Work Text:
5 points. 4 points. 0 points. 0 points. 0 points. 0 points. 1 point.
There’s a knock at the door.
Ratio growls, not glancing up from the travesties on his desk. He can’t even put his headpiece on because he needs to read. “Enter,” he barks, already preparing a lecture for whatever fool has decided to interrupt his marking. This is exactly why he so rarely uses his office.
The door opens and closes with two neat clicks. Ratio discards another essay into the pile he’ll hand back shredded for the sake of everyone’s eyes and minds. He sighs aggressively. “Speak. And don’t waste time, I’m very-”
“You know whenever you visit me at work, I offer you a drink.”
That voice makes Ratio’s head snap up. His red pen hangs over the paper. Distracted immediately. “Gambler?”
“Doctor!” Aventurine echoes with a smile. The silent sanctuary of knowledge seems to come alive with his energy, transforming into just another piece of everyday life. He’s already taking off his hat and glasses as if he’s been invited to stay. “You look busy.”
“It’s marking season.” Ratio puts his pen down and folds his hands neatly on the desk. “So I’m afraid if you’re here with some inane request from the IPC-”
Aventurine makes a dismissive noise. Despite how rarely he uses it, Ratio’s office is not small. It has enough room that even with several bookshelves, a blackboard, a sofa, multiple statues, and a large window overlooking an even larger statue, it doesn’t feel crowded. Still, Aventurine seems to cross the distance between the door and his desk like it’s two steps. He hangs his hat on the outstretched arm of a statue, fits his glasses over the head, and pats it on the cheek affectionately. “I should get you a pair of these,” he muses. “They suit your face.”
“Do not,” Ratio says curtly, his own cheeks burning.
Aventurine laughs. There is no chair on the other side of the desk, because Ratio doesn’t like to encourage people to stay. So Aventurine – audacious, charming, stubborn - perches on the edge of the desk.
“Yes, make yourself at home,” Ratio drawls, adjusting his student’s papers and not looking at the buttocks planted on his desk like Aventurine owns it. Wicked temptress. A distraction sent to tempt him to abandon his quest to eliminate idiocy. He’s trying to rebuke him, has been since Aventurine walked in. But as usual when it comes to Aventurine, he’s lacking his usual venom. Maybe he’s tired. Or maybe it’s because-
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Aventurine says, kicking his legs. “So since I was in the neighbourhood, I thought I’d check in. Make sure you haven’t killed any undergraduates yet.”
Ratio snorts, a reluctant smile on his face. “I don’t teach undergraduates. I can barely get through to the postgraduates.”
“Aw c’mon Doc, they can’t be that bad.”
Ratio gestures to the red marks that litter every paper with an arched eyebrow. “I assure you, reading such drivel is torture.”
Aventurine is quiet for a moment. “You really do sound stressed. Good thing I decided to come and visit, hm?”
Yes, Ratio thinks. Just having Aventurine in the room makes him feel lighter. They’re not… well, Ratio has never known what to call them. It’s the one puzzle he can’t solve with logic. He’s not exactly an expert in this area. He’s never had friends, never mind anything else. Even after near death experiences and regular sex, he’s not sure he can put a label to it. All he can say is that Aventurine is familiar, and he’s happy to see him. He’s comfortable. His presence soothes the headache that was building.
“Yes, to remind me what real aggravation feels like,” he says instead. It’s a reflex, pushing back, seeing exactly what percentage of Doctor Ratio makes the other person leave him.
As usual, because he’s strange, and equally difficult to talk to, Aventurine just smiles. “I come all this way to check on you, Doctor Ratio, and you insult me?” Amusement tinkles in his voice like the silver of his earring. He flutters his lashes. “How cruel.”
Ratio leans lazily on his elbow, creasing a 0 point essay and looking up at Aventurine. It’s an unfamiliar angle. “I thought you said you were in the neighbourhood?”
Aventurine’s poker face is as impeccable as always, but Ratio knows a contradiction when he sees it. Point, Veritas, he thinks smugly to himself.
“Are you this cruel to your students?” Aventurine teases, ignoring the cross-examination.
“Worse,” Ratio responds smoothly. They’re both smiling like idiots.
“Worse than you are to me?” Aventurine speaks softly, just for them. Ratio leans further toward him, and Aventurine sways his way too. He leans back so dangerously far on the desk that he seems about a second away from collapsing, splaying out across Ratio’s desk like a satisfied cat in midday sun. “I find that hard to imagine.”
“You would probably do better than these students.”
“Really?” Aventurine laughs, deep and from his stomach. His real laugh. Something about Ratio’s words makes his eyes sparkle. Something about his laugh makes Ratio’s stomach swoop.
“Absolutely.” He despairs with his class, with this waste of his time. Maybe he can put these essays away for the day and go to dinner with Aventurine instead.
“I dunno Doc. I don’t think I’d be a good student.”
Ratio’s brow furrows slightly. “Well, you’d certainly be distractable, but in the correct atmosphere-”
Aventurine laughs again. “No… I’d be a bad student.” He ducks his head, his voice dipping to a low purr. “A really bad student.”
His voice sends a shiver through Ratio, though he doesn’t follow his words. “Hm?” He manages, too distracted by Aventurine’s breath against his ear and the perfume seeping into his pores to care about minutiae. His clothes always smell of Aventurine for days after he’s gone.
“Yeah,” Aventurine says, more to himself than to Ratio. “I think I’d be failing my classes, actually. I’d probably need a little… extra credit.” He licks his lips. “Professor.”
Ratio, swaying to Aventurine’s seductive tune until the last moment, suddenly bolts upright. He glowers. “Gambler-”
Aventurine hops off the desk and turns to rest both palms on it, still looming over him. The look on his face is utterly shameless. “So, I may have lied about being in the neighbourhood. And I may have lied about being here to check on you.”
Ratio wonders, sometimes, if Aventurine knows that all his kinks and fantasies are invariably about power, about people using each other. Is it some kind of test that Ratio is failing? Passing? But if Ratio asks, if he prods at that, Aventurine will only turn it around on him. He'll smirk, make some comment wondering why he cares. A saccharine threat to bring Ratio's foolish, ill-chosen vulnerability into the light. Or worse, he'll shut himself off and Ratio will lose this... familiarity.
He scowls. Instead, he opts for a cheap shot. “Do you get all your information about the world from porn? – No. Don’t answer that. Out.”
But Aventurine just licks his lips. “Oh don’t kick me out, please Professor,” he coos. Ratio hates how tension coils in his stomach immediately, how not even Aventurine’s ridiculous games can cool his desire. He makes a frustrated noise. “Please?” Aventurine purrs again, like he doesn’t know what that does to him. “I’ll do anything.” His back bows as he leans forward dramatically, grinning like a maniac, thrusting his chest and the flat, heart-shaped sliver of skin into Ratio’s flushed face.
“Aventurine!” The headache is coming back.
Aventurine laughs from his stomach, throwing his head back and pushing himself back upright. “Relax, Doctor. I know you’d never do something like that. It’s just a little roleplay I thought up while I was busy strategically investing.” Which is code for: Aventurine’s last mission was both incredibly dangerous and strictly secret IPC business. He will not be telling Ratio anything about it. “What do you think? Want to have some fun?”
The thought of Aventurine thinking of him while they’re apart, fantasising about what they’ll do when they see each other again? Very fun. The thought of roleplaying Strict Professor And Desperate Student, like a married couple trying to spice up the bedroom with ideas from bargain bin erotica? Ratio scowls. “Those sorts of things do not actually happen. Is there a single concept of this world that you can grasp without perverting it in your mind?” He hisses.
Aventurine rolls his eyes. “Oh come on Doctor, you know this concept is older than me.” He gives Ratio that smug, amused look of his. Nobody else looks at him like this. Like he’s the stupid one. “So there must be something to its appeal, right?”
“Nothing more than typical human fascination with the taboo. Now, if you’re quite finished questioning my ethics and making a mockery of academia, I am working.” Ratio looks away from those eyes – bright, hypnotic, distracting – back to the papers on his desk. He reshuffles them, pointedly ignoring Aventurine as he pushes them into neat lines.
But still the damned gambler lingers in the corner of his eye. A presence with weight, with mass, and his own pull of gravity. Ratio scowls at the papers. He refuses to be pulled into orbit.
Huiru’s essay is top of the pile, and he leaves it there for his sanity. It’s almost acceptable. Ratio expects her to survive to the end of his class. Meanwhile, Visellus’ understanding of philosophy is so limited it’s painful for him read. He buries that trash beneath five more papers, but in truth none of them are-
Aventurine’s hand creeps across the desk. He splays it out across Huiru’s essay, long fingers stroking across smooth paper.
“Get out,” Ratio growls.
Aventurine’s hand is moving toward his own, curled around the edge of a stack of essays. “So you’ve never thought about it? Ever?” He teases. “Having someone at your mercy, willing to do whatever you want? A scandalous affair - one you should keep secret.”
What Visellus fails to comprehend is that debates about the ethics of the creation of artificial intelligence are pointless in a galaxy post the Mechanical Emperor’s Wars. Not to mention her argument makes no mention of Screwllum’s address to the-
“But then the passion boils over in the middle of the day, and you just. Can’t. Help.” Aventurine’s pinkie finger curls around his thumb, stroking the length of it. “But take the risk.” Ratio’s brain stutters. Screwllum’s address to the… to the… the…
“Are you thinking about it now?” Aventurine breathes. Ratio’s half-lidded eyes follow the movement of his finger, entranced. Nobody else ever dares touch him. Only Aventurine is unintimidated.
Of course he’s never thought about it before. These hallowed halls are for research, for learning, and Ratio wouldn’t trade unearned accolades for even his own life. Besides, thinking about such a thing would require him to actually desire any of the imbeciles the university sends his way. Dull mind after dull mind.
But Aventurine’s mind is fascinating, and now he’s here, and Ratio has certainly fantasised about him. (In this office in fact. Pent up and restless in this seat, reciting the water cycle to keep from palming himself through his clothes. Visions of something just like this. Bending his gambler over his desk, in broad daylight, in the middle of the university that bears his name.)
In his bed, in his bathtub, in field tents and ancient ruins, in his sacred sanctum of logic. Aventurine haunts him in all of them. Flustered, foolish thoughts that crop up whenever the gaps between their meetings have been too long, too dry.
The things Aventurine does to him are as confusing as they are torturous.
Ratio breathes in shakily. “I will not indulge your degenerate whims, Gambler.”
“That’s what you said last time I had a great idea,” Aventurine croons into his ear, leaning so far across the table now he might as well be sitting on it again.
He slowly moves his whole hand atop Ratio’s. It’s much smaller than his. Fragile. Ratio could bend his wrist back and put a stop to this. He should. This is his place of work. But instead, he thinks about Aventurine’s last great idea. He thinks about Aventurine’s arching back pressed to cold plaster, the taste of his skin, the weight of him in Ratio’s arms as he pounded him into the wall. He thinks about how good Aventurine always feels around him, how long it’s been since that night.
(Two weeks, five days, and thirteen hours. Pathetic. Ratio used to spend years in perfect solitude and now he’s wrapped around Aventurine’s finger so tightly that two weeks without his presence feels like an eternity.)
Aventurine curls those possessing fingers over Ratio’s, tracing the bones and urging him to let go of the papers. “And the time before that,” Aventurine purrs. “And the time before that. And the time before- Oh!”
Ratio lurches out of his seat, grabs Aventurine by the arm, and hauls him across the desk. Just far enough to crash lips together. All teeth and a sharp sting of pain. Aventurine clutches at him for balance, one leg braced on essays and the other dangling awkwardly in the air. He loops one arm around Ratio’s neck, nipping at his upper lip. Ratio licks into his mouth like he’s trying to consume him.
He drags Aventurine the rest of the way across the desk, still kissing him. Both of them gasp in air whenever their clumsy kiss disconnects – an intolerable, microscope distance between them for scant seconds. Paper goes everywhere. His pen is already on the floor. Essays crinkle underfoot and under hand as Ratio manhandles and Aventurine scrambles. Neither of them cares. All that matters is Aventurine is in his arms now, held firmly to his chest.
“Nuisance,” Ratio grits out between wet kisses. “Devil.” He’s missed the weight of Aventurine in his arms. “Brat.”
Aventurine sighs dreamily into his mouth, like those are the words he’s been waiting to hear. “I’m sorry Professor. Can’t I make it up to you?”
Ratio kisses him again to shut him up. It’s ridiculous. But it’s Aventurine doing it, so it’s working on him, leaving him hot and eager.
“I should punish you,” Ratio murmurs against his bottom lip. “Discipline you, for misbehaving.”
Aventurine shudders against him. “Yeah,” he murmurs. Ratio feels nails at the back of his neck. “I’ve been a bad boy, Professor.”
Ratio drops him before he can cringe out of his own skin. Aventurine catches himself on the desk. “Lock the door,” Ratio commands. Aventurine scrambles around the desk, banging his hip on it in his eagerness. The blinds are already drawn on his door’s window. Ratio turns around and does the same to the one actual window in the room.
Before he can even finish, Aventurine’s hands are creeping around him and groping his chest. There’s so little weight to him, but Ratio feels his heat pressed tightly to his back. “Gambler, I have to-”
Aventurine ignores him. He presses kisses to the closest bare skin he can find. Relentlessly, his hands squeeze Ratio’s chest, coaxing his nipples to hardness through his shirt. Ratio hisses, but the sharp inhale only gives Aventurine more chest to play with.
The room is darkened with the blinds shuttered. When Ratio turns around with a frustrated noise, Aventurine’s eyes almost seem to glow. “Impatient.”
“Eager student,” Aventurine counters smoothly. He groans when Ratio manhandles him toward the desk again.
Ratio sweeps crumpled papers off the desk. They’re unimportant. “Bend over and be quiet.” A moment of passion, yes? A disobedient student who has provoked him one time too many and earned a punishment. That’s certainly an apt description for Aventurine.
Aventurine does as instructed, for once. He settles on Ratio’s desk with his back bent and his ass sticking out. Ratio pushes his coat out of the way and pauses, admiring the body in front of him for a second as he tries to come up with a plan for-
“Here.” Aventurine pulls a bottle from one of his pockets and tosses it over his shoulder without looking. Ratio, of course, catches it.
“… You planned this?” Ratio accuses. “What if I’d said no?”
Aventurine shoots him a smug look over his shoulder.
Ratio never says no.
Infuriated, and straining against his own garments, Ratio undoes Aventurine’s belt. His hand brushes something hard. “0 points,” Ratio informs him, squeezing the thick bulge. Aventurine makes a choking sound. “You’ve clearly learned nothing of ethics from my lectures. Otherwise you wouldn’t present yourself so shamelessly to your teacher.”
“That’s-” Aventurine shudders, bucking into Ratio’s hand. “Why I’m here, Professor. Why I need your help.”
“My help.” Ratio pulls his trousers down, curving an appreciative hand over revealed flesh. “The question is not whether I can help you, but whether you’ll take my lesson and help yourself.”
He’s trying to play the role Aventurine is so clearly expecting, but as soon as he’s said the words he knows they’re the dangerously honest truth. It’s the sort of thing he thinks to himself as he watches Aventurine spin the wheel, dancing to the IPC’s suicidal tune. It’s the quiet truth he allows himself to acknowledge only as he watches Aventurine dress to leave, as he curls around the wet patch in a lonely bed. Too honest. Too far. He can’t…
He abruptly slicks a finger with lube and pushes into Aventurine.
Too abruptly. Aventurine is painfully tight around him, but he moans eagerly and pushes his ass back. Ratio settles a hand on his spine, flattening him to the desk. “Be still,” he barks.
Aventurine licks his lips. “Yes, Professor.”
Heat charges down Ratio’s spine, settling in his stomach. A bolt of lust that makes him dizzy. He fucks his finger in and out, probing, and breathes through his teeth. “Good boy.”
He opens Aventurine up quickly but methodically. Rougher than usual because this is spontaneous, passionate. This is the way Aventurine usually begs him to do it, trying to tempt him with squirming hips and breathy moans. Normally Ratio doesn’t indulge him but today they’re in public. Nobody ever comes to his office, but somebody could. In theory. This must be quick.
Aventurine has gone pliant beneath his hand, moaning into his own arm. “Be quiet,” Ratio tells him again, hand shoved beneath his coat, stroking up and down his back. “Somebody might hear.”
Aventurine moans louder.
“Damned Gambler,” Ratio curses, stretches the three fingers inside of Aventurine to spite him. “Are you learning anything from this or not?”
“Wh- What am I supposed to- ah fuck, there! – be learning, Professor?” Aventurine asks, trying in vain to fuck himself back on Ratio’s fingers. “H-How to torture?”
Ratio considers him for a moment. “I suppose this isn’t much of a lesson really, is it? You’re being rewarded for bad behaviour.” His hand caresses downward. Down to bare skin, to the curve of his ass again. His hand settles. Aventurine inhales sharply beneath him. “I did say I was going to punish you.”
Aventurine, no longer pinned, arches his back, pushing against Ratio’s hand like a cat asking to be petted. “I have been really bad, Professor,” he says, the ghost of laughter in his words. “Misbehaving, not listening in class, ignoring my homework-”
Making me worry. Corrupting me. Drinking. Gambling. General debauchery.
“Trying to seduce your professor,” Ratio finishes for him.
Aventurine, unable to restrain himself, looks back over his shoulder with a smirk. “Trying?”
Ratio slaps him across the ass, quick and sharp.
Aventurine goes boneless immediately. He moans into the air, hands gripping the edge of the desk. It’s not the first time they’ve done this. Usually Aventurine is the one that asks (begs, pleads) and Ratio simply does as requested. He’s never quite figured out the appeal, only that sometimes Aventurine seems to need it to ground himself. Now though, he feels feverish. He licks his lips at the sound of the strike. Aventurine riles him up like nothing else.
He does it again, right over the cheek that must still be tender. Aventurine shudders. “Ohhh, fuck yeah.”
“Language.” Another smack.
Aventurine lurches forward with it. “S-sorry.”
Another. He begins thrusting his fingers again.
“Sorry, Professor!” Aventurine corrects, squirming on the desk.
“Stay still.” Again, a blow. This time on the other cheek as he jabs at Aventurine’s prostate. The slap echoes in the room. Aventurine does not stay still at all, but Ratio sees him trying and that’s what matters. His next smack is softer. “Naughty students must be punished.” He’s not sure where the words are coming from, what sick corner of his mind Aventurine has unlocked. This roleplay isn’t a turn-on. The reality of academia is as unsexy as anything could possibly be. But in Aventurine’s hands, anything is sexy. Aventurine could probably drive him insane with lust in a sewer.
Ratio breathes heavily, gathering himself as he strokes a soothing hand over Aventurine’s cheeks. Aventurine would probably like him to keep spanking him, for quick blows that leave his ass red for the rest of the day. But this is a messy, spontaneous thing, and they’re in the middle of the university. He withdraws both his hands, reaching for the lube again.
Aventurine whines. “Oh come on Professor, I was just about to learn something.”
Ratio doesn’t remove any clothing except his gloves, only pulling his trousers down enough to free his aching cock and coat it with lube. This is going to be quick. He grips himself, squeezing at the base and shivering. “You said you’d do anything to pass my class, correct?” He tries to remember what game they’re playing, to be whatever Aventurine has decided he needs today.
Aventurine looks back at him, immediately homing in on his cock. He nods, licking his lips. “Anything you want Professor,” he purrs, dragging his eyes upward. When their eyes meet Aventurine’s seem to soften. Just a moment. A flash and then it’s gone, and Aventurine is pushing back against him again.
Not for the first time, Ratio wishes he was better at reading faces. He wants to know what Aventurine is thinking. He always wants to know more about Aventurine. The gambler fascinates him more than any of his specialty subjects, almost as much as Nous and THEIR motivations.
Ratio steps closer, his hands fitting around Aventurine’s waist. “Anything?” He repeats.
“Whatever you want Professor," Aventurine breathes eagerly. "I need to pass this class.”
Ratio’s thumbs stroke over bony hips. “And if what I want-” He bends down, curving over Aventurine’s back to whisper into his ear- “is to fuck you?” Aventurine moans at the curse, at the feel of Ratio’s cock grinding against his ass. Ratio continues. Maybe it's the persona, the game, but the dirty talk comes easier to him than it ever had before. “Right here, on the desk where I mark your essays?”
“Yes.” Aventurine nods furiously, eyes clenching shut. “Yes, yes, please Professor.”
Ratio kisses his ear, unable to stop the way his hips roll. He’s been hard since Aventurine clambered over the desk, hot since Aventurine touched his hand. His cock aches, needy and desperate for its one vice.
One hand still strokes over Aventurine’s skin but the other shifts to his cock, positioning himself. “Well then, let’s see if your retake is any better.”
Aventurine moans so loudly when he sinks in that it echoes off the walls. Ratio squeezes tightly at his waist but he can’t get the breath into his lungs to scold him. Aventurine is always so hot, so perfect around him. It leaves him reeling, breathless, struggling to remember anything that isn’t the instinct to rut and thrust and come. Aventurine squirms beneath him, nails digging into the desk in front of him as he tenses around Ratio’s cock.
Ten points, Ratio thinks blearily to himself.
“Five points,” he says aloud, lightly slapping Aventurine’s least assaulted cheek. “Don’t tighten like that.” The way Aventurine obediently relaxes makes him feel dizzy.
“Fuck,” Aventurine hisses beneath him. “Professor, you’re so big.”
It’s roleplay. It’s roleplay, just another of Aventurine’s games where he controls it all. But being aware that he’s a pawn doesn’t give Ratio the ability to get off the board. Aventurine’s words still make his cock twitch. “You... are incorrigible,” he pants. “What am I going to do with you?”
Aventurine, as if to demonstrate, pushes back against him, grinding him deeper. Ratio does not need telling twice.
He fucks Aventurine hard and fast, their skin slapping together with every thrust. Aventurine jolts beneath him, fucked forward against the desk with every thrust like a ragdoll. They have to be quick. This is a public institution, even with the door locked and all the blinds drawn. It’s no better than fucking in toilets, in a broom closet. Ratio doesn’t do this sort of thing. He has the logic to know not to take the risk, the self-restraint to wait until he gets home.
It’s been too long and Aventurine feels so good, but those are just excuses. Aventurine always does this to him. He drags him down and down until Ratio is the one at his mercy. Whatever they might say for the game, whoever’s doing the fucking, however rough they are, it doesn’t matter. Ratio doesn’t ever feel in control with Aventurine. In fact it’s the only time in his life he doesn’t feel that way. He’s wrapped around his bony finger.
Ratio bites his lip to hold back his noises, listening constantly for knocks at the door. Aventurine moans, pants, cries into the open air like an animal.
“Do you-” Ratio grunts as Aventurine quivers around him. “Do you want everyone in this university to know you’re whoring yourself out for extra credit?”
Aventurine groans at his words, scratching his nails across the desk. “Why not?” He asks, chest heaving. “Maybe they’ll give me some too.”
Ratio growls, digging his nails into Aventurine’s hips and pulling him back into his next thrust, grinding his cock as deep as he can. Aventurine shouts beneath him, his back arched and his head thrown back. Ratio leans over him, awkwardly kissing his upside-down mouth to smother his noises. Aventurine’s tongue lolls out, licking over Ratio’s in the open air.
“Or maybe,” Aventurine pants when they separate, staring up at Ratio. “Maybe I just want them to know how good you’re fucking me, Professor.” Ratio clasps a hand over his mouth because it’s too much. Aventurine licks over his fingers. Obediently, Ratio slips two of them into his mouth for him to suck on.
His base instincts, his primal brain, launches into a refrain. Mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. His pace turns frantic, fucking more debauched noises from Aventurine’s mouth. Even as he tries to muffle him, he wants people to hear. He wants everyone to know that even though he can’t name what they are, can’t claim any right to the possessive way he fucks into him, Aventurine comes to him for this. Aventurine wants him so badly he comes to him in the middle of the day and schemes to get fucked on his desk. Aventurine daydreams about him while he’s working, while he’s supposed to be the IPC’s empty tool.
They might not have a lot, but they have this. They have the way Aventurine clenches around him, the way their bodies respond to each other, familiar with their quirks. He knows where to grind to make Aventurine scream. Aventurine knows the noises that make Ratio fuck him faster. He drools around Ratio’s fingers like he can’t get enough.
Ratio can’t keep this up. His cock is straining.
He lets go of Aventurine and the gambler drops to the table, his arms shaking too much to support himself. It makes his hand slip from Aventurine’s mouth – cold and slimy in bare air. He reaches for Aventurine’s cock, stroking him with a hand covered in his own spit, and Aventurine wails, furiously trying to fuck himself back on Ratio’s cock.
“Missed this,” Aventurine pants deliriously. And then - maybe he's lost in the fantasy, maybe pretending to be someone else makes it easier - he says something he's never said. A quiet, honest murmur from his gaping mouth “Missed you.”
It’s that, that does Ratio in.
He buries his cock deep inside Aventurine as his orgasm slams into him, mind whiting out of everything but his words and the primal need to claim. The noise he makes is strangled, embarrassing. Aventurine moans beneath him, like getting filled with Ratio’s cum feels just as good as getting fucked, and that makes his cock twitch like he could keep going.
He strokes Aventurine’s cock, hard and furious, even as he keeps coming. The arm he’s bracing on the desk shakes. “Come on,” Ratio encourages, nuzzling sweaty hair out of the way and nipping at Aventurine’s ear. He clings to the last of his adrenaline, fighting the tiredness that sets in. “You want to pass, correct? Earn it. Show me how good you can be for me and come.” Aventurine moans brokenly beneath him, thrashing his head from side to side.
“So- Fuuuuuck!” Aventurine’s cry warbles, drowning in harsh stimulation. Ratio knows how he likes to be stroked, knows exactly how to bring him to the edge too quickly.
They have this.
Aventurine sounds like his orgasm is punched from him. He clings to the edge of the desk, hips thrusting helplessly as he comes in Ratio’s hand, makes a mess of the floor, the desk. An indelible mark on the office to match the one he’s left on Ratio. Even after it’s cleaned, Ratio will never be able to sit here without thinking about this: Aventurine bent over his desk, taking his cock, weakly clutching at nothing as he rides out his orgasm. Papers everywhere. Sweaty, dishevelled hair fanning out across his desk as Ratio pulls out, leaking more mess onto the floor, and rolls him over, stepping between his spread legs.
He practically mounts the desk himself, leaning forward to kiss Aventurine hungrily with the last of his strength. It’s even clumsier than their first, and it grows worse as they sink into the afterglow, turning lazy.
Ratio, his whole body heaving, pulls away. He brushes Aventurine’s hair off of his red face, ignores the cum leaking down Aventurine’s thighs that’s now smearing on his legs too.
“Ten points,” he breathes.
Aventurine smiles. He reaches up with a shaking hand and cups the side of Ratio's face.