Archive of Our Own

"Wow, can you believe it, Choco? Christmas! Just a week away! Next Friday! I'm so happy with this piece of information," Madeleine cries. 

"...Sure," Dark Choco says, cautious, watching Madeleine finish up decorating the tree.

Apparently, his poor boyfriend hasn't celebrated Christmas since before he was possessed! Whatever 'possession' means. Madeleine isn't, uh, really sure. Anyway, uh, on the other hand, Madeleine loves the season, loves giving gifts and receiving them, even if his literal belief in the Divine isn't all it used to be. He still puts up a tree and decorates it with all the lights and ornaments and stuff, though–and, this year, he's even had Dark Choco by his side! He mostly watches, but that's fine. Madeleine has never minded an extra eye on him, especially one as pretty as Dark Choco's.

"...Christmas this year is on a Saturday," Dark Choco murmurs after a few minutes, after Madeleine's run through all of his thoughts. He's got a great sense of timing.

"Oh!"

Another beat. "And it's yet a few weeks away, my dear.”

"Heh, yeah, thank the Divine," Madeleine says, turning away from his Christmas tree fiddling to sit with his huge, basically space heater in human form, boyfriend. It's a–it's a meme, and, well, Madeleine could talk about his Tik Tok, but he ultimately decides against it. Dark Choco does inhabit some boomer mentalities, after all, being in his forties or whatever. "I got a few things for you, and I'm so worried they're going to be late."

"...You did not have to get me... gifts." Dark Choco's eyebrows come together. He lifts Madeleine up by his thighs to readjust them both, and Madeleine goes dizzy for a second with the thought of how easy that was for him to do. 

Once he's sat back down, Madeleine curls his arms around Dark Choco's neck and settles against his collarbone. "But I wanted to," he whines, just a little bit of a pout leaking through. 

Dark Choco is silent. 

"I could've gotten you something for every day in the year, you know, but I've decided to restrain myself."

He chuckles against Madeleine, the vibrations pouring through him, turns to peck the top of his head with a kiss. "I appreciate you exercising restraint, my dear," he whispers against Madeleine's flumes of platinum-blonde hair.

"You've got me something too, right?" Madeleine whines.

Another chuckle. "Of course. I would not leave you... giftless."

Madeleine doesn't reply beyond a nod, just curls more into Dark Choco, where he drapes a blanket over Madeleine's shoulders. 

"...My dear, your hands are cold ," he says dryly, takes both of Madeleine's hands, holds them close to his chest with his own rough, scarred ones. 

He really is looking forward to Christmas this year. Madeleine talked to his family about Dark Choco a while back, (' he's the definition of tall, dark, and mysterious, I am in utter love with him ') and both his parents were delighted to hear that he had found someone, he thinks. It'd been a while since he's had anyone to share the holidays with, or anything along those lines; in truth, even Christmas itself, formally a happy time, would remind him of what he’d loved and lost and wound up loathing.

And, even with Dark Choco's apparent disdain for anything cheerful, Madeleine intends to make this one memorable , at least. 

"Madeleine, your feet are cold , too," Dark Choco grumbles.

He giggles as he presses the appendage into Dark Choco's thigh, and then he gets lifted again into the air– with one hand, Dark Choco is almost superhumanly strong, oh goodness –to have the blanket wrapped around his feet. 

The weeks roll by, slow, Madeleine quickly getting embroiled in finals for the semester, Dark Choco working more night shifts at the bar. He's a bouncer, and apparently the crowds get rougher this time of year, judging by the bruises and stories that he sometimes comes home with. 

( "You don't have to work, you know," Madeleine has said on so many occasions, emotions at a fever pitch, voice shaking with the effort of holding his feelings and tears back. "You should–should be my househusband! M-my malewife! I'll pay for everything, easily." 

And on such occasions, Dark Choco shakes his head and says that he prefers working, so, that's that. 

To Madeleine's chagrin.

What's the point of having his parents' money if he can't throw it at all his life issues to make them go away?)

Madeleine passes his classes easily enough, mostly C's and B's. But that's fine. More importantly–

"You did very well this semester," Dark Choco says. Even though Madeleine's GPA is around a three-point-five or so, just enough for the full-ride scholarship that's conveniently provided by the republic his dad helps run. 

Madeleine nods, kind of dismissive. It's sweet of his boyfriend to care, but it's also not really that big of a deal. He wants Dark Choco to focus on his actual achievements! 

"Come here." 

It's the afternoon, a cloudy day; Dark Choco has a shift later– and he sounds like pure sex right now . Madeleine whimpers and climbs onto the bed as bidden. 

One of Dark Choco's hands tilts up Madeleine's chin. "Would you like me to fuck you, or would you prefer something else?"

" Please fu– " It's hard for Madeleine to say that word like Dark Choco can, despite his numerous previous dalliances. "Just. Please ."

"Clean yourself out. Take your time." And Dark Choco lets go. 

Madeleine does as bidden and crawls back to his lover after an eternity or two. "I'm ready, Choco," he says. 

"Good boy," Dark Choco says, still in that rough, deep register. Madeleine hopes he'll be rough and deep with him today. "We have plenty of time before I go to work. I intend on utilizing it. Why are your clothes on?"

Madeleine goes to take off his shirt, but Dark Choco intercepts him to tug it off instead, slowly. Then to make out with Madeleine, then to slide off Madeleine's stolen boxers during said make out session. His hands palm and squeeze Madeleine's tushie, and he squeaks into Dark Choco's mouth. 

Then his lover sits back. "Get the lube."

"Why are you always so demanding? Do this, fetch that," Madeleine begins, tone high and haughty, leaning over to snag the bottle off the nightstand. "You always plan these things, and yet, you seem to never account for how the necessary items are transported."

"Hmph." Dark Choco beckons him over. "I like to see your body."

"Huh?"

Madeleine is turned around and sat in Dark Choco's lap, chest to back. "All this sinewy strength... it is appealing."

"'Appealing'. Thanks," Madeleine grumbles dryly.

"Oh, I suppose this is to be a reward." Dark Choco opens the lube, coats his fingers, presses into Madeleine, his hips rising somewhat. "I do enjoy feasting my eyes upon your form, my love."

Madeleine swallows, at the sensation, at Dark Choco's words. 

"And," a crook of the fingers, and Madeleine's mouth falls open with a little gasp, a little whimper, a louder moan as the gesture repeats, firmer and firmer, "The sounds you make... tumbling from those pretty lips... Has anyone ever told you that, my Madeleine? How beautiful you sound when we touch?"

"I-I'm..." Why does he talk so pretty sometimes? Madeleine's the one with a bachelor's in literature, he really should be better at this.

"I think I should remind you more often." Two thick fingers become three, and Madeleine isn't fully stretched yet, but–

"Please fuck me," Madeleine begs, not quite concious of what he said until it fell out.  

A long moment, another pump and spread of Dark Choco's fingers inside of him. "I intend to take my time with you. You deserve to be... gently unwrapped, not carelessly torn through."

"I'm. You can take however long you like when you're in me. Just–please–"

A grunt. "Fine." Dark Choco's fingers spread inside of him one more time, the lube opens and closes again. A thick cockhead presses at his, um, hole, and he has a split second of oh no wait how could I forget he’s absolutely gigantic before Dark Choco starts sliding in. 

And he’s exactly as patient as he’d said he’d be; every inch feels like a whole other eternity in and of itself. Madeleine tries to jerk down into his lover’s lap, but he just earns a squeeze of his hips and Dark Choco’s low chuckles, then gentle admonishes.

It’s an agonizing way down. He even gets held in place sometimes, no matter how he squeezes around Dark Choco’s dick, and it must be five whole minutes before his butt finally meets Dark Choco’s hips. 

“Th-this is supposed to be a reward?” Madeleine whines, craning his neck to send a look towards Dark Choco. “If you don’t do me right now , I’m going to–" 

“Shush.” One of his hands presses on Madeleine’s palm, his fingers dive into Madeleine’s mouth, pinches around his tongue. “I want to make this memorable ... it would not be if I simply pounded you and then tossed you to the side, now, would it?” 

Madeleine makes an uh-uh sound after a moment, all garbled around Dark Choco’s massive fingers. 

“Now, be good.” The other hand, slick, closes around Madeleine’s dick. The words–make him feel–

Most encounters with Dark Choco wind up with a delicious burn in his gut; of Dark Choco accidentally, or on purpose, embarrassing him, tarnishing his pride somehow beautifully . Like how he spits on his butthole before eating him out, or how he manhandles him and throws him around, and it’s not truly a tarnish at all. “I wilsh,” he murmurs, mouth still obstructed, before he falls back on Dark Choco’s shoulder when his lover's thumb rubs up and down the underside of his cockhead, a wet gasp as it presses into his slit. 

Dark Choco doesn’t talk much here, just jerks him off, explores his mouth with his thick thick thick fingers like he’s fingering his buttocks again. It makes Madeleine shudder, over and over, his booty keeps squeezing down on Dark Choco but he can’t help it, can’t help how he makes Dark Choco occasionally make a low sound, as well. It’s hard to hear over Madeleine’s whimpers and moans, though. More of reverberations, through his chest to Madeleine's shuddering being. 

“I’m–Ch-choco–”

“Are you?” 

“Choco!” Madeleine comes, cock jerking in Dark Choco’s grasp, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. 

Dark Choco's fingers slips out of Madeleine’s mouth, to return a few moments later. 

It’s not until Madeleine’s already taken them inside that he realizes that–it’s his own, um, spend. Semen. 

“Do you taste good?” Dark Choco asks, a hard edge to his voice.

“N-no–” It tastes bitter, salty. Those fingers get yanked out just to snag his chin, Dark Choco takes him in a bruising kiss, ravages his mouth. His strange type of patience must be wearing thin . 

A minute or an hour later, they separate, Dark Choco murmuring, “I might beg to differ... Do you believe you are up for round two?” 

It’s gentler than how Dark Choco does it on occasion–where he just takes and takes, until Madeleine is blinded, deafened, soft cock in a constant state of dribbling. He’s already half hard again, in the here and now. “Yeah?” 

And then Dark Choco tilts him into the bed and takes him, Madeleine’s cheek pressed in the comforter, eyes closed. And, afterwards, Madeleine’s hips and butt sore and sated, Dark Choco kisses him on the cheek and rushes off to work. 

Madeleine has never been jealous of the common folk until now, until his earth-shattering realization that they have a collective monopoly on Dark Choco’s time. It makes his stomach broil with jealousy over nameless bar goers. 

His lover's gifts come in the mail, too. Dark Choco doesn't really know how to take care of himself that well–as in, well, it’s more like, uh, he doesn't really care enough to do so–but Madeleine does. A nice, thick winter coat, and it's only faux fur because Dark Choco would've felt bad about it otherwise. 

He decides to give that to him right away because he needs it, and–

"I cannot accept this," Dark Choco says shortly, gaze averted. "How–how much did you spend?"

"It wasn't too bad,” Madeleine lies. It’s not a problem for him , but he knows Dark Choco, knows how strange he gets if he feels Madeleine’s spent ‘too much’, which isn’t an actual thing, of course. He'd spend the entire Creme Republic's treasury on a smile from his love. “It's faux fur, but the lady promised it'd still be warm enough. Try it on?"

Dark Choco looks up with a glare, but when they make eye contact, his gaze softens. "Fine." He is so gentle with it, even though when Madeleine was on the phone with the sales representative, she promised, over and over, that it'll last, with a warranty of five years. He jumps up to help him into the coat. 

"You look great in it!" Madeleine chirps. Because Dark Choco does , his dark brown skin glowing under the Christmas tree lights, the black outer layer of fabric providing a delicious contrast. His hair, left to curl as it pleases for once, is just a tad lighter than the coat, the streaks of white framing his face. "I'd like to blow you while you wear nothing but this." 

"I–I cannot argue with that," Dark Choco says with a smile, voice a halfhearted attempt at staying serious, and they tumble over the couch. Madeleine doesn't want to know what the apartment would look like under a blacklight.

The rest of Dark Choco's gifts, Madeleine resolves, are to be held onto until the twenty-fifth, a Friday or two from now. Wait, no, Saturday, oops. A few boxes of fine-crafted specialty clothes, a new phone because Dark Choco's has cracks and dead pixels and it looks like it's from 2008, house slippers, plenty more warm clothing. He isn't the greatest gift wrapper, but he still tries his best. 

Of course, Dark Choco orders stuff, too, he knows, but Madeleine is virtuous in not looking and he only starts begging to see once he hands the shipping container over. 

"Oh, I do not mind at all," Dark Choco says, about a week away from the holiday, motioning for Madeleine to sit down at the table. "Allow me to get some scissors."

Dark Choco has some peculiarities, like everyone does–like how he doesn't allow Madeleine near him if he has a sharp object in hand. He literally walks to the other side of the kitchen to open up a box! Madeleine respects it, of course, but it's still a little weird. 

He comes back and presents the cardboard box to Madeleine. "Open it."

"Oh, wait, this is an actual Christmas gift?"

"Well, it shall be mine... just as much as yours. I still want you to open it." 

Madeleine creaks the box open, and it's–weird. He can't quite tell what it is at first glance. 

Somewhere in his inspection of what appears to be a metal–something, Dark Choco has sat down. "Remember when we talked about cock cages?"

Oh. "Yeah?"

"I have a proposition," and those words should not be as hot as they are. "You wear that until Christmas."

"Like–like one of our games?"

"Yes. Exactly so. Game rules apply."

"Oh. I. Christmas is a week away. Or–wait–is it?"

"It is." Dark Choco's eye glimmers. 

"I, um."

A hand finds his knee, thumb rubbing little comforting circles into it. "You do not have to. We could even begin on Christmas Eve, instead. You may always decline one of our games."

"If–if I put it on, and then tomorrow I want it off, is that okay?"

"Yes. I was wishing it would have come earlier, but, mm, the holiday shipping rush."

"But the goal is to keep it on until Christmas? What happens if I win?"

Dark Choco shifts back, and Madeleine hooks their ankles together. "I have not decided yet."

Wait. The–the, um, ahem, specialty clothes. "I, um, I have a request, but I think I'm going to leave it a surprise until the day of? I don't think you'll mind. It was on your 'yes' list."

"That is fine."

"So, I'll just–" Madeleine goes to grab the chastity cage again, but Dark Choco holds up a hand and takes it himself.

He stands up and takes Madeleine's hand to their room, points to the bed. "Sit."

"Okay."

"I will go wash this." Dark Choco taps the metal. "You will sit here and not get hard."

Oh, goodness . "T-too late for that," Madeleine says. 

"Get a bowl of ice. Just ice." And Dark Choco steps into their bathroom.

But Madeleine is good, sometimes, and he gets the ice–or did he get too much? He might've gotten too much, oh, whatever–and comes back and sits down right where he is and squirms. Should he masturbate real quick? 

Right when his pants and underwear are pulled under his butt, though, Dark Choco comes back out. "I did not say to undress."

"No, you didn't."

"Hands at your sides," Dark Choco growls, and, between them, Madeleine's dick lurches. "You were planning to get off beforehand, yes?"

It's so embarrassing. Dark Choco reads him so well. "Yeah."

"Well." Dark Choco settles next to him, places the bowl of ice in the divot between their thighs. "I expected as much. You are a brat."

"Heh, yeah."

One of Dark Choco's hands find Madeleine's cock, begins pumping it in a slow, even pace. His eyelids close gently, and it's nice, lulls him into–

"Ah! C-Choco!" A piece of ice right on his dick. "Choco–oh–"

"How are you feeling," he rumbles in Madeleine's ear.

"Green, you can–ahhh..." Madeleine tilts his head to the side. He's slowly losing hardness. 

"We talked before, but how do you feel about temperature play?" Dark Choco asks.

"W-while I'm all caged up?"

"Yes. I still intend on having my ways with you. You will just be unable to get hard." Another piece of ice. Madeleine isn't even half hard anymore, but not quite soft. At Dark Choco's words, though, his dick tries another valiant attempt at hardening, and Dark Choco says, "I truly rile you up so much?"

"Yeah."

"Take a few deep breaths for me."

Madeleine complies, and, finally, the ice gets taken away, he's all soft, and the metal ring gets slipped on over past his balls, and then the cage comes, and then it all gets locked into place. Dark Choco slips the key on a thin chain around his neck. 

"How do you feel?"

The metal around his dick is– " Cold . And a bit heavy."

"Tell me if you feel loss of sensation, or it's turning purple, or anything like that." Dark Choco caresses the cage, rubs his thumb pad against the tiny opening, on Madeleine's cockhead, and his fingers feel around Madeleine's testicles. "How does this feel?"

His dick is already trying to get hard again, but, he can't . "I, um. It's so weird."

"It is... twitching. I can feel your cock twitching." Dark Choco blows cool air on it like a meanie, and Madeleine jumps. "Now, without it getting in the way, I would like to help you feel good elsewhere."

"That's–sounds good? But I won't be able to come..."

"You will be perfectly fine," he says, rough, like Madeleine is some cat begging for more food after being fed. "Lay down." 

Madeleine complies, because his darling, lovely lover is literally in control of his penis, he can't risk anything at this stage. The thought makes his dick twitch again, from where it's trying to get hard but just can't. 

Dark Choco crawls over him, bowl in hand, until his hair is brushing against Madeleine's collarbone, and then his shirt that got shoved up. Each thumb starts pressing against a nipple, and then– oh no –

"Agh!" Ice against one nipple, and Madeleine shouts again when Dark Choco starts suckling on it with his burning hot mouth. 

Then the ice again. Madeleine pants between his cries, eyes clenched shut. 

They alternate, ice and mouth and teeth and fingers that pinch meanly, until Madeleine is a bucking mess, tears slipping from his eyes, and Dark Choco finally gets up and jerks off and comes all over Madeleine's sensitive chest, the semen flaming hot against one cold nipple, and he says, "What a good boy, you've been so good," and Madeleine almost comes through the cage from that alone. 

But he doesn't. He doesn't come. 

Not that night, when they're cuddling, watching Christmas movies like everyone should this time of year while Dark Choco marks up his neck and leaves an extra big hickey when Madeleine whines about his modeling job or even in bed, where his boyfriend pulls down his pants and rubs around the base of his penis and says that he looks cute when he squirms. 

And the entire week goes like–like that. A few times, Madeleine goes out in public for his job or grocery shopping, and he feels like everyone can see–and they’ll know –they’ll know just how dirty he is–but nobody ever said anything. Dark Choco doesn't have work on Christmas Eve or the day of, but he does for every night leading up to it. Madeleine’s heart aches and yearns without his lover by his side, wishes he could terrorize him with his cold feet some more. His mean boyfriend deserves it, really, since Dark Choco has also developed this habit of 'checking up on him', which means randomly tugging down whatever garments he's wearing on his lower half and rubbing around the base of his cock and cupping and messaging his vulnerable balls incessantly. It's not bad–if Madeleine's being honest–but his poor dick is always straining to get hard by the end. And it doesn't, because it can’t, and Madeleine is always left trembling and sweaty and begging by the end. 

Dark Choco? He's been relaxed every day this week so far, of course. But Madeleine hasn't truly come in, like, days , but when he complains, Dark Choco would always have something snide to say.

On Wednesday, Madeleine curls up to Dark Choco, his cheek on his thigh. 

"Is everything alright?" Dark Choco asks. He brushes some of Madeleine's bangs away from his face, and Madeleine takes the hand to lead it downwards. "Oh. I shall help you... Get the lube, please? And the Aneros–uh, the..." 

Madeleine does, not thinking about how that took no convincing, how Dark Choco seems to already know what he wants. Dark Choco spreads him out over the couch, slicks up the toy, and slides it in. It's thin, white silicone, curved with the end wider to hit the prostate. 

"Do you know how to use this?" 

"No."

"Okay. Lift your hips up, just a little, and clench around it."

Madeleine does so, gasping at the barest graze against his prostate. He's so sensitive . 

"This time of year is becoming my favorite," Dark Choco says. "Thanks to you, my love. Do it again."

And Madeleine does, over and over, squirming and squealing as he gets better at hitting it. But–but he's not Dark Choco, he can't come just from his butt. 

"No. Only from your ass." Dark Choco admonishes when Madeleine tries to stimulate his nipples. 

"Please, it's not enough–"

"You need to make it enough." Dark Choco's voice is filled with finality. 

"But it's not! It's not!" Madeleine ceases his little upward movements. There’s wetness streaking down his temples.

Dark Choco gives him a smoldering look, caked in something sadistic. "Fine. This will not be without consequence, though." The toy gets slid out, and two thick fingers come in instead. 

"Oh–oh, Choco, I–" 

His boyfriend dips to his ass, sucks on one testicle, then the other. Takes the entirety of Madeleine's poor weeping caged cock in his mouth and suckles on that, too, and it's the first real stimulation to his dick that he's had in days. 

"Choco, I'm–I'm coming, please, oh, I'm coming–" And then. 

It's all gone. 

No fingers in his butt, no mouth around him, no nothing. 

Madeleine watches the semen drip out of his dick and it just–it doesn't feel good .

"This is called a ruined orgasm," Dark Choco says. 

"Oh," Madeleine says miserably.

"Oh, my love," Dark Choco says, all soft, and he leans over to kiss away Madeleine's tears. 

The wait until Christmas is torturous. Especially because Dark Choco likes to tease him, even more than before, whispering dirty fantasies in his ear, insisting on showering together when he knows he's the sexiest thing on this planet. How rude of him! And Madeleine might squeeze his thighs together and dream of Dark Choco smiling meanly at him and giving him another ruined orgasm, but he hangs on until Christmas. 

It took everything in Madeleine’s power, too. But Christmas morning rolls around, and Madeleine has the Christmas music station on because he wants Dark Choco to feel just a hundredth of the pain he’s endured (and, well, Madeleine adores Mariah Cookie, to be honest), and hovers over Dark Choco as he opens his presents. 

“You should go first,” Dark Choco says, right after Madeleine plops the first box on his lap. 

Madeleine glares. 

Dark Choco stares back. 

Madeleine stops glaring, but he holds his ground really well. In another life, he’d like to think, he could be a stalwart ally, a great shield. 

“Fine.” Dark Choco relents, finally, and opens the box. “Oh.” 

“...It’s a sweater? A nice wool one. It’ll keep you warm.” 

Dark Choco thumbs the opening in the middle of the front. “...Except my chest, apparently.” 

“Oops.” 

 Dark Choco gives him a look, softened by the quirk of his lips. “I do not believe I can wear this anywhere.” 

“Why not?” 

Another look, and Dark Choco is so delicate in how he folds the sweater back up. 

Something like this gets repeated through most of Dark Choco’s gifts, Madeleine bouncing with excitement, Dark Choco doing his half-complaints, fond glint in his eye. Right up until the end.

“Okay, here’s my last one!” Madeleine crows, plopping a thin box on Dark Choco’s lap. He has more, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Dark Choco might get overwhelmed if he gets handed more stuff. It happens sometimes, where he just freezes, but that shouldn’t be a concern right now. “Guess you could say...” He pauses to remember how his lover said it. “This will be a gift for me just much as it is for you.” 

Dark Choco exhales sharply through his nose in something like amusement, opens the box, strong fingers almost trembling with the effort it takes to stay careful. His jaw drops halfway through the lid getting lifted. 

“I thought pink was your favorite color. You like playing as Miss Princess Peach and Jigglypuff and Kirby in Super Smash Bros Brawl... Right?” Madeleine slides a half-step away, decides instead to come in closer. 

His eye squints. “I–” Dark Choco pulls out a dainty bralette. Madeleine may or may not have commissioned this set before they even moved in with each other. “How did you–”

“Get your measurements? ...I asked."

Dark Choco rests his chin on his hand, eyelashes fluttering. "Oh, I... um... Nevermind..." Almost as if Madeleine didn't guess his lover's thought correctly. Oh. That's. Embarrassing. 

“...Whatever. Anyway, it'll fit you, promise! Besides, I’ve seen your chest bounce when you run... Maybe you do need some, um,” Madeleine cups his hands under his own pecs, “Support.” 

Dark Choco buries his face in his hands and the bralette. 

“Pull out the rest!” 

And Dark Choco obeys, and a sheer little slip, garter belt, stockings, and lace panties join the fray on their couch soon enough. It’s hard to tell when Dark Choco is embarrassed sometimes, but the way he avoids eye contact says it all now. Or maybe, it’s something else. Maybe Dark Choco doesn’t like the gifts? Maybe Madeleine came on too strong, it hasn’t even been six months yet–

He has to ask, though. Around the lump in his throat. “...Do you not like it?” 

“It is... fine.” 

“That’s worse than saying you don’t like it!” 

“I like it.” 

“Huh?”

“I like it, Madeleine,” Dark Choco grumbles. “I shall put it on later.” 

“Y-you don’t have to pretend that you like it,” Madeleine says, softly, heart hammering in his chest, “I’m fine. It’s fine.” 

Yet another half-amused, half-annoyed look gets sent his way. And Dark Choco’s smiling that little fond smile, and Madeleine feels just a little relieved at it, but his heart's still filled with fear. “It was a surprise–” 

“But a welcome one?” Madeleine bats his eyelashes. 

“...Sure.”

“Will you put it on right now, then, if you like it? Please? Please look really pretty for me?” 

“No, we still have–" 

“Oh! Think of your poor boyfriend!” Madeleine collapses next to him on the couch. If the ancient thing can survive their kind of frequent romps on it, it’ll survive a flop or two from Madeleine. A Gamecube controller gets shoved out of the way of Madeleine’s butt, and he continues, “All week long, your poor, poor boyfriend has been locked up in a little teeny-tiny cage, unable to perform the basic human action–or, I guess, basic Madeleine action, actually–of achieving orgasm, all for you and your devious whiles . And said incredibly handsome and charming boyfriend–well, all he wants is to fornicate with you while you wear just a few small little clothes. My heart aches, my love, for how cruel and unusual a lover you are.” 

Straight faced, Dark Choco asks, “Are you serious?” 

“...I just wanna,” Madeleine does the age-old gesture of making a circle with one hand and thrusting into it with the index finger of the other, “with you.”

“Use your words.” 

“I already said fornicate.” 

Dark Choco stays silent.

“I’m not saying the other ‘f’ word, Choco.” 

Dark Choco still stays silent.

“I’m not .”

Dark Choco is still silent. Still!

“I want to–I want to–” There’s this knot in his throat, years of teachings of Divinity that have come and not fully gone– the throb in his cock, his balls, he hasn't come in an entire week – “I want to fuck you!” 

“Good boy.” Dark Choco nods. “Allow me to clean up, then. Or, wait, your presents–"

“ I want to fuck you right now but the logistics of that right now make it difficult right now so I want you to fix that right now so I can do the dingle dangle baby makin’ thing with you !” 

Dark Choco buries his face in his hands again. 

“...I said the ‘f’ word that time. I don't know why you're doing that.” 

“I think I will be going to clean up.” Dark Choco stands up and leaves for the bathroom, taking the pretty little lingerie pieces with him. 

From plenty of prior experience, Madeleine knows it’s not a short process; he decides to sprawl out on the bed, cock still locked up and nestled against his thigh. The rude man didn’t even give him the key beforehand! At least Madeleine will be getting to fuck his boyfriend at long, long last. He idly rubs around the cage, only about two inches in length, massages his balls far more gentle than how Dark Choco likes to do. Two fingers dip down, behind, to press into that strange sensitive spot that hitches a breath in Madeleine's throat. 

When will his lover be ready? Madeleine squirms on the bed, hips rocking into that weird feeling spot, kind of like when Dark Choco, um, does him and grinds into his prostate. Yellow-hot, coursing through his belly, in his poor entrapped dick. 

It pulses. 

Precum pouring out.

Before he even realizes it, Madeleine has the stuff on his fingers and into his mouth just to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the taste. And more of it comes out, and Madeleine can't help that he grabs more, sucks on his own fingers afterwards. Keeps bucking his hips to stimulate that weird, weird spot, feels absolutely filthy . 

Dark Choco would say something about it, too, how debauched he is, his whines and licks around his fingers. The thought of finally getting to top and dominate his teasing lover is what manages to make Madeleine disengage with the new feelings. Instead, he just plops backwards on their bed, takes long, slow breaths, in, out. 

It's an eternity, forever and ever in purgatory.

"Madeleine. Sit up for me, please?"

He scrambles up. Dark Choco stands at the foot of the bed, showered, looking perfect . His hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail. The bralette cups his chest well, pink lace hugging warm sepia skin, pink-silver scars banding all over his skin. To Madeleine, they are but a guideway to kiss along, to whisper and profess his love to. Yeah, that's really good, Madeleine should tell that to Dark Choco soon.

But, before he can, Dark Choco leans over him, brackets his thighs on either side of Madeleine, and sits down. "I do apologize for keeping you waiting," Dark Choco says. 

"I understand... Can you unlock me now?"

Dark Choco nods, leans forward. The cage key is– tugged out from between his boobs –

"Why was it in your tits?" Madeleine asks.

Dark Choco pauses, gives Madeleine a long look. "You had better not start again."

"Oops?"

"...You do enjoy them. I know." He clears his throat for some reason. " I know ."

"I'm sorry, unlock me, please. I want to be in you. Please?"

"Yes, yes," and the key gets–right there, right there, Dark Choco pauses. "I have an... experiment to propose."

"Okay, sure, sure," Madeleine agrees, maybe a bit too easily. 

Way too easily. Dark Choco looks wicked, lips parted, eye curled in a smirk. 

He holds Madeleine's poor caged cock up–pushes the pink panties to the side–sits on it. 

That smirk spreads. "Mm, definitely different."

Of course it is! Madeleine wants to get hard , get his cock inside–uh, not like this, he means–he wants, wants, wants–

Dark Choco rides the scant few inches up and down a few times, and it kills Madeleine, how darn close he is, how his lover has him at his mercy. 

"Please, please, love, baby, I love you, please–" Madeleine begs.

Something cool, considering. Underneath that, a heated gaze. "I have had my fun," Dark Choco remarks idly, sits up and off. "I shall unlock you now."

The cage falls open with a click. Madeleine gets hard so quickly it hurts, and he wants to be inside so badly it hurts . It's like–Madeleine barely even registers himself moving, all of a sudden Dark Choco below him, each of his veiny hands holding his boyfriend's stocking-clad knees to his shoulders. 

It feels so perfect inside, a fiery heat drawing him in, consuming him fully. Madeleine pounds into him, and these little half-restrained sounds fall out of Dark Choco's throat, like shines of stardust–Madeleine snaps his hips in lower, aiming up, and Dark Choco's body jolts, the groan growing louder when Madeleine keeps grinding his dick right there, right into his prostate. 

"I'm not gonna stop when you come," Madeleine says, the words pouring out like sand, gravel, clay chunks. "I'm not gonna stop if I come. I'll fuck you 'til the sun comes back up."

Dark Choco tries to shift, he tries to move under Madeleine, and he knows his boyfriend could flip him easily, could say the word and Madeleine stop–he's allowing himself to be overstimulated like this, he's allowing it, probably relishing it–

He can't take it anymore, anyway. He bucks in little humps, fingernails hopefully not digging into Dark Choco's legs too much, cock definitely bashing into Dark Choco's prostate. His lover gasps, high, nasally noises punched out from those pretty lips like Madeleine's never even heard him before. His hair spills all over Dark Choco, too, cascading on either side of his face, like a shield from the rest of the world, where they're the only two people that exist.

It feels like that's the case right now, anyway. Dark Choco whispers, "Please, please, go deep ," since he likes it like that, he loves it when Madeleine thrusts fully into him, and Madeleine switches into longer, slower movements. He's rewarded with these intentional clenches around his cock when he pulls out, making everything even tighter and hotter, somehow, and he–he can't help, alternates sporadically–

His eyes devour Dark Choco, his face, eye clenched, hands twined into– through the comforter, holes through it–

Dark Choco orgasms, without anything touching him or anything. Just from his ass. Madeleine is beyond tempted to pull out and ruin it for him, but he decides not to. 

Yeah, it'll be better to shove Dark Choco right past it into overstimulation, anyway. 

All that strength is useless under Madeleine–he watches Dark Choco twitch and moan under his cock, every time he drags back and forth across his prostate, more liquid occasionally pumping out. It's so, so impossibly–arousing–

Like a flaming hand through him, his nipples to his cock–he comes , hips knocking into Dark Choco's ass to get him deeper, and he's groaning into the night, curses and praises. One more spurt comes out of Dark Choco, and they are both still, finally. 

Except.

Madeleine, he– 

"I'm gonna keep going–"

He's still hard. 

Under him, Dark Choco hitches a breath, lets it out in stuttering start-and-stops. "...By all means," he finally says, and Madeleine sure does.

He comes twice more, deep in Dark Choco's butt, and even helps him to the bathroom afterwards, helps him delicately remove the lingerie. 

And, after that, they cuddle–or, uh, Madeleine holds him, Dark Choco falls asleep immediately on his chest, because he's old. His hair is a mess, and Madeleine runs his fingers through it, since they'll both need to wash up later, anyway. 

It's so–it's everything Madeleine's ever dreamed of. Someone to hold, and Dark Choco is so warm and broad in his embrace, his soft snores the loudest thing in the room.

Usually, Madeleine feels weird about staring, but, uh, his boyfriend is asleep. Maybe he'll apologize later. But he's not quite exhausted enough to sleep yet, and he doesn't want to watch anything on his phone, and his lover is so pretty in his arms. His scars and blemishes, the permanent crease between his eyebrows, the way Madeleine tried to lift up his lips by force and they still frown like they're stuck in place. His hair, thick, black and white like the night sky beaming with the force of the moon–and right now, it starts to curl out of however Dark Choco straightens it, these pretty soft ringlets that Madeleine is so gentle with when he caresses. Dark Choco is fully grown, more than grown, a full decade older than him; and Madeleine still holds him delicately, like a handful of sand on a windblown day. 

It's not often that Madeleine doesn't get distracted, or bored, or both. But there's just so much, to see, to feel. Dark Choco is deep in his slumber, as he always is after sex, so he hopefully won't mind Madeleine's wandering, stroking fingers across that warm brown skin, the barest brush across his long, thick eyelashes on his seeing eye. Madeleine doesn't touch near his left eye, though; Dark Choco doesn't talk about it, and so he doesn't know if it still hurts–if calling attention to it would hurt–so he simply gives it a grand berth and strokes across his plush, yet chapped lips. Both their lips are chapped–which might be a bit of Madeleine's fault, because, um, in his defense, he, um, the texture is very nice , and then Dark Choco caught him eating chapstick once, which was very awkward. And no more is allowed in the apartment.

Anyway. 

But Dark Choco's lips are so plush, and so sweet, and it's so hard to keep from making out with him at every available opportunity. Sometimes, he does make Dark Choco run a little late when they make out too long, and hands start wandering, and–well. Yeah. 

Like his are right now. Slow, gentle, as to not wake his lover up, but he feels still, the freshly-shaven jawline, the defined clavicles, the column of his throat. Madeleine wants to follow his fingertips with kisses, but that'll just have to wait for another time. Maybe, maybe tie Dark Choco down, and then make sure he knows just how much Madeleine desires him, loves him. 

Somewhere in there, though, Madeleine's eyes do start to droop, and he finally leans his head back and slips off to sleep.