Work Text:
Wilbur came into Big Q's office as if it were his house, his property, noticing a heaviness in the air that made him want to step back for a moment. It was Quackity, who was having one of those moments.
The audacity to interrumpt was a habit of his, reeking of cigarettes and playing with the elegant ornaments of the office while he asked annoying questions that almost always ended up being ignored by the receiver.
"May I have the citizenship?", "how are your husbands doing?", an interrogatory that never ended up going somewhere. When he got tired of being irritating for Quackity, he took naps on the sofa placed right in front of Big Q's desk, as if he wasn't threatened for being in a place that he was forbidden to enter. Wilbur was like the pet he never wanted to own, or most likely like a demon following him around that for some reason he couldn't get rid of.
"Big Q." a husky voice called him by that stupid nickname, the man laying down on the paper work and letters that Quackity was manipulating, he was pretty sure those were important documents as he watched Quackity's expression change in annoyance.
"I wanted to ask, why do you wear that eye patch?" he asked and even if there was no malice intended behind that question, within what Wilbur can offer, judging by Quackity's reaction he knew he touched a sensible topic, some soft spot in him. His silence was violent and loud, filling the void between the two men, exposing his nuisance by clicking his tongue and showing a painful grimace meanwhile his eyes turned watery.
He could see, feel, emotional pain, rather than something physical. Quackity sighed, as if he was about to cry, about to break down before a deep breath.
Oh.
Why was his stomach twisting in various ways just by watching him sigh in emocional grief? And at the same time, it turn him on, feeling sorry for him was bittersweet.
Wilbur knee Quackity better than anyone else. Except he actually didn't. Actually, he didn't know him personally, like having everything and nothing at the same time because there was something filling about that void. He couldn't name a single hobby liked by Quackity, but he was capable of pointing out the exact position of each and one of the infinity of moles on Quackity's back, or how he enjoyed the dominance so much he was only able to get hard when threaded Wilbur badly everytime he annoyed Quackity and crossed the line. He'd talk about how good he is at spanking his back until it bleeds, how cruel of a being he is but still worrying about Wilbur's well-being by forcing him to use safety words. He knew his naked body as well as he knee his moody personality, even tho he knew nothing about his worries or his past, making him uncapable of being a shoulder to cry for Quackity, someone who isn't trust worthy.
He smiled to himself, quite obvious for Quackity. He found a weak spot in him, it was a matter of time for the situation to have a slight sexual twist since their only affinity they had between them was through sex, if the kind of things they did together could be called "sex".
Quackity's feelings are unfamiliar terrain, something terrifying for Wilbur. He never, ever allowed himself to show weakness in front of him, and so far it had worked perfectly for him who was always prepared to successfully dodge any hurtful comment from Wilbur.
"Quackity."
Now, it was not common for Wilbur to say his actual name, no nicknames, pet names. Because according to the black-haired man, he hated they way those lips pronounced his name and had a preference for that stupid nickname Wilbur gave him because it prove his dominance with a title that maybe was too much for him, "Big Q".
He then proceed to look straight into his eyes, defying his anger, toying with limits by smiling so cheekily at him while Quackity struggled against the weight of his memories as he felt like he was drowning in them. A tension between both parties was perceived loud and clear, discomfort breathed down the back of both of their heads.
A diamond pickaxe, the pain and numbness that came after, accompanied by a taste of iron from his own blood on the tip of his tongue, a partial darkness after the loss of his sight, a wave of exhaustion in his body and the urge to vomit when he tasted his own flavor. The hatred that he put into his dysfunctional eye that would have served as his payment for his gambling addiction.
While he hadn't completely lost his eye during his fight with Technoblade, it had been completely gouged out after a fit of mania and despair during a simple game of Poker. All of that could sum up Quackity's crystalline gaze, looking away unsuccessfully, afraid to tell that story to Wilbur through them.
What made him more amused was that behind all that mystery, he was a very easy man to decipher, manipulating him with distractions such as passing his fingers through the man's hands, playing with them until they stopped shaking.
Quackity carried such a thirst for skin to skin contact that he always fell into the same trap given by Wilbur, as if the dominant one was somebody else, like a trick to switch the roles for a bit. He took advantage of the distraction he had generated to pull Big Q, who was a about to sob, into a kiss.
His expressions changed under Wilbur's caresses and he could swear that he was about to purr even though ducks can't do it. Or maybe it was the fact that he was about to break down.
He planted kisses on his beauty marks, making him fall in a trance, he knew something was wrong with Big Q when there was a strange easiness in managing him just like that, like a doll, even when he was in a bad mood.
Perhaps the sudden changes came from the withdrawal syndrome since it wasn't the first time he tried to leave those bad habits behind, how bad was it to take advantage of that?
Perhaps there was something much more serious behind it that made everything taste so bittersweet. It wasn't his preferred way of doing things.
"Would you let me see?" he asked, almost like begging, just a little enough for Quackity to play along with it, letting Wilbur bring the tip of his thumb close enough to feel the leather of the patch. Perfectly calculating his times, making sure it's not too late, or hasty, taking advantage of every opportunity that his weakness allowed him to fill the hole that the black-haired man's lack of affection left behind.
Quackity grumbled as he took the other's wrist, stopping any action on his behalf and preventing him from going any further, having his silence protecting his pride.
"I lost my sight in a fight." He broke his own silence, thinking that maybe Wilbur would shut up if he gave him every single detail about it. He knew that this information was not enough, although he loved his privacy, his fight with Technoblade had been in the public domain, Wilbur knew why he lost his sight. He would never say anything that could be used against him. "Then I bet my own eye, that shit was useless anyway."
"I want to see it."
Wilbur's curiosity was persistent, unfortunate for his lack of patience. Surprisingly, a pissed off Quackity nodded, proudly, but gave way. He undid the knot that held the eyepatch in place, revealing his other eye: it was closed. In addition to being dizzy, he felt trapped and out of options as anxiety and unwanted memories invaded his mind, he knew that if he gave him what he wanted, he would eventually stop asking. Wilbur was easy to shut up, it was easy to give him satisfaction, and he just had to put up with it until he forgets about it.
"It's like you're winking at me, young man." he said jokingly, letting out a giggle making him the only one laughing in that room, Big Q standing up still with that unbreakable pride of his while Wilbur proceeded to put his thumb on his closed eye, his lips stating how surprised he was to feel the void in his eye. He was going too far.
Somehow, he found himself with thrill piercing down his gut while his feelings being completely numb due to the adrenaline, his actions being guide by curiosity as he began to press his thumb into the hollow eye socket.
He chose to kiss the younger man in order to occupy his lips in some way, he had grown tired of passing his tongue over his own lips and of the desire he had of kissing Big Q everytime he noticed his afflicted face.
Even if Wilbur went too far by pulling his lower eyelid in an attempt to insert his thumb, his thought remained the same; He just had to put up with it and once he was bored and done with it, he would stop asking questions, stop crumpling his documents, stop climbing on his desk to bother him, he could punish him later, he could retaliate with the violence they frequented.
As his sensitivity increased, that thought disappeared, letting himself go, forgetting the main cause. Wilbur was sitting in front of Big Q, resting one of his feet on the chair where the younger was sitting, positioning it right next to his knee. The position was uncomfortable for Wilbur due to the difference in height between the two, however, it also turned out to be accessible at the moment in which his finger was able to enter completely inside the empty socket, stealing groans from Big Q until he broke the kiss and created a new distance between them to allow him to breathe, without the need for Wilbur to move his thumb from where he was. With each movement, he stole sounds of discomfort and others of pleasure, he was as confused as Wilbur was.
"It felt good." he released the into the air, his words falling on the lips of the other man almost like a kiss due to the short distance, he said without thinking due to his mind beinf occupied by a relieving sensation and the lack of oxygen caused by his agitated breathing, between gasps and a whisper, almost so inaudible to Wilbur that he thought he had imagined it out of ecstasy. He imagined everything, he expected sensations that would cause him disgust, but never expected them to be something pleasant. Quackity took the initiative to deepen the kiss in an attempt to silence the groans, as Wilbur began to move his thumb into the socket more roughly, almost like a thrust.
Just to test him, Wilbur's shoe started rubbing against Big Q's crotch, stealing sobs from him that made him feel sorry, noticing how his erection grew, it was almost impossible for the black-haired man to lie about how he felt, there was only one correct answer.
Even if Quackity used colors, yellow to slow down, green to go on and red to stop, it wouldn't be the same from Wilbur, ignoring any pleas the younger one gasped out, too focused on the glutinous sensation, along with the younger man that focused on not being too obvious, failing at his attempts. His head was starting to get heavier, almost as if he lost consciousness even though he just let go, Wilbur grabbing the back of his neck to support him more easily because of it and giving more access to his thumb.
The chair was just big enough for Wilbur to sit on Big Q's lap, focusing on continuing whatever he was doing with the hybrid's boner. Quackity started shuddering beneath him, arching his back as a foreign tongue found its way into eye socket without warning, digging hos nails into the older man's back, cursing his name without thinking.
Wilbur's breath against his face and the wet sounds his tongue made inside the empty space kept him excited, pulling on his shirt, his hair, his shoulders, whatever was the closest to him, Wilbur reaching as deep as he could. A taste of iron bloomed in Quackity's mouth, he had been biting his lips to keep quiet, longing for Wilbur's kisses and nibbles they had between them.
The older man finally stuck out his tongue, leaving a thread of saliva when he felt the foreign fingers near his crotch unbuckling his belt, lowering the zipper, walking over his underwear and generating spasms, a tingling sensation in his lower back showed him how hungry he was. that he was in more contact, specifically, Big Q's.
He swore that he could come with the touch of Big Q's fingers on the tip of his dick, even if there was a layer of cloth in between blocking the way.
He grabbed the younger's wrist to stop him, he was close but didn't want to look inpatient since the only one recieving the foreplay was Big Q.
"Who gave you permission to stop me?" the black-haired man hissed in response as Wilbur released his grip the moment Quackity bared his sharp teeth.
"Sit on the desk again." Big Q commanded as he showed some obedience, getting up from the man's lap, confused because their dynamic was a fight for constant dominance. He sat down on the wooden edge, though not completely, having his hands on either side of his hips and his head throwm to the back, trying to relax as he took in deep breaths.
Quackity giggled as he got up from his seat and dropped to his knees in front of Wilbur, as if mocking the older man's sensibilities. 'He enjoys it more than I do', he thought.
He dared to run his tongue over the man's tip as soon as he got rid of the encumbering cloth, Wilbur having small reactions that seemed cute to Quackity, like tapping the table with his index finger as is he was stimming or stroking the black-haired man's head over the hat and saying all kinds of inaudible and meaningless things at the slightest touch. To the area that Big Q pumped started throbbing when he glorified Wilbur, reminding him that he was a good boy and then threatening him with punishment if he disobeyed, tempting an embarrassed Wilbur, drunk with so much gloating. It was so easy to satisfy him, punishment or reward were synonymous for him, maybe he was being too nice to someone as sick as Wilbur.
He finally took in Wilbur's dick in his mouth, trying to breathe through his nose as much as he could in an attempt not to drown or choke so soon. Although he did not want to admit it, he preferred to give fellatio from the older man than receive it. It was exclusive to Wilbur, who was strangely gentle in guiding him and when moving his hips, perhaps out of fear of angering him and Quackity leaving it halfway. It wasn't huge, but it was larger than average, commom of a man who was about way taller than him. He made the job difficult for him, but nothing impossible, coughing at first as he worked himself up, always leaving him with an ache in her jaw that he found more pleasurable than annoyance. He didn't have to do much to feel the glans entering him and touching the beginning of his throat, however he had never managed to get his lips to touch Wilbur's base.
" Ahh, Big Q. " Wilbur moaned his nickname carelessly as he caressed his face, those cheeks tinted with a faint pink, his stomach tingling when he noticed that there were still traces of saliva near Quackity's eye eye, his eyelashes were moistened with the mixture of her tears and Wilbur's fluids, the feeling increased when Quackity made eye contact with him with an expression somewhere between his characteristic anger and a slightly more submissive, frowning as he began to choke on Wilbur's member. The caresses he gave him, together with a controlled breathing, made him go into a trance, helping him to follow the rhythm of the sway, guided by Wilbur who had already got rid of Quackity's hat, his digits completely entangled in the younger's black hair, avoiding that the hair covered the view that delighted him. If he said he didn't find Quackity attractive, he'd be lying, because he was obsessed with his moles and long eyelashes, how he ended up with puffy lips after eating her mouth, and the way he'd roll her eyes when Wilbur went too far deep in his mouth, indicating that he wanted to vomit.
He left the duty to the older man, Quackity's hands sinking on his hips seeking safety. He kept pressing on Quackity's neglected erection with his shoe, avoiding falling by leaning lightly against the desk, stealing an occasional moan from the man, the vibrations from his throat feeling good on his cock. The speed with which his mouth rammed announced that he was close, Quackity was used to him ejaculating inside his mouth without warning, there were certain gestures that indicated the obvious, like the grunts he emitted or when he brushed aside the black hairs obstructing his forehead with trembling fingers, his insistence on eye contact being the most obvious as he liked to see Quackity's reaction as he came in him. However, he had a better idea, a thought that might only please himself.
He then separated himself from Quackity, making him click his tongue as he disagreed with the last minute change. Wilbur knew it was dangerous to play with dominance without the other's consent.
"Let me do it, please." He begged the minor, although he didn't quite understand what exactly he was asking for at first, he loved it when he was exasperated to the point of begging for whatever he wanted. He smiled showing his teeth, showing him a mischievous look that drove him crazy, because it meant that asking for things so ambiguously was not enough.
"Do what exactly?" He asked defiantly, still short of breath, hoarse voice possibly from the fellatio since Wilbur had been ruder than usual.
Wilbur looked around desperately, searching for a word in his mind, something to name the action he wanted to commit. He positioned the tip of his penis above his eyelids, the globular lack again reminding him of the emptiness behind his lashes. "I'm being too nice," he thought again, it was a phrase that had been bothering him from the moment he let him into the room, but it was what Wilbur wanted to do.
No.
They both wanted to do it. The action had no name, or at least, they didn't know what to call it, it was not something they knew of. It wasn't common either.
"You want me to let you inside my eye socket?" Asked the black-haired man in a falsely sympathetic tone, playing with the boy's feelings by opening his upper eyelid between his fingers, he could swear that Wilbur's heart would jump out of his chest at that moment.
"Please! Yeah! I want to enter!" The chestnut swallowed between pleas, nodding repeatedly.
"I have been a good boy, I have been obedient, please!" He accompanied.
Quackity patted him on the lower back, they both knew that this was a permissive signal of his. He took a deep, deep breath, he had no idea if the sensation was going to be good for him but he was willing to try it out, tugging at the older man's pants nervously as Wilbur began to push inside. It was obvious that not all of it was going to fit inside the eye socket, however he was satisfied with what he managed to fit in; a little less than the tip of the glans, its most sensitive area.
It wasn't the same as the fingers, it was a little more difficult to digest, shedding tears along with moans silenced by an impatient Wilbur when he felt something similar to the urge to vomit. It wasn't something he was exactly enjoying, but ended up enduring it when he thought it was a waste to stop right there.
He knew it was over and he could take it out on him later when Wilbur let out a few meaningless pleas, followed by the feeling of hot liquid inside his empty socket, the brunette pushing a little deeper than normal due to the spasms of the orgasm and withdrawing before the complaints of Quackity started, who had been mistaken in thinking that the man was satisfied. He took him by his shirt roughly, positioning Big Q on his seat once more, leaning towards him to kiss him short but tenderly, licking his lips in the last kiss before going into the void, inserting his tongue in the hollow socket again, this time wanting to clean up the mess he had left. Like a dog, Quackity had "trained" him to always clean up the "mess" Wilbur made, stooping so low that he would lick the bottom of a shoe if necessary. He had gotten used to his own taste in his mouth, even going so far as to share this taste with the black-haired man, always inviting him with a kiss.
Now the disaster was Quackity as he was being rewarded for not throwing up a few moments ago. Unimportantly, he let loose an endless number of curses, something characteristic of him when he lost his head before the pleasure came in. Wilbur treasured every chance he could wrest those sounds from him, pitying himself by creating a distance between them once he was done "cleaning up."
"Open. " He ordered Wilbur, the chestnut knew what he meant; Quackity liked when opened his mouth to show him how he drank his own semen.
"Such a good boy. " He glorified as he saw exactly what he expected, for no matter what practice they did, there were certain things Quackity liked to follow, like a ritual. He swore that if Wilbur were a dog hybrid, he wouldn't stop wagging his tail at the praises.
He stood up, with difficulty, he had spent quite some time on his knees and his dick was still erect. He was worried that if hampered his dog too much, he would become capricious and spoiled. He pushed Wilbur against the desk, he no longer cared what happened to his documents, it was his turn and almost reflexively, his knee hit Wilbur's groin, dropping to his knees as he whimpered in pain and Quackity grabbed him by his hair roughly, forcing him to sink his face against the the erection.
"It's my turn now."