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“I loathe everything about you,” Stefano says, chest heaving as he struggles to keep his composure, “but if you do not touch me at once, I’ll cut your hands off.”
“Wow, you really know how to romance a guy.”
Sebastian’s eyes are locked on Stefano’s face with a burning intensity that undercuts his dismissive words. He’s hungry, and Stefano is hungry, and it’s a foregone conclusion that they’re going to devour each other.
Stefano takes a step forward, head held high. “This isn’t about romance.”
Stefano is quite serious about that. He has dedicated his life to the pursuit of beauty, the perfection of form, and he has no time to indulge his baser impulses. In fact, he finds he has little interest in doing so. For him, other people serve specific functions: critics, audience, or raw materials, and he has no desire to pursue them in any romantic or physical sense.
Or he had no such desires until that accursed white robed man began to tamper with his mind.
He should have paid more attention to the stranger’s words, but it wasn’t until he tried to push back against him, tried to exclude him from the gallery that he realized the kind of power the stranger held. Even now he knows nothing of the man’s identity or his intentions, only that he has placed both Stefano and Sebastian under the effects of some mysterious aphrodisiac.
And it must be a powerful one, because Sebastian is exactly the kind of man Stefano doesn’t need in his life- rough and rugged and unversed in the finer things- but now his skin burns as Sebastian yanks his shirt free of his pants and tears it open, buttons flying in all directions, so that he can grab Stefano’s hips with bruising force.
He pulls Stefano against him, and the sharp, electric thrill of excitement in Stefano’s lower belly is wholly unexpected. His eye slams shut as he tries to regain control, to remind himself that this is his enemy- no, not even his enemy; Sebastian doesn’t deserve that title. Sebastian is nobody, and the gasp that escapes Stefano when Sebastian bites down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder is completely incidental.
Sebastian’s leg is pressing between his, and his own hands are grabbing Sebastian’s ass, pulling him closer without Stefano’s permission.
“Fuck,” Sebastian growls in his ear, and Stefano shudders at both Sebastian’s delightfully vulgar vocabulary and the puff of warm breath against his neck.
Sebastian’s hands are everywhere- his thighs, his ass, sliding up his chest to squeeze a nipple just hard enough to make Stefano utter a wordless cry and go stiff, unsure whether to pull away from Sebastian or push even closer.
“Is this-” Sebastian starts to ask, but Stefano’s body knows what it wants, and Sebastian needs to shut up and get on with it.
“Yes,” Stefano growls. “Don’t stop.”
He’s already slipping Sebastian’s holster over his shoulders and Sebastian’s shirt up over his head. He wants to admire Sebastian’s body, to let his eye trace the muscles and bones and scars, but Sebastian’s chuckle brings him sharply back to reality.
“What are you laughing at?” he snaps, arousal giving way to pain and rage and hazy memories of failed attempts at intimacy.
“Nothing,” Sebastian says, his face softening. “You just seem a little eager. That’s all.”
“I can’t help that,” sputters Stefano. “It’s not me! It’s-”
“I know, I know,” Sebastian says, his hands finding Stefano’s shoulders. “I didn’t mean anything like that. It’s just…”
Sebastian stops speaking, but there’s a change in his face, a hint of vulnerability that Stefano detects immediately. Those Mobius scientists may say he’s a psychopath, but he’s perfectly capable of assessing someone else’s emotions when it’s worth his while to do so.
His hands are on Sebastian’s chest, skimming up and down before he knows what he’s doing. Sebastian’s skin is blazing hot, and he closes his eyes, shuddering under Stefano’s touch. And Stefano wants to do more than touch. His mouth is on Sebastian’s neck, his shoulder, his chest, biting hard enough that Sebastian yelps and digs his fingers into Stefano’s shoulders.
The salty taste on his tongue and the scent of gunpowder are thick in his foggy mind, and in that moment he wants Sebastian, wants filthy, unspeakable things from Sebastian, wants Sebastian on top of him, inside him.
Sebastian’s hands are on his waist now, and as soon as he lifts his head Sebastian pulls them together again. Stefano can already feel Sebastian hard against his thigh. His head is spinning, and he’s hard as well, and Sebastian’s hand is groping him through his pants, squeezing his cock as he presses his face against Sebastian’s neck, an embarrassing whine escaping his throat.
He can’t stop his hips from thrusting forward, driving his cock harder into Sebastian’s hand, and he can feel his cheeks burning with shame. He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He’s above this, and the raw, visceral pleasure he feels as he ruts against Sebastian’s hand doesn’t mean anything.
“God damn,” Sebastian breathes. “You could hurt somebody with this thing.”
Stefano wouldn’t know and has only a general sense of what Sebastian is talking about, but Sebastian doesn’t need to know that. Stefano’s eye is squeezed shut, and he’s doing his best to fill his head with more civilized thoughts- art and music and literature- but he keeps coming back to the fact that Sebastian’s hand is big and strong, and he needs to feel it against his bare skin.
“Pants,” he gasps out.
Sebastian laughs again, but Stefano can’t even be bothered to correct him this time. He’s not at his most eloquent, and he’s willing to bet that Sebastian has never had an eloquent moment in his entire life, so maybe they’re on equal footing now.
Then Sebastian is working the button and zipper of his pants, tugging them down enough to slip a hand inside his underwear and palm his cock, and it’s too much- too warm and too close and too intimate- but his heart is pounding and his hands are clenching around Sebastian’s arms, and he’s leaning into Sebastian’s touch even as he admonishes himself for such an embarrassing display of desire and need.
Sebastian’s movements are cramped, abbreviated by the constraints of Stefano’s clothing, but it feels so different than the times Stefano has tried this himself. Sebastian’s hand is callused, and his touch is confident, and every ridge and groove of his palm feels magnified a hundred times against Stefano’s sensitive skin. He’s moving his legs apart, bracing himself against Sebastian as he rocks his hips in time with the movements of his hand.
His eye flicks up to meet Sebastian’s, and the look he sees there is pure, burning lust. Sebastian stares for a moment. His pupils are dilated and he’s breathing hard, and then he’s surging forward into Stefano, pushing him back onto one of the gallery sofas and burying his face in Stefano’s lap before Stefano even has time to react.
The wet heat of Sebastian’s mouth is around him, and Sebastian’s tongue is lapping at him, stroking the head of his cock so gently, even as Sebastian’s shoulders are shaking under his hands, as Sebastian’s fingers are burrowing further into his bunched up clothing to fondle his balls. He’s trying to draw breath to speak, to ask Sebastian what the hell he’s doing, to urge him on, but there’s no air in his lungs and no blood in his brain, and between his legs everything is slick and wet and hot and so, so good.
He’s spreading his legs more now, because he needs Sebastian to go further, to touch more of him, and Sebastian is struggling with his clothes, pulling his hands free so that he can tug Stefano’s pants and underwear down to his knees.
With Stefano laid bare in front of him, Sebastian attacks his cock with renewed vigor, forcing Stefano back onto the sofa again as he swallows his cock down, hands gripping his ass cheeks as tightly as Stefano is gripping the edge of the sofa cushion.
“My god, Sebastian,” he moans, thrusting up into Sebastian’s mouth. He can feel the pressure building. Sebastian’s throat is squeezing the tip of his cock tightly, and Sebastian’s tongue is pressing against his shaft, and it’s never felt like this for him before.
His hips are moving of their own accord, and Sebastian groans deep in his throat which sends a rumbling vibration through Stefano’s cock. The idea that this is having such an effect on Sebastian, who’s still almost fully clothed and has no one touching him, is making him dizzy with excitement.
Sebastian pulls back all at once, releasing his cock and looking up into his eye, flushed and panting and licking his lips.
“I want to fuck you.”
Stefano swallows hard, but nods at Sebastian. For just a moment, his stomach turns over with nerves, and he’s about to ask what to do next when Sebastian saves him the embarrassment by fumbling in his utility belt to produce a vial of some unidentified green substance.
For his part, Stefano sets about removing the rest of his clothing so that he’s naked in front of Sebastian, who is currently tearing off his own pants and boots with such enthusiasm that he almost loses his balance. When he finally manages to relieve himself of the offending articles and throw them across the room, he looks back at Stefano, and the corner of his mouth is turning up.
“Couldn’t wait for me?”
Stefano is about to ask him what on earth he’s talking about when he realizes that his own hand is, in fact, lazily stroking his cock. The sight of it, the idea that he’s touching himself in front of Sebastian makes his head swim with lust, and the feeling only intensifies when Sebastian drops to his knees in front of the sofa and grabs him by the hips, pulling him down so that his ass is at the edge of the sofa.
“Here,” Sebastian says, guiding his legs up. “Rest your legs on my shoulders.”
Stefano does as he says even though it’s still strange and exciting to have Sebastian’s face so close to his…he can’t even think it without blushing, but Sebastian does have access to all the intimate areas of his body, as he proves when he strokes behind Stefano’s balls with a slick finger.
Stefano’s hand is still on his own cock, though he’s stopped stroking and is just holding himself lightly in anticipation of whatever Sebastian is going to do next. Sebastian’s other hand is at the back of Stefano’s thigh, rubbing over the skin there, and when his finger slides into Stefano it’s smooth and comfortable and easier than Stefano ever imagined this would be.
It’s still a foreign object inside him, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, can feel his body clenching around Sebastian’s finger, but it’s slick and soft and good. He should be embarrassed by the deliciously wet sounds Sebastian makes as he works him open, but he can’t bring himself to care.
When Sebastian adds a second finger, there’s a groan and a gasp and a moment of tension, and he can’t tell which one of them it comes from. Sebastian’s two fingers feel so much bigger than just one, but they slide in as easily as the first one did, and this time Stefano is pushing his hips toward Sebastian as those fingers press deeper and deeper inside him, stroking and twisting and thrusting into him.
He’s sensitive here, the same way he is on his cock, which is now throbbing with need, and Sebastian’s fingers seem to be more purposeful in their exploration. Soft, teasing touches give way to firmer strokes, and Stefano moans aloud as that feeling of warmth, of excitement, starts to spread again. Sebastian’s fingers are alternating between deep, strong thrusts into him and firm pressure on that place that makes him gasp and jerk against Sebastian, and it’s just perfect.
His own hand is moving on his cock again, stroking in time with Sebastian’s fingers, and when Sebastian pauses to drip some of the green gel onto him, it feels even better. There’s more pressure and more stretching, and he has to be spread open so wide now as Sebastian’s fingers press into him.
“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes. “Stefano, you look…”
Sebastian doesn’t finish his thought, and Stefano lifts his head from the sofa cushion to look him in the eye. Sebastian’s face is flushed, and his mouth is slightly open. He looks more lost, more desperate than Stefano has ever seen him before, even through everything he’s faced in Union, but this time Stefano can actually help him.
“I want you,” he murmurs. Then, after a deep breath, “Fuck me, Sebastian.”
Sebastian’s eyes squeeze shut, and Stefano can see the shudder run through his body, but he takes a deep breath, and when he opens his eyes he gives Stefano a nod. His fingers slip free, and Stefano feels surprisingly empty without them, but he’s sure Sebastian won’t make him wait long.
He watches, anticipation building as Sebastian slicks up his own cock, which is large and thick. Stefano has no idea how that’s supposed to fit inside him, and maybe it’s because of his altered state of mind, but he doesn’t really care. Sebastian will find a way to make this work, will find a way to fill him up and pleasure him and bring him the release he so desperately needs.
Everything around him is soft, indistinct. His own hand massages his cock, and Sebastian takes hold of his thigh, and Sebastian’s cock is pressing against him. It feels like it’s going to split him open, like there’s no way it’s going to fit, but Sebastian is patient, pressing forward and backing off, easing right up to the point where he feels like he can’t take it and then pulling back, letting Stefano breathe before pressing forward again.
Sebastian’s face is screwed up in intense concentration, and the hand that’s not guiding his cock is gripping Stefano’s thigh tightly enough that Stefano is sure it’s going to leave bruises he will treasure for days. His shoulders rise and fall with deep, heavy breaths, and Stefano realizes he’s mirroring the same breathing pattern himself.
Sebastian keeps pressing forward, and Stefano wonders how much longer it can go on, how much more of Sebastian there can possibly be. His body already feels so open, stretched to its limits, but Sebastian’s progress is slow and gentle, and by the time Sebastian’s body is fully pressed against his, he’s ready for more.
Sebastian’s face has relaxed a bit, but his expression is inquisitive now, and he opens his mouth to speak, but Stefano cuts him off.
“If you don’t get on with it, I am going to hurt you.”
Sebastian laughs, a little breathless, but nods, and then slowly pulls back out a few inches, bracing himself on Stefano’s thighs, before sliding back in.
Stefano swallows hard. The motion is strange- not uncomfortable exactly, but unusual enough that it takes his body some time to adjust to it. Sebastian’s strokes are getting longer. He’s pulling out more each time, and when he thrusts in his skin slaps against Stefano’s. There’s strength in those movements, strength in Sebastian that Stefano wants to explore.
It’s a fascinating thing, really- being balanced on the knife edge of pain and pleasure like this. Sebastian is in deep, could hurt him very badly if he chose to, but instead he’s taking care to make this good for Stefano, to rub up against those sensitive places inside him on every stroke, and Stefano is getting lost in those feelings.
Even now, he tries to take an objective view of the proceedings, tries to analyze his and Sebastian’s performance as though they are strangers, but with every thrust and groan and rush of warmth in his body, he is forcibly reminded that he is the one who is gasping and moaning and pushing back against Sebastian, the one who is achingly hard from the onslaught of stimulation, the one Sebastian is taking hard and fast and deep.
Sebastian isn’t holding back anymore. Stefano can tell by the way Sebastian is gripping his hips, slamming into him with abandon, by the way Sebastian’s rhythm is starting to falter, by the incoherent words that tumble from his lips- “God” and “Fuck” and “Yes” and “Stefano”.
He’s not sure he’s making any sense himself. There’s a raw, sensitive place inside him, and the thick head of Sebastian’s cock rubs against it on every thrust, pushes him closer to the edge with an electric burst of pleasure. He’s losing control of the situation. He’s lost control of the situation, and that both thrills and terrifies him. Sebastian fills him mercilessly, pulling Stefano toward him to penetrate even deeper now, and the lust on Sebastian’s face, the way Sebastian manipulates his body has Stefano spiraling even closer to the edge, far from everything he knows.
“Sebastian…” he breathes.
“I know,” Sebastian gasps back, shoulders heaving with the effort. “I’m close.”
Stefano doesn’t have to ask what that means, because even if much of this has been a mystery to him, the end is clear and inevitable. Sebastian is pulling him halfway off the sofa so that he can drive his hips against him even harder, and Stefano is crying out, wordless and incoherent as that place inside him is roughly massaged by Sebastian’s cock over and over again.
His hand is on his own cock, and it only takes a little squeeze before he’s coming, body clenching tightly around Sebastian and head thrown back against the sofa as his release spurts onto his chest.
His heart is pounding, and he is weightless, formless, but he can still feel Sebastian bury himself inside him and go tense, moaning Stefano’s name at the height of his pleasure. Sebastian twitches and jerks against him a few more times before pushing him back onto the sofa and collapsing on top of him.
Stefano breathes, lets his heart slow down, and wonders why his arms are wrapped around Sebastian’s shoulders, because he definitely doesn’t remember doing that. He’s just trying to decide how he’s going to explain this when Sebastian stirs, lifting his head from Stefano’s chest and leaning in to place a clumsy kiss on his forehead.
“What the hell are you doing?” Stefano asks.
“I don’t know,” Sebastian replies drowsily. “Are you still going to hurt me?”
Stefano can think of several better uses for Sebastian, so he doesn’t answer and simply guides Sebastian’s mouth to his.
Ruvik looks in on Sebastian and Stefano and shakes his head. Humans, in STEM or otherwise, are dreadfully predictable. He doesn’t have access to any sort of aphrodisiac in here, but apparently he doesn’t need one to produce the intended results.