Work Text:
No Less Precious
Schlatt had burst out laughing when Wilbur first hinted at the idea.
He had quickly stopped laughing though when he saw Wilbur’s face flush hot pink and his honey-toned eyes dart away with sudden embarrassment. After that, he thought for a second. Then he simply shrugged. “I’m down for anything at least once.”
Wilbur had promised to set everything up and have everything ready. Schlatt wouldn’t have to prepare a thing. That definitely helped Schlatt get used to the idea - his laziness to learn new things was really the only thing holding him back from stuff like this.
So Schlatt took the liberty to get a little fucked up a few hours before he was supposed to show up to Wilbur’s house on the day of the ‘event’. He didn’t know what else to call it. He rolled up, let himself in, and threw his blazer across the living room onto the couch. He was maybe a few whiskeys in, his mouth burning with the bitter backtaste of cinnamon and bile.
He sauntered to the kitchen to light a cigar. The taste was something he needed right now. He never felt nervous before seeing Wilbur - in fact, Schlatt never felt nervous - but he needed something to calm his nerves. Mainly because he didn’t know how he would react, how all of this would feel.
What if he laughed in Wilbur’s face? Again? He wouldn’t want to make the poor man feel like shit. Again. But if Wilbur was in the bedroom, splayed out with shitty cartoon kitty ears perched on his head? If he had a shitty plastic little tail plug sticking out of his asshole? Schlatt would laugh.
He hoped that holding the cigar in his mouth would stop him from laughing.
He wasn’t an asshole on purpose. He just was the type of person that he was.
Whatever that meant.
But he liked having things. He liked having Wilbur. So he hoped for no laughter.
With the fear of uncontrollable dickish laughing fits still resting in the back of his head, he finally headed to the bedroom.
Schlatt walked in and sat at the creaking wooden chair at the desk in the corner of the room. He didn’t look around, he didn’t falter. He got himself comfortable, took a few long drags of his cigar, and then finally looked up at the figure that was waiting, kneeled in the middle of the room.
There he was. Wilbur, in all his glory. He was beautiful as always. His body was some kind of amalgamation of marble statues, oil paintings and professional athletes. Schlatt always felt warm looking at him.
There he was. His Wilbur.
And on his head were two short, young golden horns and two large white-furred floppy ears.
“A fucking sheep?” Schlatt’s eyebrows shot up.
Those weren’t the only things that shot up as he processed the sight before him.
Wilbur didn’t respond to Schlatt’s question. He quietly crawled forward until he was right in front of Schlatt’s knees. He perched himself so he was sitting on his shins, his feet under his rump, and he looked up with his large brown eyes. He was naked, completely so, but he had on some kind of lingerie. He had a harness on, light beige with silver clasps, and it hugged his stomach and thighs and ass and caged a fluffy white lamb’s tail right above his entrance.
His skin looked so tan next to the white fur. His moles that were scattered over his smooth chest and stomach stood out against the layer of nervous sheen that covered him. He was trying very hard to look sure of himself, and to anyone else he probably would get away with some kind of confident swagger.
But Schlatt was the only person who could see past his political haze of bullshit.
So Schlatt could see the barely-there tremble of Wilbur’s bottom lip as he looked up at the other man and batted his heavy eyelashes.
“Yeah? What, is this to make fun of me?” He flicked one of the horns and Wilbur jerked his head away, pouting. “You wanted to make fun of me? You invite me to fuck you and then you make fun of me?”
Wilbur’s nervousness swiftly disappeared under the guiding hand of Schlatt’s torment. His pinky stopped tapping against his knee, and his left foot stopped twitching. His nervous tells went away, one by one. Instead, they were replaced with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Schlatt was the only one that could make him relax through teasing alone.
And now that the lamb in front of him was calm, Schlatt felt comfortable enough to start his hunt.
“Are you making fun of me?” Schlatt grabbed Wilbur’s chin and yanked him back into place in front of him. “Or is it to prove your point, yeah? That you totally worship the ground I walk on. That you just want to be me.” He gripped the other’s chin until he let out a small whine. “My pretty little lamb.”
That word, the word, made Wilbur melt. His shoulders started to turn a strawberry pink. He leaned into Schlatt’s large hand and nuzzled. Schlatt’s cigar nearly slipped from his lips. He was much too entertained.
“Oh, that is precious.” Schlatt clicked his tongue around his cigar. “But being all fuckin’ adorable like that isn’t going to give you a break. You’re my pretty pet, yeah? And I’m assuming you’re a very good pet. Very well trained for me. Which means you have some work to do.”
Wilbur made a small whimpering noise as Schlatt removed his hand. The whimpering got a bit louder as two fingers were jammed into Wilbur’s mouth. Schlatt’s long, sharp black nails grazed the back of Wilbur’s throat. Wilbur didn’t gag, didn’t even flinch. That reflex had been fucked out of him long ago.
“Look at you. You were left on your own for too long and now you’ve fallen into the wrong hands.” Schlatt cooed as he finally pulled his cigar from his mouth. He held it in his free hand and ashed it onto the floor. He leaned down and grazed his lips across one of Wilbur’s sharp cheekbones. “Poor lost lamb.” He said in a low voice.
The ears were real, Schlatt realized. Very real. They flicked and drooped depending on how Wilbur reacted to his touch. It must have been magic. It must have been real, powerful magic, giving him the temporary luxury of being the kind of creature Schlatt was.
Did it hurt?
How long would it last? Hours? Days?
How much did Wilbur pay for that kind of magic?
Honestly, Schlatt was emboldened by the dedication his lover showed.
He held Wilbur still and leaned down until his cigar was just over Wilbur’s plush thighs. “Hey, pretty boy. Are you scared?”
Wilbur shook his head, and a small defiant whimper bubbled against Schlatt’s fingers.
“Good. Even though I might get a little...intense. You have to promise not to be scared.”
Wilbur nodded.
“Because you know you’re my little pet, right? You’re mine. And I wouldn’t want to scare what’s mine.”
He nodded once more.
Their eyes locked.
That was permission.
Schlatt pressed the burning tip of his cigar against Wilbur’s leg between straps of his harness. Wilbur tossed his head back, his ears twitching and his throat muscles contracting over Schlatt’s fingers. Not a noise besides a whimper left his mouth. Schlatt dug the cigar into dusty-colored skin, twisting it and crushing it until he was sure he had left a proper scar on Wilbur’s legs.
The marks meant something. This wasn’t the first scar and this wouldn’t be the last.
Wilbur’s erection, already hard and ready, started to leak from the searing pain. It was everything he had been needing for days, weeks. Schlatt let the cigar go and it dropped onto the carpet. The little spark was dead. The room was perfumed with the faint scent of burning flesh and tobacco.
And Wilbur was waiting, his back arched and mouth open, eager to take Schlatt in whatever way he wanted be taken.
Schlatt unbuckled his pants and shoved his cock into Wilbur’s waiting mouth before Wilbur’s skin had even stopped sizzling.
Wilbur took it with grace, his tongue eagerly getting to work as it lapped and licked at the warm skin of Schlatt’s member. The salty taste made Wilbur’s pupils dilate. It was like something electrified his brain stem, shocking waves rolling through every nerve. Schlatt was his only focus in this moment - everything else, including himself, was secondary.
Schlatt pushed down Wilbur’s head. He wasn’t too harsh or too fast. He wasn’t going to start his massacre of Wilbur’s holes quite yet. Schlatt tangled his fingers in Wilbur’s hair and let out a rumbling growl as he slowly started to fuck into Wilbur’s mouth.
Wilbur wasn’t in control, but he wasn’t a toy. Schlatt didn’t like those games - he liked it better when Wilbur’s personality shines through. And it did, truly, as Wilbur swallowed and moaned and sent vibrations deep through Schlatt’s groin. Wilbur never wanted an easy fight. He never wanted something simple. He was a man of challenge. That was something Schlatt admired so deeply.
And he found it so fucking hot.
“Aw, pretty boy, you look so lovely when you cry because of my cock.” Schlatt groaned. He ran his nails across Wilbur’s scalp, making him shiver. He didn’t go to wipe away Wilbur’s budding tears. He wanted to watch them. He wanted to see how wet Wilbur’s rosey cheeks could get.
They got very wet. Wilbur didn’t stop crying. And he only cried harder when Schlatt’s hands moved up to grip Wilbur's tiny horns and pulled him forward over and over, forcing his cock deeper and deeper. At this point, there was no way the man under him was inhaling any oxygen. But that’s what both of them wanted. He could tell by the way Wilbur pushed himself down harder and harder than Schlatt’s hands even did.
“You’re such a good boy for me, letting me use you. Letting me use your horns like fucking handlebars, sucking my dick like a fucking champ.”
Wilbur couldn’t respond. His hands moved up to grip Schlatt’s knees and he dug his nails into him. His eyes were getting dull.
“You want to drink my fucking cum?”
Wilbur’s cheeks were turning purple.
“You want me to empty my balls into your stomach?”
Wilbur’s eyes were crossing.
“Well, too fucking bad.” Schlatt shoved Wilbur’s head back and waited patiently for him to take a moment to himself.
Wilbur gasped for air, and heaved until his face returned to its normal flushed tones. He coughed and sputtered, but he also licked his lips and swallowed over and over to get every little drop of whatever Schlatt had given him. He was almost ready to throw a fit that there hadn’t been more.
But Schlatt had decided from the moment he saw that dainty, beautiful, fluffy, perky white tail that his cum wasn’t going down Wilbur’s throat.
It needed to go somewhere much more important.
Before Schlatt could make his next move, his lips were captured by Wilbur. He pushed himself up into his knees, leaning to kiss him and drag his sleek tongue against Schlatt’s bottom lip. Soon, their mouths were open and Wilbur was making small noises of need as he held his lips open. He kept getting louder. He started to rock back and forth with desperation.
Finally, Schlatt gave him what he wanted. He spit onto Wilbur’s tongue. Wilbur swallowed the spit like it was designer liquor.
Then they were kissing. They were viciously kissing. They were kissing like they were each other’s only source of air.
They ended up curled in the sheets of the bed against the wall, with Schlatt above Wilbur, Schlatt’s hands using the harness to pull Wilbur tighter and tighter against his chest. Wilbur’s sheets smelled like him - like cigarette smoke and lavender sugar. When they finally managed to pull apart from each other, they were dazed. It was like getting off a roller coaster. They breathed heavily, their labored wheezes mingling as they both tried to find their bearings again.
Schlatt bucked his horns at Wilbur’s forehead. They knocked against his skull, but Wilbur didn’t wince. It seems that whatever spell had turned him into the same kind of creature as Schlatt had given him the same durability.
Wilbur responded by pushing back, his own dainty smaller horns clinking against Schlatt’s large, curved ones. Schlatt couldn’t hold back his sigh of ecstasy as their horns touched. They stayed like that, pressed together, rubbing and shoving against each other and flicking their ears in pleasure.
Schlatt nuzzled Wilbur’s nose. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” He whispered. “But I was scared I would hurt you.” He leaned to the side and rubbed his forehead against Wilbur’s ears. He couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “They’re so...floppy.” He grinned. “You’re cute. This whole ram thing suits you.”
He pulled back and ran a nail over Wilbur’s horns. “Would they grow bigger? If we gave you something stronger?”
Wilbur shrugged.
“Next time, can we get something that allows you to talk?”
Wilbur shrugged again.
“Noted.” Schlatt smirked. “To be fair, you don’t need to talk for this next part.” He used the harness to pull Wilbur and drag him around the bed until he was on his hands and knees. He was ready to start spitting on his fingers, but paused. His face went red. For a moment, his drunken head went silent. Schlatt was completely overwhelmed by the image of a buttplug, silver and matching the clasps on the harness, peeking just out of Wilbur’s entrance. When Schlatt pulled out the plug, a cascade of lube poured out and dripped down Wilbur’s thighs. It stained his harness and left his hole wanton and waiting.
“God. You know I love it when you do all the work for me. You beautiful bastard.” Schlatt wiped the sweat from his forehead. “It’s always more fun when I don’t work.”
Wilbur shot a glare over his shoulder.
Schlatt would get slapped for that later.
Entering Wilbur was better than the act of orgasming. It was because of two things - the warm, soft feeling that was exclusive to only Wilbur’s insides, and the sounds that Wilbur would cry out when he was penetrated for the first time. It sounded almost musical. He was talented like that. He was talented in a lot of ways. But his voice was some kind of gift from the heavens. Schlatt could hear it in the back of his mind, every moment of every day.
But especially when he was jerking off.
Wilbur kept his gaze over his shoulder, and Schlatt met him halfway. His fingers dug into Wilbur’s hips. Currents of electricity flowed between their eyes, emotions as heavy as stones weighing both of them down. Something primal and dark started to shadow them - as it always did. They were chased constantly by that darkness. It was in their very DNA.
Then Wilbur winked. And whatever was brewing between them melted from snow into a warm spring river. Wilbur turned back around to bite the blanket under him.
Schlatt shook his head and chuckled. “You are...you are something else, pretty boy.”
Wilbur’s back arched into a perfect curve as he moved against Schlatt’s body, like a wave violently crashing against rocks. His eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth hung open as he felt Schlatt hitting his prostate over and over and over. He was overstimulated, overworked, and sweaty. He was cramping. He was struggling to breathe.
But this was his favorite place to be on earth.
“Good little lamb, keep your head down. Take my cock like I know you can.” Schlatt pressed Wilbur’s face into the sheets and held it there. His hand was large against Wilbur’s face, which wasn’t a big feat. Wilbur was all bones from his waist up. Wilbur only held fat in his hips and legs and ass. So Schlatt’s hand dwarfed his face, and crushed his cheekbone, and forced him to stay still as he drilled into him.
Wilbur’s pathetic squeaks of pain and pleasure were muffled by the mattress. His tail was wiggling, back and forth and back and forth, dancing just above the spot where Schlatt’s cock disappeared into Wilbur’s ass. The dark hair that trailed from Schlatt’s belly button down to his shaft stood out against Wilbur’s smooth, round behind, and the image was enough alone to make Schlatt feel weak.
“Look at you. You’re all ready for me. You love taking my cock. You fucking live for it.”
If Wilbur tried to respond, Schlatt didn’t hear it over his loud moans, screamed into the bed, making his voice raw. Even his screams sounded like a melody.
Wilbur would be pissed if his voice was hoarse after this. He hated damaging his vocal cords.
Schlatt made a mental note to apologize in advance next time.
Next time? He looked down and smirked at the white fur of Wilbur’s ears.
Yes. Next time.
“I’m going to breed you, pretty boy.” Schlatt huffed out. “You want that? You want me to cum inside you and ruin you, little lamb?”
Wilbur’s hands tightened in the sheets below him, his legs spreading wider on instinct.
“Oh, you liked that idea. You want me to ruin you. You like the idea of a big strong ram turning you into his ewe whore.” Schlatt started to go faster and faster. Laughter bubbled up in his throat. “What is this, Animal Farm ? Fuck, it’s weird but you’re weird and I’m fucking weird and - fuck .” He could feel his orgasm building in his stomach. His fingertips were starting to tingle. “Well, get ready. Because I’m about to stuff you up with so much seed that you’ll have a fucking stomach ache.”
Wilbur managed to slip his head away from Schlatt’s grasp, and he turned to look at the other man over his shoulder. His heavy-lidded eyes and desperate pout made Schlatt climax on the spot. With one last forceful thrust, he stilled and let his cum fill Wilbur up.
With every twitch of Schlatt’s cock, Wilbur let out a shocked gasp. Schlatt reached between his legs and started to pump Wilbur’s weeping pansy-colored cock until it was milked dry and their sheets were utterly ruined in every sense.
The pair were a heaping mess of cum, sweat and tears. And Wilbur’s poor tail fur was matted.
They collapsed onto each other. Their bodies reacted long before their minds did, and they were tangled into each other’s arms before they even realized that they were. They stayed like that, for quite a while, until Schlatt’s broad hands started to explore again. This time, there was no sexuality. There was only sensuality. He did this often. It was his favorite post-fuck ritual. He liked to memorize every roll, every fold, every inch of skin that covered his partner’s body. He liked to know that he knew. He liked to know that he knew things that were private to Wilbur, exclusive to him.
No one would know all of these little secrets but him.
He pulled away from Wilbur and started to kiss down the silhouette of his exhausted body. He let his fingers run over each joint, and let his lips caress every mole or blemish.
This was his.
This lamb was his.
His to love. His to slaughter.
Schlatt loved owning things.
Schlatt kissed all the way down Wilbur’s leg, from hip to toe, and then licked his way back up from ankle to thigh. “I’m kind of sad you didn’t get hooves.” He muttered. When he made it back up to Wilbur’s ass, he bit down on the flesh to draw a whimper out of the sweaty mess below him. “Next time. Next time, we’ll get you a voice and some hooves. I think you would look lovely.”
Wilbur weakly kicked his leg. He would definitely be able to do some damage with more power behind it - especially with a hoof.
But Schlatt looked forward to that. He would be honored to have his jaw broken by Wilbur.
“You were right. As always.” He whispered. “I did like it.”
Wilbur looked a bit proud of himself before allowing himself to be swallowed up by the blankets that Schlatt was wrapping around him.
“And I do like the fact you don’t have a smart mouth. I feel like I can enjoy myself. There’s extra room for me to finally be talking about the weird thing I found on my back - “ Wilbur thrashed a bit, and Schlatt fell into a fit of laughter. “Fine, fine! I’ll shut up. We’ll both be mute.” He kissed Wilbur’s forehead. “We’ll be mute together.”