’s hands thread into his hair, guiding him towards the swollen cock in front of him. Dan Heng wraps one hand around the shaft, slick with lube, and gives it a few experimental pumps. He hears Phainon sigh.
You nudge him. “Go on. It’s mouth-safe, if you’re wondering.”
Dan Heng takes the tip into his mouth, and immediately chokes when Phainon pushes into his mouth deeper than expected. He digs his nails into Phainon’s thigh and hears the Deliverer hiss.
“Don’t be mean,” he hears you scold Phainon. The Deliverer says something that Dan Heng can’t quite make out but relents, his grip on Dan Heng’s hair loosening. Dan Heng allows Phainon to guide him further down the shaft, slipping slowly in and out until he gets a good rhythm going. The Deliverer’s loud groans echo off the walls of his room, and he’s just big enough that Dan Heng can’t fit him in his mouth all at once. Still, he relishes in the feeling of Phainon’s thickness in his mouth.
“You rushed me earlier, but now you want to take your time,” Phainon murmurs as he thrusts slowly. His fingernails scrape Dan Heng’s scalp. “Isn’t that a bit unfair?”
Unfair? Dan Heng could fix that. Vidyadhara biology lent him more than just two members. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his jaw to slide open further until Phainon was fully inside his throat, swollen tip threatening to gag him.
He hears Phainon gasp in pleasure, and allows the Deliverer to buck into his mouth for a few more minutes before pulling off of his shaft. For all his posturing, Phainon lets out a downright pathetic whine when he’s denied his release.
It’s Dan Heng’s turn to smirk. “Wouldn’t want you to finish too early, Deliverer.” He picks up Phainon’s dark shirt from beside the bed, spitting Phainon’s precum into it and wiping up leftover saliva.
You laugh, “Oh, I think Dan Heng’s gotten bolder.” Pulling your shirt off, you’re left fully nude in between the two men. “Does that apply to me, too?”
Dan Heng is too busy staring at your breasts to notice. He quickly snaps out of it when Phainon starts for you first, shoulder-checking the Deliverer to the side. He climbs onto the bed, pulling you with him until you’re straddling him. Hastily, he sheds his own pants and underwear, before going to pull off his shirt.
“Wait.” You stop him, and he looks up at you inquisitively.
“Hm?”
“I’ve always wanted to do this.” Your hands go to his collar and unzip one of the two zippers at his throat. Leaning down, you kiss his bare collarbone before sucking a dark mark onto it. “There. Now you can take it off.”
Dan Heng sheds his shirt. He lies back down, letting you drizzle lube onto his shaft, and tries not to moan too loudly when your soft hands wrap around him to spread it. Finally, you line your hole up with the tip of his cock, and slowly sink down onto him in one smooth motion.
Dan Heng nearly cums on the spot. Maybe it was his long-buried feelings talking, but he could swear that you feel so much better than the Deliverer did. He claps his hands over his face to stifle the cry he lets out.
“Let me see you,” you murmur to him. “Let me make you feel good.” You pull his hands away from his face, no doubt taking in his flushed, panting state in all its glory. You lean down to kiss him as you begin to rock your hips, whispering praises into his mouth. Dan Heng bucks his hips to match your pace. The stifling heat and your tight, gummy walls contracting around him make Dan Heng feel as if he’s in heaven. His cockhead drags along a particular spot inside of you, and he hears you keen, throwing your head back.
He reaches between your folds with his fingers, finding your clit. “I want you to feel good too,” he pants, rubbing and pinching the little bud. You squirm and whimper in his hold when he uses the slender digits to brush the hood of your clit back, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers. “All I’ve ever wanted was you.”
A gush of wetness follows his words, warm and pleasurable as you pulse around him in orgasm. Dan Heng barely registers that Phainon has joined you on the bed until the mattress dips under his weight. He feels the Deliverer’s hands steady you as you bask in the bliss of your release, and then Phainon’s cock is sliding into your warmth alongside him. Dan Heng groans as Phainon’s shaft rubs against his, the delicious friction bringing him closer to his own peak.
“Give us one more, partner,” Phainon sighs into your ear. “You can do that, can’t you?”
You whimper from overstimulation but nod your head as the two men begin thrusting in time, your sensitive pussy quivering.
Dan Heng decides he wants to draw one more orgasm out of you before he finishes himself. He does his best to time his thrusts with Phainon’s, reaching down to play with your clit once more. He sees Phainon’s own hands come up to squeeze and palm at your breasts, pinching and toying with your nipples.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Dan Heng pants. They’re both speeding up and getting sloppier with their thrusts at the same time, and Dan Heng knows his climax is near. “Cum for me, please. I want to watch you come undone.”
His words are directed towards you, but his eyes meet Phainon’s over your shoulder, and the Deliverer doesn’t seem opposed to his declaration either. Dan Heng feels Phainon’s cock twitch before warmth floods your insides, and his own orgasm washes over him afterwards, adding to the mix.
Dan Heng catches you as you collapse onto him. “You did so well,” he murmurs. He strokes your sweaty shoulder. Phainon pulls his own softening cock out of you, moving closer to give you a kiss on the forehead. After a moment, he plants one on Dan Heng’s, too. “Let’s go get them a towel.”
Dan Heng pushes himself to his feet, the post-orgasm haze dissipating. He allows Phainon to lead him out of the room and into the hallway.
“Do they know about the pipe?”
“Nope. And I’m not telling them.”
+++
BONUS
“Ah.. hahh.. Aeons, forgive me.”
Sunday kneels against the anterior wall of his room, eyes closed and hand clenched around his exposed cock.
Moonlight filters into the room from the train’s open window, illuminating his pale, sweaty skin. Long past the point of overstimulation, he strokes his shaft in jerky, weak motions, listening to the muffled sounds of your pleasure from next door.
What must you look like in there, beneath the broad shoulders and moving hands of not one, but two lovers? He’s seen the way Dan Heng reveres you with his eyes in public. Does he do the same with his hands in private? Does Phainon kneel at the altar of your legs, licking up the ambrosia you give him, drenched in sin?
The fantasies behind his eyes are too much. He cums into his palm for the second time, biting into his palm to quell his pained, pleasured whimpers.
He just can’t stop. Aeons, he just can’t.
Sunday doesn’t know how long he lays against the cool paneling while the haze of pleasure washes over him. Abruptly, he hears two voices in the hallway.
“Do they know about the pipe?”
“Nope. And I’m not telling them.”
To confess is to atone for your sins. Sunday stores that bit of information in the back of his addled mind.
“The Deliverer boy looks naive, but he knows exactly what everyone wants and how much they’re willing to pay"
Pairing: Dan Heng x trailblazer!reader x Phainon (+ bonus mystery character)
Word count: 9.1k
Summary: Dan Heng’s feelings for you reach an impasse when the newest member of the Astral Express complicates things.
Tags: true love triangle, Phainon is an Astral Express member, Dan Heng centric, pining, friends to lovers, implied past Phaidei and Renheng.
Smut Tags: afab!reader, m/m, m/f, threesome, switch Phainon/Dan Heng/reader, oral (male recieving), vaginal sex (reader recieving), anal sex (Phainon recieving), bath sex, double penetration (two in one hole), Dragon Dan Heng, clit play, creampie, overstimulation, praise, voyeurism.
A/N: Dedicated to @princesscas-ao3. Dan Heng situationship go brrr. Reminds me of high school.
MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI
Dan Heng would like to think he has good self control. He’s always been the steady one, the one with the good ideas. When he feels something, he keeps it tightly within his grasp, a veneer of calm over the vastness of space inside of him.
The others on the Astral Express perceive it as reliability. “You’re so dependable, Dan Heng.”
He nods when it comes from the others’ mouths; he smiles gently when it comes from yours. But when it comes from the newest member of the Nameless, it seems to be charged with something more.
“You’re so dependable, my friend.” Phainon says with a smile. “Checkmate”. He holds the white knight piece in his fingers, moving it in the L-formation to bump against Dan Heng’s king. The black king tips over onto the board with a light clatter.
Dan Heng frowns.
“Woah. Someone actually managed to beat Dan Heng at chess? That’s a first.” You pipe up from beside Phainon. You’re lounging on the wine-red seats of the parlor car, belly down and propped up by your elbows. Almost all of the pieces are crowded around the edge of the coffee table, taken in a back-and-forth battle between the two players. “How did you manage to pull that off?”
“It’s all about predicting the battlefield.” Phainon replies proudly. “I was lucky enough to have the esteemed Imperator as my mentor.” He leans onto the backrest of the seats and glances at Dan Heng. “And an audience worth putting up a fight for.”
“It seems that the esteemed imperator did not teach you basic chess etiquette,” Dan Heng counters. The loss of a game, especially in front of you, stings. He picks up the black king, setting it right side up on the board. “Your last action was a violation of touch-move rules. A player should never make contact with the opposing side’s pieces, with the exception of a capture. According to volume 5 of the IPC’s official galactic chess federation rulebook, such a fault would result in a time penalty during the match.”
“Come now, my friend. No need to be so formal.” Phainon replies with an easy smile. “A time penalty is hardly possible now, unless my partner here remembers how to use Oronyx’s prayer outside of Amphoreus.”
Dan Heng is steadfast. “In this case, I believe a rematch is in order to determine the best possible outcome.”
“A rematch?” Phainon asks, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to leave you unfinished.”
“A rematch?” Your eyes light up. “I’ll do you one better. Whoever wins this round gets to decide what’s for dinner, on me.”
“Perfect!” Phainon beams. “You know I love your cooking, Partner.”
He begins to set up his pieces again, lining them up on the board. Dan Heng follows suit. There’s no way he’d let the Deliverer slip by his defenses again.
“Pawn to e4”
“Pawn to d5”
“Knight to f3”
“I capture your pawn on e4.”
“Knight to g5.”
The ensuing game is much, much briefer than the first. Before Dan Heng can blink, his queen piece is captured, and his king is in mate in only a few more moves.
“Good game, my friend.”
Dan Heng doesn’t dare lift his eyes from the board.
He hears you giggle. “Grilled fish with salad, then?”
“You know me too well.”
Your shoes get up and shuffle around the table before you take off for the kitchens. Phainon follows suit, stopping briefly by his side. A large, gloved hand grips his shoulder, patting him on the back once. “Try not to let it get to you, yeah?”
+++
Dan Heng cuts his losses and spends the next few hours in the bowels of the Archives room, letting the darkness soothe his bruised ego. He left the chessboard and the rest of the pieces standing where they were. The Deliverer won their match– he could clean up the proof.
His stomach growls. Normally, skipping dinner would be fine for him– his Vidyadhara side means that he eats lightly and gets the missing energy from sunlight. But the Express gets very little in the way of sunbeams out in space, and the tiny radiator in the corner of his room doesn't do much to substitute.
He sighs. Tonight is movie night, anyway. The rest of the crew members would be concerned if he didn’t show up. Pushing himself to his feet, he makes his way through the corridors down to the theatre car.
The soft lighting of the theatre room does wonders to lift his mood as he slides open the heavy oak doors. Comfortable couches and chairs modeled after Penacony’s cinema seats circle the room amphitheater-style, with a large, arching screen acting as the centerpiece. Raven statues and black and white movie posters line the walls, reminding him of past film capers with you and March 7th, from the space themed scenes taken from Dreamjolt Havoc to the darker, more surrealist posters of Possibly in The Reverie.
March had warned you against watching it, since it was supposedly cursed. She had left the room early, leaving just you and Dan Heng to lean against one another in the darkness. Later that night, you had been so nervous that you couldn’t sleep, so Dan Heng had moved his cot into your room for the rest of the week.
Speaking of March 7th, he spotted her in her usual chair at the front of the room, a scattering of colorful snacks around her feet. She’s already halfway through a pack of trick snacks. Her mouth is too full to talk, but she beams at him as he passes. Dan Heng suspects that she’ll get up halfway through the movie to refill.
He makes his way over to a certain seat toward the middle-right of the room. It’s a loveseat with well-worn blankets tossed over the side. Just like every week before, you’re curled up in the corner with your phone open, waiting for the movie to start.
“Dan Heng!” You perk up immediately when he approaches, pulling back your legs to let him sit down. He settles in next to you, letting you rest your ankles in his lap. It comforts him to have this routine, sitting in the same spot in the same position with you, even if the others tease him about it.
He couldn’t recall it himself, but according to Himeko, he had once audibly growled and snapped at Sunday when the former had sat in this spot during his first week on the Express. Himeko had called him possessive. Dan Heng just liked to think that he didn’t like change.
“Did you see the group chat? I convinced Mr. Yang to play The Princess Bride for you tonight.” You’re wearing a loose red tunic, he notices, with one of Himeko’s gold accessories tucked into your collar. You’re clearly trying to imitate the princess’ outfit from the movie, and doing a pretty good job of it at that.
“It’s my favorite.” He smiles, pleased that you had remembered. “Mr. Reca had to be removed from the set several times while they filmed the Fire Swamp scenes. He kept muttering to himself during the filming which was picked up peripherally on the microphones.”
You smile at him and nod, even though he’s definitely told you that fact a hundred times before. “You didn’t join us for dinner today, and you didn’t respond to my messages. I was a bit worried about you.”
Your eyes are so sincere. Dan Heng winces. “I was a bit tired,” he mutters. He doesn’t want to admit that he avoided reading the group chat messages because he didn’t want to see Phainon’s name anywhere near yours after that morning. “I must have slept through the notifications.”
“I figured. The fridge in the kitchen car has an extra portion for you, if you want it.”
“I’ll go get it. I’ll be back in a second.”
The grilled fish is exactly where you said it would be, packed neatly in a tupperware with a bed of rice. He smiles to himself as he thinks about you taking the time to prepare this just for him. He can even tell from the smell that you added extra spices to his portion, along with a scoop of curry in the second compartment. He places it in the microwave, picking out a few snacks from the pantry while it turns under the artificial lights.
He wasn’t gone for more than five minutes, but the others have filed into the room while he was busy. As expected, March’s snacks are nearly all gone. She’s engaged in what seems like a very one-sided conversation about chimeras with Sunday, who, to his credit, is trying his best to follow along. Dan Heng takes out a packet of Sour Dream candies from his pocket and places it on the armrest next to them as he passes.
Himeko and Welt occupy luxurious recliners near the back of the room, a mug of coffee in the cupholder of the former’s. They’re conversing idly about something that Dan Heng is too far away to catch. He gives them a nod, intent on getting back to his seat so the movie could start. He’s almost there when another body brushes past him and plops down into the spot next to you.
Phainon’s distinctive white jacket and blue-and-gold cape are gone, leaving him in just his dark undershirt. A haphazard black eye mask sits in his messy white hair. “Ready for the movie, Partner?”
The chatter in the room dies instantly. March audibly gasps, slapping her hands over her mouth.
Dan Heng clears his throat.
“Black isn’t your color, Deliverer.”
“Hmm?” Phainon turns to look at him. “Oh! There you are, my friend. We missed you at dinner.” He gestures to the container in Dan Heng’s hands. “I hope you like the fish. A little birdie told me to make it just how you like it.”
“You’re in my seat.”
“Oh, I am?” He laughs. “Sorry about that. I was just saying how excited I was for my first movie night aboard the Express. I even dressed up for the occasion!”
Dressed down is more like it, Dan Heng thinks. He lets his eyes roam over the muscles under Phainon’s compression shirt. The Deliverer’s pectorals aren’t leaving much to the imagination. “I can see that. It’s a little… small for you, isn’t it?”
“Size has never been a problem for me.” Phainon smiles self-assuredly. “You’ll let me sit here for tonight, right? You’ve all been so welcoming.”
Dan Heng opens his mouth. He knows the eyes of every other crew member is on him, but the ones he is most aware of are yours.
The retort dies in his throat. He doesn’t want to disappoint you twice in one night. “Just this once.”
March’s mouth falls open.
Dan Heng slinks away to sit in a single armchair just behind the two of you. He tries to get comfortable, but the cushion is much stiffer than he’s used to.
The movie begins. The light from the screen illuminates the silhouette of your head in front of him, huddled close to Phainon’s.
“Since they were filming during the winter, Robin told me she got cold wearing just her character’s dress. The guy who played Fezzik would help keep her warm by covering her head with one of his hands.”
“The tapestries in the castle are real Oak Family relics dating back to the creation of the Dreamscape. Mr. Reca said he wouldn’t continue filming if his sets weren’t authentic enough.”
“Mr. Reca had to send hundreds of emails to the original author of The Princess Bride in order to get permission to turn it into a movie. Apparently it was his favorite thing that he had ever written, and he didn’t want anyone making the story into something he disliked.”
Phainon nods eagerly at everything you say. He leans in closer every time you tell him a new fact, replying in a voice so quiet that Dan Heng can’t catch it. It was like staring into a mirror image of himself, watching you relay all of the facts that Dan Heng had once told you, to someone new.
Just before the halfway point in the movie, after the man in black and the princess share a kiss, Phainon lets out an obnoxiously loud, exaggerated yawn. He stretches his arms upwards, laying them over the back of the couch and around your shoulders. Dan Heng watches the muscles under Phainon’s tight shirt flex as he pulls you closer, and sulks.
By the end of the movie, you were fully snuggled into Phainon’s embrace, head resting on his chest. You look so warm and comfortable, lost in a dream that Dan Heng hopes is sweet. The others file out of the room as the screen goes dark. Phainon stays still, arms securely around you.
Dan Heng approaches. “I’ll take them back to their room.” He goes to wake you up, but Phainon stops him.
“I’ll take care of them.”
He watches as Phainon lifts you up gently, carrying you all the way back to the passenger cabin. Phainon pauses at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the second floor, where yours, Phainon’s and Sunday’s rooms are. “Good night, my friend.”
Dan Heng chooses to keep his peace.
+++
The Deliverer has done a good job of monopolizing your time over the next two weeks, and Dan Heng rarely sees you outside of mealtimes and group settings. Word had spread quickly about Phainon taking his crown in chess, and what used to be your weekly one-on-one matches on Saturday mornings have turned into a public spectacle with a scoreboard. The current tally is 12 to 15, with Phainon on the winning end. Dan Heng misses when it was just you and him.
“We only have a few hours to spare, so don’t go too overboard.” Himeko instructs everyone as they disembark at the docking station at Aurum Alley. “We’ll meet up at midnight back at the Express. Keep the sugar and alcohol to a minimum and don’t buy too much.”
She directs the last statement towards March, who is already bouncing on the balls of her feet. Dan Heng reaches out and catches her shoulder before she can run off, earning him a thanks from Mr. Yang.
“Look! Tall Auntie’s stall is having a collab with Love and Deepspace!” March points to an advertisement posted outside of a building The chalkboard is crudely penciled in with the icon of her favorite otome game, and the dates that the collab was running for. “Do you think they have any merch of Sylus left? He’s my favorite.”
“Of course you’d like the head of a crime syndicate,” Sunday shakes his head and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Isn’t there more beauty in life to look for than a proclivity for violence and a deep wallet?”
“But that’s what makes him hot! Besides, you can’t say anything. You took one look at Caleb on my homescreen and downloaded the game the next day,” March shoots back. Sunday has the decorum to look embarrassed, but makes no move to correct her.
“Personally, I think Sunday wins this one,” you add from Dan Heng’s other side. “Caleb is cute. Plus, I’m a sucker for a good friends to lovers story.”
Dan Heng smiles at that.
“Caleb? Who’s Caleb?” Phainon appears over Dan Heng’s shoulder in an instant. He wears his usual smile, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“He’s a character from March’s favorite dating simulator,” Dan Heng explains, mystified. He’s never seen Phainon like this before. “He’s not a real person, if that’s what you’re… worried about.”
Is that what I look like around you?
Just like black, jealousy is not a good look on the Deliverer.
March yelps. “You’ve never heard of Love and Deepspace? Oh, that changes tonight.” She grabs ahold of Phainon’s forearm before he can protest. “You’re coming with me! You can help me decide whose washboard abs are the hottest.”
“I can do that! I’ve got loads of experience!” Phainon replies with a grin, causing Dan Heng to raise an eyebrow at him. He links his arm with March’s as he’s led off, Sunday bringing up the rear.
You and Dan Heng are left alone at the dock under the streetlamps. “Sushang texted me earlier today. She told me about a bookstore down the street that opened last month.” You smile at him. “Let’s go check it out together?”
“Mm-hm.”
+++
By the time you’ve finished up and paid, the moon is bright yellow and rising above your heads. Though it’s still a little while before midnight, you and Dan Heng decide to head back to the loading docks early to wait for the others.
The streets have become bustling; every vendor set up along the way calling to you to catch your attention.
“Cheap and tasty chop suey!”
“Try your luck betting on jade!~”
“Fresh herbal tonics for your skin! Eternal youth! Apply once a day and look 200 forever!”
Dan Heng cringes at that last one, moving in the opposite direction from the stalls. He feels your hand grasp his, leading him down a quieter side street.
“You’d think the Cloud Knights would be here in an instant to shut that down,” you remark as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Are you okay? I know you told me about that encounter with Dan Feng’s shadow on Amphoreus…”
“Mhm.” Dan Heng nods. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve made my peace.” The shadows cast by the street lamps flicker over his face. “Losing you down in the depths of that world, going on that thousand-year journey just to find you… I can understand it now. Why he did what he did.”
“I wondered when we’d get a chance to talk about that again,” you say. “It’s hard to believe we really only spent a year or so there, in the scepter. No one else wants to talk about it, with everything that happened, and I can’t really blame them.”
Dan Heng nods.
“... But I wanted to tell you how much it meant to me, that you came to find me when I was down in that cave.” You continue. You’ve stopped walking now, at the edge of the docks, grasping his hand still. “Even beyond the whole saving the universe from destruction thing. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. How much you mean to me.”
You're gazing at him, your face just inches away from his. He barely dares to breathe.
Are you leaning in? He can’t tell.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you two!”
You pull back abruptly, and a cold breeze fills the place where your lips were seconds ago. Dan Heng straightens up, disappointed.
March 7th waves to you from up the street. Her arms are full of merch of her favorite character’s face, some of which drops onto the paving stones when she does. Sunday picks them up for her. “Phainon, they’re over here. You can stop fretting now.”
“Oh, Partner!” The white-haired man rounds the corner, hurrying over to you. “It’s getting windy tonight! You must be cold. Here, take my jacket until we get back onto the train.” He unwraps the white coat from himself and lays it across your shoulders. “Did you have fun?”
“I did,” you smile at him. “But I think Dan Heng might be colder than I am, since he’s part dragon and all. Here.” You pass Phainon’s jacket off to Dan Heng, who accepts it awkwardly. He can feel Phainon’s eyes linger on him as you help him drape it around his shoulders.
“I don’t see any merch on you,” You observe to Phainon. “Did March not convince you to play?”
Phainon laughs, eyes still on Dan Heng. “March and Sunday– well, mostly March– showed me some photos of abs from the guys in their game, but to be honest, I’ve seen better.”
“I’m sure you have,” Dan Heng snips. He wonders if Phainon is talking about himself and the rather impressive physique that hides under his armor, or a certain blonde-maned prince back on Amphoreus. Maybe if he sent the Deliverer back in a box, Mydeimos would keep him there.
“Welt and Himeko must be waiting for us by now.” He tugs at the jacket. “The sooner we get inside, the better.”
He tries to catch your eye as Phainon leads you away. The Deliverer’s broad shoulders block his view.
+++
1 message from you to Astral Express Family
Cold_Dragon_Young: Busy with data bank on last trailblaze mission. Will be absent from dinner tonight. Don’t wait up.
It’s easier to hide in the Archives room under the guise of completing data bank entries than it is to find you and ask you what your intentions were that night in Aurum Alley. If it was up to Dan Heng, he would have continued to run on nothing but the warmth of his radiator for a week if a knock at his door hadn’t disturbed him.
He wonders if it’s you, but when he slides the partition open he nearly gets a faceful of solid chest covered in a gold-lined breastplate.
“Hey there, my friend.” Phainon smiles down at him. The Deliverer is leaning against his doorframe like a loitering teenager, biceps crossed one over another.
“Your jacket is on the table in the laundry car.” Dan Heng goes to shut the door, but Phainon’s annoyingly muscular shoulders are in the way.
“Hold on a second.” The Deliverer shoves a foot in the door and steps into the room without asking, and Dan Heng’s annoyance grows further. He wishes he could glare at Phainon without craning his neck. Unfortunately after leaving Amphoreus he had lost the extra height gained from the Coreflame of Earth. He was sure that with the coreflame, he was just a bit taller than Phainon.
“Mr. Yang told me that you were working on the data entries on Amphoreus,” Phainon explains. He’s surveying Dan Heng’s room as he speaks, and it makes Dan Heng feel exposed. “He suggested I come and help you, since you didn’t have much time to spend in Okhema before everything… happened.”
“Oh.” Dan Heng isn’t the happiest with that arrangement, but he respects Mr. Yang too much to refuse. “Yes, that would be helpful.” He goes to pull up a stool next to the rolling chair at his desk.
“Thank you.” Phainon sits down, the seat almost comically small compared to his frame. “So what do you have so far?”
Dan Heng types his password into the login. Long rows of text pop up on his monitors.
CHIMERAS
Chimarae okhema
An intelligent life-form created by Amphorean researchers in the Garden of Life. The Chimera shares a common ancestor with the Chryseus Leo of Castrum Kremnos (see Mydeimos[1])
“Awoo~”
DROMAS
Dinosauria georios
Large beasts of burden created by Georios. Prefer earth as sustenance. Prime material for insults due to their perceived low intelligence, despite scientific consensus stating otherwise. (see Anaxagoras[2])
“I don’t think I need much help on the ecology index.” Dan Heng muses, skipping the page.
HYACINTHIA
Demigod of Sky. A physician and scientist descended from the skyfolk. Her companion Little Ica has a digestive tract that defies all biological reason. A good library companion.
AGLAEA
Demigod of Romance. Wise and fair in judgement. Runs the teleslate communication in the Holy City. (see Okhema[10])
Note: Refrain from sending anything improper by teleslate. Search history cannot be wiped.
ANAXAGORAS
Redirected from: “a dromas draped in finery”
A scholar and professor from the Grove of Epiphany. Expert in alchemy and life sciences. Talks a great deal about things that annoy him. (see “Aglaea[11])
PHAINON
Deliverer from Aedes Elysiae. Skilled with a sword. A personality quite unlike any other. (see "笨蛋"[12])
Phainon points to the words under his own incomplete entry. “What does that mean?”
“It’s not important.” Dan Heng hastily deletes the Xianzhouan text and scrolls away.
The bottom section is Dan Heng’s most recent entry, and one he thinks the Deliverer will find most favorable. “Here. This section needs working on.” He turns the screen towards Phainon.
AEDES ELYSIAE
A small agricultural village on Amphoreus. Known for its abundant wheat harvests and fishing. Hometown of the two heroes of Amphoreus, Phainon and Cyrene.
Dan Heng opens the dropdown tab under the page. An unfinished swath of colors on a grid marks the bottom half of the screen. “I wanted to model a comprehensive map of different fish species and their habitats near Aedes Elysiae,” Dan Heng explains. “Using geospatial data and mapping systems provided by Madam Herta, we can track movements of populations and their habits. I’d like to add your local expertise and anecdotal knowledge to our database, if possible.”
Dan Heng can tell that Phainon is pleased with this assignment. “Of course,” the Deliverer nods eagerly. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”
The more Phainon talks, the more Dan Heng finds himself beginning to relax. He can understand now why you enjoy Phainon’s company– the Deliverer is charismatic and intelligent, beyond the cocky exterior. Alone with him, Dan Heng can stop scrutinizing every action the Deliverer makes towards you and instead listen to him talk. Phainon paints a picture of golden kernels of wheat against a sky the same color as his eyes, and clear rivers brimming with simple childhood promises.
The digital clock in the corner of the screen ticks by four hours before Dan Heng stands up. “That’s enough work for today. I need to give the data bank time to upload. He regards the Deliverer. “Thank you for your help.”
“Thank you,” Phainon replies with a sincere smile. “It was nice to relive those memories again.” He stands up from the tiny stool, stretching out and arching his back sharply. “Say, why don’t you join me for a soak in the bath parlor? You can experience an Amphorean tradition for yourself, instead of just writing about it.”
Cultural immersion? Dan Heng is familiar with the concept. “I suppose I could. I’m not sure how accurately you could recreate an Amphorean bath with just the materials we have aboard the Express, though.”
“That’s not something you need to worry about,” Phainon laughs. “I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”
+++
The third floor bath parlor is vacant when the two men step inside, sliding the door shut behind them. White-and-gold marble tiles and personal cubbies line every wall, with heavily tinted arched windows giving the passengers inside a view of space without letting any prying eyes see in. Two long benches run down the middle until they reach a large, steaming pool reminiscent of a hot tub in the center, and individual showers are located near the back wall with curtains to protect one’s privacy. Various cart tables around the room hold bathing supplies and fresh towels.
Dan Heng makes a beeline for the cubbies, placing his phone and earpieces inside. He hesitates before taking his clothes off— he isn’t terribly uptight about showing skin, but being completely naked in front of someone is different.
Phainon, however, seems to have no qualms about stripping down. Dan Heng watches surreptitiously as the Deliverer unbuckles his harness and belt, taking off his cape and armor pads and folding them neatly before putting them to the side. The loose-fitting vest and tunic come next, leaving him in just the tight black compression shirt that he had been dressed in during movie night.
Phainon catches his eye, and Dan Heng turns around quickly, shedding his own coat and tugging off his shirt and pants before wrapping a towel around himself. When he turns around again, Phainon is fully bare, from his broad shoulders to the valley between his pecs and abs. Instead of wrapping the towel around his waist, Phainon has it slung over his shoulder. His skin is evenly tanned, and Dan Heng can spot a faint silver trail leading down his stomach to…
“You have an impressive physique.” Phainon’s voice cuts into his thoughts. He has his hands on his hips, and Dan Heng can feel his gaze roaming over him, assessing every dip, curve, and tone laid out in front of him. He opens his mouth to thank Phainon.
“… For an archivist,” the Deliverer finishes with a smirk.
So the peace was too good to last. Dan Heng turns away. “Just get in the bath already.”
He climbs into the steaming pool, sighing as the warm water soaks into his muscles and draws out the long-standing aches .
Phainon steps into the pool on the opposite side. “Ahhh…” He leans back against the side of the pool, arms thrown over the rim and eyes closed. “A long bath always hits the spot after a hard day at work.”
Dan Heng murmurs in agreement. He doesn't broach any subject in particular, but Phainon keeps talking.
“You know, you’re quite the expressive person once you’ve been coaxed into something. I’m starting to believe that you have a heart under there after all.”
Dan Heng glares at Phainon through the steam. “I thought this bath was supposed to be a relaxing affair, not a dissection.” Without his armor, the Deliverer looks less like a hero and more like a siren in the heat, hair damp and loose, moisture accumulating in droplets and rolling down muscular shoulders. The skin on Phainon’s neck and collarbones are clean and white. Dan Heng thinks about what it would be like to bite down there. Maybe that would shut him up long enough for him to get the hint.
“Ah, well. It’s all in jest. I’m just getting to know my new cohorts. Besides, we all want reciprocation, don’t we?” Phainon’s words echo on the tiles, dancing across the gap. “I can’t help but notice it when you look at a certain companion of yours.”
Dan Heng freezes. “Leave them out of it.”
Phainon smirks, and Dan Heng knows that Phainon knows he’s caught him. “Come now, my friend. You don’t have to be shy about it. You wouldn’t be the first person to find them so… alluring.”
What is that supposed to mean? Is Phainon alluding to something that Dan Heng doesn’t know about? “There are far more dignified words to describe them than alluring,” he replies, stone-faced. It’s true, to a degree. Dan Heng doesn’t dare let himself think about you that way. You deserve far more than that.
And yet… a small voice in the back of his mind nags him. He feels the blood rush southward when he thinks of how you might look here in the bath with him, sitting across from him and the Deliverer.
Phainon meets his gaze steadily. “And yet you don’t deny it.”
Dan Heng doesn’t, and that’s the worst part. He stands up abruptly, water falling off of his bare body with a swash. “I have no reason to discuss something so tasteless with you, Deliverer.”
He climbs out of the pool and strides back to the lockers. He hears the water ripple behind him as Phainon follows him. “I’m just saying! Be too slow about it, and I’ll have to swoop in and make my own move.”
Dan Heng hastily grabs the towels from the cart and wraps it around his waist to hide the forming erection between his legs. He disregards drying off his hair to gather his things quickly. Anything to ignore the other man behind him.
“You seem frustrated, my friend.”
Dan Heng says nothing.
“So you’re just going to ignore me, then?” The Deliverer is annoyingly persistent. He sits on the edge of the marble bench, still bare. Water still drips from his hair. “What a shame. And here I thought we might have so much in common.”
Dan Heng marches up to him. “I am not frustrated, nor do we have anything in common,” he hisses. “Choose your next words carefully, Deliverer, or I’ll…”
Phainon’s smirk widens. He’s leaning forward now, elbows resting on his spread knees, clothes sitting in a pile beside him. The curve of his cheek is dangerously close to Dan Heng’s nether region. “You’ll what?”
The ghost of his breath caresses Dan Heng through the thin towel, and that’s the last time that Dan Heng ever thinks about reasoning with the Deliverer.
His hands seize into Phainon’s hair, shoving him hard against the erection that’s been long since straining between his legs. The towel falls without anything to support it, pooling between his feet and Phainon’s. Dan Heng swears he sees the white-haired man smirk, and barely a second later, his snarl turns into a gasp as he feels lips, and then tongue, as Phainon swallows his length whole.
Size has never been a problem for me, Phainon’s earlier words echo in his ears as he tries and fails to suppress the gasp he lets out. Dan Heng wonders how many times he had to train with the prince of Kremnos before becoming this talented. He feels the quiver of Phainon’s throat as he bucks his hips deeper, a fantasy he would never enact had it been you on the receiving end, rather than a rival made by his own words.
The Deliverer is enthusiastic, bobbing his head in time to Dan Heng’s thrusts. “Fuck,” Dan Heng throws his head back and moans. How long has it been since he’s felt something like this? A memory of a previous white-haired companion flashes in his mind. Dan Heng digs his fingers deeper into Phainon’s scalp and pulls him off of his cock with a wet pop before he can cum.
“There’s that fire I saw during our chess game,” Phainon laughs, panting. He stands up, picking up the towel to wipe the drool hanging from his lips. “I knew you had a different side to you. I just wasn’t sure how far I’d have to go to bring it out.”
There are still far more sides to me, Dan Heng thinks of his more draconic forms. “How long were you prepared to wait for it?”
“As long as I needed to,” Phainon replies. He leans down, nose brushing Dan Heng’s. The Deliverer smells like the soap from the baths and radiates warmth. The kiss that follows is heavy and deep, and Dan Heng can feel the saltiness of his own precum on Phainon’s tongue.
Dan Heng begins pulling him back towards the baths, but Phainon stops him. “Hold on for a second.” He goes to a side cabinet and crouches down, fiddling with the lock on it. When he stands back up, there’s a bottle of clear, viscous liquid in his hand.
Dan Heng raises his eyebrows. “You store a bottle of lubricant in here?”
Phainon shrugs. “No one uses this car except me. I might as well make use of the privacy.”
“There are sleeping quarters right downstairs.”
“I’m quiet, I promise.”
Dan Heng gives him a look, but doesn’t push it further. He takes ahold of the Deliverer’s other arm, leading him into the water once again. As the warmth envelops them, Dan Heng pulls Phainon in for another kiss. This one is less aggressive, and Dan Heng finds himself nibbling on the Deliverer’s bottom lip before he turns him around, bending him over the side of the bath.
He takes the lube, smearing an ample amount of it onto his fingers before spreading Phainon’s ass. As soon as Dan Heng’s digits make contact with his rim, Phainon shivers, the small movement rippling up his spine. “You run a little cold, you know.”
“It’s the vidyadhara biology,” Dan Heng replies, sliding a finger inside and stretching him. He takes another portion of the lube and begins spreading it on his own length. “I can change my outward appearance at will, but the inner processes of my body will always stay the same.”
He presses his tip to Phainon’s hole and begins to push in. The Deliverer lets out the most delicious moan, and Dan Heng groans as well, letting the feeling envelop him. Dan Heng begins to rock his hips gently, slotting himself into the curve of Phainon’s ass as he sinks into him.
“Maybe– ah– maybe you should change, then.” Phainon pants. The teasing lilt in his voice is still there despite the obvious difficulty he’s having in speaking. “This form is a little small for my tastes.”
“Small?” Dan Heng scoffs. “You’re barely stringing a sentence together, Deliverer.” Dan Heng is having trouble thinking straight himself, with the way Phainon’s inner muscles grip around him.
Dan Heng chokes when he feels Phainon suddenly clench on him. “I can take more.” The Deliverer’s voice is clearer this time, with a hint of challenge in it. “Show me the side of you that you wouldn’t dare show your precious companion.”
“Don’t ask for things that you can’t handle,” Dan Heng grits out, but he complies. His shoulders broaden and horns sprout from under his hair. Phainon lets out a strangled cry as he feels the cock inside him grow, stretching him past what he imagined was possible. A second member springs up just underneath the first, arching underneath Phainon’s ass and rubbing textured scales along his thigh as Dan Heng speeds up his thrusts.
He’s pounding into Phainon now like his life depends on it, losing himself in the sensation of the contraction of Phainon’s insides around him. The Deliverer himself is crying out, moaning louder than Dan Heng would ever have thought possible. He already came, Dan Heng observes, sticky strings of white trailing off of his swollen cockhead and making a mess on his abdomen.
Dan Heng feels himself reaching his peak quickly. He braces himself, grabbing onto a nearby pipe and clutching it as hard as he can as he cums with a loud gasp, filling the Deliverer with his spend. His second cock paints the inside of Phainon’s thighs white, dripping downwards as it settles. Dan Heng collapses on top of Phainon’s back, panting.
Returning to his normal form, Dan Heng’s softened cock slides out of him. “Phainon–”
Both men pause when they hear a screeching of metal and a cracking sound. The pipe that Dan Heng had grabbed ahold of is trembling. As they watch, it begins to split apart from the main and spray water in an arc across the room.
Dan Heng curses as he dodges the jet, pulling away from Phainon. He had forgotten to account for the extra strength he gained during his Permansor Terrae transformation. “Grab some towels, quickly.”
Phainon pushes himself up onto his knees before staggering upwards. “Looks like you were a little too boisterous,” he huffs, his voice hoarse. He limps over to the towel cubby, grabbing an armful. It quickly becomes apparent that this is a problem bigger than the two of them can handle alone as the room begins to flood, waterlogging both the floor and the towels they used to try and contain the mess.
“I need to inform Himeko,” Dan Heng ignores Phainon’s jab at him. He hops between puddles, picking up both his and Phainon’s clothes from the bench. “Get dressed and go back to your room. The second-floor bathroom has showers; you can go clean off in there.”
The two men hastily don their clothes and shoes. Phainon’s gait has improved enough to make it down the hall. “Didn’t know you had it in you, my friend.”
“This means nothing, Deliverer.”
“Sure.” Phainon says lightly. “Remember what we talked about.”
+++
At dinner, Himeko is twenty minutes late and changed into a fresh pair of clothes when she joins the rest of the Express cohort at the table. “I was able to fix the pipe, but the flooding was already pretty extensive when I got there.” She nods at you. “I apologize, but I wasn’t able to contain all of it before it seeped through the ceiling.”
You sigh, propping up your head with your elbows on the table. “Just my luck that my room is right underneath the bath parlor.” You pick at the plate in front of you. “At least I wasn’t in there when it started, and nothing seems too damaged so far. I think I can dry everything out with a bit of time.”
Guilt rises in Dan Heng’s belly, and he shoots a glance at Phainon, who’s seated next to him. The Deliverer’s expression is serene, but the corner of his mouth is quirked upwards in an amused expression that makes Dan Heng scowl at him.
“I can call Madam Herta to see if we can make a stop for fresh bedding at the Space Station,” Mr. Yang says. He gestures for Sunday to pass him the bowl of baked potatoes. “In the meantime, you’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep for the time being.”
March throws her hand up so fast that she nearly smacks Dan Heng across the face. ““Ooh! A sleepover! You can come stay with me–”
“I have room.” Dan Heng cuts her off. He shoots March a look from across the table, but she doesn’t seem to absorb his meaning at all.
“The archives? But there’s no space in there! Where are they going to sleep, on your bookshelves?”
“I have a bed, you know.”
“Sure, if that’s what you call that pile of tissues on the floor.”
You laugh. “Tissues? What have you been up to, Dan Heng?”
“March is right,” Mr. Yang says, shooting you a look. “You do have a limited amount of space in the archives room. Plus, your room is on the first floor. It would be a hassle for them to have to carry their things down a flight of stairs. And you’re on dish duty today– you can’t help.” Mr. Yang turns toward Phainon and Sunday. “Since you two also have your rooms on the second floor, would one of you be willing to share instead?”
Sunday flushes, standing up and excusing himself from the table abruptly.
Phainon beams at you. “Of course! You can stay with me for as long as you need, Partner.”
He’s clearly welcoming this opportunity with open arms. Dan Heng scowls.
“Thanks, Phai,” you smile back at him. “I’ve got quite a few things that survived the worst of the flood. Would you help me carry them?”
“Of course!” Phainon stands up. “We can start now, if you’d like.” He takes your hand, leading you towards the door to the parlor car. “I’ve got something that I wanted to ask you, anyways.”
His eyes meet Dan Heng’s over his shoulder as he leads you out.
Dan Heng stays frozen in his seat, stomach churning. For ten minutes he tries to stay, but the apprehension overtakes him.
“Take my dish duty for today,” he mutters to March as he gets up. “I’ll owe you one later.”
She tries to protest, but Dan Heng hurries out before she can.
+++
Racing through the parlor car and the party car, Dan Heng nearly trips over the conductor on his way to the escalier. He takes the flight of stairs two at a time, heart pounding, but finds your room empty save for the heaps of towels on the floor. Slowing to a halt, he backs out before making his way down the hall to Phainon’s room, hoping he isn’t too late.
He slides open the door. “(Y/N). I have something to tell you–”
Dan Heng freezes, breath catching in his throat.
You’re splayed on your bed, naked from the waist down with Phainon looming over you. His broad frame cages you in, and you’re locked in a passionate kiss. One of his hands is buried between your legs, and your back is arched, exposing your midriff as your shirt rides up. You’re letting out small whimpers, hips bucking up into him as he pins you down. The Deliverer’s wrist flexes as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, no doubt brushing against every sensitive spot inside of you.
“Nice of you to join us, my friend.” It takes Dan Heng a second to realize that Phainon is speaking to him. The Deliverer sits up, pulling his fingers out of you and wiping them on his slacks. His shirt is halfway open, giving Dan Heng another taste of what he had already seen earlier that day. “Why don’t you say hello to him, Partner?”
Phainon pulls you up into a sitting position. “Hi, Dan Heng.” Your voice is breathless. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Your hair is mussed and your shirt is wrinkled, and Dan Heng thinks that you couldn’t get any more beautiful. His eyes trail over every inch of exposed skin he can see, feeling like the greediest man in history.
“He’s glad he’s here too,” Phainon smirks. Dan Heng looks down to see a tent forming in his pants. He ducks his head, cursing the obviousness of his feelings. “There’s no need to be shy. We all know you’ve wanted this for a while, right?”
“Mhmm.” You walk over to him, taking his hands in yours. “Come here, Dan Heng.” Leading him back to the bed, you press soft kisses to his cheeks while shedding his coat. Wisely, Phainon has stepped aside and pulled out his desk chair, sitting down and unbuckling his pants.
“I wanted you to kiss me that night in Aurum Alley” Dan Heng murmurs. He couldn’t care less about Phainon beginning to stroke himself at the sight in the corner of the room. He leans in further as your hands cup his cheeks. “I just couldn’t tell if you wanted to kiss me too.”
“Of course I did. And I would have, if we hadn’t been interrupted.” You smile fondly at him. “You mean the world to me, Dan Heng.”
Your lips press against his, and finally everything Dan Heng has ever wanted is right in front of him. He doesn’t pull away until you come up for breath, and even then, he presses one last peck to your lips before you do.
“Isn’t that sweet.” Phainon huffs in amusement from his chair.
Dan Heng eyes the Deliverer’s cock, which stands at full mast. “You liked it.”
“I did,” Phainon replies easily. “I went through a lot of trouble to make sure this happened, you know.” He reclines back, gesturing to his length. “The least you could do is help me enjoy it.”
Despite everything that had already happened, Dan Heng feels his face heat up. He glances towards you, as if asking for permission. You’re nodding at him eagerly, so he goes and kneels in front of the Deliverer.
He feels one of Phainon’s hands thread into his hair, guiding him towards the swollen cock in front of him. Dan Heng wraps one hand around the shaft, slick with lube, and gives it a few experimental pumps. He hears Phainon sigh.
You nudge him. “Go on. It’s mouth-safe, if you’re wondering.”
Dan Heng takes the tip into his mouth, and immediately chokes when Phainon pushes into his mouth deeper than expected. He digs his nails into Phainon’s thigh and hears the Deliverer hiss.
“Don’t be mean,” he hears you scold Phainon. The Deliverer says something that Dan Heng can’t quite make out but relents, his grip on Dan Heng’s hair loosening. Dan Heng allows Phainon to guide him further down the shaft, slipping slowly in and out until he gets a good rhythm going. The Deliverer’s loud groans echo off the walls of his room, and he’s just big enough that Dan Heng can’t fit him in his mouth all at once. Still, he relishes in the feeling of Phainon’s thickness in his mouth.
“You rushed me earlier, but now you want to take your time,” Phainon murmurs as he thrusts slowly. His fingernails scrape Dan Heng’s scalp. “Isn’t that a bit unfair?”
Unfair? Dan Heng could fix that. Vidyadhara biology lent him more than just two members. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his jaw to slide open further until Phainon was fully inside his throat, swollen tip threatening to gag him.
He hears Phainon gasp in pleasure, and allows the Deliverer to buck into his mouth for a few more minutes before pulling off of his shaft. For all his posturing, Phainon lets out a downright pathetic whine when he’s denied his release.
It’s Dan Heng’s turn to smirk. “Wouldn’t want you to finish too early, Deliverer.” He picks up Phainon’s dark shirt from beside the bed, spitting Phainon’s precum into it and wiping up leftover saliva.
You laugh, “Oh, I think Dan Heng’s gotten bolder.” Pulling your shirt off, you’re left fully nude in between the two men. “Does that apply to me, too?”
Dan Heng is too busy staring at your breasts to notice. He quickly snaps out of it when Phainon starts for you first, shoulder-checking the Deliverer to the side. He climbs onto the bed, pulling you with him until you’re straddling him. Hastily, he sheds his own pants and underwear, before going to pull off his shirt.
“Wait.” You stop him, and he looks up at you inquisitively.
“Hm?”
“I’ve always wanted to do this.” Your hands go to his collar and unzip one of the two zippers at his throat. Leaning down, you kiss his bare collarbone before sucking a dark mark onto it. “There. Now you can take it off.”
Dan Heng sheds his shirt. He lies back down, letting you drizzle lube onto his shaft, and tries not to moan too loudly when your soft hands wrap around him to spread it. Finally, you line your hole up with the tip of his cock, and slowly sink down onto him in one smooth motion.
Dan Heng nearly cums on the spot. Maybe it was his long-buried feelings talking, but he could swear that you feel so much better than the Deliverer did. He claps his hands over his face to stifle the cry he lets out.
“Let me see you,” you murmur to him. “Let me make you feel good.” You pull his hands away from his face, no doubt taking in his flushed, panting state in all its glory. You lean down to kiss him as you begin to rock your hips, whispering praises into his mouth. Dan Heng bucks his hips to match your pace. The stifling heat and your tight, gummy walls contracting around him make Dan Heng feel as if he’s in heaven. His cockhead drags along a particular spot inside of you, and he hears you keen, throwing your head back.
He reaches between your folds with his fingers, finding your clit. “I want you to feel good too,” he pants, rubbing and pinching the little bud. You squirm and whimper in his hold when he uses the slender digits to brush the hood of your clit back, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers. “All I’ve ever wanted was you.”
A gush of wetness follows his words, warm and pleasurable as you pulse around him in orgasm. Dan Heng barely registers that Phainon has joined you on the bed until the mattress dips under his weight. He feels the Deliverer’s hands steady you as you bask in the bliss of your release, and then Phainon’s cock is sliding into your warmth alongside him. Dan Heng groans as Phainon’s shaft rubs against his, the delicious friction bringing him closer to his own peak.
“Give us one more, partner,” Phainon sighs into your ear. “You can do that, can’t you?”
You whimper from overstimulation but nod your head as the two men begin thrusting in time, your sensitive pussy quivering.
Dan Heng decides he wants to draw one more orgasm out of you before he finishes himself. He does his best to time his thrusts with Phainon’s, reaching down to play with your clit once more. He sees Phainon’s own hands come up to squeeze and palm at your breasts, pinching and toying with your nipples.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Dan Heng pants. They’re both speeding up and getting sloppier with their thrusts at the same time, and Dan Heng knows his climax is near. “Cum for me, please. I want to watch you come undone.”
His words are directed towards you, but his eyes meet Phainon’s over your shoulder, and the Deliverer doesn’t seem opposed to his declaration either. Dan Heng feels Phainon’s cock twitch before warmth floods your insides, and his own orgasm washes over him afterwards, adding to the mix.
Dan Heng catches you as you collapse onto him. “You did so well,” he murmurs. He strokes your sweaty shoulder. Phainon pulls his own softening cock out of you, moving closer to give you a kiss on the forehead. After a moment, he plants one on Dan Heng’s, too. “Let’s go get them a towel.”
Dan Heng pushes himself to his feet, the post-orgasm haze dissipating. He allows Phainon to lead him out of the room and into the hallway.
“Do they know about the pipe?”
“Nope. And I’m not telling them.”
+++
BONUS
“Ah.. hahh.. Aeons, forgive me.”
Sunday kneels against the anterior wall of his room, eyes closed and hand clenched around his exposed cock.
Moonlight filters into the room from the train’s open window, illuminating his pale, sweaty skin. Long past the point of overstimulation, he strokes his shaft in jerky, weak motions, listening to the muffled sounds of your pleasure from next door.
What must you look like in there, beneath the broad shoulders and moving hands of not one, but two lovers? He’s seen the way Dan Heng reveres you with his eyes in public. Does he do the same with his hands in private? Does Phainon kneel at the altar of your legs, licking up the ambrosia you give him, drenched in sin?
The fantasies behind his eyes are too much. He cums into his palm for the second time, biting into his palm to quell his pained, pleasured whimpers.
He just can’t stop. Aeons, he just can’t.
Sunday doesn’t know how long he lays against the cool paneling while the haze of pleasure washes over him. Abruptly, he hears two voices in the hallway.
“Do they know about the pipe?”
“Nope. And I’m not telling them.”
To confess is to atone for your sins. Sunday stores that bit of information in the back of his addled mind.
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