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“So, doc, you stayed ‘till the very end.” Aventurine accepts two shot glasses from the bartender.
“Yes,” Veritas Ratio sighs. “Either outcome would require me to stay another week as planned in order to complete the investigation and get the proper amount of information to finish my report. It’s almost as if every time I speak to you, you forget the grueling weeks we spent tougher going over how this would all play out.” He accepts one of the shot glasses that’s slid over to him by a smiling Aventurine. He smiles, too, then. Laughing in an exhausted manner. “Do we truly have to celebrate in such irresponsible ways? I’d think you’d have gotten tired of a bad taste in your mouth.”
“Always making me guess what you’re alluding to, huh? Doc, the thrill of the game is a taste I could never pass up. Too much sweetness ought to be tamed with some numbing bitterness, don’t you think?” Aventurine holds out his shot glass, gesturing for a toast.
“I simply meant you’ve put enough stress on your system. I prefer you to take it easy after such an extensive investigation, not follow it up with another challenge to your physiology.”
Ratio taps the crystal clear glass against the lip of Aventurine’s anyways, throwing it back as quickly as he can to avoid the taste. Aventurine takes it effortlessly with a sigh that almost sounds refreshed. Ratio isn’t so experienced, his face crumpling into a disgusted shape as he half coughs into his fist.
Aventurine is laughing, a bit more high energy than he had been with the zip of alcohol burning down his esophagus.
“Oh, go on. I’d love to hear how you prefer me, Ver-i-tas.” He’s leaning his head on a chin, neon colored eyes big and staring as he watches Ratio sip his soda to chase down the alcohol.
It takes a great amount of restraint not to press an olive toned palm against that beautiful pale throat of his and feel the ice cold water moving through it with every swallow.
Fuck. Aventurine starts to feel the buzzing in his head and settling in his stomach. Tingles race through his chest and his heart kicks up a notch.
“Alive and healthy, gambler, alive and healthy.” He replies, lips damp and cheeks beginning to redden the faintest bit.
“Another round.” Aventurine orders from the bar tender, his excitement getting the best of him.
“Insatiable. You’ve given me a proper answer then; that you can’t seem to take a moment away from suffering even after you’ve won.”
“Um, doc, you think this is suffering?” He gestures broadly at the bar.
“You don’t seem like someone who enjoys an altered state of consciousness. You never do shots, you don’t get drunk. I notice how you operate around alcohol. You do not indulge.” His arms are crossed.
“Correct. The rare act of indulgence is a lot like medicating, to put it in terms you can understand. You think if being drunk was the end of the world, these places would get no business. Besides, you’re right here drinking with me, Mr. straight edge.” He raps his fingers along the bar towards him as he says it.
“I never claimed to be anything of the sort.”
“Mhm,” Aventurine watches Siobhan return to fill their glasses. “But you always have something morally high and mighty to say, yet here you are.”
Ratio lifts his refreshed glass, eyebrow raised. “And here I am, because of you.”
Aventurine grins, feeling like his heart is floating up through the ceiling. “Cheers to us, being here, then.”
“Cheers.”
The glass clinks together in a clean chime.
Ratio has a harder time choking down his second shot, coughing into his elbow as the burning liquid went down the wrong pipe.
“Aw,” Aventurine shakes with chest aching laughs. Hot bubbles of dizziness bloom behind his eyes. “Already having trouble keeping up?”
Ratio straightens, little coughs still moving through him as he tries to force himself to get composed. His eyes are watering and the redness on his cheeks has darkened into a proper rosy blush.
“You— You hardly gave me a moment to recover from the first.”
Aventurine’s heart is hammering in his chest. He is going faster than usual and he knows it. His throat burns and his lungs feel like they’ve been rubbed down with sandpaper. He hasn’t even allowed himself a chaser, yet.
I just need to take it.
I don’t wanna think.
Like I said, cheers to being here.
Nothing else matters.
I just wish it felt that way down to the bone.
“You’ll have plenty of time to recover once we finish a solid third. Don’t ya think you deserve it? One more round, ma’am!”
“I was wrong, you are a fool,” Ratio begins. Then, quieter. “At pacing yourself.”
“Didn’t I tell ya?” Both elbows are on the counter now, back arched as he leans his weight on his chin resting upon interlocked hands. “I’d show you how much of a fool I really am after a few drinks.”
“So it’s to prove a point then. Do you not think you’ve been doing enough showing off?” Ratio is turned fully towards him on the bar stool. His demeanor is slack, riddled with exhaustion despite his feigned annoyance.
“Never. Say, you saw my performance, right?”
The doctor only nods, looking down at his shot glass being refilled for a third time. He looks at the tiny cup as if he’s staring down the barrel of a shotgun.
“Mr. Aventurine, sir, I’d love to congratulate you on whatever it is that your celebrating tonight. Though I will have to warn you not to overdo it. I care about the wellbeing of my patrons.” She says as she tops up his glass.
“Oh, really? You know what I have to say to that?”
Ratio glares at him like he’s about to smack him on the back of the head.
“This isn’t nearly enough yet to celebrate our victory, right, Veritaaas?” He’s giving Ratio a kind of smile that makes the man’s bones chill.
“Please, do not serve this man anymore.” Ratio doesn’t move.
“Don’t you worry, I know how to tell when it’s time to cut a man off.” She says as she moves down the bar once more.
“Aww, don’t pussy out now,” Aventurine lifts his shot, gesturing for Ratio to do the same. He doesn’t, eyes unfocused and his face looking sweaty. “Hmm, what if we make it a game?” The gambler leans over, accidentally jostling their shoulders. The sudden movement makes his eyes flicker as if his brain is struggling to keep up.
Oh, yes… there is it.
“What kinda reward would entice you to follow my lead, doc?” Aventurine points his chin up at him, a mischievous look in his eyes.
“Nonsense, I was simply preparing myself.” He shakes his head, clearing his throat as he lifts his glass for the third time. “As long as this is final shot.”
“For nowwww.” Aventurine purrs, his entire body vibrating.
“And you say you’re not torturing yourself, yet you’re downing what tastes comparable to cleaning solution.” Ratio sighs.
“Aw, would you like something sweeter? I can buy you a colorful martini, something real cute. Yes, the renowned scholar Veritas Ratio needs his fruity pink-ity drink-ity to unwind.” Aventurine is slurring through his laughter, the clear liquid jostling in his glass. He feels his face start to burn, his ears hot.
“Enough of that.” Ratio thrusts his glass against Aventurine’s for a clumsy cheers and throws his head back. Aventurine is still choking back laughs as he finishes his.
His heart hurts and his stomach is on fire, but he feels good. He feels warm and tingly. His smile is permanently etched onto his face, the muscles unmoving even as he runs his hands through his hair with a growl once the liquor scratches its way down his throat.
Ratio has a fist pressed to his lips, eyes squeezed shut as he leans his sweaty forehead on a palm.
Shit, he looks bad.
“Shit… you look bad. You didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have made that much fun of you.” Aventurine finds himself leaning further into the doctor’s space. It’s as if he’s trying to crawl into the alcove under his bent arm where he faces the counter so he can examine that twisted, pained expression up close.
“Don’t lie,” Ratio coughs and there’s far more bite to it than there should be. Then, a softer reply as he lifts his head. “You told me to keep up, I’m simply doing as told.”
Aventurine’s face hurts from smiling. “Mm, you probably like doin’ what you’re told.” His heart is a tight fist on his chest, his stomach tingles with candied butterflies.
Ratio looks good like this, face beating red as sweat causes strings of hair to stick to his forehead in little coils, revealing its natural state. That little frown on his plush lips, that wrinkle in his forehead and the pout that he wears when he’s trying not to reveal that he’s embarrassed.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Hm? Like what?” Aventurine batts his eyelashes. “I’m just thinking that I forgot to ask you somethin’ earlier.”
Ratio bursts into what looks like spontaneous laughter then, rubbing the bone of his palm into his eyes. “I can only wonder what you possibly have to ask me.”
The glint of amusement, pure glee gives his eyes a beautiful shine that Aventurine just about swoons head over heels for. It makes him look younger, looser, like a man who can feel more than the statuesque front he puts on ninety percent of the time.
He folds his arms on the counter, his back starting to ache from all the leaning he has to do to get close enough to the doctor in order to make his heart twist and turn in order to emit the delicious tang of dopamine at the base of his throat.
I wanna be closer.
I wanna see those eyes closer.
I wanna hear that laugh closer.
“My performance,” He wears a sloppy grin. “Whaddya think?” Are my eyes goopy? They feel goopy. Like my eyelashes are getting tangled every time I blink.
“I rolled my eyes so hard I feared I gave myself a concussion,” Ratio answers, arms crossed much tighter than before as if he’s holding his chest, but trying to make it look natural. “And that outfit was not detailed in our plan.”
Aventurine’s heart kicks the back of his ribs like a fussy infant. “Hehe.” He giggles like a schoolgirl with one hand cover his lips.
“That- that’s all you have to say?”
“I’d rather hear what you have to say about it, doctor.”
Instead of answering, Ratio groans softly and presses his fingers to his forehead. His face has gotten so red at this point that Aventurine is worried he’s overheating or perhaps hiding an allergy to alcohol.
“You doin’ alright there, friend? Or are you just dodging my question?”
“This liquor is far stronger than I expected.” He sounds pained.
“It just hit you?”
Ratio nods, eyes now squeezing shut. “I f-fail to see how any of th— this’s enjoyable for anyone.”
A pang of guilt. The world feels soupy and Aventurine’s body sways through it like a jellyfish riding the currents when he stands, a hand sliding over the doctor’s broad shoulder like the touch has always been natural.
“Let’s sit somewhere a little more comfortable, yeah?” His voice is a lot rougher than intended, the natural purr of his vocal cords a lot more prevalent with the scratch of vodka in his throat.
Ratio doesn’t say anything, only nodding as he leans back into the touch. Aventurine wonders if the man will already start to stumble and need his assistance to walk, but then realizes quickly that he’s simply trying to stand and he’s placed himself exactly where he needs to be.
Backing away a step feels a lot colder than it should.
They migrate to padded couch looking out over a window displaying the stars above, the sight no less mystifying in reality than it would be in the sweet dream.
“I do prefer reality,” Aventurine says as they sit, taking a slice of soft bread from a platter and dipping it in the seasoned olive oil provided. “Food actually fills you, drinks actually get you drunk.”
“For a moment I thought you might say something profound that I could agree with.” Ratio sits about two body widths away from him on the long couch, despite there being more than enough room to sit further.
“You’re grumpy with a buzz, doc, I was hoping you’d soften up a little.” Aventurine plants an elbow on the high table before them, cupping his cheek. Ratio sits with his head leant back against the cushioned back of the booth, eyes closed. Aventurine takes advantage of the ability to stare.
“Simply trying to not let my mind slip away from me. I apologize if I seemed upset, I was only teasing.” The way he says it so matter of factly as if the apology is natural takes Aventurine off guard a little. The doctor never apologizes for his bluntness or his hard to swallow attitude.
“Well,” Aventurine takes a bite of bread, voice muffled as he chews. “Let it. Isn’t that the point? To put all that heavy duty thinking aside and relax for once?”
“I do not appreciate an altered state of consciousness.”
Aventurine drenches another slice of bread in oil. Now he feels like he needs to apologize.
“And still, you drank.” He says instead,
“A once false statement was made; that the definition of insanity was the act of repeating the same action over and over and expecting a different result each time. If it were true—which is entirely not due to circumstance, context, and relative data—you could call me a madman for following a certain gambler’s lead. I believed perhaps, he was not obsessed with torturing himself when it came to unwinding.”
Aventurine uncrosses his legs. “You still can’t believe that I just wanna be drunk? That I like it? Something about me all loopy and slurring with my inhibitions lowered got you nervous?” His heart feels like it may explode in his chest. “I like an altered state of consciousness.” He adds for assurance.
“No, gambler, you do not.” Comes a far too confident sigh from Ratio, eyes still closed and looking like he’s about to become a beautiful corpse in the booth beside him.
Tipsy Ratio is starting to piss him off.
“You’re kinda starting to piss me off.”
Ratio’s eyes open then and the man actually looks guilty. “Ah, I— keep doing it.” He reaches up to press his fingers against his temples.
“Thinking you can psychoanalyze me?” He knocks the heel of his shoe against the base of the booth over and over. He’s sat with his legs spread and his arms thrown over the back of cushions, taking up as much space as physically possible while reclining like he owns the place.
Ratio—arms crossed with one leg resting atop the other as if to shrink into himself—is looking far less relaxed than Aventurine would like him to be.
“I simply detest hearing you talk down on yourself and self depreciate, lying about what is evident about your character.” He says with a little tip up of his chin for emphasis.
Aventurine drums his fingers against the back of the couch behind Ratio’s head. My hand is so close to the back of his flushed neck, if I just closed the distance I’d have him tucked under my arm like he belongs to me.
A waiter passes by and Aventurine has her hand him two martinis with neon green and blue liquid. He cheers the glasses together himself before handing one to the doctor.
He takes it only to immediately place it down on the table.
“Suit yourself,” Aventurine chuckles, letting the sour liquid grace his lips. He pauses to swirl the ice cubes around the glass, imagining them like dice spinning atop a felted table. “You never told me what you thought of my outfit.”
Ratio’s head seems like it’s drooping a little as he stares quietly at the cosmos. He’s got a permanent pout on his lips.
“Hmm? Are you listening, Veritas?” The sweet, eager bubbles swell in his chest and he’s gifted a burst of confidence, a numbness to his reluctance to reach out. His gloved hand moves with suave fluidness, pointer finger brushing the hair to the side of Ratio’s neck. Ratio stiffens, amber eyes cutting to the side to look at him. That bashful expression with his lips slightly parted in shock has Aventurine smiling with uncontained warmth.
“Why do you look so nervous?” He slurs, twirling a lock of violet hair round his finger. Adoration, yearning, longing, and withheld tension all bleed to the surface and come spilling forth from him like stuffing from a loose thread. Ratio is a little blurry. This room is hot and Aventurine’s feet feel numb in his shoes.
What was I saying?
Ratio sort of ducks his head to obscure their gazes, clearing his throat. “Your hand is shaking.”
“Mmm, means the alcohol's working.” He tries to cut through the doctor’s skull with just his eyes, feeling little prickles of irritation at being ignored.
“It’s making me— I can’t think.”
Aventurine feels laughter bubbling out of him like sparkling champagne. “That definitely means it’s working!” He loops Ratio’s hair round his finger faster, enjoying the way it moves and twists to his touch.
“Right, that is… right.”
“You don’t feel good?”
“I’m not accustomed.” He admits, slumping away from Aventurine so he can rest his head on a fist. His hair pulls from his finger.
A frown befalls the blonde’s face. He takes another sip of his drink.
“You know you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“I would like t- to keep sitting here.” He’s fussing with his shirt collar.
“Well, alright then.”
Aventurine lets his head fall back, redirecting his gaze to the star filled sky on the other side of the glass. He tries to enjoy the mutual silence, the atmosphere, and the squeezing sensation in his chest coupled with the floatiness in his head. Though he’s not very successful at ignoring the obvious. Ratio is not a happy drunk. He keeps stealing glances over at him while he nurses his drink and the man continues to sit slumped with his face in a palm. He hiccups every now and then and his shoulders shake, making him look a lot smaller, weaker.
After a while Aventurine waves the waiter down to bring him a glass of water. He says nothing, taking it with an unsteady hand and sipping only a little bit. Then he removes his hair clip and drops it on the table unceremoniously, not caring when the thing slides too close to the edge and tumbles to the floor.
Ratio emits a sigh from deep in his chest, hunching over with his elbows on his knees as he sinks his fingers into his hair.
“Oh, shit your—” Aventurine leans down to grab his hair clip, about to hand it to him, but he freezes as he realizes he can see the doctor’s face at this angle.
His expression is tense, eyes squeezing shut with his lips pinched together.
Oh. Damn, he really is a crazy lightweight, isn’t he?
“Hey, doc, you feeling sick?” Aventurine sits upright, giving him a little space. Instantly the concern seeps into the bubbly bliss of his drunkenness and a biting panic starts to tighten his throat. “Doctor— uh, Ratio.”
He rests a hand on his shoulder, something more to get his attention. Though deep in his heart he yearns to fix this.
“No. Not sick.” His voice is loose and raspy, almost no effort put in to keep his usual tempered tone like usual.
“Just not having a good time, huh?”
Ratio sighs, shoulders shuddering on the shuddered exhale. “Too loud here. Too…” He gestures above his head. “I can’t think.”
“Right and I’m getting you really don’t like that… uh,” Aventurine looks around, trying to dig through the soupy remains of his cognition to think of a solution. “I’m gonna be honest, doc, my plan was to go until I blacked out.” He blurts, not really meaning it in any way than just a surface level fact.
“Of course, of course you—” He doesn’t finish, summoning his stone mask with a wave of his hand before dropping his heavy head into his hands, elbows lent on his knees.
“What? Oh come on,” Aventurine groans, turning towards him so he can drum his fingers on the top of his stone head. “Don’t hide that pretty face.”
“I… I should go back to my room.” Comes his voice, weak from inside the mask.
Aventurine’s drunken movements are clumsy and stuttering as he smooths his palm against the ‘hair’ of his bust, following the sculpted lines down to where stone meets skin. His fingers drift over the back of his neck, too confident to stop, but still too nervous to apply much pressure at all. Ratio shudders as his fingers travel to the collar of his shirt, then down his spine and over his left shoulder. Like a blind man following the walls of a maze; Aventurine isn’t really sure where he’s going with this. After awhile of watching himself draw a long oval between Ratio’s broad shoulders, he even forgets why he started.
The lights cast a golden glare over his vision, his head heavy and starting to get hard to hold up on his neck. He has to lean an elbow on the table in order to catch his own chin in a palm—sat sideways now—admiring the doctor’s back with half lidded eyes as he rubs his palm back and forth over the fabric, motions gaining confidence with every pass. He tries to make out the definition of his muscles through his shirt, his shoulder blades, spine and ribs…
“It’s not that bad, is it? Don’t tell me the cosmos’ smartest man doesn’t know how to get drunk?” Aventurine slurs, smiling. This view of Ratio bent over is doing things to him. His hand feels like it’s on fire at the point of contact, zips of fire traveling to his stomach.
A hiccup reverbs through the doctor’s body. Aventurine flattens his palm between his shoulder blades, waiting for the next which occurs about thirty seconds later so he can feel the way his muscles move in response.
“Y’know, I get it. You’re not used to losing control, are you, doctor? Being the smartest man means people relent control t’you. You know what to do with it and from what I see, you use it well.” He’s babbling, filling the silence. “But you can’t always be the one standing on the sidelines, waiting to reach in and take control when things go awry. Sometimes you gotta let the player play the game, take the hit like he’s s’posed to. Some games don’t need a ref, doc. I’m not saying we don’t work well together—you know we do—but I tell when you’re thinking too hard. You looked like you were going to blow a fuse towards the end there…”
Aventurine reaches over to throw back the rest of his fruity drink, leaving his hand on the valley of Ratio’s upper spine.
The doctor takes a sharp breath, letting it out in a shaky sigh. Aventurine places down his glass and leans closer, head tilted to try and see his face despite it being hidden.
“I’m jus’thinkin’ maybe it’d feel nice for you to give those gears a rest from all that grinding. I assume you have a very loud mind and I know you like quiet. Maybe you’re not used to it when it’s inside your head…”
“I don’t want quiet, not from you.” Ratio answers finally and his reply is much softer than expected and a little weak, followed by another hiccup and a sniffle that makes Aventurine’s body go rigid.
Are those not hiccups?
“No, no that’s not what I meant. I can talk all night if you want. Here,” Aventurine grabs the water bottle the waitress had given them and removes his touch from Ratio so he can screw off the cap. “You know what, you’re right, you’re soundin’ worse for wear. The doctor knows himself best. Next time we’ll stop at two shots.”
He holds the water out to him, watching him sit up slowly. Ratio hesitates for a moment before banishing his stone bust with a wave of his hand. His hand brushes Aventurine’s as takes the water from him.
The sight of tears streaming down the doctor’s face has shivers shooting down Aventurine’s spine. His face his red, eyes pink and glossy as droplets continue to tumble over his eyelashes and down his sharp cheekbones. Now that his head isn’t covered, it’s a lot easier to hear his sniffling and the faint sounds that follow each hiccup— or each sob. Though it’s very graceful the way Ratio cries, lips slightly parted with glistening marbles resembling constellations stuck to his eyelashes. Though his shoulders shake, he doesn’t make much in terms of sound other than sharp inhales and sighs wrought with a kind of sadness that hits Aventurine bone deep.
He clears his throat, pressing the bottle to his lips as he drinks.
“You— Doc, you didn’t have to drink for my sake if you really hate it that much.” Aventurine cautiously reaches out. A shaky hand draws the hair back from his face and clumsily shoves it behind his ear so he can wipe the tears away with the backs of his knuckles.
“It’s not— I can manage being drunk,” Ratio replies quietly, turning away as his face deepens in color. The tips of his ears even start to flush red. “I’m just…”
Aventurine leans in closer, the ache in his heart dispels the fuzzy warmth of the alcohol and all he’s left with is a bumbling panic taking over his mind.
Is he okay? What’s wrong? He has to be okay.
I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t.
“Did I say something?” His brows furrow. He doesn’t really remember what he was going on about before.
“No. You… you’re here,” Ratio states it like a hard fact that he’s trying to prove to a grand audience. His face hardens in concentration. “Beside me. I know that, but despite knowing it…” He ducks his head away further, pulling from Aventurine’s touch. He presses a fist to his mouth. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mascara running down his face.
“Doc…” Aventurine’s voice is small. The squeezing of his heart is near unbearable. “Just tell me what it is.”
“I don’t want to be here anymore.” Ratio blurts, standing abruptly and re-materializing the stone bust to hide his face.
Aventurine follows suit, just now realizing how much he’s drank as the room spins the moment he shoots to his feet. He grabs Ratio’s wrist in an attempt to keep him from running away and also a little bit to steady himself.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Let me walk you to your room, kay?”
Ratio just hums in response, uneasy himself with his steps as he moves through the bar with Aventurine in tow, trying to keep his grip on his hand. The man is fast when he’s fleeing a scene. It probably doesn’t bode well for both their images for Doctor Veritas Ratio to be seen rushing out of a bar with Aventurine of Stratagems clinging to his arm and tripping over himself, both clearly plastered—but, unfortunately he has more important things to worry about.
In the elevator they stand on either opposite side. Ratio has his arms crossed over his chest as he leans his back against the wall, his bust removed as he silently nurses his water bottle. Aventurine is stood with one arm folded over his abdomen and the other posed up in the air as he fidgets with a metal chip. Though he keeps dropping it and accidentally letting it slip through his fingers due to the way his hands feel too numb to operate properly and respond a little too slowly to his brain.
“Does liquor always make you a little… weepy?” He asks, coin pinched between his forefinger and thumb.
Ratio shakes his head. “I don’t do shots. I drink light.” He’s choked down his emotions, eyes red and his voice a little more gritty than usual. The tears on his cheeks have yet to dry.
“Mmm. I got that.”
“It… I can’t explain it.” His voice cracks a little bit. He adjusts his footing, head slumped forward like his puppet master had let go of the strings.
“S’alright,” Aventurine flicks the coin into the air and it misses the side of his palm before hitting the carpet with a thud. He bends over to grab it, idly watching the window as the elevator soars over the open expanse of the hotel lobby. “You said something about me being here that was making you upset. I’ll leave you alone once I make sure you’ve gotten to your room without tripping over the railing and killing yourself. Oh! You can have one of those fancy baths of yours! You shouldn’t have listened to me. You never have to feel like you need to humor me, y’know…”
When Aventurine straightens up Ratio is looking directly at him, his lips pressed together in a thin line as a handful of tears push past his eyes.
“Aventurine…” He begins, taking a half step forward. Though he sort of stumbles as the elevator clunks to a stop and Aventurine reaches out against his better judgement, catching him by his elbows. His chip clatters to the floor.
“Careful, friend, you—”
“Don’t leave again.” His voice shakes and his breath hitches, little noises leaving him as he fights off another wave of tears.
“I— uh, I won’t.” His heart hurts. He feels painfully sober all of a sudden. Though his body is still sluggish and downright useless, within his mind he’s struck with a cold clarity that permeates the once pleasant bubbly feeling.
He leads Ratio down the hall and the both of them have to lean on the other with arms interlocked to keep balance like a pair of college kids stumbling home from a party. Ratio is crying again. Aventurine doesn’t know what to say or do about it, so he just focuses on walking straight as possible as he grips the man’s arm tightly.
The worst part is that under normal circumstances Aventurine would never consider this being drunk enough. His usual limit is seven shots, maybe eight if he's feeling lucky.
At Ratio’s hotel room, Aventurine doesn’t really remember getting through the door. It required a lot of fumbling and searching pockets for the keycard. Then he found himself sitting on one of those red velvet couches before Ratio with both arms outstretched and his hands on his shoulders, slurring his words as he tried his hand at consoling the good doctor.
“This’s my fault. I jus’ wanted to celebrate y’know? I didn’t mean t’make you feel like shit. You’re smart, really smart, doc. I didn’t think you’d take three shots if you didn’t know you could handle it. I’m not sayin’ you can’t. I mean I just wanted you t’have a good time. Ruinin’ your makeup and messin’ up your tie like you were caught in a cat fight…” Aventurine babbles, a clumsy hand reaching for Ratio’s loose tie to tuck it half hazardly into his collar.
His eyes shut weakly, eyelashes wet and delicate against his face. “I wanted to celebrate as well.”
“Yeah… shit, m’sorry.”
“It’s not you—no, it is. My mind, m—my feelings are not lined up with logic.” Ratio admits in frustration, slumping so that his head crashes into Aventurine's shoulder. The force of it jostles him so much that he has to brace himself against the back of the couch.
“Oh— amber lord! You know you’re supposed to be the one tellin’ me to be careful.”
“You’re alive.” Ratio’s voice cracks, muffled in Aventurine’s shirt. A big hand reaches out to curl into the fabric, making a fist and holding him there as if he were teetering on the edge of a cliff.
“I… yeah…” The room is spinning. His skin feels blazing hot, but his core is icy cold. He reaches out and watches his hand move like a stop motion film, palm flattening over Ratio’s shoulder blade like before. The touch draws what sounds like a whimper from the man who only buries his face deeper into Aventurine’s chest, wetting his shirt with tears.
His other hand moves on its own, fingers prodding around to find the doctor’s side and feeling around his ribcage onto his back where he can feel the heaving of his body as sobs move through him. It’s a lot less elegant this time. Aventurine feels his joints lock in place and his bones ache as his body becomes rigid, his mind foggy and buzzing with static from more than just the alcohol.
“I’m fine.” His arms find home in this embrace, tightening so that he’s genuinely holding the doctor with half his weight leant on his body, threatening to topple him over. “I’m fine, doc.” He resumes that slow circling over his back from before, his instincts taking over.
“I tried—” Ratio sucks in a breath. “Tried to expid—expid-d -dite… expedite mourning you.”
Aventurine grimaces.
“So it w- wouldn’t hurt.” He finishes at the end of a particularly rough sob. “If I was wrong.”
It’s a good thing Aventurine can’t see his face now.
He’s staring out across the room, at the table with pre-laid out glasses and bottles of champagne. There’s an unlit candle, a stack of magazines detailing the dreamscape’s luxuries, what looks one of Ratio’s briefcases with a book lain atop.
The tub sits quietly, sending blue and purple glowing tones across the ceiling; a mesmerizing pattern of ripples and bubbles.
“I don’t know why…” Ratio’s voice is ground down to something that sounds foreign, unlike himself.
He’s not supposed to be the weak one. I am. I’m supposed to disappoint him. I’m supposed to annoy him. He’s supposed to be the one saving my ass and then turning the cold shoulder as a punishment for forcing him to go through the effort alone to pick up where I falter.
That’s how it’s supposed to be.
This is…
“I can’t convince my- myself of the truth. I know it. I knew it. My feelings are…”
“Doctor.”
“Illogical.”
“It’s fine.” He voices, but the phrase is as empty as his voice. “I’m fine.”
“I should be ecstatic.”
“Well, I don’t know about that.”
Aventurine feels Ratio’s hand release his shirt so that he can snake his arms around his back, essentially peeling him from the back of the couch and hugging him tightly against his chest. He refuses to look at him as he slots his head above his shoulder, chin resting flat to the bone. Aventurine makes claws on his back—instinct towards the tight grip—and hisses at the hard squeeze he gets in return.
“Just for a moment, please.” Ratio whispers between hiccups.
Aventurine is staring at the extravagant bed across the room, red as well with an ornate frame that reaches to the ceiling to allow billowing curtains to fall at the corners. They’re tied together currently, but could be unwound to shield the bed from view or to create a refuge away from prying eyes if desired. Ratio’s suitcase is placed neatly at the foot of the bed. His shoes as well have been arranged next to each other; three pairs, his sandals, and two pairs of dress shoes.
A tear hits his shoulder.
Beside the bed is an armchair where a tablet lies atop a stack of papers and three text books are stacked by the foot, presumably overflow from his job as a professor that he was forced to take along with him on the mission.
Ratio’s palm slides up Aventurine’s back, along his spine.
His bath robe is hung on the bathroom doorknob.
One of his usual sashes and a few accessories to his outfit are lain out neatly on the dresser top.
The doctor’s breaths are shuddering and hot against Aventurine’s neck. His eyes flutter closed at the sensation. He feels evil that his stomach is twinging and pleading for something he can’t have.
“Do you feel victorious?” Ratio asks quietly after a while, more composed now. “Has it sunk in for you?”
“I feel drunk and tired.” A sharp reply.
Why am I pissed off?
“I apologize… this- this mission was m— more emotionally taxing than I bargained for.” The doctor starts to pull back, but Aventurine doesn’t let him. He flexes his hands, nails digging into his back muscles.
“Stop talking about the fucking mission.” He hisses. He hears Ratio swallow.
Something shatters in his chest and he allows his head to fall forward, face finding a cushioned place to rest on Ratio’s shoulder. “I want you to relax because I’m right here, yeah?” He says with his head tilted so he breathes directly into Ratio’s ear. He hums in response but it sounds more like a whine.
“Yes.”
“I chose t’be here. So shut up and be happy ‘bout it so I can be happy ‘bout it.” Aventurine sinks his fingers into the ends of Ratio’s hair, finding a strand to twirl around just like he had before.
Before when they were tipsy and he was flirty and no one was crying and Aventurine wasn’t feeling guilt so deep and consuming that he wanted to vomit until there was nothing left inside of him.
As if there’s anything left to begin with.
Ratio starts to relax in his arms, his breaths evening out and his sniffles getting further and further apart. Aventurine is trying desperately to force himself out of his head and focus on the man who is literally hugging him in real life.
Of all the things he’s imagined him and the doctor doing, this is certainly not one of them. He just didn’t think the guy would be so… soft.
I don’t deserve soft.
Ratio sways back, making Aventurine panic and wonder if he’s passed out. Though as those arms tighten around him, he realizes he’s being pulled down to lay down on the couch with him, cradled under his chin as if he were a cat curled up on his chest.
His heart starts to race, his underwear embarrassingly damp from the lack of anything sexual occurring.
His cheek is squished against one of Ratio’s pecs, his eyes staring out over the hotel room as he listens to him breathe. He smooths his palm up and down over Ratio’s sternum, mindlessly enjoying the closeness and the mere ability to touch what he’s always stared at and hoped to feel under his fingertips. He takes time feeling the length of his ribs, following them as far as he can reach before starting on the next. The lights in the room feel like they’re pulsing. He’s so tingly and dizzy headed that he doesn’t realize at first that Ratio is caressing his back in careful shapes. He melts against him, wondering what it would be like if he could drip between his ribs and pool in his chest to hide from the world forever, fingers gripping the cage of his ribs while he watches the world go by through the slits.
He feels like an animal being held down. His inner instincts and his basic needs purr in glee, but the surface level reaction is something like a bad taste in his mouth.
This should upset me, but it’s not truly.
He feels tired, he hadn’t lied before. It’s become a genuine struggle to keep his eyes open and he can’t think in straight enough lines to decide if it’s safe for him to be vulnerable like this. Normally, he never would. Though Ratio had revealed such a raw brittle side of him, Aventurine struggles to make himself afraid of him. Not like he used to be.
Nothing between them is like how it used to be before penacony.
He wonders, if without telling him Ratio would have any idea the choice was there for Aventurine to walk away from it all and choose the yawning void despite knowing he’d win, despite the letter he’d left him detailing the truth of his ‘death.’
That letter…
He wants me alive.
Do I want me alive?
It begs the question—as Aventurine snuggles himself closer in this embrace with a stifled sigh—who is consoling who right now?
“Made you cry… such an asshole…” Aventurine mutters.
“No.” A quick, simple answer.
No to what? That I made you cry? That I’m an asshole? You’re wrong on both counts there, doc.
Aventurine is shaken by a closed mouth laugh at the retort that he doesn’t have the energy to say.
“Hm?” Ratio goes.
“Mm.” An effortless him.
“Sorry?”
Aventurine laughs again, bubblier and louder this time. It makes his eyes sting with unshed tears. “Not like you to be so squishy.” He pushes up on his arms so he can look Ratio in the face. He’s frowning, looking exhausted with salt dried on his cheeks. His breaths smells like alcohol.
We’re… so close… he’s so warm…
Aventurine admires him from up close, his messy hair, warm amber colored eyes, and eyelashes so dainty it should be illegal. “I didn’t think you could cry…” He rubs a thumb under Ratio’s eye, feeling the dusty remnants of dried tears.
Ratio looks away, blushing. “I am human.”
“How do I make you feel better, doc? How do I relax you?” His voice hits dangerous tones. Their chests are almost touching, legs intertwined as Aventurine shifts over him to get as close as possible.
“Just being here… reminding me you made it.”
“Pssh don’t be so glum. I hardly recognize you.”
Ratio looks him in the eyes, trying to hold his stare despite this intense shyness that’s crashed over him. “It often takes until you th- think you’ve lost someone to realize—”
“Stop.”
“How much you don’t want to lose them.” He finishes, practically whispering as he raises a hand to Aventurine’s face, carefully stroking the backs of his knuckles across his cheekbone. His hand trembles.
And for a moment there it was getting so… not sad…
“As if you had me,” Aventurine smirks, except his body is completely still. “You’re startin’ t’sound like a widow.”
“I took your presence for granted.” Ratio’s voice gets softer and softer, like something Aventurine shouldn’t be hearing. Like the way he may sound as he wakes up first thing, groggy and still sleep drunk.
“Enough,” Aventurine takes his hand and thrusts it down to his chest, holding it there. “I’m right here. You’re really—” He pinches at the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Pissing me off again.”
Ratio lulls his head to the side, looking out at the room around them. “Sorry. My thoughts are illogical in this state.”
“Yeah,” Aventurine finds himself laughing again, his head bowing forward. “Next time I’ll remember you’re a mopey drunk.”
Yet in his heart he’s feeling colder than ever, squeezing Ratio’s hand tightly as he pins it in place over his heart. Ratio’s pulse is racing, too.
Aventurine watches the exposed expanse of his neck, eying the thick vein that travels up towards his ear and beneath his jaw. Something possessed takes hold of him—
No, he’s not possessed.
This is him, the deepest parts of his desire that he’d repressed around the doctor, the fondness he played off as meaningless flirting, and the bond they subconsciously made by being around each other these past years. Something hidden beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to crawl out.
Aventurine lowers himself down until his chest is flush to Ratio’s and his face is hidden in his neck. His lips touch the hot, plush skin there and he applies a little bit of pressure as a test, then bathes the area with a heated breath, purring a hushed question into the doctor’s ear.
“Mmm… can I make you feel better?” His tone is huskier than intended, but granted he’s been sitting here soaking through his boxers at every touch for the past thirty minutes. All this crying over him, caring about his presence, unconsciously grabbing and holding him; it has him losing himself in his own drunken lust.
“I—” Ratio gasps, chest heaving under him.
Aventurine eats the reaction up like fuel to a flame. He places another kiss to that thick, throbbing vein, this time longer and wetter than the last. His stomach twinges and churns. His eyes dance in place. He’s sure if he stood up at this moment he’d tumble to the floor like a spinning top.
“It’d make me feel better,” He adds, slipping his hands over Ratio’s shoulders to hold him to the couch like a panther crouched over its prey. “To convince you m’not going anywhere.”
“…venturine…” Ratio mumbles on a shaky exhale, hands cautiously coming up to rest on his shoulders in a ghost of an embrace. His reluctance to touch is drastic compared to the way he was grabbing him before. “I don’t deserve it.”
The gambler scoffs against his throat. “First you’re mourning me before I actually die, then you’re saying you don’t deserve me? Don't lead me on, doc.”
“I’m not. You’re drunk. So am I— this is irresponsible.” He swallows hard again, as if he’s struggling to handle the closeness all of a sudden, like it’s finally sunk in. Aventurine doesn’t listen, continuing to kiss at his neck like a starving vampire searching for a vein. Ratio squirms beneath him, breaths becoming thin and razor sharp.
“So you don’t want me?” He questions, except it’s not serious. It’s teasing, sensually spoken with drawn out words and extra weight put into his lisp just so he can hear the way Ratio’s breath hitches in response. He presses his lips to the bone of his jaw tight beneath his ear, speaking against the skin. “Don’t want to relax?”
There’s a sigh, a shred of irritation that speaks just enough familiarity of Ratio’s usual demeanor that it actually soothes Aventurine a bit.
It’s nice to recognize him.
If I’m gonna fuck him, I’m gonna fuck Ratio, not just the body that his brain happens to be in.
“Ridiculous.”
“Hm? So that’s a no?” Aventurine lifts his head to look him in the eyes again.
“I didn't say that. Both of us are m- mentally incapacitated.” He’s still looking away, rosy blushes kissing his cheekbones.
“So both of us are equally at fault, then. If you don’t remember, at least you’ll wake up feelin’ nice and warm, hm? Whaddya say?” Aventurine’s eyes are lazy slits, his hand trailing over Ratio’s damp neck.
The man beneath him shivers, side eyeing him. “You’re suggesting?”
“I prove it,” Aventurine smiles wide. “How very much alive I am.” He moves his hips up, shifting to straddle the doctor’s waist so he can easier seduce him with his crotch slipped comfortably over his. This position makes it natural for Aventurine to sit up as he kneels, looking down at the doctor with his golden hair cascading round his face.
“D- Don’t toy with me. Don’t make a fool of me. All this pretending to detest you for so long has made me…” Ratio doesn’t exactly finish, shifting up so that his head is leant on the arm of the chair, his shoulders slightly propped up.
“You’re not a fool,” He slides two slender hands up Ratio’s chest, cupping his pecs through his shirt. “How funny. Two people alone in a room, neither of them consider the other a fool. Would they still consider themselves fools?”
“Expectations for the self are always higher.” Ratio reaches down to hold Aventurine’s thighs in his hands. In his grip restraint can be felt, the potential energy stored inside muscles which are being actively held back.
“What do you expect from me? Right now?” Aventurine is smiling wide, eyes unfocused and skittering over Ratio under him as his hands mindlessly grope and squeeze at his soft, malleable chest. It’s really beyond his control at this point; being put in this position with his hands on the doctor’s chest. The chest I’ve been tormented by for years…
“I expect you’ll continue to seduce me, even though I’ll tell you it’s irresponsible.” Ratio answers, cutely trying to speak matter of factly through the haze of desire and the tremble in his tone of uncertainty.
“Well, you know you’re capable of stopping me. So… stop me.” He leans in closer, a crazed look on his face as an overwhelmed Ratio sighs, something rigid emitting heat beneath where Aventurine sits on his lap.
“I don’t want to,” He sounds pained, yet his hands stroke his thighs in adoration. “I’m just saying… it’s reckless.”
Aventurine laughs, thumbs pushing up through the fabric of his shirt to tease at the nubs of his nipples underneath. Ratio’s back arches slightly, mouth parting for a gasp. His cock is hard as it bumps against Aventurine’s soaked crotch. The lust, the desire, the crazed desperation swells in him at once.
“If we weren’t drunk, we’d never fuck,” He blurts. “Your ego’s too big. I repulse myself too much.”
“Wh—what? I don’t… that isn’t…”
“But you want me, right? You know I want you, so… what are we doing?”
Ratio lifts his head a bit so that their noses brush. “How am I supposed to have known that? How do you know that?”
“Mmm hehe… well, I don’t, but I assume the odds are pretty high seeing how reactive you are.” Aventurine nuzzles his nose. Impatience has him wiggling his hips in place, wandering hands mapping the doctor’s torso like he’s trying to memorize it through his shirt.
“I- ah I would have answered if you asked.”
“Ugh gotta make a guy do everything himself, huh?”
“I don’t ever want to impose myself on you. I don’t want to hurt you.” Ratio’s hands lift up to Aventurine’s face, looking like he might cry again as he cradles his cheeks in his palms.
Aventurine weakens, forehead knocking against Ratio’s. He feels his sweaty skin against his and his alcohol stained breath bathe his face.
He's so close… I wanna kiss him
“Wanna kiss you… can I?” The words leave him in a half stutter, like a stream of consciousness that he hadn’t meant to voice aloud.
“Yes.” Ratio’s fingers sink into his hair, behind his ears and cup his head in a loose, trembling grip.
“You’re nervous.” He whispers against the doctor’s lips. One slight move and the distance between them would be closed, yet Aventurine can’t bring himself to make the next move.
“… yes.”
“Should I relent control to you?” Aventurine’s stomach burns with anticipation, his hips bearing down in an attempt to satisfy the hot throbbing between his legs. “I’d let you… the smartest man in the cosmos must know how to treat a guy.”
Aventurine pulls back just barely to inspect those uncertain eyes of his, flitting back and forth between his own.
He smiles, tilting his head just a tad. “I trust you.”
“Are you certain?” Ratio fidgets with Aventurine's hair, fingers rubbing against his scalp. His lips are parted, eyes lowering down to his mouth as he considers it.
“Didn’t I just say so?”
“I prefer clear answers.” Ratio huffs against his face, one hand sliding down over his shoulder and onto his back while the other slips behind his head to cup the back of his skull.
“Mmm you do, don’t you?” He giggles, shivering all over at Ratio’s forward touch. The doctor lifts his legs until his knees are bent up behind him, forcing his body forward into his lap as his hands slide down to hold him at the waist. Aventurine makes a small noise at the movement, then a slightly breathier one as he feels Ratio’s hard cock through his pants. He bites his lip, face burning up as he makes himself comfortable straddling it, arching his hips so his clothed pussy lines up with Ratio’s erection.
“Didn’t I just say so?” Ratio’s voice is huskier, transformed by desire into something utterly unfair as it makes Aventurine even wetter.
He can’t take it.
“Please, doctor,” He practically moans, rolling his hips with a choppy gasp. “Kiss me. Fuck me. Do something.”
Ratio grunts, his hands squeezing him at the waist. He’s not doing so well in terms of keeping his composure either. He makes a fist in Aventurine’s hair, but doesn’t pull, simply an anchor point as he lifts his head to press their lips together. It’s cute how Ratio only gives him a chaste peck, but Aventurine is too greedy and too far gone to take his time. He returns the kiss with more urgency, moaning softly into it as he ruts in uncoordinated motions against Ratio’s dick.
The pleasure is instant; his body already properly lubricated and aroused under his clothes. He wonders if Ratio can feel how wet he is through his own pants…
With the permission of Aventurine’s eagerness, Ratio opens up easily and sighs into the kiss. His lips are firm and smooth, a little clumsy, but deliciously plump enough for Aventurine to suck on and pull apart to deepen the kiss into almost toe curling territory.
Ratio’s hips stutter up, feet braced against the couch. Both hands secure themselves around his hips, large and encompassing almost his entire waist.
“Fuck, doctor~” Aventurine babbles against his lips, unable to get out much before Ratio chases his mouth, desperate to taste him again.
Aventurine fumbles around his chest as he tries to blindly figure out how to remove the doctor’s shirt. He finds the chain of his necklace and tugs, drunkenly trying to rip everything and anything off of him.
“Aven- ahh haa—” Ratio’s whole body tenses, thighs trembling behind him. He feels his stomach clench under him. He breaks away from the kiss to throw his head back, exposing the creamy skin of his neck where…
The chain of his necklace has been pulled taught, pressing into soft skin.
Aventurine immediately lets the chain go slack, looking down as he examines the way it’s put together; one side looped through a small open link to allow the chain to rest as if it were fused there, though with the right amount of pulling the chain slips through and can be tightened.
A hot breath makes its way through Aventurine’s chest in his next inhale, exhaling into a cackle that makes Ratio startle beneath him.
“You— You like that?” His chest heaves. He’s feels crazy. “‘Feels good?” He smooths a hand over Ratio’s neck, fingers trailing over the chain which has grown hot from touching his chest all day.
Ratio recovers with tears in his eyes, looking wrecked and desperate like a wet dog in the rain.
“Mm.” A very small, shameful nod.
“Oh, dear goddess, you’re gonna kill me.” Aventurine feels light headed, saddled in Rario’s lap. He rolls his hips harder, drinking in the pleasure like wine as it kisses him through his jeans. It’s hot. He’s sweating, so is Ratio. The scent is in the air. It takes hold of them both, injecting urgency and feverishness into their pent up desires.
Aventurine devours him, kissing him dizzy and barely giving a moment to catch his breath as he toys with that necklace of his; pulling it taught every now and then just to feel him jolt and hear his hitching breaths. His hands slide down to squeeze Aventurine’s ass, palming his cheeks apart and rocking him harder against himself.
At this point Aventurine starts to lose the mental capacity for words, absolutely drowning in the other and falling faster with every touch, every breath, and every whimper and muted moan against bruised lips.
At some point Aventurine’s head falls against his shoulder. His thoughts are sparse and fragmented. One moment he’s internally swooning over how strong Ratio is in the way he rocks his hips with those rigid hands of his, then the next he’s huffing in the doctor’s ear and biting at his earlobe wondering if this guy is some kind of masochist.
It doesn’t exactly cross his mind that neither of them have shred a single piece of clothing until Aventurine is in the middle of making a particularly wet and rough hickey right on the pulsing vein below his ear.
“…perfect… so t- talented, exquisite, cunning, and— mmh perfect. You’re so perfect. P- precious thing.” Ratio starts to ramble in a daze of lust. He’s taken up the role of moving Aventurine’s hips where he’s started to falter, legs shaking in over exertion.
“Ah fuck,” A sting of pleasure has his pants feeling suddenly wetter, his stomach clenching as a long drawn out moan leaves him, aimed directly at Ratio’s ear. “Baby…” Is the only word that leaves him as he squirts helplessly in his boxers. The wetness spreads down his shaking thighs. He gasps as Ratio doesn’t stop grinding his hips against him, rutting up into now soaked fabric.
Everything feels so much richer, so much more smoother, and wetter, throwing him over into what feels like insanity.
And we’re only dry humping… he hasn’t even taken his dick out…
“You— You’re so divine,” Ratio’s nose is buried in his hair, his breaths sweltering and heavy. “So good, so good, A—Aventurine…”
“Need it,” He whines, pushing up on his arms. “Need you— ah haa aaah!” His thighs squeeze, his back arching as his clit rubs just right enough to make him leak again in pure ecstasy. He throws his head back, swaying a little as the room spins around him. He feels his body fall back only to be stooped when he his Ratio’s knees
“Careful, Aven. Hold on…” Ratio sits up, arms wrapping around Aventurine to hold him upright.
Aventurine kisses him the moment he’s within reach, arms thrown over his shoulders with his fingers in his hair. He feels Ratio shift, drawing him closer and pulling his legs around his waist so he can comfortably hold as he stands up from the couch.
It’s not as graceful as it should be. Ratio is absolutely not steady on his feet after 3 shots. He stumbles until a hand hits the bed post, completely blinded and disoriented by kissing and ruthless hair pulling.
“Gambler…” He growls, shins knocking into the end of the bed. Aventurine slips from his grasp and falls onto his back on the bed, bouncing a little on the plush mattress.
“Hehe… sorry.” He laughs, gooey eyed as he scooches up on the bed. He watches Ratio remove his shirt with trembling fingers, struggling a little as he huffs in impatience.
“You’re lookin’ pretty worked up, doc.” Aventurine teases, slipping off his pants to reveal his soaked boxers. When he slides them down to his thighs his pussy drools in the open air, clear strings sticking to the fabric and already dripping to the sheets.
Ratio folds his shirt and sash and leaves them on the dresser, turning to face Aventurine as his hands move to his belt. His blush reaches down to his chest, speckling his pure imperfectionless skin like rose petals scattered on a bed.
“Because of you.” He says in a sigh, but it’s not an irritated sigh. It’s more wistful, longing.
His eyes linger, following down Aventurine’s wrinkled shirt to his bare legs. He looks overwhelmed as he unhooks his belt, allowing it to clatter and clink as his pants slip to the floor.
Then he sort of half falls into bed next to Aventurine, boxers still on as he lies on his side to face him. His hand reaches out to smooth up the tan flesh of Aventurine’s thigh. His eyes are focused, stuck to the shape of his thighs before the rest of him is hidden under the hem off his shirt hanging down. He moves his hand back and forth like a man possessed. It’s as if he’s dusting off a fossil or examining some kind of alluring artifact.
“Aventurine,” He murmurs, head resting on a fist. “How far do you want to go?”
“You’re funny,” He rolls onto his side, face only inches away as thin hands stick to that exposed chest like magnets. “How do I say it? I’m all in, Veritas.” He puffs his chest, back arched to press them against each other.
The doctor’s eyes soften, his beautiful face falling under an elegant wave of longing and desire, coupled with something sadder that’s hard to define.
“I had a… a plan for how this would go if I ever got the chance with you.” He says, suddenly sentimental as he caresses his cheekbone with a knuckle.
“Oh…” He tries for a witty comeback or some kind of retort to diffuse the weight of his words, but instead he feels prickles dance over his skin in a ruthless wave that leave him shy and blushing like the doctor once had been.
“Was that too much? I’m sorry, I’m just saying things. I’m not thinking.” Ratio apologizes.
“No, no, it’s not. You’re just so much sadder about this than I had planned.”
“I’m not sad…” He leans forward then, lips pressing against his forehead gingerly. “Just shaken after everything and taken off guard… I didn’t expect this tonight.” His voice rumbles against Aventurine’s head.
Suddenly he feels like he isn’t nearly drunk enough.
“We don’t have to…” Aventurine feels his heart ache as he says it, something like guilt mixed with his chronic loneliness creeping in at the edges.
“I want to,” Ratio pulls back, eyes squinting as his brows furrow, indicating he’s trying to force himself to think clearly. “I have wanted… sorry, I just have a lot of things on my mind. Hard to think. I fear I won’t do well. I fear I— I won’t remember. I fear you’ll regret it. I don’t think I’m exactly ready or mentally here enough to- to go all the way,” His eyes skitter away then back. “I’m sorry.” His hair sticks to his forehead in little curls. He looks younger when he blushes. His abdomen twitches and his muscles tense as Aventurine strokes his palms over the valleys of his chest over and over as if hypnotized.
“Doctor, don’t apologize. You don’t need t’do anything.” The oppressive pain in his heart has risen to his throat like a fist choking his airways.
It’s not because he doesn’t want it. It’s not because he doesn’t want me. I don’t know what it is, but it can’t be that. I’m not that disgustingly vile, am I? I’m not just like them… I can’t be.
“Then,” Another nervous swallow. “What sh- should we…”
“What do you want?”
The question seems to paralyze him. His eyes wander down Aventurine’s body, eyes fluttering like he’s afraid to truly let himself stare. He lays his hands over his, then follows his wrists with slow, languid movements. It’s either that he’s stalling, or truly enamored by the sensation of tracing his slender arms.
“You are truly magni— magne— magnificent,” He trips over the word, wincing at himself. “So that I find myself overwhelmed.”
“Oh,” Something lightens in his chest at the admission. Though it had been obvious, hearing it is much different. “S’okay, baby. You really flatter me, y’know.”
“I speak the truth,” Ratio’s hands lift up to his shoulders. “Can we… well, I’m not exactly sure how to put this.” His ears burn. His voice is brittle like he’s afraid to say it.
“Do you wanna show me what you want?” Aventurine poses, wondering what those strong hands can do when powered by lust.
Except he pulls away completely then, getting up and moving to the end of the bed where he lays on his chest, knees on the floor as his arms reach up for Aventurine’s legs…
“Mother goddess—” He gasps, the breath sucked from him as Ratio pulls him forwards by his ankles until his knees are hooked over his shoulders. Ratio’s pretty face is positioned right in front of his naked—
“I’ve thought about your taste,” Ratio’s eyes are trained directly on his pussy, arms wrapped around his thighs to hold him in place. “And… being smothered by you.”
Aventurine laughs breathlessly, at a loss for words and so utterly aroused that he can’t form sentences. Instinctively, he tried to close his legs and bend his knees inwards.
Ratio’s eyes snap up, still pink with his mascara smeared down his cheeks. “Ah— I didn’t move too fast, did I?”
“Goddess help me— you’re something else, doc, fuck…” He bites his lips, dragging his heels down Ratio’s muscled back as he properly spreads his legs. “You know I uh, have a bit of a trigger finger if you know what I mean. Just warning you.”
“I felt that, yes,” He says it with a heavy tone, similar to a desperate groan. “I’d like to make you come in my mouth.”
“Fuck,” Aventurine squeezes his head between his thighs, feeling crazed as arousal floods his heart with searing anticipation. “I wanna see how bad you want it.” He reaches forward to sink a hand into those thick violet curls.
Ratio hoists his thighs closer on either side of his head, dipping his head down to drag his tongue slowly from the base of Aventurine’s leaking hole up to his flushed clit, aroused and peaking past his folds. Ratio’s gaze is relentless, watching Aventurine’s face with half lidded eyes that burn with adoration and lust. He presses his tongue flat to Aventurine’s clit and gives his head a gentle shake, moving slowly over the sensitive head just to tease it.
“Ughhhh, fuck,” Aventurine unintentionally kicks him in the back, legs twitching in impatience. “I’m so wet, Ratiooo.”
A moan reverberates from his mouth to the pink head of his clit. Ratio starts lapping faster at his folds, circling his clit and suckling on it before giving it deep bruising kisses that make Aventurine’s thighs crush his head until his face is bright red from the lack of air.
“Hnnnn haa fuck yes— baby~ please, please!” Aventurine’s hips are bucking, legs squirming and kicking in pleasure. “You— Your hands— fingers, please.”
Ratio hums, flicking his eyes back up to acknowledge him before unwinding one of his arms from his thigh.
His fingers… feel… dear goddess, I can’t hold out.
As two thick fingers slide slowly into his opening, brushing against his aroused flesh, excited and engorged with blood, he feels a few drops escape him. Ratio groans low in his throat, licking them up and sucking hard at his clit as if to entice more from him.
“You fucking dog!” He tugs his hair, hard, as his hips jolt. Ratio’s eyes are squeezed shut now, his mind clearly overwhelmed as he drowns himself in Aventurine’s pussy. The man groans like an animal guarding its prey, possessive and primal in his ruthless, passionate licks.
The doctor starts thrusting his fingers at a slow pace, more so just pulsing them in place at the furthest depth his fingers reach to start. At the same time his lips remain fixed over the hood of his clit, suckling and kitten licking beneath the head like he’s done this a thousand times before.
Aventurine emits a prayer in a language Ratio won’t know; could never know despite how much of the universe he has memorized in that big head of his, how much knowledge he has at the tips of his fingers.
His voice wavers, trailing into a helpless moan as his legs lay limp over the doctor’s back. The pleasure is so perfectly placed, so consistent, and delicious enough to make him see stars.
Never thought those big strong hands… could be so gentle…
“Ahh— careful doc I- I had a lot to drink…” he whines, trying not to clench too much. Though his stomach and pelvic muscles have always been exceedingly tighter than usual, leading to him being more inclined to squirting when the pleasure grips hold of him just right.
Ratio pulls his mouth off his clit with a wet pop, droplets of slick landing on his thighs. His mouth is soaked in thin, slippery liquid; clear strings still connecting his face to his pussy.
The look in his eyes is a bit delirious, but also focused at the same time as if he’s had to pull himself out of a deep sleep or a rich dream he hadn’t wanted to leave.
“I just get really really wet… like it’s pretty bad,” Aventurine says breathlessly as Ratio’s fingers stop inside of him, giving him a small reprieve. “I uh… usually need a lot of towels…”
“I would not call it a bad quality,” His voice is rugged, gravelly as he places a sloppy kiss to the inside of Aventurine’s thigh. “You’re making it a lot smoother for yourself, your skin is softer, fuller as your fluids swell from you. You taste heavenly…” His eyes drift back down to the dripping opening before his face. “You taste a lot like how your hair smells… It's an addictive, full bodied taste. Relax your muscles, just focus on feeling it. Don’t hold yourself back, if it feels good; let go. I don’t care, I want everything I can get out of you.” His stare is intense, his deep aroused growl makes Aventurine shiver.
“Being a squirter really is a blessing and a curse. Just know after a certain point I am kinda just peeing on your face… y’know?” He feels the unfortunate need to say it, humiliation and shame thick at the back of his throat.
“The urethra secretes ejaculate and lubricating fluids during arousal, sometimes it pools in the bladder which may not be entirely empty. I am aware that I’ve been tasting a bit of the shots you took earlier as well. You’re right about being very wet. I wonder if it’ll get creamier once you’ve orgasmed… please, don’t try to keep anything in for my sake.” Ratio says before going back in tongue first to swirl a slow, hot circle around his clit. The fact certainly doesn't seem to bother him at all.
“Mm! Fuck, I didn’t know you were such a horny freak, Veri. You can’t take that back, y’know.” Aventurine’s body weakens, allowing itself to be at the mercy of Ratio’s touch. He lets his head lull back, an arms thrown limp over his face with his back arched to lift himself up off the bed in order to try to get closer.
“Nonsense, wouldn’t have put myself between your legs if I hadn’t fantasized about being here before. Now, relax.”
“You— y— ahhh…” He keens at the deep thrusting of Ratio’s fingers again. He knows exactly which tendons to stroke through his walls and exactly where to tease and nudge at the deepest reaches in order to stimulate his clit from the inside.
A rush of liquid spills from him and Aventurine hardly even anticipates it before it happens. Ratio’s fingers are instantly moving easier with the added slick and his lips are slippery and mind numbingly smooth against his clit. The sound it makes is absolutely sinful. His clit feels absolutely electric being hit with wave after wave of pleasure.
“Veri, mmhmn, you’re so good to me… s-so good. Ah!” His hips jerk and he accidentally kicks Ratio in the shoulder at full force. In response, the doctor pins down his hips with an arm slung over his lower stomach. A grunt is all he gets in complaints.
“Sorry,” Aventurine grips the pillow under his head with both hands, looking down the slides of his slim body, over the crude scars and raised marks from his past, and watches Ratio’s satisfied face as he loses himself in desire. “Didn’t think you could get so turned on. I thought I’d repulse you. Mmm—” He throws his head back, hair a complete mess as it sprawls across the pillow. “So- So good, so perfect, r-right there, baby.” His voice is getting wispier and far more brittle as he begins to ramble in a haze of pleasure.
“Such a good boy,” Aventurine’s knees tremble, pivoting inwards to bracket the back of Ratio’s head. “Ugh! You want it, don’t you? Fuck, never—never thought about cumming on that pretty fucking face.” His hips yearn to buck up into that eager tongue, but Ratio’s hold is strong. He arches further, trying to grind against it.
Ratio’s eyes are open when he looks down, watching for his reaction, watching his face and the way his panting breaths heave his chest.
He’s still wearing his shirt, the fabric bunched up and held back under Ratio’s arm. The emerald green fabric is absolutely soaked at the trim. The garters on his socks have fallen down and now hang loosely from his ankles, clasps jingling as his legs twitch and sway in the air.
Ratio starts fingering him with a more ruthless pace, dragging all the way out before sinking in to tap and rub against that perfect point of pleasure deep inside him each and every time. It’s perfect. It’s so hot it’s torture.
It makes Aventurine cry out with his mouth closed, his pussy drooling and clenching until he feels the liquid dripping down between his ass. He grabs Ratio’s head with both hands, fingers balled in the hair behind his ears.
“How’s it taste?” He huffs, feeling feverish.
Ratio groans, eyes closing softly before fluttering back open.
“I’m so tight, can you feel it? So— wet n’ hot. You could fuck me if you want. Slip it in—It- it’d be so easy.” He’s getting increasingly desperate the closer he gets to his orgasm. One of his feet lift high in the air, toes pointed out daintily as his legs shake. “Please, Veri, don’t stop. Ugh, you’re so hard aren’t you? I bet your cock is dripping— fucking throbbing, I bet you’re soaked from me. I bet you’d come just from this. Did it make you excited when I got so wet on your cock?”
Aventurine is laughing, taking in high pitched breaths between every word. His stomach clenches as he gasps, little spurts splattering across his thighs and down the doctor’s face.
The pleasure starts to get white hot, a little sharp right below the head of his clit. Inside Ratio’s fingers nudge his g-spot, sending electric zaps up his spine until his eyes are staticky at the edges. There’s a twinge in his stomach, a twitch in his muscles that evolves into a full body convulsion as he jerks forwards. He folds forwards into sort of a sitting position, clutching Ratio’s head and digging his nails into his scalp.
Liquid shoots from him, droplets flying so far that a few of them hit the hardwood floor.
“Fuck baby— mmmmn yeah, yes, yesss.” Aventurine’s voice is gone, rough and scratchy as he moans into Ratio’s hair, completely balled up and jolting with every thrust, every relentless swipe of that heavenly tongue.
Ratio moans in encouragement, hand squeezing Aventurine where he holds him at his side. He’ taken his fingers out, now dipping his tongue deep into his hole and sloppily kissing his pussy like it could kiss him back.
“Ah— ha— a— ah!” The touch is sharp now, little twitches and pangs through his clit and deep in his walls telling him to stop. He even goes as far as to worm his hand under Ratio’s chin to pull him firmly back.
Then he just sort of sits there, curled over him and hugging his head.
The world is dead to him, his eyes are squeezed shut, body feeling like it’s swaying in place. Ratio reaches up and wraps his arms around his waist, hands rubbing at his hips.
“Oh goddess… oh dear mother goddess…” He mumbles onto thick purple curls. His stomach muscles and legs feel completely numb. He doesn’t think he could walk if he tried.
“Was I good?” Ratio asks, muffled.
Aventurine unfurls to sit, finally letting him free after realizing he’d been holding his face down into the mattress most likely restricting his oxygen. He plants his hands behind him to hold himself up, but it doesn’t make him feel any less stable. As he opens his eyes all he can think about is how absolutely blissful his body feels. Everything is tingling and a little cool from the sweat that’s collected over his skin, making him feel like he’s just been through a heavy rainfall and now sits in shelter shivering and safe.
“Veritas~” Aventurine sings in a hoarse voice. “I can't even fathom what I’m gonna have t’do to repay you for that… and how t’buy an unlimited subscription to your services.” His head is lulled forward and a little to the side like he’s a puppet with its strings cut. He’s having trouble keeping it upright.
I forgot to tell him about… well, I guess I didn’t get the chance… I’m fine, I can keep going.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’ll worship you whenever you need me, simply because it’s you.” Ratio lifts up on his arms, nearing Aventurine like he’s a comet being drawn into the orbit of a planet.
“Ah— um,” Aventurine has to stop him, a hand to his chest. “Sorry… you’re gonna have to uh- you know.” He points to his face a little awkwardly.
Ratio’s eyebrows shoot up, looking embarrassed. “Certaintlyy, of course.”
“Hurry back~” He giggles, falling onto his back on the bed. He hears Ratio stumble to the bathroom, then shuts his eyes at the bright light that casts across the room.
The sound of running water from the faucet coupled with the swaying of the bed under him makes him feel like he’s at sea. He doesn’t really think about much. His skin tingles. A hand is placed over his lower stomach, quelling a soreness that sits deep below his muscles. He’s trying not to frown. Though his mind kind of slips away from him and by the time the bed dips down next to him he’s completely forgotten where he was.
He jolts up, propped on his elbows. His eyes are droopy. He knows he hadn’t fallen asleep, but he wasn’t far from it.
Ratio is still wearing nothing but his boxers, still strained by his neglected erection creating a damp spot where it tents against the fabric. He’s washed his face to Aventurine’s request and is holding a water bottle from the mini fridge in his hand.
He sits on the bed next to Aventurine, handing him the water with a little awkward smile.
“You lost a lot of fluids and alcohol dehydrates your system. You’re a little pale.” His voice is gone, lips red and puffy from over use. Aventurine accepts the water, drinking it and feeling its contents cool and soothe his shaky insides. When he hands it back to Ratio, he finishes it and places the empty bottle neatly on the nightstand. The action despite being so small and far past where they’ve already gone tonight still puts butterflies in Aventurine’s stomach which escape him in a fit of little giggles.
Sharing drinks… lips touching the same place…
His eyes flick to Ratio’s neck, a certain impulse pooling in his gut.
“Put your necklace back on.” His voice drips with mischief.
Ratio’s eyes go big, then the color of his cheeks darken. Wordlessly, he turns to the nightstand where he’d left it and loosens the necklace to fit over his head, adjusting the chain to a comfortable tightness. The pendant bounces and drifts against his naked, sweaty chest. Aventurine thinks he might be drooling, eyes fixated on that touch of purple matching the fuzzy coils between his pecs, the silver glinting tauntingly against pale skin…
Aventurine’s hand is around that chain faster than he can think, yanking it to its limit as he pulls Ratio towards him.
“Mm! Mnnnnnn….” He moans into a heated kiss, a single hand placed between them on the bed.
Aventurine feels high, his knuckles white and his fingers tingling as the metal digs into his skin. He deepens the kiss until he’s forcing Ratio’s lips apart and sliding his tongue into his hot, wet mouth.
Ratio whines deep in his throat, a hand pawing at Aventurine’s chest until he gets the hint and lets go of the chain to give him a chance to catch his breath through his nose. He breathes in fast, quick puffs through his nose that bathe Aventurine’s face.
He’s sucking on the doctor’s tongue like he’s trying to eat him alive. His pulse is razor thin, his thoughts sparse and speckling like tiny specks of starlight in the empty cosmos. The hand gripping his necklace pulls slowly—leading him closer as he lies back on the mattress and guides the doctor into crawling over him.
“You’re good at following my lead after all, huh?” Aventurine says when he breaks their kiss.
Ratio is panting, face red and slick with sweat. His neck is pink from being tugged on. There’s a few blushes of red on his neck too from Aventurine’s earlier kisses.
Aventurine lets his legs fall open, bracketing Ratio’s legs where he kneels over him. He traces a gloved hand down Ratio’s side, fingering the waistband of his boxers.
“Should I keep leading you?” He cocks an eyebrow, giving a playful little jerk of his necklace. The pendant is warm, slippery in his clammy palm.
Ratio’s head falls forward, his body suddenly weakening. His hips dip inward, sort of thrusting helplessly into the air. His breaths are uneven and labored, eyes squeezing shut as he drops his head down to rest on Aventurine’s shoulder.
“Gambler…” A quiet breath against the scarred side of his throat.
Aventurine gets a beautiful view of the arch of his back, the perfect structure of his spine, and his creamy shoulders. If he cranes his neck he can see the delicious swell of his ass hugged by his boxers.
“Please,” Ratio sounds weak. “Tell me this is r- real.” A kiss just above the tight decorative collar around his throat.
Aventurine smooths a hand up his back, fingers dipping and rising as he follows his spine. His expression is droopy, no longer holding its prior enthusiasm. He knows it. He doesn’t have to keep that smile on when Ratio can’t see him.
He only realizes he’s still doing it when Ratio breaks past that line like this, addresses what he wishes he’d ignore, and reminds him that;
Yes.
This is real.
“Yes, baby.” His voice is raspy from moaning, throat sore from the alcohol. He bends his knees up, squeezing his thighs at Ratio’s waist where his body slowly looses strength and slumps into him. Hes clearly putting a lot of effort into not collapsing on top of him, but Aventurine can already feel the weight of his chest on his and his cock nudges insistently at his hip.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Ratio asks and he sounds a lot more sober than he is. Aventurine can picture the furrow in his brow, feel the frown as he presses feather light kisses over his brand, mouth hot and soft.
“Hm?” He’s tracing a finger over Ratio’s back, drawing circles and wishing he could take his gloves off. Though his hand is trapped between them, squeezing Ratio’s pendant until the silver metal jabs through the leather into his skin.
“Calling me baby.” It sounds a little like his usual scolding when he finds issue with something in their conversation, but there’s genuine confusion there, like the doctor can’t possibly fathom why he would do such a thing.
Aventurine shrugs, making a sound that resembles ‘I don’t know.’ “Don’t like?”
“It feels like… a placeholder.”
Aventurine barks out a laugh. Lifting his hand to his lips so he can bite the finger of his glove to wriggle the thing off. “I’m not thinking that hard, I promise. Want honesty?” He tosses the glove away and cards his fingers up the back of Ratio’s neck until his nails are scratching up against his scalp. Then he grabs hold and lifts, elated to his core when Ratio ends up limply allowing him to pull his head up with ease.
“Please.” Ratio looks like he might cry again, deep ember eyes flicking back and forth between his mouth and eyes.
Aventurine suddenly feels very different in his body. Not drunkenness, not overstimulation, nor post orgasm bliss, but… like something fragile that was once reinforced with an unbreakable structure finally gave in and crumbled.
Why do I have this sudden impulse to be rough with him, to hurt him?
“I think it’s cute,” He reveals, drumming his fingers against Ratio’s head to hide that his hand is trembling. He’s really struggling trying to force his mind into working order, into something soft instead of something sharp. You can be honest, you can be vulnerable… you’re not in danger here.
Of course Ratio of all people would interrupt their delirious drunken escapades to question him. “And I uh… I’ve done this with you in my head a lot. Sometimes you’re talking t’me and all I’m thinkin’ is ‘yeah, baby, tell me ‘bout those statistics. I'm so close.’ I guess it feels natural.”
Ratio looks even more perplexed, pouting and furrowing his brows. He lifts up on his arms, steadying himself. “You mean to t— tell me you’re having sex with me in your head when I’m trying to talk to you?”
Aventurine chortles, hiding his face behind his knuckles, Ratio’s necklace dangling loose from his fingers. “Not that often… Ah ha ha… maybe I shouldn’t have said that.” Humiliation starts to creep up his throat like little needles piercing him from the inside out and filling his pallet is the tang of ashy regret.
Ratio sighs, looking surprisingly relieved as he dips down to meet his lips again. This time it’s more gentle than before. “I appreciate the honesty… I just want to know if it's really me you want.”
Aventurine almost laughs and brushes it off with a simple ‘obviously,’ and poke at his situational awareness, but that look on Ratio’s face is making him feel a lot squishier than usual.
So instead he pulls off his other glove and cups Ratio’s cheek in his bare palm, feeling the man lean his head into the touch.
“We’re only here because it’s you, Ratio. I don’t do this. Contrary to popular belief; It’s been a long time for me. I don’t… let people get this close, but I want you. I- I- have for a really long time. I’m not sure if that proves it for you.” His voice is a lot less confident than he'd like it to be. He feels himself trembling just beneath the surface of his skin and suddenly he feels very small beneath Ratio. “I trust you. I trust you’lll… y’know…” He feels his cheeks tingle, his eyes suddenly hot and wet. “Take care of me.” That last part is quiet, whispered into the air between them as if he’s trying to speak the truth into existence. Despite his trust in the doctor, he still doesn’t exactly trust his own judgement and the fear will always be there.
“I can,” His reply is immediate, eyes softening. “Absolutley I will.” He shifts his weight onto one arm so he can slide his hand over Aventurine’s, holding it so he can turn to place a kiss to the center of his palm.
“I trust you.” Aventurine repeats, heat flushing over him at the admission. His eyes suddenly burn, his teeth knocking together at the tremble of his jaw because,
Oh god, this is really happening. Right now with Ratio…
“What do you want me to do?” The doctor asks and his voice is especially husky, eyes especially soft with a fragile gaze.
“What do- do you want to do?” He stumbles over his words.
Ratio removes his hand from his face, folding his fingers down to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. Against dry, scarred skin, he says:
“I want to cherish my time with you if you’ll let me. I- I know we’re not entirely sober, but perhaps if the experience leaves much to be desired; you can call me when our minds are clearer, but…” He falters, voice going quiet. “I’d like to be inside you…”
“Oh goddess, please.” Aventurine feels his skin jitter in excitement, his heart squeezing in glee. “You’re so convinced you’ll do a bad job, but you haven’t even given yourself a chance.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.” He lets go of his hand, leaning back down to kiss the crook of his chin below his ear.
Aventurine feels dizzy much like he’s floating above his body.
“Doc, we’re far past that. You’ve already treated me a million times better than anyone has,” He smiles warmly, his lips sort of trembling. “The bar’s low. You can’t possibly be that bad.”
A slow, almost mournful sigh bathes Aventurine’s throat.
“Ugh come on. Don’t think about it, Kay?” He makes nails into the meat of Ratio’s shoulders. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”
“As you wish.” His mouth moves lower, gentle on the flesh beneath his brand, but once he reaches his collarbone he sucks harder, leaving a bruising pulse of sore pleasure in his chest. It unfurls, filling his breaths with heat that makes his nipples poke through his shirt in excitement. He steadies up on his knees, Aventurine’s thighs resting over his as he shuffles closer. He sits up, hands free to start unbuttoning Aventurine’s shirt.
A small noise leaves him, his hand reaching to hold one of Ratio’s wrists. It’s not a tight grab, nothing to instill urgency, but the doctor still pauses his movements to lift his head.
“I- I’d like to leave it on.” He smiles shakily as he feels his confidence crumble into dust.
He feels… small… very small.
I don’t know what happened. Nothing changed, maybe this is just how it is for me.
“Yes, I apologize for not asking.”
“S’okay. I’m ready for you, just like this.”
Ratio nods, nervous as he pulls away from Aventurine to finally slide off his boxers. He tosses them to the floor, scooching back up to lift Aventurine thighs to rest comfortably over his hips. Ratio is blushing so darkly that it’s almost worrisome. His muscled hands are clammy where they smooth up Aventurine’s thighs over faded scars lined up one after another from years and years of self loathing.
The only reason I haven’t recently is cause I haven’t been in reality for so long. You can’t hurt yourself in the sweet dream, my latest wounds are healed over completely…
“Come here,” Aventurine beckons him closer, desperate to draw his attention elsewhere. Ratio leans down on his hands on either side of Aventurine’s head. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, glistening at the tip and twitching when Aventurine pulls him down by the chain around his neck to draw him into a wet kiss. “Let me lead you?” He whispers against his lips as he reaches for his cock.
Ratio moans instead of giving a proper answer, lips parted and damp and he pants hot breaths across Aventurine’s face.
“Say something, okay baby?”
“Yes—yes.” He huffs.
“I want you to keep talking to me.” He blindly guides Ratio’s cock down to brush against his folds, slipping on his slick skin as he aims the head at his opening and lets it slot into his dripping hole easily.
“Mnnn, mhhn, of course,” Ratio groans, shifting his hips to get a better angle. The centimeter his cock moves has Aventurine clenching. Ratio bites his lip, eyes squeezing shut momentarily as he steels himself. “Tell me if it hurts, tell me if you want me to stop, if you want anything at all— whatever you need.” His voice is getting breathier by the second.
Aventurine braces his hands on his biceps. “Deeper. Slowly.”
Ratio nods, pushing in gently. The slide is sinfully smooth because of how slick and wet Aventurine already is. Ratio moans brokenly, his head lulling forward. Aventurine catches him in a kiss as his nails press into the skin of his arms, hands gripping unintentionally. Ratio is big and despite being as wet as he is, he feels every single inch as it slides inside.
“Gambler—” He gasps.
It’s a little too easy. The stretch happens fast, so deep he’s not entirely prepared for it.
Aventurine breaks the kiss, lungs constricting and causing a high pitched gasp to leave him.
“Ugh, ughh fuck.” He throws his head back, heels dig into Ratio’s back.
“How do you feel? Is it too much?” Ratio is heaving, his voice completely soaked in lust. A drop of sweat falls from the tip of his nose onto Aventurine’s jaw.
“Fuck, fuck, goddess, no. You- You’re so big~ and hot and strong and— ” He lifts a leg to wrap around Ratio’s waist, pulling him closer. “Oh, doctor, I don’t think m’gonna last long.”
“Just focus on feeling good, tell me what you want,” Ratio’s nose brushes against his, lashes curtaining his bleary eyes. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it for you.”
“Slowly— gentle—” Aventurine’s voice is a lot shakier than he’d like it to be.
“Of course,” He rumbles against his lips. He rolls his hips in a slow circle, breaths sucking in between his teeth. “Anything— Anything.”
His lips are so close, brushing against Aventurine’s and filtering every hot breath into his mouth. Aventurine is breathing hard and fast, high pitched sounds leaving him despite the rhythm starting out so slow. The pleasure is rich. His pussy is already so aroused and wet every slide of his cock is heavenly, stroking him in smooth sensual motions that have his thighs shaking. Being drunk certainly doesn’t help him hold out. The more gentle it is, the more torturous the pleasure is as it takes its time trickling up and down his spine and jolting his body like a ragdoll. Ratio dares to go deeper on his next thrust and he gasps as the head nudges his cervix. He feels his body go limp as he squirts slow and drawn out, lighting strikes of ecstasy hitting him straight in the clit at every pulse of liquid.
“Baby— baby, baby—yes!” He hooks his ankles around Ratio’s waist to force him deeper, moaning without a care when his next languid thrust hits deep enough to make him see stars.
“Carissimus Aventurine, mea lux.” He breathes against his lips before giving him a bruising kiss that steals the breath directly from his lungs.
He truly has no idea what that could possibly mean, but the mere sound of that breathtaking voice moaning in its native tongue has him digging his nails into the doctor’s shoulder blades and arching his back to meet every patient thrust. His nipples burn, begging for attention. His lower stomach is on fire, the tendons and muscles constricting and squeezing Ratio’s cock in response to every movement. It makes him break away from their kiss with a groan, eyes squeezing shut.
“Touch me— my chest.” Aventurine’s words are choppy, cut up by his trembling jaw. The pleasure is too intense. He’s shaking all over, his voice airy and high pitched in girlish tones that he doesn’t have the brain power to be ashamed of.
Ratio shifts onto one hand, the other coming up to squeeze his left breast through his shirt, through the tape binding his chest. Ratio’s eyes are glazed over, lips parted and glistening. His hand is big on his chest, a thumb locating his nipple through the layers of fabric to massage in a small circle.
An open mouthed smile carves itself on his face as his back arches, writhing at the influx of sensations. His head is thrown back, gaze centered on the wall behind him. He feels himself clench hard around Ratio and the man dives down to mouth at his throat through his next moan, low and gritty and the perfect amount of desperate.
The metal latches from the garters on his socks create a jingling sound in the room, coupled by the blue hues swaying across the ceiling like auroras makes Aventurine feel like his body is floating through space, feeling hot and full and fiery like a sun moments from going supernova. Heat crawls up his face, over his chest like a smothering wave and his orgasm follows way too soon like cracks of thunder after a lightning strike.
His body jerks hard, his nails accidentally dragging as he temporarily looses his grip of Ratio’s sweaty shoulders.
“Ah—ha haa m’so s- sensitive!” He gasps, words barely leaving him as he feels a thick, stickiness seeping down from his hole, spreading over Ratio’s cock and painting it white as the creamy substance leaks from him in pure ecstasy. He’s looking down, watching that perfect cock fuck his own spend back into him so slow and gentle.
“You don’t know what you do to me, Aven,” Ratio is moaning messily into his ear. His breaths sear his skin, right over his brand where his damp lips brush against cherry kissed skin. Every thrust has the doctor fighting back what sounds like whimpers. “Just— just want to— see you happy.”
“Veritas,” Aventurine feels his heart bleeding with a blinding adoration. “Veri. Feels— so good- Mmm! Fuck— so close. Don’t let go.”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He lifts his head, meeting those neon colored eyes with a mesmerized look before kissing him so gently that the warmth in Aventurine’s heart finally floods over. He’s clumsily groping his chest, losing his own rhythm until he’s full on plunging into Aventurine’s welcoming hole with blissful ease. The depth, the speed, the roughness and the raw neediness of the way Ratio makes love to him is too much to take. His legs start to shake, back arching off the bed.
He squirts hard, drenching Ratio’s cock as it slips into him a little faster with the added lubrication. It’s hot and sinful and slick but Aventurine’s legs are jolting out of his control and his stomach is convulsing from the overstimulation. He circles a hand around Ratio’s neck, shoving the other down between them.
“Out, out, out— give, give,” He barely makes out the words between sharp gasps. Squirts of liquid are still leaking from him. It just keeps coming with every thrust. He can’t stop. It’s too much. The muscles of his stomach start to hurt. “Gimme.”
Ratio’s brows are furrowed, his face twisted in pleasure. He doesn’t seem to understand until Aventurine is nudging his hand at his lower stomach until he pulls back enough for him to get a grip of his dick soaked and covered in his own cum. He starts to stroke him, quick and tight as his cock barely fits in his small fist.
He lets the trembling hand on Ratio’s neck slip down to follow his necklace all the way to the sparkling pendant where he takes hold. He’s smiling at him, biting his lip and dizzily floating upon the warm tingly waves of bliss from his orgasm.
“Come on baby,” He coos in an airy voice, words slurring far worse than before. “Come for me.” A hard yank on his necklace causes the sweat on Ratio’s neck to drip down his chest, nipples perky and aroused as he shudders through labored breaths, face turning red. His eyes are small slits, his chest heaving like a wounded animal.
“Show me how you look, how you sound—just like that—Show me how my cum feels on your cock, how it tastes, show me how ecstatic you are that I’m alive.” Aventurine lets the chain go slack just to yank it again, fisting his cock with relentless pace compared to his lazy grinds from before. He wants to ruin him, absolutely break him down and throw him over the edge.
Ratio is shaking in every limb, eyes clamped shut as his jaw hangs open. He groans at the end of a gasp, finally sighing in ecstasy. Then his voice drops down to a sound that borders on a growl, vibrations rumbling deep in his chest. His cock jerks in Aventurine’s hand and cum starts dripping through his fingers, pooling on his belly as he squeezes out every drop from base to tip.
“Mmm yeah baby, feels good, hm? You’re such a good boy, you listen so well, don’t you?” He’s lost his ability to control his words, just spitting out whatever passes through his mind.
“Aven— Aventurine— please.” Ratio mumbles weakly, his arms giving out as he buries his face in his neck. “Amabo te.” His voice is wrecked, his forehead slick with sweat as it leans against the side of his jaw. Hot breaths warm his brand. Ratio’s body has gone slack and heavy, sort of squeezing the air from his lungs as he collapses onto him huffing and panting. His cock twitches as it leaks out the last few drops, clenched in Aventurine’s fist. He almost doesn’t want to let go.
“So good, you’re so good,” He pulls his hand out from between them, hugging the doctor tightly and leaning his head against his. “Such a good job, baby.” His breath hitches and he sort of hiccups, feeling his face flush as a rush of emotion pour over him out of nowhere. He swallows hard, squeezing Ratio impossibly tight and burying his nose in his damp, sweat soaked hair. “You did so good.” His voice cracks then. He feels tears burst past his closed eyes and trace back into his hair, pooling in his ears, sliding down to the pillow. His heart is melting in his chest, infecting every nerve ending with bubbles of emotion that trickle mercilessly through him.
Why am I crying? I feel so—
I don’t know what I feel.
It’s so much. My heart hurts. Everything is stinging.
Ratio seems to try to lift his head, but Aventurine doesn’t let him. He balls a fist in his hair, holding his head down while he clutches him possessively, nails finding purchase In that soft marble-like skin.
“No- no. Stay,” His own brittle voice humiliates him, stumbling through his words. Halfway through he forgets what he’s saying, forgets exactly where he is for a split second. The world is moving too fast for him to keep up with and his brain is stuttering and buffering just lying here completely still, trying to keep his thoughts coherent. “Relax, baby. Just relax.”
Every word that leaves him just makes it harder to hold everything back. His lips are trembling, teeth chattering as he fails to choke back the sobs that crawl up his throat. He scratches his nails against the doctor’s head, rubs hard circles into his hip.
“So good for me, Veri.” He says it softer, words wavering through soft sobs that he doesn’t have the mental capacity to hold back. “So good to me.”
Ratio slides his arms underneath Aventurine’s back and lifts him up to pull him to his chest, rolling back to lie on his side so he can properly cradle him in a snug embrace. A little sound leaves the blonde, tears smearing on the doctor’s skin.
“You deserve it. You deserve more. Let me draw you a bath, you can stay the night in my room… if you’d like to, of course.” His wrecked voice to is certainly new to Aventurine as of tonight.
“M’not getting up.” Aventurine mumbles, sniffling. His eyes fall shut and it feels like heavy waves are lapping at the edges of his skull. He feels dazed, body tingly, but numb at the same time. The idea of moving to get up makes his body feel even heavier on the bed. “Just wanna stay here.”
Ratio sighs, hands caressing his back through the silky fabric of his shirt. “If you insist.”
For some reason that completely breaks him until he’s crying hard into Ratio’s hair, delirious and drowning in the surge of muddled feelings in his head.
Aventurine feels dirty. His stomach hurts, twinging deep and visceral in an unbearable way. His legs hurt. He’s still too sensitive despite not being touched anymore.
I feel like… it’s not supposed to end this easily.
“You’re not mad at me?” He cries into Ratio’s bare chest, curling into his arms and not quite remembering how he got there.
“No, no, no. I’m not mad. There’s no reason to be. Do you want to… talk about what you’re feeling?” His voice is just a tiny breath against the top of his head.
“No.”
“Tell me what you need,” Ratio says and his voice is so soft and gentle it only makes Aventurine sob harder. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”
“Jus’ tired.” He mumbles. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” The doctor smooths his hand up his back, providing a grounding amount of pressure between his shoulderblades. “If you want to sleep, I won’t go anywhere. We can… wash up in the morning.”
There’s reluctance there and Aventurine first thought is of guilt, but then the second is a tiny reminder;
This guy is forcing himself to forgo a bath for me. The man who bathes like it’s a religion.
The things he does for you.
The things he’d do…
And a tiny smile makes its way into his lips despite the tears that still linger.
His eyes are fixed on his chest, his head hidden in the alcove beneath Ratio’s chin and under his arm as he holds him. He feels a little like an animal being caged in his arms and for a split second he’s thinking;
It should be the other way around. I shouldn’t be the weak one. I should be fighting it.
But… he’s too tired to do anything other than acknowledge the thought as it drifts by.
He’s having a lot of thoughts, but they sort of flash by, too quickly to analyze or sit with long enough to understand. A lot of them are memories, voices ringing in his head from the past, flashes of phantom pain where his worst injuries have been. Some come as ghostly touches or the touch he currently feels mistaken for that of another.
He remembers his master’s face. He remembers hard shoves down to the floor, remembers being struck after failing to make proper eye contact, failing to sit prettily enough—
Ratio’s arms squeeze him tighter when he cries a bit harder.
That pressure…
Too much.
He pushes away, sitting up as his shoulders shake with every hiccup, eyes narrowed and puffy.
“Sorry,” He rasps. “Not you. It’s not you. I’m just— fuck.”
Ratio sort of lifts up on his forearms, brows furrowed. He looks exhausted, hair tousled and unkempt. Instead of an endearing sight like usual, all Aventurine can think is that;
He doesn’t look like that. Not usually. His brows are usually furrowed. His expression is usually so stagnant.
“I uh…” He holds his chest. “I’m having trouble recognizing you.” He’s looking down at his bare hand clutched around his forearm, hair curtaining his red eyes.
Ratio doesn’t respond, instead he just blinks at him several times like he’s typing to make sense of what he’s saying.
“That sounds shitty, m’sorry,” He shakes his head, his breaths fluttering erratically as the tears slip down his jaw and down his neck. “I think I need to shower. I need to— can you stay? Will you still be here?” He sounds like a weakened, pathetic version of himself. The humiliation eats at him.
I remember…
Aventurine groans and slaps his hands against the sides of his face, trying to force himself to be lucid, trying to disrupt the flashback before it happens.
It happens anyways.
Begging never worked, neither did crying or pleading. They expected that, anticipated it, they squeezed it out of me just to watch my face squirm in fear and pain. The only solution was to weaponize the product, to inject the ulterior motive into a display that would please, that would satisfy, that filled their heads with blinding confidence and a false sense of control to weaken their distrust which could then be grabbed and twisted into feasible leverage. A peacock’s feathers are far easier to rip out once they’ve been extended, displayed, and revealed in arrogant pride.
I… remember when I first mirrored these men, hijacked their fatal weakness to use as my weapon.
It felt… really good.
I hate the weak thing I’d been before. A dog who begged, a naive boy who cried and pleaded. Embarrassing. It makes me want to be sick.
No wonder it was so easy for—
“Aventurine, come on, look at me. You’re spacing,” Ratio calls to him, hands smoothing up his forearms. He’s sat up before him now. He’s kept a space between them to allow him breathing room, but seems to be unable to keep from touching him. “You said you wanted to shower? Let me help you get up.”
He realizes he’s been staring, unmoving and taking solace in the feeling of his nails digging into his arm.
Had he been talking to me?
“It’s fine, I can do it,” He shifts away from him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and immediately suffering the consequences of moving too fast. He flattens a hand to his sweaty forehead, grimacing through the tears that still crawl down his cheeks. “Will you still be here when I’m done?”
“Is that what you want?” The doctor’s voice comes from behind. “I— I would understand if you need to be alone. Besides this is my room… but, I can walk you back to yours if you wish.” His voice betrays him—a little bit shaky—drawn out and lacking its usual composure.
“I want to stay…” He answers in a hollow tone. It’s easier to talk when he’s not looking at him. “If you want me to.” A quieter addition. He restrains himself from apologizing again.
“I do,” Ratio’s answer is endearingly quick. “I’d like that, yes.”
Aventurine slides his feet to the floor, nodding as he steadies himself on trembling legs.
This part is easy. He can scratch himself together when he needs to. He cleans up well. It just makes far more difficult when Ratio is watching him. Like a dog at the vet, causing more of a fuss because it knows its owner is in ear shot; he has far less problems getting it together when he’s alone.
The bathroom is luxurious of course, housing both a standing shower closed in with frosted glass and an ornate tub with expensive jets sat across from it. The countertop is far too big or a single person and so are the floor to ceiling mirrors. The lights make Aventurine squint when he flips them on—standing in the doorway—he struggles to make himself move. Nothing’s wrong, but he’s paralyzed all the same. Despite being completely aware of where he is and that he’s not in danger, his subconscious refuses to believe it. His body replays the muscle memory, his heart keeps the score.
He hears Ratio moving behind him. He notes every step, when he slides out of the bed and pauses to grab something fabricy fussing with it for a moment to probably cover himself with. Then his bare feet pad across the carpet behind him.
“You seem a bit stuck. Let me help?” Ratio offers. His sleepy voice is a treat to Aventurine’s ears.
“Kay…” He shifts out of the way, finding a place to lean against the counter.
Ratio has thrown on one of his spare robes, tied tightly around his waist. Aventurine enjoys the distraction of watching him bend over the tub to—
“No,” His annoyed groan echoes off the tiles. “I don’t take baths.”
Ratio—looking a little disappointed—nods and turns to the shower, popping open the glass door. “I thought it might be more relaxing.”
“You should take a bath while I shower,” He says, lifting himself up from where he’s leaning to cross the room. “Since you clearly want one so bad.” He forces a stiff smile, trying to prove to both himself and Ratio that he’s still himself.
Though, his voice is a bit too stale and it comes out sounding a lot more sarcastic than it should.
So he adds, “And then I uh… won’t be alone in here.”
He doesn’t say;
It’d help me snap out of this if I cut myself. Though… I don’t think he’d like to see that. I don’t know how I’d hide it.
So I shouldn’t be left alone.
How do I get over this feeling? How else am I supposed to break through this haze?
He stands beside Ratio as he fiddles with the dials to adjust the temperature. He’s staring down at the cum stain on his shirt, dropped down to stick to his lower stomach. The faint warmth from the water starts to float over to him, that water vapor in the air making tiny bubbles at the ends of his arm hair.
“Now I have to ask, just in case, if you want any help washing up…” The doctor begins, voice cracking slightly as he speaks louder to be heard over the water.
“I’ll be fine.” Aventurine answers dryly.
“Just let me know if you need anything. Would you like me to look away while you undress?” He stands back, deciding the shower is at an agreeable temperature.
“S’alright. It’s just you.” Aventurine starts to work at the buttons on his shirt with clumsy hands.
Ratio turns away anyways—because of course he does—and busies himself by running the bath. Aventurine unbuttons his shirt while staring at the swirling water around the drain of the shower.
Nothing wrong happened, but he feels wrong.
He wonders if Ratio understands that. A flash of guilt makes him consider telling him once more it wasn’t him…
But his body is moving on his own and soon he’s stepping out of a pile of his clothes to close himself in the tiny glass shower stall. His favored position is to kneel on the floor, hands on his knees as the hot water beats down upon him like merciless rains. He’s not thinking very much, just taking solace and comfort in the warmth around him and the pattern of water hitting his skin.
He thinks a few prayers that probably don’t matter so many light years from home. Despite his frustrations with his goddess, it’s muscle memory, to silently mouth the words he’d been taught as a young boy.
It brings a sense of comfort nonetheless.
He can see Ratio’s silhouette across the room as he sits in the tub pouring water over himself and scrubbing with whatever soap was provided by the hotel. He remembers the events of the night with a bit of fogginess still remaining in his head, but he’s starting to sober up ever so slowly. The water on his skin reminds him this is real life. The shadow through foggy glass of the man in the room makes him feel warm in his heart rather than panicked.
The haze lifts as he finally comes down.
Oh… oh this is rich.
He lifts to his feet in the shower and decides to finally actually wash up to dispel the lingering feelings of repulsion and self hatred. By the end of it, he’s smoothing back freshly conditioned hair over his head and feeling cocky about the whole ordeal.
Of course, that doesn’t make it any less awkward when he steps out—not having removed the two pieces of waterproof tape matching his skin tone that bind his chest—and watches Ratio’s eyes immediately land on him before darting away out of decency.
He considered peeling them off and presenting himself to Ratio in an over compensating show of self confidence, but then he remembered how fragile he’d been not even half an hour ago and decides maybe seeing himself like that would not bode well for trying not to slip back into the fog in his head.
And… maybe it’s too late to pretend for him at this point. He already knows I hate myself, doesn’t he? So why do I feel so vulnerable now that he knows. This is just another form of that hatred.
He crosses the room to grab a towel off the rack, drying himself and ruffling his hair before taking one of the spare robes. Though they’re all Ratio’s size, so he ends up swimming in the thing and trailing the fabric across the floor as he moves towards the tub. He watches Ratio flip the handle for the drain.
“Don’t stop on my account.” He says, sitting on the edge of the porcelain tub. At this point he’s so tired that it’s hard to keep his eyes open, leading to him unintentionally squinting down at Ratio.
“I already finished, I was simply waiting for you.” He’s looking up at him, hair slicked back and his muscles shiny from the water. A thick layer of suds keeps his lower half hidden, but the water is slowly draining and Ratio hasn’t moved to get up yet as if he’s trying to enjoy the very last moments before the water is gone.
He rests a dripping hand on Aventurine’s knee between the parted fabric of his robe. “Feeling better?”
He smiles shyly, blushing and cursing his body from getting wet all over again from just that.
“Yeah,” He clears his throat, idly watching the bubbles climb lower and lower against Ratio’s chest. “Sorry about before. I get really dazed afterwards… forgot to say.”
It feels weird to admit. Though he’s not sure if this feeling is bad or good.
“Don’t apologize. It’s alright, not unheard of. Lots of hormones being released. It’s a strain on the body physically and emotionally trying to keep equilibrium during that state.” Ratio hums, caressing a thumb back and forth over his knee. “I only wish I wasn’t so impatient with you...” He seems like he wants to add something, but doesn’t.
“Oh, shut up,” He slaps his shoulder. At this point he’s feeling back to the previous tipsy buzz he’d felt before that fourth drink. “You’re fine, doc. Where’d all this guilt come from? Did you forget I’m the one who seduced you? Fuck, baby, you felt insane. The only thing you should be sorry for is showing me what I’ve been missing out on.” He smirks, eyes glued to those chiseled abs glistening wet with bubbles sliding down their surface.
Don’t get horny again. Don’t get horny again.
“I just meant you seemed very distant. I didn’t mean to make you…” Ratio looks away, giving his knee a squeeze. “You said you didn’t recognize me.”
A flash of frigid humiliation aches his core. “I get that way. It happens when I climax alone, too. It’s just kinda how it is, but it felt better…” It’s a bit hard to say this part. “Because you were there. Because I remembered it’s you here with me.”
Ratio looks up at him, an arm curling around his waist to hug him loosely from in the tub, his face hidden in his side. Aventurine kinds of slips, bracing on his shoulders in order to not fall into the tub.
“Okay, alright, careful.”
“Sorry,” He says muffled into the fabric of his robe before releasing Aventurine and standing from the tub. “I’m still very drunk. I’m just… happy you’re here.” His voice is small, weary almost as he steps out of the tub to cross the room to take solace in a dry towel.
Aventurine’s eyes stick to those thighs, distracted by Ratio’s flaccid cock dripping wet sitting prettily between his legs and jiggling slightly to his movements as he dries himself off.
Only to be covered up by one of his navy blue robes.
Ah, that was really obvious wasn’t it.
“Has anyone ever told you how unbelievably hot you are?” Aventurine lifts his eyes finally, meeting Ratio’s flustered pout.
“So you really are just that easily distracted,” Ratio chuckles softly, pulling the tie around his waist to create a neat bow. “I’d assumed those wandering eyes were an intimidation tactic.”
“My eyes intimidate you?” Aventurine lifts to his feet, too wobbly for his own good as he follows the doctor back into the room. He barely makes it to the bed before slumping back with a huff, his exhausted body practically begging him to pass out right here like this. His skin tingles, veins thrumming with warm satisfied pulses from his heart which feels so enveloped he fears it may burst.
“System, lights at zero percent. Don’t be ridiculous. You know exactly the effect you hold over me…” He crawls into bed beside Aventurine, his feature’s dully lit by the faint blue of the dream pool in the dark of the room. He lies on his side, pulling up the sheets and rotating the duvet so that the soaked side is on the other side of the bed. “Or if you didn’t, you do now.” His voice is gravelly, half gone from before and lowered to a gentle purr as he nears Aventurine, head lopping heavily on the pillow as he lies on his side to face him. He lifts the blanket up to cover him, hand lingering as it smooths the fabric over his chest.
He wants to be closer, but he won’t ask for it, of course he won’t.
Being sober tomorrow is going to be… interesting.
Aventurine rolls over, tucking himself closer to Ratio’s body. He feels their legs brush and captures one of Ratio’s thighs between his knee. It’s remarkably easy to slip an arm around his waist and bury his face in his chest, the floor of his chin atop his head.
Ratio’s arms come round to hold him tight and Aventurine releases a little sound of relief as he nuzzles himself closer. It’s warm here partly beneath the covers and sheltered by his body.
He’s going to have to rip me off him. I don’t ever want to leave these arms.
He’s running his fingers over Ratio’s lean back and feeling tiny marks and scratches from where he unintentionally scratched him with his nails.
He has a lot to learn about this. About intimacy, closeness, and trust. He doesn’t even know how his own mind is going to handle this development as time passes, but what Ratio has undoubtedly proven to him is that he’s in deep no matter what.
“Anyone who sits at the table with me has already lost,” Aventurine mumbles his own past words against him. “Why would you ever want to put yourself through being involved with me?”
“I like to think we’re on the same side of the table.”
“Mmm…” A frustrated groan. He closes his eyes, lashes brushing against hot skin. “What if my luck outweighs yours?”
“You’re speaking nonsense based on no real world facts or evidence. Sleep. I will be here. I will continue to choose to ‘involve’ with you as long as you want me to. It has nothing to do with your luck. It has nothing to do with winning or losing… I simply wish to stay by your side.” Ratio speaks in a reassuring tone that threatens to bring Aventurine to tears all over again.
He grips the doctor harder, becoming smaller in his arms as he curls into himself.
He’s so honest. Has he really always felt this way?
If we’d never gotten drunk… if I’d never made a move, would I have ever known?
He banishes his worries, instead choosing to focus on Ratio’s heartbeat and lulling breaths as they lull him to sleep. A gentle hand caresses his back as he drifts, finally giving into his exhaustion as their bodies melt into each other like they were always meant to lie side by side like this.