Chapter Text
There were certain things Karl Heisenberg learned were out of his control. For example, the weather. One could predict the rain and anticipate the sun just the same, but either was likely to occur without his say-so.
He’d grown accustomed to earning—or in the case of many things—taking his control. It’d become his armour, his shield, and helped him keep track of himself in times of uncertainty. He wouldn’t deny that some of it was bred out of arrogance. Perhaps he was afraid of what letting go would do to his sense of self.
Perhaps he was afraid to let another control him—he’d vowed not to let it happen again.
(Not after her. He would never be that frightened child again.)
Yet, for as much as he boasted about his expert control, here he was, bending to every one of Ethan Winters’ breathless pleas.
It was something about his voice—the pitch, the timbre, how it cut off in the middle of his own expressions just to return sweater, headier. All of it went to Karl’s head, drowning out the more sensible voice warning that they were being too loud.
Ethan had insisted on forgoing their optional-but-mandatory meeting, wanting to have a bit of unsupervised fun in one of the abandoned closets. It was rarely the case he was so forward, of course, Karl would listen.
Ethan’s hands had been warm when they grabbed him, the tremble in them highlighted by his grip. He seemed to know where he was going, hesitating once to let their co-workers pass, looking too suspicious despite aiming for stealth.
They’d barely locked the door before Karl was dragged forward, getting a taste of Ethan’s heated tongue, ears stinging with each of his ragged breaths. “What’s gotten into you?” he’d asked, mouthing it into Ethan’s delicate neck, scratching it with his beard. Ethan only keened, lighting a fire deep in his belly.
“I missed you,” Ethan pouted, leading one of Karl’s hands to his lips, kissing each digit with too much reverence.
“Missed...” Karl would’ve asked for clarification, but it dawned on him what Ethan meant. Work allowed little free time during peak production, and the moments they were together were quick and desperate. They’d fallen into a pattern, a habit where the end-goal was the only goal.
Karl would like to think that it would be enough as their relationship matured.
He was smart enough to admit he was wrong.
So, here he was, taking his time with Ethan—stolen from their work and responsibilities. Were it not for their positions and tenure, it’d be grounds for termination.
And if they were caught—
“Karl,” Ethan whimpered, yanking his thoughts to the present, to him, pushing with a wonderful little arch in his back. “Not so fast,” he begged, hanging on for dear life against the door. It was the opposite of what he normally asked, which was an evolution they could explore later.
Karl did his best to comply, slowing until Ethan wasn’t so taut. His beloved sighed, legs weak and trembling with each stiff press of Karl inside him.
Ethan had been the first to break their dance, too direct for his own good. Karl could’ve lived a comfortable life teasing Ethan until “red” became his default colour, never crossing their unspoken line. His life may have been easier as a consequence, but then he wouldn’t have Ethan, so the trade-off seemed inevitable.
“Ka-ah, oh, mnf,” Ethan groaned, slipping from the woodgrain, sapped of his strength. Karl helped him up, pressing him harder against the door, its hinges rattling. His forehead grew damp with sweat, and if anyone were to cross their path, there’d be no mistaking the sounds.
Still, Karl wouldn’t dare tell Ethan to stop or temper his lark-like qualities, having learned the hard way what asking him to be quiet did. (It made him louder.)
Besides, hearing his praise did wonders for his self-esteem.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Ethan,” Karl murmured into his ear, pressing soft kisses to it. Ethan shuddered under the affection, moving his head back in a silent beckon for more. Karl obliged, licking a stripe to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse bounce on his tongue. He tasted the salt on his skin, his soundless cries, each frayed breath, finding his teeth misbehaving when he bit down.
A mutual weakness.
“Fuck,” Ethan sobbed, twisting his fingers hard around the ones Karl had on his hips, holding himself steady. If Karl were any weaker, they’d both be on the floor.
“It’s been too long, huh?” Karl cooed, readjusting their weight so the door did most of the work.
“Yeah,” Ethan whined through heartbreaking sniffles. Karl used to be better at detecting his growing frustration, but either Ethan had learned to mask it, or Karl stopped paying attention. He’d hate for either to be the case.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Karl repeated, gentle when he brushed his beard against the side of Ethan’s cheek, tickling him.
“S’not your fault,” Ethan murmured, though his pout begged to differ, “can’t have you all the time,” he added, turning enough to side-eye him.
“I wish you could,” Karl sighed, giving the corner of Ethan’s mouth a tiny peck. “You have me now,” he said, thrusting harder to remind him, “don’t you?”
“Mh-hmm,” Ethan agreed, his eyes fluttering closed as his mouth opened, saliva dripping from his lazy tongue.
“So pretty,” Karl said, feeling out of breath. His dominant hand left Ethan’s hip, following the natural curve of his pelvis to his belt line, untucking his dress-shirt to trace the skin beneath. Ethan jumped, his moans breaking, growing erratic. “Not ready yet?” Karl asked, caressing his abdomen, loving how the muscles twitched beneath his palm. Ethan shook his head, but he was responding to more of Karl’s thrusts, pushing back with a tell-tale urgency.
His beloved grew more sensitive with time—not less.
“Are you sure?” Karl teased, trapping Ethan against the door, shaking the frame—those hinges would unscrew themselves if they weren’t careful.
Ethan shook his head, confused by the question. “Don’t wanna stop,” he groaned, meeting every line of Karl’s body with his own. They were drowning under the heat, the air thick in their coupling. Ethan always complained they got too messy but didn’t seem to mind it at the moment.
“Neither do I,” Karl agreed, slowing down again, peppering kisses on his love’s scalp. Ethan gave a soft, disappointed sound, twitching at the change of pace. “Are you busy tonight?” Karl asked, sneaking his hand to the front of Ethan’s trousers, pressing the heel of his palm into his outline.
Ethan shivered hard, forgetting to answer.
Karl lessened the pressure, moving to the sides of his thigh, his flank, returning to his midriff, where it caved in with each breath. “I’d like to do this properly,” Karl added, certain he didn’t have to compare the cramped closet to his king-sized bed.
“I can’t tonight, I have to, ah, I have to, mmng, I have to f-finish the report,” Ethan replied, struggling with proper sentences. Karl returned to toying with his zipper, teasing the end.
“Do it at my house.” It was more a suggestion than a question.
“You don’t have wi-fi at your house,” Ethan grumbled, sounding more like himself and that just won’t do. “Oh—Karl, again, again.”
That’s better.
“Come over tonight, Ethan,” Karl purred into his shoulder, his rhythm faltering with his mounting need to see this through, “I’ve missed you too.”
Ethan gasped a tiny, surprised thing that forced him to turn his head and try to find Karl’s lips, kissing them when he did. He nodded, uncoordinated but genuine, letting a bit of himself go to fully embrace Karl’s touches.
Neither of them lasted long after that.
Karl gave his hand a thorough lick, promising to make it up to Ethan tonight as he dipped below his pants, his grip firm and purposeful. Ethan’s keens reached a new pitch, adding to the thunder in Karl’s ears.
Their thoughts grew muddled, focused on the bright point twisting where they fucked against each other. Ethan came first, having been the one greater affected by their time apart. Not to say that Karl was above following suit, burying himself fully with a satisfied groan.
He was almost afraid to return to the real world, knowing it’d always find a way to separate them. But they had to, their absence was suspicious enough.
As they calmed, Karl couldn’t help marring Etan’s face with wet kisses, chuckling at his surprised squeaks.
There were certain things Karl Heisenberg learned were out of his control—how Ethan’s voice affected him, was one of them.