Work Text:
Echo hops off the bus on the outskirts of town and sends Grand another text. They managed to get an earlier slot on the stitch from Brighton today and the buses from the port have vastly improved since the last time they came to Arbit. It means they're two hours earlier than expected. Though that doesn’t count for much when Grand is apparently ignoring their messages.
They glance at their phone. All still unread. He's probably in some meeting somewhere or hiding away in his workshop.
Echo sighs and shifts their bag on their shoulder, turning onto a narrow track off the main road and continuing on to Grand's house.
They've spent the last couple of months working at the Reverie School stitch camps, and now they have two weeks vacation before they head back for the undergrad field trips. Taking some time to decompress after dealing with a weekly cycle of energetic 8-15 year olds is long needed, and even if the community around Arbit is weird and pretentious at the best of times, it’s always a respite from routine. They’re guaranteed to dine out on some weirdly delicious food a resident 'visionary' has cooked up, and for Grand to take them to displays of whatever trend in performance art has taken over since the last time they were here—whether it’s musical, or visual, or some bizarre immersive experience for all the senses.
And when they inevitably want to get away from people all together the canyon surrounding the town is close enough for a solo hike or climb, complete with spectacular views across the desert.
Not that they expect to disappear out on their own much. Long distance suits their equally busy lives, but it's always a relief to spend time together with Grand in person instead of through patchy inter-planetary calls or uncanny splice visits.
Echo reaches the end of the track and walks up through the rock garden outside Grand's house, smiling as they pass by the familiar miniature shrubs and blooming desert flowers. They unlock the door and kick off their shoes as they step into the porch, yelling out in case Grand is in—and hear the sudden clatter of something falling in the back room. Grand's home studio.
Of course. They roll their eyes. He's probably been too stuck in his own little world to pay attention to their messages.
"Hey,” they call as they head down the hallway. “The stitches weren’t too busy today and I got here early. Have you–" Echo turns the corner and stops dead in their tracks.
Grand is sitting at his workstation, surrounded by the usual plethora of projections and 3D drawing tools. Except he's naked.
Or no. He's still dressed, but it takes a second for Echo to register the lines of salmon pink satin running over his back and shoulders, thin straps holding panels of white lace in place across his chest. The brassiere is paired with a matching thong in the same lace, and his ass is almost entirely on display, only a small triangle of pink and white to cover him. When he jerks around to face them they get a brief glimpse of the soft fabric tucked between his legs, cupping the front of him closely. It's so unlike Grand to wear lingerie—or anything in the vicinity of lacy—that they're completely lost for words.
"Uh, hi!" Grand squeaks out, cringing where he sits, his hands fumbling with the pot of styluses they must have heard him knocking over.
Echo just stares. Stunned. "Grand?" they manage to say, disbelieving. There's about a hundred questions running through their head. "What is—were you…waiting for me?" If he was trying for seduction he's completely missed the mark. They're mostly just confused.
“I didn't actually notice your texts until now," Grand confesses, very red in the face. "I wasn't expecting you to uh. See me. In this."
He shifts awkwardly on the chair and Echo can't help glancing down. The way the satin is clinging to the outline of his cock and the weight of his balls as he moves is very distracting. The garment must be made to fit, though it clearly wouldn't keep him contained with any vigorous movements. Or if he got hard. They quickly smother that thought and clear their throat. “So you were just doing your work. Alone. In really fancy underwear."
Grand looks like he might implode, knees pressed together. His flush has extended all the way to his ears. "Maybe."
Echo leans against the doorway and lets the silence hang in the air between them.
Grand does seem genuinely embarrassed at being caught out with whatever this is, and now the shock is fading, Echo can feel their amusement at the situation bubbling up. They can't deny he looks cute, all dressed up and flustered on his ergonomic work chair. His fancy get up is completely out of place amongst the clutter of his studio room.
They let out a soft laugh and set their bag down on the floor, walking over.
"Grand. It's fine," they tell him, hoping to dispel some of that nervous tension. They lean in for a kiss and he shifts in his chair to meet them, kissing back. Shoulders relaxing under their touch. "Sorry for bursting in,” Echo says. “Even if I texted you, like, an hour ago."
"I was busy!" Grand gestures to the screens above his desk.
The movement exposes his chest and Echo is close enough now to notice that the lace is sheer, the red of his nipples peeking through the delicate material. Grand pulls his arms back in, sheepishly trying to cover himself.
"Let me go get changed?” he asks, and there’s a hint of pleading in his tone. “Then maybe we can, uh…start over." He runs a hand through his hair, then leaves it on his forehead. A picture of defeat.
"Okay. I'll go get something to drink," they say, taking pity. They kiss him on the cheek before turning to grab their bag.
As they head through the doorway, Grand calls after, "If you’re making tea then make me a cup of silver needle!"
They raise an eyebrow at him. If he's making demands for tea he can't be too upset.
While Grand disappears into the bedroom to change, Echo rummages through the kitchen and sets some water to boil, pondering the weirdness of the last few minutes. Was it some kind of secret kink Grand's been too embarrassed to bring up? He's always enjoyed a certain flavour of humiliation in the bedroom, but it’s never been tied to the clothes he was wearing. And he’s never hinted at wanting to pretty himself up and be admired either. Clothing was incidental most of the time, something to be removed in order to get to the main event. He’s never even engaged in the subtle invitation of walking round the house in just a robe, or hanging about in a towel after a shower like Echo does when they’re in the mood and they want to feel Grand’s eyes linger on them.
Once the teas are steeped, Echo leaves Grand’s silver needle untouched and cuts a slice of lemon to add to their own black blend. Or at least they hope it’s a lemon. Agriculture around here is as artistic as the machines, and they don’t entirely trust the contents of Grand’s fruit bowl. Resigned to a potential new flavour experience, Echo sets the teas down on the table in the sitting room and Grand reappears dressed in a plain shirt and slacks. There's no lace or bare skin to be seen. It’s almost a disappointment.
"It's Avercetti,” he says.
“What?”
“The lingerie.”
Right. The designer. As if that explained anything. Echo sits down on the sofa, settling into the deep cushions and tucking their feet up, ready for whatever explanation is forthcoming. But Grand just perches on the edge of the seat. Fussing with his glass of tea instead of talking.
“So, what’s up with Avercetti?” they prompt, poking his side with their foot. “You’ve never worn anything like that before. At least, not with me,” they add, aware of Grand's art school days back on Memorious and the smattering of people he’s been with in the years between building Arbit and restarting this thing with them.
Grand laughs as if surprised by the idea. “No. This isn’t—this is new.” He sighs and sits back on the sofa. "We hosted a fashion week a couple of months ago,” he starts. “And usually I'm not so bothered about the intimate apparel shows, but Suture said I ought to show my face for our guest artists, so I went along." He waves a hand dismissively. "It was mostly predictable. Lots of tight latex, structured bodywork, big showy corset pieces. All very nice. And then halfway through the set Avercetti came out with these lace and silk ensembles and they were all…layered up. Thinned out and stretched across people’s bodies. Looped around shoulders and elbows and chests, accentuating all the folds, and fat, and muscles, and, and–”
“Bulges?” Echo suggests, thinking about how tight Grand’s lacy little thong had been.
“–and yes, bulges,” Grand concedes, a little irritably. “It was actually compelling, is what I mean. Lingerie that made me want to see people move, not just pose and posture."
The stuff he'd been wearing had looked high quality, but Echo didn't think it had been particularly out of the ordinary. Maybe it was only inspired by and not the haute couture version.
Grand clears his throat. “Anyways, I went and thanked everyone afterwards, and Avercetti was very…appreciative of my comments.”
Echo snorts. “That means they flirted with you.” They prod him with their foot again. “Tell me what they said.”
“Oh, the usual bullshit. You seem like a fan. I’d love to see you dressed in my work one day. Yada, yada."
“Wow.” Echo laughs. “Not even spicy.”
“The important bit is that they implied their private commissions were open and gave me their card.”
Echo raises an eyebrow. “That wasn’t part of the flirting?”
Grand sniffs. “Avercetti is very exclusive. It was a generous invitation.” He sighs, picking up his tea and gazing into it. Tapping his fingers against the glass. "I didn't take up the offer straight away. I'd been admiring the designs on other people, not thinking about it on me. But I eventually caved out of curiosity. They sent along some mock ups, I gave them the go ahead, and it arrived a couple of days ago. I, uh. Hadn’t tried it on until today.”
Huh. Echo watches as Grand takes a slow sip of his tea, glancing gingerly over the lip of the glass.
“So…did I interrupt some sort of rehearsal back there?” they ask. “Were you planning to surprise me sometime this week?”
Grand sputters. “No—I wasn’t—I wasn’t going to just come out wearing it!” His blush is back in full force, cheeks pink. “I was going to take you to the archive room in the gallery. Show you some clips from the show. Talk about it over lunch and see if any of it interested you.”
"Hmm." Of course that would have been Grand's approach. Pitching it to them like a client. "Seeing fancy fashion stuff on a bunch of models isn't the same as seeing it on you though."
They can see the hesitation in Grand’s face. Echo is aware of how often they make fun of the batshit things he wears sometimes, bluntly telling him what they think of iridescent jackets and fibre-optic velvet shorts. But he wouldn't be Grand if he didn’t go round sporting fashion that made them want to pull faces and sigh. And even if this whole lingerie thing has come out of the blue, they don't want to quash whatever journey of self-expression Grand is apparently embarking on before it’s even started. It might even be fun.
Echo shifts on the sofa so they can rest a hand on Grand’s thigh. Slow with their movements so they don't jostle the tea out of his hand. "Maybe it’s better I walked in on you," they say with a smile, tracing a finger along the inside seam of his trousers. "Sounds like I got an honest preview that way."
Grand looks flatteringly flustered, leg twitching under their touch as he hides behind his glass. Face half obscured by the pale tea. "You don't think I looked. I dunno. Stupid? Ridiculous?"
They smirk. "I mean, hunched over your desk looking like you'd been caught red handed? Yeah. Absolutely. But I won't pretend I didn't get a thrill from seeing you dressed up."
Grand looks quietly pleased. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Echo takes the tea out of Grand’s hand and sets it down, pulling him in for a kiss. They take their time, lingering with intention. Appreciating the soft little sigh Grand makes when they finally pull away.
"Dress up for me one night while I'm here," they tell him.
“Okay,” he agrees. His gaze looks a little distant. Probably imagining what Echo wants to do with him all fancied up. Not that Echo knows themself, but they can’t deny there aren't ideas already percolating in the back of their mind. Thoughts about what they can do with a few extra straps to tug Grand around with, and ways to make him bend to their will in return for some admiration…
They pick up their tea to take a sip and immediately pull a face. “Ugh.”
Grand blinks, then spots the fruit slice in the glass. "You thought it was a lemon."
"Any normal person would have thought it was a lemon!" Echo protests.
"It's a grapefruit. Or grapefruit adjacent. They’re pretty good fried up in vinegar with noodles."
"Great." Echo takes another sip of their terrible, sour tea. They ignore Grand as he starts to laugh. "Make me some of those noodles later and I'll forgive you for filling your kitchen with imposter fruit."
Despite the unexpected start to their stay, the rest of Echo's two weeks is the vacation they hoped it would be.
They get taken round the latest exhibitions. From a simulated technicolour seascape they can effortlessly swim through complete with scents and sounds that shift with the scenery (extremely good, no mesh connection required), to sitting with Grand in a dark, misty void while an overly enthusiastic singer wails at them (definitely the worst). When Grand is otherwise occupied, they spend a happy number of hours catching up with nearby friends from Séance and end up holding an impromptu sparring session with a couple of ex-Reverie students that have moved to Arbit.
Grand’s colleagues seem only too glad that he has an outside distraction from his work. The collective that keeps the town running—and Arbit itself running too—are currently planning to make Grand an Excerpt of all things. Echo can’t believe he’s actually going to do it, but presenting Arbit as a Divine machine for over a decade now has led to some heated debates, and certain circles are beginning to press for more concrete commitments to accompany such a claim. The Temple of the Lost has always had an active relationship with Arbit via the students that come to study it, and Sho Salon is apparently onboard with the idea. A new form of Excerpt for a new form of Divine provides fodder for her school of theological thought at the very least. Even Tender, as one of the few remaining Excerpts in the Mirage, has agreed to be a part of the ceremony. There are three months to go before the actual day and the whole thing sounds like a nightmare to plan and prepare for. Echo is glad they’re here to be Grand’s excuse to take a break. They've no desire to get caught up in it too.
Dinner dates count as one such distraction.
There’s a restaurant that’s become a regular haunt when Echo visits, a dining experience that changes its gimmick every few months. This time it’s cubes. Small cubes of layered meat, fish, vegetables, and fruit, served with cubed bread rolls and cubes of sticky rice, and cube-like bubbles that are ready to burst and coat thin, intense sauces over the plate at the insistent press of a fork. Even the drinks are in cube form. No glasses, just drinkable cubes of liquid that stay solid at the edges until you get to the last few drops and inevitably end up with wet fingers. It’s ridiculous, but the food is genuinely good.
Echo is still mellowed out on the alcohol-soaked pineapple and coconut concoction they had for dessert as they walk back to the house, letting the lights overhead guide their way along the track. They glance across at Grand, reaching over to wrap a hand around his back—and feel the unmistakable ridge of a bra strap through his shirt.
“Grand.” They stop abruptly.
He stops too.
"Are you wearing it?" They meet Grand's eyes and slowly run their fingers along the back of the bra.
He just smiles, and walks on again.
"Don't be coy."
They catch up easily and slip a hand down the back of Grand’s suit pants—which makes him squawk, hilariously—finding the lace they expect to feel there. They trace along the soft elastic with a finger and feel a trickle of heat run down their spine. They can't believe he sat through dinner wearing it. Talking to them about the new artists he’s interested in and listening to them moan about their sister's over the top wedding plans, and all the while he was wearing his skimpy lingerie underneath.
"You said to wear it for you," Grand says, noticeably smug.
"Yeah. I did."
They slip their hand away and Grand resettles the back of his jacket, attempting to correct the drape. Echo grabs Grand’s hand, pulling him along, and they spend the next few minutes simmering with desire as they make their way towards the house, pace quickening as they pass through the garden and rush up the steps to the porch, laughing as Grand nearly trips over a cactus in the dark.
Once the door is shut behind them Echo pushes Grand against the wall and kisses him. He makes a sweet little moan, letting them press a leg between his and they pull his head down so they can deepen the kiss, fingers tangled in his hair. They indulge in a hot minute of friction and messy kisses by the door, before Echo recovers enough brain function to pull away.
“Meet you in the bedroom,” they tell him, catching their breath.
Grand gives them an equally breathless, “Okay,” in reply.
Echo slips into the guest bathroom, grinning at their reflection in the mirror as they hear Grand’s footsteps move away down the hall. Their blood feels like it’s thrumming in their veins, nerves lit up. It’s been a while since they’ve been this pent up for sex. There’s a fun spontaneity to this that reminds them of their early fumblings back on old Quire and the World Without End, flirting between missions and getting carried away in the heat of the moment. It’s a brief but pleasant nostalgia.
When they've freshened up, they find Grand waiting for them, sitting on the edge of the bed. Still fully dressed in his suit and looking a little more artfully composed than he did a few minutes ago.
“You gonna do a strip tease for me?” they ask with a smile.
Grand shrugs, which isn't his usual reaction to that kind of teasing. Usually he frowns and protests that he won't be goaded into any posturing. Echo sits back in the chair at the side of the room (the one typically draped in a pile of worn-but-fresh-enough clothes) and settles in, raising an eyebrow at him expectantly.
He clears his throat and stands up. Then simply starts to remove his suit jacket.
The whole suit is dark and liquidy looking, catching the light and moving in strange ways, but Echo’s been staring at it all evening and it’s hardly novel at this point. They watch as Grand slips off the jacket and leaves it folded at the edge of the bed. He takes his shirt off next, undoing the buttons from bottom to top and that’s when Echo notices there’s something else beyond the pink and white brasserie they expect to see underneath. The weird liquid-effect shirt parts and drops away to reveal a pale, gossamer-like top stretched across his body from shoulders to hips, with wide, asymmetric cut outs down the centre and sides that leave more skin exposed than it covers. The lacy brassiere is still visible underneath, and there are matching sleeves stretching from elbow to wrist in the same thin material, the colours of his tattoos showing through and adding to the visual effect.
It’s startlingly nice on Grand. The overlapping panels accentuate the soft bulk of his body, wrapping around him in complimentary pastel shades. Echo purposefully doesn’t say anything, but Grand smiles at whatever expression is on their face.
Next, he bends down to remove his socks which reveals something sheer covering his feet too, and Echo watches in genuine anticipation as he unzips his trousers, dropping them to his ankles and stepping out to reveal thigh-high thin stockings that match the rest of it, cut outs gaping dramatically all the way down his legs. Together it manages to highlight how much of his skin is on display. An enticing silhouette in satin and lace.
“You weren’t wearing this before,” they say, too excited to sound accusatory. It's easy to see how this was based on some runway ensemble now.
“It’s delicate stuff,” Grand says primly. “I wasn’t going to wear out the material.” The prim expression fades into something more sheepish. “And I was mostly just seeing if the top and bottom set fit when you, uh. Interrupted me.”
Despite the confidence of his strip tease, he clearly doesn’t know what to do with his hands now he’s done his reveal and they hover awkwardly at his sides.
“Come here.” Echo beckons with a finger, smiling at the obvious relief in Grand’s eyes as he walks over. "Turn around." He does.
The thinnest edge of the cutouts along the bodysuit and stockings have been reinforced with tiny smooth beads and Echo tugs at them, feeling the stretch and give of the lacy material and watching it press into the softness of Grand’s skin. He’s removed his body hair and they run their hands along his legs, up his sides and down his stomach where he’d usually have a thin trail of dark hairs, but now it’s silky smooth. Grand sucks in a breath and leans from one leg to the other as they dip their fingertips under the waistband.
“Is this what you were busy doing while I was hiking up the canyon this morning?” they ask, curious as they draw small circles over his skin.
“Some of the time,” Grand admits, voice a little strained as they tease lower but don’t quite touch the base of his cock. He's so soft and it takes all their restraint not to break the tease and simply wrap a hand around him. Cradle his cock and massage his balls to properly admire his handiwork.
Echo likes to remove their body hair on occasion, but it's always a temporary desire. The urge coming and going like so many other feelings they have about their body. It's nice to feel it on someone else. They imagine Grand carefully stripping the hairs away with a razor or an epilator or whatever, spending time getting ready for them. Soaking in the bath tub or standing in the shower, little furrow between his brows as he dedicates himself to the task.
“Have you done this before?” They look up at him.
"No." He pauses. "I mean. I got my hair zapped for surgery back when I was eighteen, but I got it reinstated as soon as I could."
Hm. Not exactly the sexiest of scenarios, and unlikely one he enjoyed. They’ll make sure to show him how lush the extra sensitivity can feel under a tongue or slick fingers. And lend him some cream to soothe the inevitable irritation when the hair starts to grow back in.
Meanwhile, they tug the sides of the panties, jostling him.
They smirk. "I still can’t believe you walked all the way to the restaurant and back in these. Bet you were adjusting yourself every time my back was turned."
"They’re well tailored!” he protests. It’s true. Their teasing tugs aren’t making him slip out. “Though a thong's not exactly comfortable,” he adds, shifting his weight.
Echo grins and pulls on the elastic, before letting it snap back and laughing as Grand startles. His cock is starting to plump up at the attention, and they watch it twitch under the satin. It makes them want to tug on all the straps and lacy edges. Leave him half tangled and dishevelled in his pretty lingerie—but it does actually seem delicate and they don’t want to ruin it.
They consider the tantalising patches of skin bared between all the lace and decide on a more strategic approach.
Echo pushes Grand towards the bed and runs their fingers down the centre of his chest as he sits. They trace along the stretch of sheer top, deliberately rubbing their knuckles over the peak of his nipples where they stand out under the layers, and Grand’s breath hitches. He glances up, but Echo only keeps eye contact as they pinch both nipples through the soft material, watching his eyes close against the pleasure-pain, moan spilling from his lips. He's being so good for them, keeping his hands flat on the bed, and they feel that low curl of heat at his automatic submission. They twist their fingers, pulling a higher whine out of him—then release him, watching his shoulders drop in relief. Lips parted as he catches his breath.
"Hands above your head,” they demand, pushing him down onto the bed. Feeling that prickle up their spine as he obeys. “And keep them there.”
Grand stretches himself out, eyes fixed on them as they lean over to kiss the skin that’s bare between the cutouts. Starting at his shoulders and working their way across. Along his arms and sides, his chest, and down his stomach and hips. Where there’s enough give, they suck and nip his skin between their teeth, leaving little red marks and relishing the way he squirms beneath them.
Once they reach his hips they sit back and start again at his ankles, kissing their way up the inside of each leg. Watching as his cock thickens and pokes its way out of containment the longer they tease him, dark head drooling above the waistband by the time they’ve made it all the way to the tender crease of his thighs.
“Enjoying yourself?” they ask with a smile, catching his eye. They know their face is distractingly close to where he wants to be touched, and they let the warmth of their breath ghost over his cock. Grand just makes a pleading noise in reply, shifting the leg that’s still hooked over their shoulder.
They relent and drop their head, pressing their mouth against the front of the satin and run their tongue along the hot length of him, feeling more than seeing the way Grand struggles to keep his arms above his head as he reacts to their touch. The smell of him up close is a heady rush, the familiar scent of arousal and sweat. The salty bitter taste in their mouth as they lick the pre-cum from the tip of his cock. They pull the waistband down enough to get their lips fully on him, kissing down the rest of his length and exploring the smooth, plush skin at the base of him and around his balls. He’s almost velvety to touch, tender and sensitive. Reacting to every press of lips and tongue, all heavy panting and cut off noises.
Echo resists the urge to grind against the bed as they suck him. Trying to maintain a measure of control so they can focus on getting Grand to that perfect edge of desperate even while their cock throbs with arousal. It doesn’t take long to hear that distinctive whine in his tone, and they pull off abruptly, sitting up and wiping their mouth. Denying him an easy finish.
Grand looks wrecked. They smile at how flushed his face is, the satin of the thong damp with spit and pre-cum and fuck, why haven’t they done this before? There are so many ways they can take advantage of a Grand who wants to dress up and lay himself out for them like this. Like an object. Like a piece of art to be admired and taken apart bit by bit. It all seems incredibly up his alley now they’re here in the middle of it.
“Y’know, you make a pretty picture, Grand,” they tell him as they run a finger along the elastic of one of the stockings, lifting the edge. “But sadly, I think most of this is gonna have to go.”
Grand’s eyes follow as they start to peel the stocking away, the little beads rolling neatly down his thigh and calf. Grand points his toes so the material doesn’t catch at the ends and Echo smiles as the stocking comes off, pleased with the way Grand keeps his arms above his head as instructed, elbows bent. The affectation makes him look coquettish, skin flushed and pink from all the attention, glancing up at them through an obvious haze of arousal. They remove the other stocking too and drop them both beside the folded suit at the edge of the bed, starting on the arm things next. They roll them off with the same smooth motion, but there are no hooks or closures to unbutton the top. It ends up being a puzzle to remove it with anything approaching grace, and Grand finally untangles it himself, sitting up and manoeuvring the stretchy material off over his head like an unruly sweater.
“I have some feedback for Avercetti,” he mutters as it finally comes off. “On the practical limitations of their designs.”
Echo snorts. “Because practicality’s a real high priority for lingerie.” They take the top from him and drop it on the pile.
“Yeah, well. A dignified exit would be nice.”
“Uh huh.” They tap his chin so he turns to face them, and then they kiss him until his frown melts away.
Echo sits back once Grand has been sated by kisses and lays him down on his front, appreciating how good he looks in the original two-piece. His ass is fully exposed by the cut of the thong, and the border of lace and satin at the top makes a cute little arrow pointing the way down.
"I think there's a practical use for some intimate apparel," they tell him. Then they slap his ass. Hard.
Grand’s shocked gasp is incredibly satisfying. Almost as satisfying as the sound of the smack itself, loud in the small room. They cup his ass where they struck him, listening to the breathy “fuck,” he lets out, smiling as he sinks back into their touch.
They keep going, spanking his right cheek, then his left, pacing out their strikes so Grand can’t quite predict when the next hit is going to land. Watching him hold himself still in anticipation and basking in his cries and the jiggle of his ass with each hit. Grand's skin marks up so easy and he's a gorgeous mess of smarting pink by the time they’re done, their own hand stinging from the repeated impact.
The idea of inflicting pain has never been appealing to Echo in and of itself, but Grand's reaction to a bit of rough treatment has given them an appreciation for it. There's a deep satisfaction in learning how to spool and unwind the tension in Grand’s body with just a few words or actions, their blood running hot at the sight of him so intensely feeling it, then going pliant, obediently waiting for more. Trusting them to carry him somewhere good.
They dig their nails into the reddened flesh and grin at the whimper he lets out, skin hot against their palms. With Grand warmed up, they loop a finger through the elastic of the thong and pull it down and off over his ankles, nudging his thighs apart once he's free to spread his legs, and oh. Grand’s smooth all the way.
“You did a thorough job, huh?” They can’t hide how impressed they are. If this was an invitation to play with his ass, they’re happy to oblige. They lean over so their mouth is by Grand’s ear, pitching their voice low. “Were you hoping for something specific tonight?”
Grand turns his head towards them, hesitating. Then he nods.
“Come on. Use your words," they chastise, pinching his sore ass.
“Yes!” It comes out as a yelp.
"And what did you want?"
He squirms, voice rough. "You to fuck me."
A full-blooded throb runs through Echo at how affected he sounds, arousal rising above the simmer they've been savouring all night. They deliberately let out a low laugh and lean back into position behind him. "I guess I can appreciate the effort you’ve gone to." They part his cheeks again, biting their lip at the way his hole visibly tightens. They love knowing how much he wants this. "Maybe you deserve a reward."
Echo shifts off the bed to grab lube and a glove from the side table, laying one of the small towels they keep around on the sheets beneath Grand. They snap the glove onto one hand and turn him onto his back, and Grand looks up at them with unrestrained want as they lift one of his legs to get access, reaching down to rub a stripe of lube over him. The first finger slips in easy, and he lets out a breathy sigh. They know slow and steady is best. Let Grand’s body calm and relax and then he'll be putty in their hands. They lean down and kiss him as he adjusts, enjoying the feel of him clenching and releasing around their finger as they kiss, insides hot and silky through the thin layer of the glove. The second finger takes a little twisting but then it slips in too.
“Look at you. Taking it so well,” they say, pleased. They press up and rub in slow circles, smiling as Grand throws his head back against the sheets as they find exactly the right spot. They kiss his neck, taking advantage of the vulnerable stretch of throat he’s bared for them. Tracing their tongue over his pulse point and feeling it jump under their touch.
Soon he’s taking three fingers, good and sweet, and they pull away to grab something else from the side table, opening the drawer. They briefly consider a harness, but it’s such a chore to make it comfortable enough not to chafe or rub. And without a quarter hour or so for a pill to kick in, they’re not gonna get themself hard enough for this. They’re not in the mood for that anyway. Dildo it is.
Echo selects one of the more realistically textured dicks in their collection and watches as Grand’s gaze falls on it, biting his lip. It’s just thick enough that it’ll leave him a little sore tomorrow and he knows it. They meet his eyes.
"On your front," they tell him.
He rolls over.
“Up.”
He shifts up onto his hands and knees.
They slip a couple of fingers into him and he’s so open they don’t hesitate to replace their fingers with the lubed up head of the dildo, pressing it against his hole and watching him take the tip with ease. They pause as they listen to his breath quicken and trace their other hand over the small of his back. Feeling his muscles tense and relax as he settles into the sensation.
“Ready, Grand?” They nudge it forward—just a little—and he makes a bitten off noise, hands shifting to steady himself against the bed.
He glances back, frowning at the tease.
“I said, do you want it?”
He swallows, furrow in his brow disappearing. “Please.”
They smile and push the dildo into him, inch by slow inch, and Grand lets out a long sigh as it fills him up.
"There we go. Good boy."
Echo waits a patient minute for him to ease up, hand stroking along his thigh and enjoying the feel of his smooth skin under their hand. And then they wait even longer, watching as Grand gets restless enough to start shifting his hips and take their cue, pulling the dildo back before thrusting it forward, grinning at the cry he lets out.
It doesn’t take long to build up a rhythm and it’s almost meditative getting into the momentum of it, listening to Grand's repeated little ah, ah noises as they fuck him. Watching the shift and pull of the skin around his opening, the dildo glistening as it reappears and disappears into him again and again. Having Grand in this position always makes them feel possessive, and they enjoy the sight of him so blissed out, hips rocking into the movement. Lost in the physicality of it. All theirs.
“Y’know, Grand,” they say, as their eyes trace over him on his hands and knees wearing only the pink and white brassiere. The shine of the satin straps highlighting the bulk of his back as he moves. “I think they should get you to walk the runway next time. I'm sure your followers would love to see you in your new get-up."
Grand makes a noise of surprise.
“Even better, you should incorporate it into your Excerpt ceremony.” They smile. “All those eyes on you. It could be an incredible reveal. Slip off your suit right there on stage and underneath you'd just be wearing this–” they snap the back of the brassiere, “–and your tight little thong.”
Grand whimpers, back arching deliciously.
“Here’s your new Excerpt,” they say, watching him pant and tremble. “All prettied up and ready to serve.”
He makes a guttural noise at that and for a startling moment they think he might have come untouched, but he just backs up into the dildo more fervently, hips working, chasing whatever precipice he’s on. They reach a hand around his cock and find it leaking a steady stream of pre-cum, perking up in their hand. They tease the tip, circling a finger over the wet head and revel in the desperate repetitions of please and yes that spill out of Grand. He must be close, and they let him rut feverishly into their hand. Concentrating on working his ass with the other.
It doesn’t take long, and Grand finally comes with a yell, gripping the sheets. Echo feels a sympathetic pull as Grand’s cock twitches in their hand, cum shooting onto the towel below. He collapses onto his forearms, forehead against the bed. Breathing heavy. There’s a soft, drawn out moan as the remnants of his orgasm sink through him.
They let go of his cock and gently tug on the dildo, giving him some warning before they pull it out fully, and he shifts at the momentary discomfort. But otherwise he lies there in a languid heap.
"What a mess,” Echo comments as they take the towel from under Grand and give him a perfunctory wipe with a clean corner, smiling as he squirms at the soft touch of cloth.
He gingerly turns on his side to face them, flushed and sweaty. Well and truly fucked.
"All good?" they ask with a smile. Unabashedly proud of their work.
He nods blearily. They lean down and kiss the corner of his mouth and he makes a pleased sigh, pressing his lips clumsily to theirs. They indulge him for a moment, then pull away, letting him lay there and recover as they peel the glove off their hand and go drop the towel and dildo in the bathroom to be cleaned later.
Grand is still sprawled on the bed when they come back, and they sit down next to him, running a hand through his hair.
“Mm. Fuck.” He stirs and sits up with a wince. "I've got a meeting tomorrow about wardrobe for the ceremony. I'm gonna have to try really hard to keep a straight face."
Echo laughs and Grand smiles as he takes off the brassiere, unhooking the back and slipping off the shoulder straps. It’s left faint pink lines on his skin. They’ll be gone in a minute or so, but Echo appreciates the temporary souvenir, running their fingertips along the marks before they turn Grand towards them and pull him in.
Their arousal is humming under their skin. An ache unfulfilled, and they let their need show as they curl a hand around the back of Grand’s neck and kiss him deeply.
Echo is still dressed, far too warm, and they break away to stand and strip off their top before divulging themself of the rest of their clothes. Once they’re naked Grand slips behind them and wraps his arms around their waist, pressing tender kisses to the nape of their neck. Teasing the sensitive spots behind their ears before kissing along the top of their bare shoulders. Echo shivers at a particularly nice press of lips at the centre of their trapezius muscles and lets themself enjoy the slow burn. Grand gets all devoted and soft once he's come, and they want to bask in his hazy affection.
“You’re being cute,” they tell him.
Grand huffs a laugh against their back. “I was trying for sexy.”
“Mm. Need to be a little more direct for that.”
He takes the hint and cups their chest from behind, starting to kiss down their back. Playing with their nipples. Gently at first, then rolling them firmer between finger and thumb until the sensitivity builds, heat flooding through their pelvis at each tug. Grand moves his hands down to their hips and there’s a shush of the carpet as he slips to his knees behind them. He runs his hands over their ass appreciatively. And then kisses the top of their cleft. Mouth wet and tongue brushing hotly against their skin before it slips further down.
The suggestion is more than enough. Echo suddenly wants. They turn and hold Grand's jaw. "Put a barrier on. Or I'm not kissing you later."
Grand hums as if disappointed, but does as he's told, moving over to the side table.
Echo kneels on the bed, lazily stroking themself as they watch him, and there’s a shine over Grand’s lips when he turns back, barrier placed. They tap the bed beside them, smiling as he quickly lies down. Eager. It only takes a moment to sling a leg over his chest, glancing back over their shoulder to catch the open look of hunger on Grand’s face before he wraps his hands around their thighs and pulls them down.
The first touch of his tongue nearly makes them flinch away, but they resist the urge, letting the slick heat lap over their hole. They moan as Grand swipes more firmly, teasing with quick licks and puckered kisses, before he opens them up enough to dip the tip of his tongue inside. Swirling it around their sensitive rim.
"Oh, fuck," they exclaim, voice shaky. Suddenly grateful for Grand’s hands holding their thighs, bracing them as they arch their back at the sensation.
Grand takes it for the encouragement it is and starts stroking his tongue over and over with a dogged enthusiasm. The kind that briefly makes them wonder if he’s even breathing back there, but it’s hard to care right now. They could sit on his face all day if he keeps this up, tirelessly eating them out—even if they know this won’t be enough to make them come.
Their body shies away from that tipping point even as their cock throbs with arousal and they tug on themself with a few rough strokes. Agonisingly good, but with no impending relief.
They hum to get Grand’s attention, reaching down to tap his hands. “Off,” they gasp.
Grand obeys, letting go, and Echo lifts themself up, getting a dirty glimpse of Grand’s flushed red face shining with his own spit, before they turn and grab a bunch of pillows from the top of the bed and lie down on their front. The wet heat of their hole feels chill, exposed to the air of the room, and a pleasant shiver runs through them. They look over their shoulder and Grand doesn’t need to be told to follow.
He runs his hands down their back, massaging their ass and thighs before he presses his mouth to them again. The new angle means he has better access and he swirls his tongue around their entrance, tracing the rim with a deliberate slowness that has Echo swallowing a groan. Then he presses in deeper than before—deep enough that they can feel their internal muscles squeeze around the length of his tongue.
“Fuck, fuck.”
Grand pulls back, leaving them gasping, and reaches up to press his thumb against the spot behind their mound, immediately sparking the nerves there with an intensity that shocks Echo. It’s exactly what they wanted when they chose this position. The chance for that extra bit of stimulation. Grand massages in small, tight circles as he leans in to lap at them, delicate flicks and long passes of his tongue, and the combination sends them wailing into the pillows. No mesh connected session or gifted sex toy could ever beat this. Having Grand here, mouth and hands on their body, skin to skin, so focused as he instinctively plays to their turn-ons.
Echo has a stranglehold on the pillows, gripping them tight. They don't even think they need to touch their cock to come at this point and it’s such a rarity that they gasp, urging themself on as they feel that blossoming pleasure build and build. There’s a strange moment of flex before they cry out, proving themself right as they crest over the peak of their orgasm and plunge into an achingly deep finish. They’re vaguely aware of the noises coming out of their mouth, swearing at the intensity. It feels like they’re clenching down on some tight void inside themself, blood pounding in their ears. Orgasm convulsing through their body.
They gasp for breath, shifting away from Grand as his touches become too much, pressing their crotch against the bed to flatten the sensation. Ease the sharp edge of pleasure as it grips them.
It finally subsides and they collapse, tension broken, and Grand rubs a hand over the small of their back as they come down.
"Well. That was new,” they hear him say, clearly still catching his breath.
They don't have words yet. They just moan, muffled in the pillows.
“You okay?” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I don’t think you’ve ever been that loud.” They reach out a hand and gesture rudely at him, unseeing. Grand huffs a quiet laugh and gently kisses the back of their neck. They can tell he’s taken off the barrier, lips soft and dry on their skin. “That was insanely hot,” he murmurs, voice low as he moves to kiss behind their ear.
They feel a weak throb between their thighs in response, and finally lift their head, catching his eye.
“You’re definitely doing that again sometime.” They reach a hand up and drag their thumb over Grand’s bottom lip, pushing his mouth open. “I’ll make sure of that.”
They pull their hand away and Grand bites his lip, face still flushed. Echo smirks, satisfied.
Eventually Grand gets up from the bed, presumably to go clean up, and Echo lies there. Content in their blissful stupor. It’s a peaceful respite, until a damp flannel hits the back of their thighs with a slap.
“Hey!” The cloth is warm, but still.
Grand just grins as he starts to gather his discarded lingerie from the bed.
Echo shifts up onto their knees, languor broken, grabbing the flannel as they move. They glance down at the covers to see they’ve left a sticky patch and grimace, wiping themself down before spot cleaning the covers. Their limbs feel loose and wobbly as they stagger to their feet and they head back to the bathroom to put the flannel in the tub with the dildo and towel.
When they glance at themself in the mirror they nearly laugh at how well fucked they look. Skin flushed and glowing. Hair mussed.
Grand appears behind them, meeting their eyes in the reflection with a smile.
"I'm gonna have to hand wash these," he comments as he drops the lingerie in the laundry bag.
"Don't you get half your clothes specially dry cleaned anyway?” Echo fills a cup with water from the tap. God, they’re thirsty. “Send it off."
"I'm not sending away for this!"
They snort at his objection and drink their water.
Grand downs a glass too, and his ass still looks red so they get him to bend over the sink while they tend to the sore skin with some soothing balm and a gentle massage. It’s a domestic little bookend to the evening. Their usual bedtime rituals punctuated by lingering hands and lazy kisses before they both flop into bed.
"So. Got any other lingerie hiding in your wardrobe?" Echo asks as they lay down under the covers and watch Grand rearrange his horde of pillows. It’s truly excessive. One day he’ll suffocate in them.
Grand gives them a sheepish look. “I'm not getting invites from designers at every turn.”
“Oh, so only designer lingerie is good enough for you?” They raise an eyebrow. “I suppose you’re gonna be an Excerpt soon. You can take your fill of fancy commissions then.”
Grand pulls a face. "I don’t think that's a perk of the title."
“I mean. Most of the Excerpts I’ve known have had incredible tailors.” They smirk. “You should send me the seasonal catalogue. I'll pick something out for you next time.”
There’s no quips to that. It’s a contemplative quiet.
“Like that idea, huh?”
“Maybe.” Grand says, burying his face in his pillows. “I’ll think about it.”