Went looking for an Orufrey fic and what I found was enough to make me get up and go grab my pen
Make sure to go check out Ten Years to Saturday by @pocketpersocom on AO3 if you'd like a very sweet (and spicy) Modern AU take will make you feel a full range of emotions!
Full + different colors + uncensored (chest) versions below the cut 🫵🏻
a/n: my vampfrey fic,,,its my baby,,cross posting!! you can support it on ao3 as well :3 hope you enjoy!!
The feeling of the man atop him bothered him more than the tacky thickness of blood that coated Qifrey’s teeth.
The prickly carpet fibers and smell of muddied, wet wood dug into his senses and clawed at the inner most parts of his throat and nose. The drowning smell of iron that had been so present minutes before had all but ceased.
The naked man above Qifrey collapsed, loose limbs folded into themselves, open mouthed and drooling, eyes wide with a vacant look that spoke of the fear he encountered before his tragic death.
The body jolted, choked gargles bubbled out of the man’s throat, it laced his tongue with a film of foamed saliva. His finger twitched, a pathetic press into one of Qifrey’s ribs— his last plea for his life.
A final breath, an elongated moan and crackle of blood caked spit erupted from the man’s mouth. The entirety of his weight being released at once made the bed squeak one final time.
Qifrey wouldn’t miss that sound, that’s for sure.
He pulled away, slowly. The drag of his sharp teeth followed the same path they took when he first bit into the man minutes before. He could feel the give of his skin and the fibers of muscle that clung in between his canines. He had gone too deep once again. Qifrey groaned, his strength returned with each slow beat of his heart. The man’s blood coursed through him and with his hands placed firmly on his shoulders, Qifrey saw the color return to him. His skin was still pale, yes, but it had that flush of pink it hadn’t previously.
He shoved then, the man moved like a rag doll— lifeless and void of any bodily autonomy. There was the horrifying pull of the stranger's soft penis that escaped his barely leaky hole. Qifrey had reluctantly accepted the stranger’s advances, getting the man drunk on mead and fed him blushing words and touches until he had been pinned down under the man.
Qifrey wiped the blood off the corner of his lip and his tongue did its best to wipe away any of the bile tasting blood coated over his canines. He couldn't even look at the man but the slow creeping mass of red that stained the sheets grew closer and closer.
I can’t stay here anymore. He decided. He gathered his robes back on and barely tied the lace of his boots— he only wrapped them around his ankles and tucked them loosely into his shoe.
He had grabbed anything that could be tied to him. His cloak, his hat, his jewelry he had previously taken from a last client, and his spectacles that had sat facing the bed. He barely saw the reflection of the dead man in the blacked out lens before he yanked the window open and climbed out onto the root top.
The roof tiles clinked under his feet, the moon radiating in the night sky was his way point. The blood that coursed through him helped his gait grow faster and he could feel the roots beneath his skin slowly subside their impending doom.
He'd be fine for another couple weeks. Now, it was time to go on to the next town over.
Fourth Victim of Cannibalistic Killings Found In Kalhn Inn
"I just don't understand," The bartender wiping down the counter before him comments to the man reading the paper across him, "why go for the men who have no worth to them."
The patron reading shrugs, "No one would miss a man with nothing to his name. Besides, didn't stop the killer from stripping him of his worldly goods." He begins to read an excerpt. "The man was left stripped of his belongs. His pockets emptied and anything to identify him lost. The Kalhn law enforcement has denied to comment on any other findings."
"Not a good sign. Those idiots don't know what they're doing over there. How can you have no evidence of the killer with such a messy crime scene? The woman that murdered him had to have left something behind." The bartender slides another mug of mead to the man.
Olruggio sits three chairs away, his head in his hand as he mindlessly takes note of his map of Ghodrey. He stalls when the man folds the paper onto the counter and turns to him.
"You best be careful out there, son. It says here that murder was just outside the city limits. Sounds to me she could be heading her way north to us," He jabs a thick finger at himself, like the killer would target him specifically. Olruggio side eyes him.
"Ridiculous. You guys believe in a crazed woman-killer who sucks the blood of her male victims and leaves them dry with her pockets stashed?" The two men give him a worried look. "No one outside these parts could even attempt to cross our borders with the storm that's brewing. It would be suicide without the proper gear." He slams his journal shut, letting out a heavy sigh as he hops off his stool and places the tab he owes on the counter.
"Have a safe night, gentlemen."
"Olruggio." The bartender quips, his voice laced with anxiety. "You be careful out there."
Olruggio tugs on his snow coat and clips his cloak to the golden tassels that decorate the front. He adjusts the cap on his head. "I'll be fine. You guys stay safe out there."
The snow is already piling as he makes his way out of the warmth of the bar. He fights the wind and beating ice just to open the door, eyes going dry against the crisp air and the vicious cycle of tears burning every time he blinks commences. He pulls down his cap, its wool lining sliding against his dark hair and the ruffled fabric of the same material prickles at his chin hairs. He can already feel the snow clinging to his facial hair.
He better head home quickly.
He makes his way across the icy cobblestones to the boarding stable. His boots for this specific weather stab into the ice and cracks into it like glass so as not to slip. He marches, holding his cloak close to him. His steeds ears perk when she hears her master, her munching on the dying grass between the stones stop. Her wool laced saddle and the rug that had been made especially for her— for these types of climates— sits snugly around her. Olruggio places a comforting hand on her nose, his thumb brushing across the cold pink of her nostrils.
"Glad you stayed warm," He says gently. "Let's get you home."
He guides her out of the stall, fastens his travel bag to her back and hops on. He lives half a clockmark away but the travel proves to be rough. The snow swirls around them like daggers of ice, the harsh cold wind burns the inside of his lungs and from the way his steeds nostrils flare and huff, he'd say she's suffering more than him. He pats her neck, pets her hair down only for the wind to blow it back out of place.
"I'm sorry," He coos. "You'll get a nice long rest once we're home."
The blizzard grows within seconds. Small blades of ice turn into blooming large chunks of snow. They coat the pair, the shivering of their bodies overtaking their nervous system. Almost there…almost there.
Olruggio spots a strange light in the distance. Within the flurry of white, he can see a woman and child on the side of the ice infested road. Olruggio apologizes to his horse as he taps her flanks to make her pick up the speed. She plows through snow obediently and heads straight to the helpless family.
"Help! Please, help!" The woman yells, waving her arms, lantern in hand. Her son— an eight year old it seems, is bundled up inside his mothers cloak, shivering with fear and numbing coldness. Olruggio pulls on the reigns when he marches up. Snow gathers at his horses feet. Closer now, he sees the chapped skin of their lips, their rosy cheeks, and lack of more than two layers.
"What are you doing out?! Didn't you hear about the storm tonight!?"
"It's already hit us! Our roof collapsed just east of here!" The woman's voice travels through the rushing wind, muffling her speech. "We had tried to escape with what we could gather! I've lost my way! Please, help me!"
Olruggio frowns deeply, his steed anxiously steps in place and shakes her head. He looks down to the boy who once more hides in his mothers clothes when he's caught staring.
"You're lucky I know of an inn not too far from here. I'll take you."
With perfusing thanks, the woman bows and looks to be on the verge of tears. Olruggio pats his mare's neck. "One more favor, hm?"
He helps the child onto the back of his horse first, the mother handing him over and Olruggio sits him right against his chest. He opens his cloak and encircles it around the boy, he clips it closed. Next, he offers his arm to the woman, hoisting her up. She wraps her arms around his middle and he clicks his tongue to get his mare moving.
"You've saved my life. I can't thank you enough."
"Just making sure you lot get warm. No need to thank me."
The soft glow of the twin flames above the inn's door tremble when Olruggio arrives to the destination. The inn is located just far enough behind much taller buildings that the snow hasn't reached too great of heights yet. Soft breezes of air kicking up the dusty snow and sending it into a flurry around as the woman awkwardly steps off the horse. Olruggio hands the woman her son and follows her, lead in hand with his horse following behind. He hitches his horse and takes off the heavy load of their baggage. Olruggio makes sure to give her one last pet before leading the family into the building.
The inn is practically empty, not even a worker at the desk. Olruggio toddles around, looking around corners for someone.
"Hello?" He calls. "Got a few folks who need a room," His voice darts across the stone walls. The woman's son toys with a bell, the sound high strung and long. Silence falls until there's a faint clicking of heels on stone. A woman emerges in formal wear, hands folded together in front, her face softening when she sees Olruggio.
"Olruggio." He nods in response and gestures to the woman and child.
"They need a room. I was hoping you'd lend one out for the night for this lass and her young'en. That storm is gettin' angry."
The desk clerk looks over at the pair and back to Olruggio, her brows pinched and lips parting with worry. "Olruggio, I can't just let these people stay, they have to pay for a room." She says it with defeat, like it's out of her hands. The mother and son don't hear her but they stare intently when Olruggio looks to them with a troubling look. He steps closer to the woman, facing his back to the pair.
"That storm destroyed their home. They're lucky they didn't get swept away and lost out there. You can manage one night, please." He tries to reason with her, he leans closer.
"You're really gonna refuse a child a warm bed?"
She almost attempts to protest, lifting her fists slightly to her chest, she turns to look at the boy tucked to his mothers side.
"Come, you two. Let me show you to your room."
Olruggio follows with them, walking alongside the woman.
"Where about is your home, then ?"
"Just a couple miles out east…we had been out there for hours."
"I'll head over to your home first thing after the storm," He offers so casually as if it's like offering a slice of bread. "I must return home tonight, but I'll grab anything you need." He eyes the clerk just feet away, her straightened back stands to attention. "You'll need to pay by tomorrow." The woman's cheeks blush, eyes filled with admiration and on the cusp of tears.
"You are too kind for your own good, sir. Bless you."
They reach the room, the woman scribbles a path on his map to her home, along with a note telling him where he could find her valuables. Olruggio bows, the woman bows further and he turns on his heel to leave.
The same clerk speaks, her voice carrying an anxious weight. "Be careful, Olruggio. I heard about those murders in Kalhn…you shouldn't go back to her home…it's dangerous."
He scoffs, flipping his cloak closer to him and marching back the way they came. "Everyone's so damn worried. No one can survive a storm like this. That family was a goner had I not been there. I'm used to this snow," He looks to her when he creaks open the inn's doors. "I'll leave first thing in the morning and be back before you know it." The door shuts behind him and as he unties his mare for the second time tonight, the lanterns flames above the inn's entrance go out when a particularly sharp gust of wind cuts through the air. In the dark, Olruggio grabs his hat to secure it on his head and looks down at his trembling, chapped, cold hands.
No one could survive this for long.
Qifrey looks down at his quivering, cracking, frozen hands. Blood cakes under his nails, the smears of red, dry and crackly on his delicate fingers. He can't bring himself to touch any more snow, not when it's piling into his boots with each heavy step and drying up his throat. Blood drips from his ribcage and he clings his much-too-thin cloak over it when a gust of wind hits it hard like salt to a wound. Droplets of red glisten with the contrast of the silver white snow below him. He can barely see ahead of him, white noise of flakes erupt his vision and the suffocating icy air reminds him too much of his discomfort for water. He tenses and a large glob of blood hits the snow with a soft sound.
He hadn't meant to kill again tonight, but as was his excuse every time— he couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault he had been forced into this. It wasn't his fault for being hungry, or for pinning some stranger into an alleyway and attempting to feast. It had been late enough but Qifrey underestimated the man and the public's knowledge of his nightly ventures.
Getting stabbed hurt despite the pain being dulled after so many years of his half-dead state. He'd say that's what gave him the reason for ripping open the man's throat with his mouth and chomping into his vocal chords to silence him. The gurgling sound of someone's last breath being the only thing to ever truly bother Qifrey.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You made me do it. If you had just stayed still…
His hand clings to his cloak which slowly oozes from grey to a deep red hue. Qifrey moans, hunching over and trips over the growing pile of snow surrounding him. He looks up, hand raised to the bone of his brow to block out the bright moon light.
The house before him with a collapsed roof is his beacon.
Olruggio's travel home takes much longer now. His mare is all but exhausted and her feet drag the closer they got to their goal. Just down this path used to be dirt but has now turned to frozen mud and ice filled horseshoe indents. His breath wisps past his shoulder, clicking for her to go faster. The barn ahead of them is finally in view and he forgets about following the path. He cuts through the snow, his limbs trembling as the snow freezes up his very bones. He feels stiff and is eager to put away his horse and get back inside for a nice bath.
He hops off his steed when they reach the barn and leads her inside. It's significantly warmer once they enter and the large doors shut with a latch. The wind settles, still beating against the wooden panels but with less passion. Olruggio lights a few candles, his horse sticks close and he can feel each huffing pant from her nose. He turns to her and meets deep brown eyes.
"You did a good job, my good girl," He reaches and she meets the palm of his hand half way. Her eyes flutter like she understood the words— she at least knows that tone of his. He swipes his palm over her cold nose a few times, opens her stabling, and she slowly trots into the space. Olruggio, still in his heavy snow cloaks, rummages around in there with her, moving the hay and bedding to what he knows is to her liking. She nibbles on some stray strings of hay, her head slowly turning to him and bowing. Thank you. He lights a lantern and locks her stable up.
The cold pinches his cheeks when he's forced to leave the confines of the barn. The snow in his goatee melted within the time he had been in there and almost instantly freezes over when he steps out. He pushes the wool to cover his chin, fabric flapping harshly. The lantern at the edge of his handle jostles and the flame kisses the glass encasing it. His feet are forced to drag through the snow, it's almost up to his knees now. The thought of a warm cup of hot, buttered rum and a nice bath is his greatest motivation.
He reaches his door, the handle frozen over by ice. It cracks and shatters when he turns it with a vice grip and jerks the door open. The warm, comforting air engulfs him and his cheeks grow red instantly from the drastic temperature change. Olruggio lets out a long awaited sigh of relief, unclips his cloaks and leaves them on the floor. He'll get to that later. He kicks off his boots, clumps of snow fling and slowly melt on the wooden floor boards. His course is set on the fireplace that he lights instantly, it crackles and the flames spark, highlighting the Ghodrey crested rug before it. Olruggio sits right in the middle of a diamond design adorning it and outstretches his hands towards the fire. His nails are brittle and purple and he struggles to bend his fingers properly. The fire slowly thaws him up, so much so that he almost feels too warm. He gets up then and gathers the things he needs for a bath.
With a mug of steaming rum and a full hot bath, Olruggio steps into the water. The warmth loosens his muscles, stinging just slightly on the still healing cuts from the other physically taxing help he's done for others the past couple days. He'd been prepping for this storm for a week now, making sure buildings were secured, insulating the walls and making sure everyone had dry fire wood. It's a tough job, being the main handy man everyone goes to. His reputation as a gifted child still haunts him in his adulthood and he's learned to accept the fact that he'll always care more about others than they care about him. It's his duty to help those in need, what use is he if he can't push himself a little farther for them?
Olruggio sips on his rum, lips kissing his teeth after each swig. The water sloshes as he ducks further under the steaming water, it laps at his chest and hugs around him. He lets his eyes shut and attempts to drown out the rushing wind outside with a low humming. It's an old song, one his mother used to sing around the house, and later on had adopted that same habit of hers. There's a pang in his breast, a feeling that hollows a small part of his chest and his voice trembles softly as he tries to brave through the feeling.
I could have done more for that family. Why hadn't you offered your own money. He had none to. But shouldn't he have at least given her what he had left?
Before he lets those nagging thoughts take over, he finishes his rum and steps out of the bath. Olruggio gets into this night shirt, accompanying it with a pair of thin pants. He puts on his crocheted cardigan and two layers of socks before hobbling to his bedroom. Candle in hand, he makes his way to his bed and sets the flame on the bedside table just right of him. He gathers a pen and his journal, opening it to inspect the map and his notes.
"Got my work cut out for me," He sighs through his nose and flips to a blank page and begins to write the details of his day. He thinks of the conversation with the men at the bar.
"Sounds to me she could be heading her way north to us."
A cannibal, loose in a billowing blizzard. He laughs to himself. "What a silly notion," he says to himself, closing his journal and setting it to the side. He leans over and blows out the candle, the light reflecting off the snow shines into his room. Olruggio cuddles into the fur covers and toys with a fringed tassel on his pillow. His stomach lurches with anxiety over the trek to come.
"Your horse'll be no good in this snow."
"Yes, I know that," Olruggio bites to the man. "I had to get here somehow, didn't I?" He doesn't mean to be rude but the stout man before him almost immediately hadn't let him get a word in. "I just want to rent a sled and five or six dogs."
"Where are you trying to run off to? It's stupid to attempt leaving when that snow blanketed almost every path and—"
"I have business to attend to just east of here. It's a job. Here," Olruggio's fist of money opens palm up, he hands the man the coins he owes. "I'll only be a couple days at most." The man accepts the money but not without looking at it questionably.
"It's a suicide mission. You lose those dogs, you pay."
"Ey," Olruggio says lowly. The shop keeper helps him prep the eager canines. Straps his luggage to the sled and swipes his hands. Olruggio feeds his mare half an apple and places his forehead to the side of her snout.
"Be good."
"I'll see your horse gets taken to the local stable to stay. Don't," The shop keeper points a finger at Olruggio, "die out there, ya hear?" Olruggio nods and turns to the horizon of white hills.
He grunts, "Hike!" And the dogs speed off into the crisp white snow mountains ahead.
As the man stated, it's impossible to follow any path with this thick sheet of snow. Olruggio opts for following the tree lines, he knows a vague idea of what he's looking for at least. With the sun out, crystals of ice reflect into his eyes and the fluffs of snow rise into the air in a flurry of sparkling white behind his sled. His dark cloaks whip and flail with gusts of frigid air beneath them. Olruggio makes sure to cover his face more securely when a particularly sharp clump of snow smacks into his cheekbone.
The day stretches, he stops half way to take a small break and feed the sled dogs. He offers them water he packed in an insulated bottle just for them and pets one that nuzzled into his sleeve. Crouching down, he scratches the soft fur, a low rumbling comes from the dog and it blinks slowly at Olruggio. He'd always taken a liking to gentle creatures.
One of the disadvantages of being so far east from Ghodrey was the short amount of time the sun stayed up in the sky. It was already half mast in the purple sky when he was all packed and ready for the second leg of the trip. Olruggio curses to himself, takes a swig of the vodka he packed in a flask and fastens it back to his belt.
"Losing daylight, c'mon, you lot!" He makes the yell for them to move once more.
Half a clockmark goes by. Snow trickles off trees like powdered sugar poured too heavily over baked goods and clouds move along the growing blue horizon. Olruggio can see the stars in the night sky finally presenting themselves, he's distracted by the beauty of it before looking back ahead of him to the view in front.
There, in the distance— His destination. How a family could live so secluded, he does not know. The home looks small, the damage to the building looks worse for ware. The roof is caved in, a large hole lets the pile of snow slowly trickle from the roof tiles and into the home. Olruggio urges the dogs faster, the building becoming clearer and larger before him.
He's hops off the sled and commands the dogs to stay, setting them to the side of the house where the back door is. He tries the front door first. Locked. He circles back to the back door and a hound licks at his fingertips when he reaches out to pet it. Also locked.
"Huh…" The sun disappears behind the trees, laying to rest for the night. Moonlight breaks through the clouds and Olruggio looks up at it. Just as he does so, he see's a window that's cracked open.
There's blood on the glass. He gasps, eyes widening. The blood is frozen solid and he notices another hint of it on the wall of the house. A bloodied hand print on the wood panels. How had he not noticed? His eyes trail down to the snow where little droplets of red reside around. The wind had almost blanketed the evidence completely had it not been such a deep shade of red. The killings in Kalhn suddenly come to mind.
Olruggio looks back to the window and hypes himself up. "There's no murderer in there, idiot," he chastises himself. "You go in, get the necessities and you leave. Simple." He'd rather not try to come up with a reasoning for the blood around the house, he takes liberty of flinging the worry over it out of his mind completely. Olruggio climbs in through the window.
It's dark, unbelievably dark and cold. Sheets, pillows, paper and other various household items are strewn about. Mugs rock back and forth against each gust of wind that travels inside. Soft snow flakes fall from the sky, their touch down being much kinder than the storm the night previous. Snow crunches under Olruggio's boots. Watching his step and gathering anything he feels is important. He finds a doll by the front door, hand made and worn with clear markings of fresh thread restoring where it's been ripped at the seams. He stuffs it in the largest pocket of his cloak.
He takes a step forward towards the living area, looking up at the ceiling where the moon peeks in the corner of the large hole. Fractures of tiles and wood sit dusty and frozen on the floor. Olruggio moves one with his foot and something catches his eye.
Footprints. Actual foot prints. The sole and toes of naked feet dipped in the snow. They're fresh prints, too. Olruggio crouches, his fingertips melt the snow surrounding the foot shape. More blood flecks are mere inches away from each footprint.
"What the hell?" He breathes, his breath a billowing grey mass.
There's a yelp, sharp and loud and then the group of dogs outside begin barking. Olruggio shoots up to his feet and faces the back door to the home.
a/n: cross posting from this fic on ao3 don’t mind me :)
Olruggio's done this countless times. He knows what to expect every time he sets his ass on the toilet seat. He's done this countless times.
Well, Qifrey did the hard part countless times. Olly just gets to sit there, fists curled at his upper thighs as he braces for what's to come.
Qifrey really takes his time tonight, flicking the bubbles out of the syringe of his weekly dose. Gloved hands tear open a swab and Olruggio can smell the alcohol on it before he feels the cold circle of it on his thigh. His jaw tenses, eyes squeeze shut and fists tighten. He hates this fucking part. The alcohol is always too cold and the smell makes him think of white coats and blinding overhead lights. Olruggio takes a deep breath through his nose when Qifrey's nitrile gloved hand grabs the portion of his thigh. He squeezes the fatty skin, the alcohol has dried fully and the contents of the syringe wait to be injected.
"There's no need to stress, Olly. You do this every week."
He winces. "Because it hurts every damn time…"
Qifrey's hand squeezes around his thigh again. "That's because you tense up like this every time, my star." The pet name is almost enough for Olruggio to feel his fingers unclasp from their vice grip. His adam's apple bobs in his throat, he wipes at his sweaty goatee and turns slowly to see Qifrey crouched next to him.
Eyes immediately trace the syringe, the thick liquid inside and then the pointed needle. He shudders and has to turn away again.
"Just…just do it." He puffs up his chest, grits his teeth in anticipation and curls his lips together into a tight line. "I'm ready."
Qifrey makes a sound of confirmation, grabs that portion of his thigh and sticks the needle in immediately. Olruggio jolts, the pain is bruising and a sharp pinch that pulses in the immediate area. Before he can even dwell on it, he lets his muscles tense and brings a hand to bite his finger. Qifrey's speaking all cheery beside him.
"And done! Good job, Olly, as always." He slides the gloves off after tossing the needle and syringe into the sharps container. He rips open a bandaid, presses the cotton ball to Olruggio's thigh and guides his hand to press down on it. Qifrey rises to his full height and puts away the rest of the supplies and Olruggio stares at him as he does so.
He'll usually give me a little kiss after… He thinks to himself, his heart weighing heavy in his chest all of a sudden. Qifrey and Olruggio have a habit of having the same routine every week on their shot days.
Qifrey does his own shot himself, then he'll prep Olruggio's. When that's over, he swipes Olruggio's bangs to the side and gives him a firm kiss to the forehead, then a cheek, and finally his mouth. Qifrey knows he's supposed to do this, it's routine. It's part of the schedule. If Olruggio had to write down a step-by-step plan, he'd include those three kisses as separate bullet points. The final one being the most important one. Surely, Qifrey wouldn't neglect it.
Olruggio bandaids his wound, tosses the bloodied cotton ball into the trash and soothes his palm over the bandage. He looks to Qifrey expectantly, like a dog waiting for its meal when the clock strikes dinner time. Those big blue eyes stare into Qifrey's profile. He almost asks, lets his mouth open to form the words but Qifrey speaks first.
"I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to head to bed." He shuts the drawer that holds their boxes of medication and turns to look at Olly. There's a glint in his eye. Something mischievous plays across his face and Olruggio can see that sick amusement.
Oh, Qifrey definitely knows he's neglected those last three steps.
"Care to join me?" He asks oh, so innocently.
Stunned, heart broken, and half way being to straight up angry, looks at Qifrey with a cocked head. "You're forgetting something and you know it."
Qifrey, warm smiles and confused brow, tilts his head. "Hm? We did your shot, didn't we? Now it's time for bed." He's playing into it a bit much, he knows this. Teasing Olruggio was just too easy and much too fun for his own good. Even if a little part of his heart broke as he looks at Olruggio's poor, confused look, he knows the end result to such neglect.
He saunters his way out of the bathroom, Olruggio follows closely behind after he practically catapults himself off the toilet.
"Oi, you're giving me that cheesy smile that I know is hiding something! You're being cruel…this is cruel and unusual punishment , Qifrey!"
"Over a shot, Olly, really?" He looks over his shoulder, that sparkle in his eye never leaving. He's enjoying this…he's giddy over it. Olruggio knows exactly what Qifrey's wanting and god dammit, of course he's gonna give it to him!
"You know damn well it's not over a shot. You forgot—no— you skipped three important steps."
It's laughable, just how upset he is, but the passion in his voice breaks Qifrey a little. If he didn't know when to pull back, knowing he was crossing a boundary, he'd probably cave. But he knows his Olruggio can handle a little more defiance.
"I truly have no semblance of an idea as to what you're getting so upset over. You're acting like I've done some heinous act to you!"
"You've neglected me. I'd say that's a heinous act to me!" He cries, entering their bedroom and sitting next to Qifrey when he sets himself down on his side of the bed. "Why are you acting like this?"
Qifrey takes his spectacles off, sets them down on his bedside table and looks to Olruggio. "Really, Olly. I'm acting no such way. Now, come—" He swings his hand toward Olly, about to gesture to his partners side of the bed. His wrist is instantly grappled, the grip on it firm and clammy.
Looking up, Qifrey's met with a sight; Olruggio's large, ocean waves irises tremble and they look dewy. But there's something darker in the stare, just behind that pleading sadness. There's a twist of dark desire, the hunger in it making Qifrey's mouth water as he realizes he's close to his goal.
"You forgot to kiss me," He finally reveals. "You were supposed to kiss me and…you know what we do every week." The grip on Qifrey's softens just barely, but that flicker of anger ignites in Olruggio's eyes. "You're going to follow every step. Like always."
Qifrey tries to resist the urge to bite his lip to hide his satisfying grin. Good. I love when he gets like this. He ultimately fails, noticing the way Olruggio's eyes flicker down to his lips.
"You'll have to show me such steps. I can't recall them." He brings his face close to Olruggio's. The intent written across him. The grapple on his wrist falls and is instead replaced to his neck. Qifrey's hands find Olruggio's wrist and forearm of the hand that squeezes around his pale neck. Qifrey feels bliss bloom and flood into his brain, turning it to mush.
"You'll learn your lesson first. Then, we'll go back and discuss the steps." He stands, making his way between his lovers thighs.
In his tight briefs, Qifrey feels his enlarged clit pulse with a dull desire. It makes him soaked, oozing out of his hole and seeping into a dark spot on the fabric.
With his other hand, Olruggio slides down his boxers. They crumple at his mid thighs, his hair creating a path up to the larger patch of dark hair. His large clit sticks out, pink and trembling with a red hot craving for stimulation. Qifrey's throat closes slightly when Olruggio squeezes just enough to make him choke out a gasp.
His head falls forward, nose diving into the coarse hair that frames his sex. He breathes in deeply, that musk of smoke and heady salt filling his senses. His favorite place to be is here, mouthing hair and fat skin. Tongue dipping from between his lips to venture across his pubic area.
"Olly," He mouths against his skin. "Let me…please…" He opens his mouth. Qifrey turns his face and the tip of his tongue barely grazes his lovers dick before he's getting tugged backward by the hair. The warm palm around his throat holds him firmly in place, the other weaving Qifrey's hair into his fingers and pulling it taught.
"You do as I say, love." His hand in his hair uncurls slowly, sliding his fingers down the side of his face. His calloused fingertips graze Qifrey's lips, invading his mouth with two fingers. "Open more."
Qifrey's jaw slacks, Olruggio pinches his tongue with a thumb and forefinger. He pulls the muscle past the threshold of Qifrey's bottom lip and pats it twice. "Keep like that for me."
Qifrey huffs, frustrated and not at all what he was wanting tonight to be. He's supposed to make Olruggio let him worship him. Let him wrap his lips around his dick and take him so well into his soft and pliant mouth.
Now, Olruggio releases Qifrey's neck, much to hid dismay. He rests his hand over his mound, angling his aching and swollen clit to the flat of Qifrey's tongue. It sits hot and sticky on his trembling tongue. Olruggio slides his hips as he slowly grinds against the softness of Qifrey's mouth. There's a whimper, something pathetic and needy that shrills from the depths of his chest.
"Stay like that, Qifrey. Just like that." Olruggio lets his eyes flutter shut when his clit slides against Qifrey's tongue with such a force that he touches teeth. It has him hissing a breath through his gritted teeth and lets a groan spill from his mouth.
"Awh—ee," Qifrey's pleading voice vibrates against the underside of his dick when his tongue curls just slightly form the 'L' of his name. Olruggio slams his dick into Qifrey's mouth. There's a muffled 'eek!' And his nose gives into soft, warm skin. His pubic hair tickles his nostrils and he struggles to breathe.
Olruggio's clit slides deep into Qifrey's mouth, his tongue struggles to find a comfortable purchase. His partners incessant push and pull from his face has him struggling to gain his bearings. To ground himself, Qifrey lays his hands across the thick hairy thighs before him.
He struggles to slip his lips around the thick and fat shaft of his clit. Qifrey's mind melts, making his eyes rolls back when Olruggio thrusts so deeply into him that Qifrey's nose smacks hard into his pelvis. The dull pain only thinly masks the pleasure he feels between his soaked legs and he squeezes them as a result. His eye becomes blurry with tears when the desperation crawls beneath his skin. His nails dig into Olruggio's thighs, gripping hot skin and dark hair.
"Fuck, my love," He sighs. He drags us cock from Qifrey's mouth, the fading of angry red has grown in hue when his partner's eye focuses on it. Its mouthwatering; Qifrey so wishes he could just lean in and take him back into his mouth. His eye turns big and round when it flinches, jerking just slightly when Olruggio breathes deeply.
A rough, thick hand cups the length of himself in his fingers. His thumb pulls back on his foreskin, pulling to reveal his angry clit. Olruggio jacks himself off like this, Qifrey's open mouth hovering below where he knows he'd get a taste of that delicious desire. It pools out of Olruggio, his fingers traveling down to gather it on his finger pads before Qifrey can even attempt to have a lick.
"Mean…" He chastises, pouting when Olruggio cracks an eye open to give him a sadistic smirk.
"Get back here and I'll let you have a taste." He grabs a fistful of Qifrey's hair and smothers his face with his slick. It's warm and smells so strongly of that sweet musk he loves. His mouth parts, letting the cock ease into his warm mouth once more.
He wraps his lips around, hugs his tongue against the girth of his clit and sucks. He suckles hard, tongue flicking and sliding side to side. He bobs his head, Qifrey's bliss increasing, all thoughts escaping from the corners of his mind. Olruggio. Olruggio. Olruggio. He chants his name in his head with each thrust, each slurp around his lips, each smack into his front teeth.
Olruggio does not need penetrative sex for him to feel his approaching orgasm. Having Qifrey's mouth around him is enough for his hips to stutter. When he feels his foreskin catch just barely between two of his teeth, he lets out a shaky breath, a gasp. His whole face and chest reddens, hips smacking, coating his skin with spit and his own arousal. Strings of it connect to Qifrey and split every time he pulls back just to force his way back inside.
Qifrey feels Olruggio hit the back of his tongue, just grazing his uvula. The softness of it has the man gripping hair on either side of Qifrey's head and fucking his face nice and hard.
"Open wide for me, sweet thing. Just like that," Olruggio croons, the softness of his voice a stark contrast to his tugging and slamming hips.
Qifrey only whines, his body trembling with such desire. He wonders if he could come like this; Untouched and empty with a cock deep in his mouth. He swallows around Olruggio, feeling him pulse in rhythm with his heart beat. His tongue curls and drool slips down his chin and between his perky breasts. He squirms where he sits, hands still gripping meaty skin.
"Gonna use this mouth till I come," Olruggio promises through gritted teeth. "You're gonna let me use this pretty mouth to get off, right?" Qifrey attempts to nod but can't when his lover has such a grip on his hair. It's okay, he can see the pleading in his lovers one eye.
His head rolls back then, grip loosening when his slick drips down between his thighs. It pools in his thick pubic hair and he's sliding it across his shaft when he pulls out a little. He slips a finger into Qifrey's needy lips, increasing the girth he mouths around. The sensation brings along that crashing wave of Olruggio's orgasm. It approaches fast, it's destination just a mere feet away.
"Qifrey…Fuck, you fucking—minx, you!" He slams his dick, rutting into the nimble man's smushed face with all his might when that wave crashes into the mountainside with such a force.
Olruggio's hair clings to his forehead when his hips spasm and he feels the pulsating of his cock as his orgasm travels across him. His muscles tense, holding Qifrey in place as the aftershocks of his orgasm begin to fade. His clit twitches every few seconds, jerking forward like it's spitting ropes into his Qifrey's throat. The mental image alone has him regretting using a strap for only a moment. This was for Olruggio and only for him.
He lets Qifrey go with one final breath. Qifrey's body buckles into its self when his hands fall from Olruggio's thighs. He catches his breath, his face damp and red where rough hair rubbed him raw. Spit pools in his mouth, it's agape and drooling a thin line of spit into his lap. He takes heavy breaths, chest and shoulders heaving, the ache between his thighs never ceasing. Oh, how he'd wish Olruggio would pin him down and stuff him full of his girthy clit.
He knows that option is out of reach when Olruggio silently walks out of the room.
He's left like that. Used and crumpled on the bed. His jaw aching, chin caked with crackling slick and saliva. He wipes at his face, tasting that hint of Olruggio's cum. He slowly lays down, curling into the blankets.
The very man who just fucked his face, comes back a few moments after with a damp rag and glass of water. He sits beside Qifrey. Silently reaching over to wipe gently at his mouth.
"That was really mean. I just wanted my kisses," He says in a low, almost disappointed tone.
Qifrey finds the strength to peer up at him, a goofy, satisfied smile on his face. "Worth it, I'd say," He proudly states. His mind is still muddled, his needy cock and hole left neglected was the one downside to his choices tonight.
"Yeah, well, next time you do that," He pokes at Qifrey's ticklish side, making him draw into himself and yell. "You're getting a good beating."
His ears perk, limbs suddenly having the strength to lift himself from the bed. Post non-orgasm stupor evaporating as quickly as it came.
"You mean it?" His eye glistens with excitement and Olruggio remembers the freak of a partner he has. Qifrey gently lays his head back down.
"You're unbelievable…" He pets Qifrey's hair, pushing it aside to inspect the scarred tissue of his hidden eye. His lovers smiles warmly, reddened cheeks the color of his crimson pillow under his head.
He's tired, unbelievably so and his calming clit still pulses in his underwear when he slides under the covers next to his partner. He scoots close, slotting his body against Qifrey's and presses their foreheads together. He stares deeply into Qifrey's icy blue eye.
"You really won't give me those kisses?"
Qifrey giggles, light and airy. He cups Olruggio's soft cheeks, uses the tip of his nose to brush back his bangs. He plants a chaste kiss to his forehead, his mouth slides along his temple down to his cheek bone. Another kiss. Then he presses his lips firmly into Olruggio's. Their lips slot together, bristles of hair tickle his raw skin. It burns just a little but it's satisfying all the same. He could get himself drunk on just the taste of Olruggio alone. He moans into the kiss, whining when Olruggio pulls away.
"Don't skip a step again and you'll get what you want."
It's strange how he can twist something meant as worship for him into something he can use to torture Qifrey.
Qifrey feels a sick twist of desire at the notion of doing it again. A terrible plan forms itself into his mind. One where he's manhandled to the bed, forced face down and God knows, put in how many positions as a result of his wickedness.
Next week can't come fast enough, he thinks when he snuggles close to Olruggio's chest.
i did post this on my twitter account but i must share it here…i know we talk about qifrey caressing the tassel olruggio gave him but what about olruggio toying with the fringed tassel while he works in candlelight. his hat sitting in his lap and stroking the fine thread between his fingertips unsure why it brings him comfort but doing it anyway and sometimes qifrey will notice it and he gets all flustered bc of it ^_^
idea i have in the middle of requests and c0mmissi0ns where qifrey is curse free…let the yearning and qifrey learning to finally let himself accept affection COMMENCE
a/n: i come bearing orufrey in between requests and commissions….i hope you all enjoy
It had been a month since Qifrey became curse-free.
Without the ability to see— sacrificing his last remaining vision to cure the host deepening its roots within him— Qifrey had been under all matter of care and surveillance.
Images of white lights, faint blurs of silvery leaves and spindly roots curling around him and suffocated him behind his closed lids. They darkened, melding into a churning back mass, a damning darkness that snuck its way into his very lungs. Fire engulfed the mass, enraging the burning in his torso. He began coughing, gasping.
There was another flash of light, like a cloud breaking apart to unveil the warm glow of the sun across a horizon. He saw a figure, and a familiar one at that.
“Olru—“ He coughed once more, chest tightening, throat closing.
He awakens with a sharp gasp. His vision is blurry, mere blobs of muted colors can only be seen. Qifrey feels the drying sweat clinging to his skin, making him sticky. He draws a hand up to his neck, wiping any excess sweat off of him.
What…where am I?
“Back home.” He gasps, not realizing he had spoken. His gaze widens as he raises it to find the voice before him. There, in front of him, through muddled shapes of black and blue there’s no mistaking who sat by his side. “You were mumbling in your…unconscious state.” Olruggio says lowly, quietly so as not to alarm Qifrey any further. He almost forgot how soft his voice could sound against his ears.
Unable to gather his thoughts or any memories, Qifrey wipes the other side of his neck. He flinches when he feels something touch his naked arm.
“It’s alright, it’s a towel,” Olruggio says gently. He lets Qifrey feel it for a moment, watching the way he looks down at the rag with pinched brows.
“My vision…it’s…”
“The Silverwood is gone. But a price was made in return…Qifrey…you…” There’s a deep pang that hits his chest, drawing the towel to it to dampen the pain, Qifrey folds into himself.
“I know…Spare me the details for now…” Silence. Qifrey dries his damp skin as rain pats against the window. He doesn’t need the explanation, at least not yet. He’s not ready. Would he ever be? He's been fighting for a cure and answer for so long.
Had Qifrey forgotten who he was in the process?
He cracks his eye open, lights pours and it feels as if someone cast the brightest light upon him, making him flinch at the white hot pain that makes his head pulse. Qifrey’s palm presses hard into his lid, rubbing it. Fingers wrap around his thin wrist and he knows it’s Olruggio. He feels the warmth emanating off of him before he hears his voice once more.
“You must drink, Qifrey,” His voice is quiet and reverent. It hits Qifrey’s ears and vibrates his entire being. Like one of his comforting spells— he feels warmth envelop him at just the sound. His hand tightens into a fist around the towel.
You can’t dwell on it…this comfort…this…
There’s the sound of ice clinking against ceramic and a mug sits itself into his palm. “You must…please.” Reluctantly he tips the mug to his mouth and drinks the water. His throat was burning with each gulp, that tightness never loosening. He lets out a sigh when he swallows the last droplet and looks to the faint shape he recognizes as his dear friend.
“You’ve been by my side this whole time,” He hands the mug back to him, “Haven’t you, my old friend?” Qifrey’s voice attempts to recreate the soft tones but the dryness of his throat still had it straining and grainy like rough sand sliding against stone.
There’s a grumble, a rustling of cloth when Olruggio scratches the back of his messy bed head. “Of course I have, dammit. Can’t have you dying on me, not when we finally got you free of—“
“How did you figure it out?” Qifrey asks in a low tone. Olruggio only stares at him for a moment. He’s so much smaller in this vulnerable state. The grey colored duvet wraps around him like a veil of smoke. Qifrey’s head drops momentarily in shame and the other can see the faint discoloration at the roots of his scalp.
His hair is…changing color…
“I always figure it out.” Olruggio says with barely any wavering in his voice. Qifrey smiles faintly and for the first time in a good while, he chuckles.
“That’s right…of course you do.” His best friend can’t help but let his own smile escape.
Olruggio’s chair creaks under his weight, he leans forward with his elbows perching on his knees. “It’s good to hear your voice, Qifrey.”
That warmth once again. He lets his eye open and Olruggio is dimming the harsh light by being so close to him. Qifrey reaches out to what he can assume is one of the tassels on his sleeve. He rubs it between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s…it’s good to hear yours. I…missed it very much.” The words taste right on his tongue but feel wrong on his lips. He can’t be saying those things not when he knows the strange crackling he can feel within—
But wait. Nothing. Qifrey feels nothing. His head doesn’t ache, the phantom pain of his missing eye doesn’t make itself known. His grip tightens around the tassel to find ground within himself. Olruggio watches, debating if he should comfort him. In the past he’d pull away and hide his face.
He decides he’ll let Qifrey come to him.
Another creak of the chair and Olruggio stands, the ribbon on his sleeve weaves past Qifrey’s grasp. He stares at his half open palm wondering if his eyesight would just clear and he’d be able to actually see clearly. But nonetheless…
Olruggio huffs, “You must be hungry, hm? The girls made a stew just for you. I’ll get you a—“
“Oru…” His voice softens but hits Olruggio like a punch to the stomach. “I’d prefer if you stayed with me a bit longer.”
He can see the silhouette of his childhood friend turn to him and he can feel the warmth of his stare. He feels Olruggio’s eyes travel across the exposed part of Qifrey’s body.
“Of course.” He says with a blanket of sadness across his tone.
They sit for a while longer together, the unspoken words mingling between them and feelings blooming more and more. Qifrey’s chest aches with a new found feeling as the lack of roots make his chest feel hollow. Floods of emotion fill his lungs and his heart pumps harder than ever before.
݁꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱
Two months since Qifrey’s loss. He had gotten the hang of recognizing familiar shapes within their atelier, gaining more confidence in his steps without needing to support himself on the wall. It felt silly, being a teacher and having your own students teach you the way around your own home, but it felt even harder to accept the compliments, the warmth and love he had for these girls. He can’t help but feel something missing— as if the absence of the silverwood only created more strife within him.
It’s late when the inner demons of his mind gnaw on this issue. He can’t sleep and so he finds himself in the kitchen for a midnight snack.
“Everything you did…everything you put them through…and you can’t even see anymore.” He chops a mountain apple into eights.
“Was any of it even worth it? What do I have to show for my hard work?” He chastises, sweat beading at his jawline. He goes to push up the bridge of his glasses only to be met with damp skin. He slams a fist into the counter and the cutting board rattles.
A creak of the floorboards alert him. Olruggio stands holding a lamp, his night shirt hanging well past his feet and pooling at the floor. He looks like he had just been in a deep sleep.
“You could have woken the girls. Qifrey, what are you doing?”
“I,” he cuts off, turned toward him with a look of distress. “I just needed something to clear my head.” His steps come closer and the light grows. Olruggio stands beside him.
“A mountain apple won’t be much. Here,” He reaches over to something that Qifrey recognizes as the tea kettle. Olruggio fills a mug up with steaming milk and swirls a douse of honey in the liquid. He places the mug in front of his insomniac friend’s hands. “Come to the living area.” He grabs his hand, letting their fingers lock and Qifrey gasps at the feeling. Skin-to-skin with Olruggio was—
“What are you waiting for?” Instead of the feeling of roots tightening inside his head, he only feels the tightening of Olruggio’s hand. He tugs him closer but with a gentleness.
“Sorry. I’m not thinking straight tonight.”
“We’ll get you unwound and straight again then.”
Qifrey takes a few steps but falters when he’s pulled a different way. “Wait— living area— but—“
“You will sit on that damn couch and eat.” Olruggio was taking no excuse and Qifrey had to obey. He was sat at the couch and Olruggio fit himself beside him. On the loveseat, his friend leans back in his spot and watches the other with an index finger resting just below his nose. There’s an awkward silence except for the quiet sounds of Qifrey’s crunching on the fruit and sipping of his hot drink. Olruggio is first to break the silence.
“You realize how much I worry about you, don’t you?”
There’s a pause, Qifrey sips slowly and lowers the cup to his lap and doesn’t look to his friend. “I do.”
“And you realize how much I care for you?” He sounds angry, betrayed, confused. He has every right to be furious.
More silence. A nod. Olruggio stares at the side of Qifrey’s face. Hair obstructs the upper half of his face from view. He can see his lip quiver.
“Yes.”
This time Olruggio is quiet for a moment and the silence sits uncomfortably between them. Qifrey’s guilt creates a pit in his stomach, one that makes him repulsed at the half eaten apple in his hand. He sets it down and wipes his fingertips off the handkerchief given to him.
The weight on the couch shifts as Qifrey sets this plate and mug on the coffee table before them. Olruggio slowly sits up, leaning towards him.
“What do I have to do to get you to trust me now?”
Qifrey’s still as stone, his blood going icy and hands clammy in his lap. He swallows harshly around the lump in his throat.
“I don’t know…” He lowers his chin and takes a deep breath. “Having you worry over me, knowing I could never accept the comfort of your kindness…it pained me.” Qifrey’s fingers flex and pinch at his night gown, rolling an embroidered leaf between his fingers.
“I let you think it was all your fault. That all the blame of my emotional turmoil was a result of your lack of help. It was never that way.” He can’t bring himself to look at Olruggio for he can already see the pained glisten in his eye.
“You blame yourself for my distance. I’ve never deserved the kindness you’ve shown me.”
The weight shifts once more and Olruggio presses his knee against the side of Qifrey’s thigh. “And yet I still give it.”
Something snaps like a twig within Qifrey. He hunches over, hands cupping his face. He feels the faint tears escape him.
“You should hate me.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t.” Olruggio says with a tilt to his voice. He smirks slightly at Qifrey who’s huddled into himself. “You know you couldn’t escape me if you tried.”
Qifrey actually smiles under the palms of his hand. He slowly lifts himself back to his upright position and wipes away at the lingering teardrop on his cheek. He barely tilts his chin towards his partner.
“I’m selfish…despite everything I’ve done to you…I’m glad you still stuck by my side. Even though I don’t deserve it.”
A dismissive hand flaps up and down. “I’ll have none of that. You are a selfish bastard…but you’re my selfish bastard and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Olruggio forces himself into Qifrey’s line of sight. His one eye widens at the shape he knows is his friend. His cheeks tinge pink.
“And I’m yours…right?”
Nodding slowly, Qifrey’s hands gather a bundle of his clothes into his fists and he fights back tears once more. Olruggio’s gentle hand cups his cheek and wipes the wet edge of his eye. They’re so close like this, it hasn’t been the first time but something about the air between them shifted the last few weeks. Something they both don’t have to confirm.
Olruggio’s stare travels across the softness of Qifrey’s face. His eyelashes are a mix of small brown and white hairs and his pale blue eye flickers across the others features. He almost wonders if he can truly see him right now. Qifrey’s lips part.
“Oru—?”
Olruggio leans in and presses his lips to Qifrey’s. The bristles of his hair tickling his partner's lip. His bottom lip caresses Qifrey’s top lip so softly that he knows this kiss in of itself is requesting permission.
Is this okay? Are we allowed to do this?
Qifrey kisses back, tilting his head to suck in the gasp that escapes Olruggio.
It’s sickening, the guilt that plants itself deep within Qifrey’s bowels. It festers as if the Silverwood hadn’t ever left. His hands find purchase on Olruggio’s shoulders and he fists his clothing harshly. For all the guilt, all the selfishness and wrong doings for survival, he couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go.
Their lips do the heart-to-heart. Olruggio’s hot breath tastes of the milk and honey he made and his lips are as warm and comforting as his spells. Like the selfish man he is, Qifrey takes and takes from him and moves his lips together with his partners to ensure he’s memorized every ridge and edge of Olruggio’s mouth. His hands wander, finding his fingertips at the edge of the hem of his night gown. Exposed skin and the little hairs on his chest sends Qifrey’s heart rate into the stratosphere.
Olruggio feels the way his other half melts into him and he hears his heart thump hard and fast against his ears. Taking a leap such as this one is quite possibly the scariest thing he’s ever done but the fruits of his labor are not lost to him. When Qifrey’s hands sit at his chest, Olruggio lets an arm circle around his waist and pull him closer. Without breaking the kiss, they successfully sit facing one another.
The sounds of their heavy breathing fills their ears, encouraging more. Olruggio craves the small breaths that escape Qifrey’s mouth— latching his lips back to his to cut off the sound and swallow it into his lungs. His night shirt gets tugged taught, leaning over until the back of Qifrey’s head lands on the love seat's arm rest. This doesn’t deter them yet but instead makes them fit together much like Olruggio’s magic rings. Their bodies joining into one and spreading warmth between them.
A leg slots itself between Qifrey’s, lifting the gown in the process. His cheeks burn and his lips quiver when he realizes just how little he has on underneath. His hands still at Olruggio’s chest, draw into fists and pull him closer. Desperately needing him and ignoring the screaming voice in his head that tells him to pull away and put an end to this.
“Qifrey,” Olruggio breathes against his mouth. His rough facial hair stings on his soft skin but the warmth of his breath eases it. His old friend cups a hand around his hip, fingers flexing under the hem of his night gown. He waits for Qifrey’s signal.
His hips rise from the love seat and Olruggio pushes the bundle of cloth over his hip and exposes his entire lower half. They break away for a single moment, their eyes meeting for the first time since this began. The glistening of the lamp mirrors in Qifrey’s a warm orange hue flickering against them. Half of Qifrey’s face is engulfed in light, the other as black as the dark side of the moon. Olruggio lets his other hand run through a strand of Qifrey’s hair, the subtle change in color growing out now into a beautiful auburn.
“Are you okay?”
Qifrey shakes his head. “I’m terrified.”
Olruggio stares back. “Me too.”
The one beneath takes the initiative and their lips meet once more. With shaky breaths and trembling hands and lips, their mouths part to invite their tongues to slide against one another's. The feeling is indescribable to Qifrey. He had held himself back for so long, thought of this so many times, pictured it in his mind every night but never once did he think it’d become his reality.
The feeling of Olruggio’s tongue against his teeth, his fingers creating indents in the soft flesh of his hip. The throbbing between his legs that grew and grew until finally when he attempted to thrust up into the air, he felt himself bump against the thickness of Olruggio’s thigh. Everything stopped once more.
Eye’s trailed down to where Qifrey twitches, the lamp making his skin a warmer tone and accentuating the glisten of wetness at his tip. He curls into himself once again.
“I…Oru…I’m—“
Olruggio lifts his night gown to reveal his own throbbing passion. The pair of them red faced and blinking at one another. Even Qifrey can tell what was before him.
“Me too,” he assures, letting the gown fall and pool around the base of him. Olruggio’s hands draw towards the dips in Qifrey’s hips. His thumbs dangerously close to the coarse hair framing his partners hard on. A whimper escapes both of them and they both seem to twitch at the same time making them giggle. His left hand lays flush against the flatness of his waist and he slides it until Qifrey’s shaft sits flush in the crook between his thumb and index finger.
Olruggio lines himself against Qifrey’s shaft, momentarily drawing his palm to his mouth and spitting into it. It’s a shock when a wet palm cups them both and Olruggio gives a curious thrust. The other lets out the faintest moan before covering his mouth so as not to be too loud.
“Olruggio—!” He whispers harshly. “What are you—“ The hand around them squeezes and Qifrey’s thighs flex at the pleasure, his toes curl. So warm and hard against him, the spit creating just enough slickness between them. More precum beads at their tips and Qifrey feels it dribble down to his stomach. The room grows warm, Olruggio’s chest heaves with each slow thrust of his hand. He’s girthier and heavier than him and warmer too, their shafts slip together up and down as a rhythm is finally set. Qifrey meets his thrusts, one hand grasping at the cushion beneath him while the other holds tight to his old friend's shoulder. It’s too much to bear, the mix of emotions that swirl around his chest, the pleasure winding its spool taught in his pelvic area. The feelings of his muscles tightening under his soft skin.
Olruggio whispers his name into the night like a prayer. “Qifrey…Qifrey…Qifrey…”
His hips jolt.
“Olruggio…I…I can’t— I can’t resist.” His head thrashes side to side. That tightness grows into something wicked that he can’t ignore much longer.
“No one’s telling you to,” he says breathlessly. “Come,” he pleads.
Coupled moans escape them and whispered obscenities release between them as Qifrey’s body trembles when it succumbs to the pleasure. It seeps out of him like honey in slow, even spurts— painting his milky skin. Olruggio’s not too far behind him, losing control just as quickly and fisting the both of them as his ropes come out farther than the other’s. Mixing together on Qifrey’s stomach that rises and falls with each gasping breath.
They still for a moment, the aftershock of their orgasms still playing out as they both unevenly throb together. The stickiness of them set rather quickly but neither one made any attempt to move just yet.
Qifrey’s first to catch his breath. He wipes the sweat from his neck and lays his palm to his pulse to calm it further.
“Wha…what do we do now?”
Olruggio’s quiet for a moment, long enough that they both begin to soften and he leans down and swipes some sweat from his partner's brow.
“That was selfish of me,” he ignores Qifrey. “I’m sorry.”
His wrist gets captured in Qifrey’s grasp and he nuzzles his face into his half open palm. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t have let it happen if I didn’t want it…”
“I didn’t even ask—“
“And yet I still accepted.” He can already see the firm frown on Olruggio’s face and he uses his thumb to soothe the crease on his furrowed brows. “I’ll forgive you when you clean me up, how about that?”
A breathy chuckle and the creak of the couch can be heard as Olruggio rises. He brings back a damp cloth and water.
“You didn’t even finish your milk and honey,” he chastises as Qifrey chugs the water.
“Someone didn’t give me much of a chance to.”
“Pfft, right…” Olruggio takes the glass back. “Should I see you back to your room?”
Qifrey turns to him. “I’d like that very much. Would you be willing to stay with me tonight?”
Olruggio’s cheeks redden and he scratches at the back of his head. “As long as you behave.”
“Who misbehaved first tonight?” Olruggio grumbles, grabs his wrist and pulls Qifrey with him.
“Alright, alright, enough questions, back to bed with you.”
They chuckle on their way back, the bedroom door clicking closed and locking behind them, their nightly endeavors continuing in the comfort and darkness of their shared space.
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