Work Text:
If you asked Sylus how he got here, he wouldn’t be able to really tell you. Last he checked, he was at an art auction for the sole purpose of spending a small fortune on a gem-studded painting, whose gem was actually a protocore that he wanted to get his hands on.
Currently, his priorities have shifted to wanting his hands on a painting to wanting his hands on a very pretty man that stole — well, bought — the painting right under his nose. And well, Sylus is no stranger to the long game.
He pinpoints the pretty stranger from the crowd and strides up to him, essentially rescuing him from a small sea of people that wanted to talk to him. The stranger looks up at him gratefully, excusing himself and following after him onto the wide balcony. “That was good timing,” he comments. “I suppose I owe you one…?”
“Sylus,” he replies, filling in the blanks. He extends a hand. The other man’s hand is smooth yet callused along the base of his fingers; Sylus takes note as he shakes his hand. “I would like to…cash in the favor now, if you’d let me.”
The pretty man laughs, squeezing his hand slightly before letting go. “Already? And you won’t ask for my name back first?”
Sylus playfully rolls his eyes in response. “Your name?”
“Rafayel.”
He raises a brow. “Like the artist?”
Rafayel blinks. “I am the artist.” He frowns a bit right after. “What, did you think I wasn’t? Do I…not look like him?”
Sylus gives him a once-over that’s lengthy and detailed enough to be a full analysis. Fitted suit, slim waist, sculpted thighs — Sylus’ eyes make their way back to Rafayel’s. “On the contrary, you very much do.”
Rafayel’s frown evens out into a pout. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Sylus says slowly, “that you’re rather pretty, sweetheart.”
His ears flush an angry red along with the apples of his cheeks. “Didn’t you want to talk about a favor?”
“Straight to the point, I see,” Sylus muses. “Alright, then. I want the painting.”
Rafayel looks at him puzzledly. “Which one?”
“What other one? There’s only one I want, and that’s the one you bought today.”
Realization dawns rather prettily in Rafayel’s eyes, Sylus notices. It’s something about his eye color. “Oh, that one,” he says. He shakes his head. “Sorry, that’s not for sale.”
Sylus narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you know what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into.”
Rafayel looks at him, eyes trailing up the other’s body and landing on his eyes. They’re about the same height. “No, I know,” he says simply. “I just want you to give me a better deal.”
“You bought it for ten million, didn’t you?” Sylus asks, voice lowering. “I could triple it.”
Rafayel just scoffs playfully and shakes his head. “I’m not someone who you can sway with money. I don’t care for much of it, myself.”
“And yet you spent a small fortune on a painting.”
“It has far more value than at first glance,” he replies cryptically.
Sylus has a feeling that he knows. “Can the value only be ascertained with an artist’s eye?”
Rafayel’s responding stare is more than just observing; it’s downright omniscient. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Those words alone confirm Sylus’ suspicions, but Rafayel doesn’t budge one bit. “Now, how am I supposed to negotiate with someone who doesn’t want to be negotiated with?” He murmurs lowly.
He doesn’t speak low enough for Rafayel to not hear. “I didn’t say that I was unwilling to negotiate,” the other says, stepping closer, "I said I wanted a better deal.”
“Then name your terms.”
The responding answer is plain and simple. “A night with you.”
“Confident, aren’t you?” Sylus looks at him impassively, arching a brow. “People like you tend to get burned.”
“Aren’t I lucky that fire is my evol?” Another step. “I have…experience.”
He just lifts his chin, barely moving despite the lack of distance between them. Rafayel takes this as an invitation to slide a hand over the other’s chest. “You can’t say that the thought never crossed your mind,” he murmurs. “You’ve been eyeing me for, what, the better part of the night? You want a taste.”
He’s not wrong, but Sylus wants to drag it out just a bit longer. “Don’t mistake your desires for my own.”
Rafayel laughs, the sound sweet and melodic in the night. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs. “I know you want me. You’re not even pushing me away when I’m this close.”
He grasps Sylus’ chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting it down enough until their lips brush. “Come and get—”
Sylus finds himself shutting the other up by crushing their lips together into a brutal kiss. Rafayel moans and immediately reciprocates, trying to take the lead with his tongue — which was quite entertaining, so Sylus let him try.
Rafayel is rather noisy and touchy, roughly groping any bit of muscle in reach and pressing his body basically flush against him. Sylus grips his waist and carefully leads him to the nearest empty room. They find themselves on the expansive couch that takes up most of the space there, Sylus pressing Rafayel straight into the cushions.
Rafayel parts from the kiss wetly and flips them over until he’s sitting right on the other’s lap. “Get naked,” he murmurs, unbuttoning his shirt with deft fingers. “If we're doing this, we’re doing it properly.”
Sylus chuckles in amusement, eyes raking over the other. “If you want me to strip so bad,” he intones, “Then why don’t you do it for me?”
Rafayel huffs, his hands already shoving Sylus’ suit jacket to the side. “I see how this is.” He sneaks a hand under Sylus’s shirt, who stops him with a grab of his wrist. Rafayel sighs playfully, snatching back his wrist and toying with the waistband of his pants. “You contradict yourself. Do you want me to do it or not?”
“I like being difficult.”
He huffs. “No fair,” he complains, sliding his pants and boxers off. His cock springs out for a lack of a better term, half-hard and leaking on his abs already. “C’mon, strip.”
Sylus just watches amusedly as Rafayel reaches for the waistband of his slacks, trying to unbutton them while all he has to do to stop it is to grab his wrist. He tries a few more times, Sylus continually stopping his attempts before he flips their positions.
Even when pinned down and naked, Rafayel looks cocky. “What’re you gonna do, eat me out? I’m clean, if that’s your concern.”
He just looks at him and hums. “I doubt that your asshole—” the crass word rolls like molasses off his tongue— “is any cleaner than your mouth.”
Rafayel hums in passing and lazily strokes his cock to half-mast. “So then,” he drawls, "does that make you a virgin?”
Sylus chooses to respond to that by spitting directly onto the other’s hole and shoving a finger in with no care for his comfort. He yelps and kicks his legs out, only to have Sylus force them down. “Fuck! What then, are you celibate?”
He looks at him and decides right then and there to slap the other straight across the face. Rafayel lets out an airy sound, his neck snapping with the movement. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he liked it. “I didn’t think that the pretty boy that ended up spending the night with me would end up being such a whore,” Sylus says evenly. “And a brat at that.”
Rafayel snarls and spits back, his saliva landing square on Sylus’s cheek. His anger makes him barely flinch and in turn, he shoves his fingers even harder while wiping his face clean. He does not bother to re-lube his fingers despite Rafayel’s whiny protests. It’s just something about his personality: he fights and teases and puts on a whole act, but the glimpse underneath is too delicious to not have a taste.
Rafayel groans and throws his arm over his face; Sylus wanted to see his face, though, so it’s an unwelcome change.
“Fuck, you suck at this,” he grits out, grinding his hips downwards despite his words. “All of this shit about showing me my place and you can’t even do it properly.”
He ignores him and continues fingering his rim. Rafayel moans and angles his hips to take them deeper, babbling taunts that sound more like nonsense with each second. “You must be fucking celibate, god; someone experienced wouldn’t do all of this shit so damn roughly.”
Sylus pays him no mind and removes his fingers, wiping them onto the cushions. The next few actions are easy and sequential: strip off his suit, roll out a condom, lube up generously, and position himself. The brush of his cock against Rafayel’s hole makes it flutter and his breath hitch.
“Even your body is a tease,” Sylus muses before he bottoms out in a single thrust.
Rafayel screams at the intrusion, his hole stretching obscenely around Sylus’s cock. It’s tight and unyielding, but by the time he’s pressed flush against him, Rafayel is moaning and arching into the feeling.
“N-No, I don’t want it, I don’t want it,” Rafayel blubbers, clawing at the cushions. “Take it out, it hurts!”
Sylus chuckles, the sound raspy in his throat. “I don’t think so, sweetie. I know what you like.”
He leans over and murmurs in his ear. “And I know that you like it rough.”
Interestingly, oddly, Rafayel whimpers. “How fascinating,” Sylus murmurs, rolling the words around on his tongue. “Am I supposed to be surprised that you’re so dirty minded?”
Another sound, this time muffled. Sylus slaps the other’s asscheek hard, leaving a bright red mark stamped on his flesh. Rafayel moans, clenching onto his cock at the impact. “Needy, yet disrespectful,” Sylus muses. “Do you think you’ll get what you want like this?”
Rafayel scoffs, the sound punched out of him like a moan. “I’ll get what I want either way.”
Sylus mirrors his scoff mockingly. “How entitled.” He snaps his hips forward, driving the other straight into the couch. “I suppose I’ll have to teach you.”
The motion forces a choked noise out of Rafayel’s throat, even as he snarks back. “What’re you gonna do, huh? Train me like I’m a dog?”
“You’re not much of a dog,” Sylus comments. “Isn’t that right, kitten?”
Rafayel moans loudly, hole spasming around his cock as he buries his head in shame. Sylus watches while feigning boredom.“You enjoyed that?”
He shakes his head furiously, earning him another slap on his thigh: hard enough to make him yelp in pain. “What, you want me to call you a good kitty?”
“Fuck off,” Rafayel bites out, shifting his hips enough for Sylus’s dick to slide out a little. It doesn’t stay like that for long, as Sylus drives his hips forward and reaches around to harshly fist at other’s cock. “Fuck!”
“What a rude kitten,” Sylus sneers. He digs his thumb into the other’s slit, causing him to whimper feebly. “All of this talk, but really, you’re just in heat.”
To anyone else, Rafayel’s orgasm would be completely left field. To Sylus, he notices it in the hitch of his breath, the quiver of his thighs, and the mess that spills into Sylus’s hand. He extracts his hand and shoves it into other’s face. “Clean it up.”
Surprisingly, Rafayel’s orgasm hasn’t worn him out as much as Sylus expected. He scoffs and turns his head away. “No.”
There isn’t one bone in his body that stops him from yanking the man up by his hair. “Do I look like I care?” Sylus snaps sharply. “Be a good kitten and stick out your tongue.”
Seconds drag on to what feels like hours before Sylus gives up and uses his dirty, cum-stained hand to wrench his mouth open before shoving his dirty fingers into Rafayel’s palate. He gags weakly and tries to spit them out, but all he really succeeds in doing is causing a nasty mix of spit and cum to dribble out and trickle down Sylus’s wrist.
Sylus lets go of his hair and yanks his fingers out of his mouth, giving him a short moment to sputter for air as he wipes the excess saliva on his back. “Messy.”
Rafayel finishes gasping for air before he looks back at Sylus and snidely remarks. “You did this to me, y’know. I didn’t do shit.”
Sylus leans forward and grips his throat with his half-dried saliva coated hand before squeezing. “Not an ounce of respect from you, I see,” he muses. “What will it take for you to show me some?”
Rafayel huffs weakly, his gaze unwavering despite the pressure around his neck. “Maybe be someone who deserves my respect before demanding all of this shit.”
Sylus feels his patience fully snap as he squeezes Rafayel’s throat so hard that the skin turns purple-red. The other claws at the hand wrapped there, tugging fruitlessly as he chokes and chokes — all at Sylus’s mercy.
“Is that so?” Sylus asks in quiet measure. At the lack of response, he pulls out until only the tip is left. “When you’re over here, blatantly disrespecting me? Don’t play dumb.”
Then he snaps his hips flush against the other’s, driving him into the sofa with a sharp cry. Then he does it again, a bit faster this time. And again. And again.
“I—I hate this!” Rafayel hiccups, pushing his ass against each thrust. “Fuck, fuck, I hate you!”
Sylus bites back a groan and angles his next thrust straight into the other’s prostate. Rafayel’s next protest devolves into unintelligible blubbering as he repeatedly thumps his fist onto the couch with the grace of a child throwing a tantrum. “Fff—Fuck!”
“You’re so noisy,” Sylus growls. He grabs his head by his scalp and shoves his face straight into the couch cushions, causing Rafayel’s noises to dull into muffled cries. “There you go. Shut up, won’t you?”
Rafayel lets out a muted groan that stutters into a bunch smaller whines with every punishing thrust of his hips. It goes on long enough to the point that he reaches up behind him to try to pull off Sylus’s intense grip on his hair. Sylus lets go, which Rafayel takes as a sign to crane his neck up and gulp down air like a man possessed. “What is wrong with you,” he rasps, “Fucking choking me like that? That’s the second damn time!”
“If I really wanted to choke you again, I’d grab your neck.” Sylus reaches over and pulls him flush against his chest by his throat. He feels for the windpipe and presses his fingers on the adjacent carotids. “Like this.”
Rafayel turns even redder than before and in three, drawn-out seconds, he comes into the cushions with a strangled little noise. Sylus clicks his tongue and releases him, causing him to slump bonelessly on the couch as his body trembles from the intensity of it all.“I’m not exactly surprised you got off on that,” Sylus comments lowly, “But I’m more surprised that even with all of that, I didn’t even come once.”
Not a sound in response. Sylus pulls out, condom and all, and leaves the other’s rim gaping and swollen. “You should repay me somehow,” he muses. “It’s only polite, isn’t that right?”
Sylus catches a glimpse of other’s face — his face is scrunched up and his lip is bitten raw. It’s satisfying to see, but it’s still not enough. “Perhaps I’ll use your mouth. Then you’ll finally be quiet.”
No response still. He yanks the other’s head up by his hair to look directly into his eyes. “Well?”
Rafayel is sweaty and disheveled, but that doesn’t stop him from glaring and scowling at Sylus. “Do your worst.”
Sylus mirrors his scowl perfectly as he yanks off the condom and shoves his now-bare cock into other’s face. “Go on.”
Rafayel looks at him, sneers, and proceeds to scrape his teeth down the other’s dick. Sylus slaps him in response, cursing at the pain. “Behave.”
He does it again, this time with his mouth stretched over the head. Sylus jerks at his scalp. “Are you serious?”
Rafayel decides right then and there to bite his dick right under the head, and Sylus decides to yank him off fully. “You really don’t know when to stop.”
He works up enough saliva to spit in his direction, but it’s not a lot. Sylus ignores him and shoves him front-first back into the couch. “Even when not talking, you always find some way to act out,” he snarls, grabbing the other’s hips. He lines up and pushes back inside, this time with no condom. “Maybe this will help.”
Rafayel lets out a muffled groan, which soon turns into a mewl when Sylus grips the base of his cock and squeezes hard. “Did you really think I’d let you come after you did all of that?”
He whimpers and presses his face to the couch, unwilling to respond. It’s not like Sylus cares, really, so he tightens his grip on both the other’s cock and hip before chasing his own pleasure with sharp snaps of his hips. Rafayel cries out and moans, but most of his noises are drowned out by the sound of flesh against flesh. Sylus’s hold on his hip and cock tighten simultaneously, causing him to cry out in pain. “Let go, let go! It hu—urts, oh my god, let go!”
Sylus scoffs and doesn’t relent one bit. “You didn’t grant me the same courtesy; why would I for you?” He slams into the other’s prostate, causing them to both groan. “You don’t get to come until I do, kitten.”
Rafayel presses a hand to his mouth and moans even louder despite it. After a few more punishing thrusts, Sylus comes with a punched out moan, sticky, white-hot cum spilling inside of the other. Some drips out, Sylus notices, so he lets go of the other’s cock and circles his rim. He catches the drops of cum that leak out with his fingertips and pushes it back in. Rafayel moans, all high and airy.
Sylus gets a terrible, wonderful idea.
“What—what are you doing,” Rafayel pants, face half-pressed into the couch. He’s trembling and sweating, and Sylus can’t help the vindication that burns through him at the sight.
“I think you’ll like what’s next.”
“What? No, ah, no, I won’t,” he blubbers. “I really fucking won’t, you nasty—”
Sylus pushes his index finger inside Rafayel’s distended, cock-stretched rim.
“—son of a bitch!”
He retracts it only to push his middle finger in as well. “No respect to me, no respect to my mother,” Sylus remarks. “Is it so hard to show basic courtesy?”
Rafayel opens his mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a long, drawn out moan. It doesn’t take long for his rim to start loosening even further, causing Sylus to add his ring finger. Then his pinky. Then he can’t pump his fingers anymore because of the other’s bitching.
“Nnn-no,” Rafayel whines high in his throat, clutching the cushions until his knuckles turn white. His hole is an angry swollen-red from how stretched it is. “No more, can’t fit anymore!”
Sylus scoffs and lines up his thumb with the rest of his fingers. “You’ll be fine.” He pushes his thumb in.
Rafayel wails loudly, his hole clenching so tightly in protest that Sylus can’t force his fingers in any further. Rather, his fingers and cock are slightly pushed out as the other’s walls contract almost to the point of ischemia. “I told you, you’ll be fine,” Sylus chides. “You’re stretched enough. What part of that do you not get?”
He doesn’t give a response. Sylus pushes his fingers in to get one.
He gets a response in the form of a bitten-off moan that tapers into a sob. When he looks over, Rafayel’s face is half-shoved into the sofa as he looks right at Sylus, his features melted like clay from the mess of tears and snot. “Sorry, ‘m sorry,” Rafayel sobs, the sound broken just like Sylus’s self control. “Won’t do it anymore, I’m sorry, please just—”
Sylus slaps his ass so hard that he wails and collapses into a heap of limbs. “Sorry for what?”
He whimpers and braces for the next punishing slap. “Be—Being disrespectful. Just let me go, please?”
Sylus pauses for a moment. “I will,” he decides. “If you suck me off.”
More sniffles, yet no reply. Sylus thrusts with his hand and cock hard, once, twice, making Rafayel just sob at the stretch and come weakly into the cushions. There’s barely anything spurting from his dick anymore, just some clear fluid. Sylus pulls out, lube and cum trailing with him. “Answer the question.”
“Oka—ay,” Rafayel gasps. “I’ll…I’ll do it.”
Sylus clicks his tongue and sits up.“Kneel.”
Rafayel whimpers softly as he maneuvers himself off the couch and onto his knees. It takes some time, but eventually he gets in position, setting his hands on the other’s thighs and hovering his mouth over his cock. He moves to lick over the glans, but Sylus yanks him up by his hair before he can. He makes a noise in protest but looks up.
“If you act up like you did earlier,” Sylus says calmly, “I’m going to call your agent and make him hear every bit of this. Got it?”
He stares wide-eyed before he nods quickly and wraps his lips over the tip of Sylus’s dick.
Sylus is slightly surprised that Rafayel gives decent head when he actually puts his mind to it. He covers his teeth properly; he hollows his cheeks; and he laps at every weak spot. Sylus groans at the sensation, lightly tugging at his hair. “You’re much better compared to before.”
Rafayel vaguely nods and deepthroats Sylus’s cock until his mouth is flush against the base. He gags weakly and tears start streaming down his cheeks when Sylus thrusts shallowly into his gullet.
“You sound much better like this,” Sylus murmurs, holding the other’s head right against his pelvis as he thrusts deeper and faster. Rafayel moans around his cock as he jerks himself off with one hand, the other digging into Sylus’ thigh. He looks like a mess, and that’s just something that Sylus wants to bask in.
When he comes, it’s with minimal fanfare; he bites his tongue hard to stifle the sound. On the contrary, Rafayel comes simultaneously with a high-pitched, broken whine as he ruts into his hand. There’s nothing coming out of his cock — his body just spasms as the dry orgasm hits him like a freight train.
Sylus pulls Rafayel off his cock, white dribbling from his lips as his eyes glaze over and roll back. “Was that good enough payment, sweetie?”
Rafayel pants weakly, wiping at his mouth as he catches his breath. “Don’t call me that, I really can’t anymore.”
He arches a brow. “Is it really my fault if you interpret my words differently than I intended?”
He huffs. “Yes.”
Sylus sighs again, reclining on the couch. They really made a mess of it. “At least answer the question.”
Rafayel gets up on shaky legs and sits adjacent to the other. “Yes, it was great sex, ten out of ten.”
“Was it worth a certain gem-studded painting that’s under your possession?”
He scoffs, looking directly at him. “You know it has a protocore in it; don’t play dumb.”
“It doesn’t change that I want it.”
“To what?”
“To handle it.”
“Lucky for you,” Rafayel murmurs, leaning closer, “I was already planning on doing that.”
Sylus turns to properly face the other. He’s sure that it’s obvious what they’ve been up to — it’s hard to say otherwise when there’s traces left all over their skin. “Then I have a new proposition.”
Rafayel raises a brow, which Sylus takes as a sign to continue. “We both deal with the protocore painting that you have.”
He turns the idea over in his mind for a while before replying. “Fine. As long as we do this again.” Rafayel turns to him and extends his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Sylus looks at him, looks at his hand, and then looks back with a smile. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”