Work Text:
You see, when one has a job that you love and are passionate about… Some people say this means you will never work a day in your life. Some say the opposite. I don’t view my job as this. It is my destiny, I will never stop doing this no matter what. It is the most important thing in my life.
And that is all the existential bullshit you’re going to here from me today (keep in mind days might change here or at yours though). But there is other things to look at. Far far more important. A 50 year old man in a leather vest who was so excited to come here that he trimmed his moustache beforehand.
Yet it is raining and he isn’t all happy inside dancing anymore. No, he is sad.
Sad, insecure and drunk.
There isn’t really anything else one ever needs to look at because this man is hot. Especially sitting on this dirty bench like that. Could fuck him right there.
Fabbo is filled with self-doubt instead of cum and that is no good. His pain is so overwhelming to feel shared. And this bit is just a fragment of what Fabbo is actually going through. His plan has failed.
Sad because of having been rejected by a girl in her early twenties is insane behaviour but trust, I can fix him. The recipe is having him moaning and begging for cock.
My cock. Because I am… The Narrator.
Wow, now that we have this out of the way, let me get there. The music video events are over which means I can finally get my hands on him. And his mind is so interesting. Fabbo is a man that expects the world to lay in front of his feet, entitled, yet doesn’t do anything that would justify this. Which is not necessarily surprising for a man in general but Fabbo doesn’t even know he is wrong. And he shouldn’t leave like this. His last appearance can’t be waking up in bed being interrogated by his wife, with many things he should still do and learn. It should be him falling asleep, thoroughly satisfied, knowing there is finally one who doesn’t care for anything but him.
So let me try and make good use out of my position; give him that and tell this story with him in focus. He is so pathetic his begging won’t be able to be put into words. And Narri will certainly have fun with Fabbo. Apologies in advance for any slip ups in my narration style though. Y’all need to hear about how he looks from an outside perspective too. All that shit kindaaa is my job after all. So.
Fabbo lifts his head as a figure approaches him. He didn’t notice him before. Just when he came to stand right next to him. Thoughts on tits and wet pussy and how men can’t have anything nowadays had been blocking his mind to find heaven and let his journey finally come to an end. His ignorance reads through his pupils and reflects in the way he is holding his shoulders.
Even at this low and disappointing moment of his life where he has gotten publicly humiliated in front of his childhood (?) crush; he still can’t wait to make his will known and order people around. Self confidence that needs to be destroyed. Rewired… His story isn’t written in stone yet and since I am telling it, I can change it too, no?
“Can I sit here?” Fabbo is charmed by the friendly smile even if he doesn’t want that. He still scoots over to make space for him and does notice them touching. It is electrifying but Fabbo is too immature to notice this. Wordlessly Fabbo stares into the distance. There is no way he is that upset over this rejection, as if he cant just fuck his wife at home if he needs pussy. But men like Fabbo don’t need pussy.
It is exciting to be so close, finally. And it is satisfying to know Fabbo can’t stop thinking about it either. His thoughts jump back and forth between Daisy and this young distracting handsome fella at his side. Can’t he focus on him only instead? Sorry, I am horny and can’t focus because object of affection is right next to me, rawr.
Fabbo pretends to ignore Narri for another solid two minutes. Until his need to have everything about him speaks up, he sighs loudly. Doesn’t even realize how he is already begging for attention.
“I saw you inside earlier?”, Narri says. He adjusts his sunglasses and non-accidentally bumps his elbow in Fabbo’s waist. “You were quite the stunning image up there.”
Fabbo nods. Pride fills him and he remembers all those glowing faces that totally weren’t paid to look at him like this.
“Used to be a looker back in the days.”
“Back in the days?” Narri’s grin does something to Fabbo’s brain. He looks at him for too long. “So why are you here now?”
Fabbo grunts. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of an admirer. He tries to think of a reasonable excuse and can’t find one. Everything has always been put in his lap. Fabbo usually doesn’t have to think for himself.
And Narri isn’t used sitting so still at a time, it’s been far too long since being able to move or having the thoughts splatter in here. He licks his lips. Fabbo’s breathing is now steady at least. Due to the alcohol his reaction time is slowed down. He turns his head and spends far too much time staring at Narri’s lips. At least that's what he is thinking when he finally looks at Narri’s sunglasses instead. He is frustrated that he can’t see his eyes. Just the teeth.
“Taking a break?”
“Smoke?”
“Nah.” Fabbo doesn’t notice the slight disappointment that washes over Narri’s face. Smoking isn’t hot on its own but if Fabbo were to do it… At least it will be his actual smell then.
“Want to go back in and share a drink?” Narri jumps up, which surprises Fabbo, and jumps a little more. “Honestly I can’t wait to”—fuck you— “get back to the music and dance off a little. Come on, I will pay us a drink.” He holds up his hand.
Fabbo eyes it suspiciously. The enthusiasm doesn’t exactly repulse him, nor does the fact that Narri is a man. Nor his age. Boy or girl, where lies the difference? Is a rather clear statement. At least he is aware.
When they enter the club again Daisy is not in sight. This calms Fabbo, which doesn’t make too much sense since his existence is basically based around her. But Narri being close, still holding his hand in fact, is nice. Fabbo can admit to that.
The second Narri came close for the first time, his sadness has dripped away, replaced by the same sort of curiosity that had gotten him to go to the club tonight (aka plot reasons). He watches Narri move. A leather jacket that matches his own vest, as well as a green shirt. (It has some sort of print that Fabbo doesn’t know. He doesn’t pay too much thought to it. Probably just one of those teenager bands.) The sunglasses still throw him off a little because no one wears sunglasses indoors at night in a room sparely lit. Well, it is actually a reoccurring trope with that teenage band. If I were to fuck Määnin, would that— does he even exist in kajverse yet? He does while this fanfiction is written so it actually doesn’t matter.
The hip thrusts are first class in every universe, even if there isn’t really any bulge visible. Narri makes it a point to shake his ass, follow the rhythm of the music which Fabbo notices. At the end of the day he is just a horny old man.
And that is the point. Fabbo is needy.
But the strategy of seduction is working perfectly. It might twist a little later on. Narri is ready to be the one to finally give him what he needs.
Images of Narri’s smile are clouding Fabbo’s brain and his stomach swirls along in the same beat. The people around them don’t judge, nor notice, the show is over. Fabbo has his own personal show now. Yet it totally lived up to any expectations. They are close for dancing, the promised drinks forgotten, alcohol is bad anyways.
Fabbo initiates contact without wasting much thought into it. He grabs Narri’s hips, something Daisy didn’t allow earlier, and presses his pelvis against him. Narri is constantly hard anyways but this makes it just so much more intense. So hot.
Fabbo has put on cologne right before he came here and that scent is still there. Narri likes it.
They dance some more, no time for Karaoke, or Sauna. The first hit has to do. It is refreshing to have stuff this easy. So perfect, don’t fix what isn’t broken.
Narri is smaller than Fabbo, now held by him with both hands. Long fingers.
Fabbo’s cheek bones are even more prominent in this lighting and Narri can’t resist the temptation any longer, he leans on his tip toes to Fabbo’s lips. He has waited too long to do this. The narrator has had a special favouritism for a while now. Fabbo realizes what he is about to do, has a thousand thoughts at once, none of them regarding his marriage, before he allows it.
It is the best thing Fabbo has ever felt, Narri’s lips are so soft. His hands move to grab and squeeze Narri’s butt, plumb in his hand. Fabbo shivers, too aroused by this sloppy dansgolv-kiss.
Narri feels too good at his body. A man that is so young, so energetic. It’s going too slow for this young man, too vanilla. Old men always need a moment more, it is annoying, don’t want to wait so long.
So Fabbo is rather not expecting the tongue but he will grow to love it. They’ve stopped swinging around, only the kiss. Fabbo’s moustache tingles, which is nice. Hair is good. (So if Määnin and I fuck it’s got to be moustache!Määnin.)
Fabbo brings me back on track with the thoughts by attempting to move his own tongue around, he is a loser and can’t do it properly, so Narri starts giggling. He leans back in Fabbo’s arms which are fully wrapped around him. And Fabbo is a sight. Dishevelled with red kissed lips, lazy eyes and his mouth open to gasp for air. A thread of spit (or fate actually) still connects the two. There is some spit on the moustache, however it got there. His attempt at French kissing is so funny, Narri cannot stop laughing, glad Fabbo is still holding him and not old enough to need a walking aid yet, it shackles Narri’s body. Gosh, he needs this pathetic ass badly.
They don’t kiss again. The moment is over. Fabbo slowly lets go of Narri. But his stomach is still exploding. And his dick is still hard. Not that it makes a huge difference but he wants Narri. This is the last confirmation needed.
It is late (02:01 am precisely while this is being written by the way, 00:47 am while it is being edited) and Fabbo needs to get to bed. He doesn’t work tomorrow and but the pigs need to be taken care of.
Narri guides him. He puts his hands on the leather vest, which confuses Fabbo for a moment. Their shared kiss really just having happened in the heat of the moment (at least what Fabbo is telling himself now). Narri fiddles longer on the vest until he has what he wants.
Fabbo is really confused. The alcohol has worn off and he realizes what he did. However Narri is still grinning at him, even throwing up a peace symbol with his hands. Oddly enough reminding Fabbo of the Eiffel Tower. He moves his hands up, his head hurts. The piece signs would need to be turned to resemble the monument. He groans. Not a pleasureful one.
“Excuse me”, he mumbles.
He doesn’t feel the look on his shoulders as he disappears. Nor on his ass. Narri can’t wait.
Fabbo is still holding his head when he is back outside, he doesn’t know it is because I keep reading his minds and copy his feelings, lots to endure when someone else narrates your life. But Fabbo doesn’t know that. He calls himself a cab, gets in and feels better with every meter he brings between himself and the young men that literally turned his head upside down.
No one is awake when he arrives at his house. He goes to piss which is sexy but not to be told in this story. Barely gets rid off his vest and shoes before falling into bed.
The old man is sleeping rather deep I’d say. He turns on his mattress for hours on end, annoys his wife. Why did she even marry him? Fabbo has never been that much of a caring man, showing his life for her or anything. He had been born with a frown, long legs and the need to be fucked. None of which Christina was able to fulfil. This opinion about him didn’t change even after meeting him in person.
Fabbo snores. He is still wearing half his club outfit. So pathetic there is no way he’d get into decent pajama clothes without having someone stripped his previous clothing off of him. He needs everything done for him. A grunt when Christina wakes him up. Disrupting his beauty sleep— he wiggles his small ass on the sheets, practically already begging. Oh, how good the fingers will feel curling in there, making him cum just from this.
“Where you anywhere last night?”, Christina is a lovely woman down to the core who doesn’t deserve this treatment. (I should set her up with Daisy after this.)
Yet Fabbo barely offers her a glance as he gets the blanket out of the way. He is used to ignoring her, only acknowledgement is when he needs coffee or missionary sex. Right now it is coffee. He grabs a cup from the tray without even considering he could thank her for that. He doesn’t even answer her question, just dumps the coffee on the way to the bathroom. (For a moment I consider breaking character to fuck him in the bed he had his wedding night in.)
Fabbo strips down into his underwear to look at himself. A dishevelled man stares back at him. Old and filthy. His stubble regrown, his eyelids tired. He is not holding himself straight, Fabbo is just existing. In his mind he searches for any kind of motivation for the day and his life. He is not going to find any. The dull green in have had their moment to shine, don’t now and are now stripped off their purpose. He has had his moment. Fabbo doesn’t serve a purpose anymore, he is mine to play with. Canon is over.
He eventually steps in the shower, sighs. There is a decent amount of guilt that he tries to wash away. Though the guilt only comes from his thoughts. I wonder what had happened if the script hadn’t been followed and he and Daisy actually had sex. Probably just the same. Fabbo is an old man who’s world view can’t be shattered anymore. He doesn’t differentiate between stealing bubble gum or robbing a bank. It all doesn’t matter to him.
As predicted his face expression stays the same when the warm water hits his face, maybe deepens his frown so much more he could get mistaken for another KAJ-character. Clearing his mind doesn’t work. I won’t interrupt until he has actually cleaned himself, otherwise no fancy touching will happen. (Lie.)
But he deems himself fancy enough to touch himself. His eyes close as his hand wanders between his legs to rub his stiff cock. It will take eternity until he is actually hard.
It is proof that his guilt isn’t real. He thinks about Daisy. And about Narri. Her curves and imagines to push into her pussy to make her yell his name. Fabbo knows he doesn’t have the strength for that. But he also thinks of Narri’s bulge.
And it looks pathetic how he is trying to rub himself off under there. He moans when his thumb touches his cock, throws his head back like this was his first ever sexual experience, forgetting his children. Well he doesn’t know those aren’t even his. He tries to not make his moans too obvious, keeps quiet as if those moans aren’t the best thing he can do.
He still isn’t hard. The goal would be to push his fingers in his ass. He would come so much and so beautifully.
Instead Fabbo has started imagining Daisy on his knees before him. Her tongue over his tip. Her face flickering every now and then into Narri’s. Fabbo sinks down on the shower stool, knees getting weak. He squirms when the cold material touches his ass cheeks and lets out a proper moan, concentrating to think of Daisy’s tits (which aren’t even real, but how is he supposed to know that, Christina’s aren’t either but that doesn’t matter.)
At least he has given her quite nice tits, pointy and her nipples hard. The shower water continues to splash down on the imaginary Daisy. Fabbo moves his hand and pleasure builds up inside him. He remembers how Daisy’s ass felt against his clothed cock yesterday. Then remembers how Narri’s bubbly butt has felt and starts rubbing even harder.
The decision had been set beforehand but this is like the ultimate proof that Fabbo needs to be used like a toy and then thrown away. He might be grateful for this at least.
A last deep moan before he shakes and comes. The most disgusting thing is that he doesn’t even clean off the sprinkles on the wall. Leaving the shower dirty. He has fresh clothes.
“Darling?” It knocks on the door. Fabbo pulls his trousers up quicker, causing one of his balls to fall the wrong way in his speedos. He is actually just nothing more than a helpless slut. Having waited “50” years to get his ass stuffed.
“What is it Älskling?” Fabbo doesn’t even know the real meaning behind this word. Only knows others use it.
“There is someone for you at the door.”
Fabbo is so ungrateful and annoying he just walks past her. His ball itches, rubs against the seam. Plus he hasn’t even recovered from his unsatisfying orgasm.
He opens the front door and is met with a familiar charming smile. The real picture he jerked off to in the shower. But I don’t argue with bisexuals. Recognition washes over Fabbo’s face. He gets out and closes the door behind him, already slightly blushing. Which would be rather cute haven’t I known what he did minutes beforehand.
He puts his hand to his neck, scratches it and takes in as much presence of the young man before him. “You forgot something at the club yesterday.”
Fabbo blinks.
It is his lighter. He hasn’t even realized it had gone missing. It is usually secured quite well in his vest. “Thank you”, he mumbles. The headache has gotten better, however Narri is still having that effect on him. His smile so boyish…
Narri disappears with another wink before Fabbo can add anything else. He stares at him. Then at the lighter. It’s his, unmistakeably but it doesn’t look the same. There is a piece of paper taped to the outside. Fabbo unfolds it and ignores Christina’s complaint. from inside.
He has something better to do than doing the laundry.
There is an address. And a time. And a poorly drawn dick. Nothing else. For once Fabbo gets something to do with human relations immediately. Little on paper, big in pants how I always say.
It gets him to blush immediately. He shoves it back in his pocket, so Christina doesn’t see. Narri is already gone.
“I’ll go out tonight”, Fabbo announces as he walks over to his pigs. He definitely needs some good calming down before this happens.
And the door is of a light mahaghoni. It doesn’t really fit into the rest of the neighbourhood. Alongside the house itself which is painted a bright orange. It has style that Fabbo simply can’t appreciate. He parks his car outside and looks at the house for a while. He is contemplating. This is his last chance. He knows what he is here for. The kiss from yesterday night is still replaying in his memories.
And what he did in the shower. He will be treated better here. It will finally be all about him…
He is also wondering how had he never heard of this house here. He doesn’t live too far from Ovaris and if his memories don’t fool him he has been in this area before.
Well. About that.
Fabbo finally decides it is time to be brave and gets out. He straightens his shirt. It does fit him nicely. It is a shame he isn’t wearing the vest this time. It highlights his waist so well. But there will be enough of that, surely. Confident in only his steps and not his mind he gets over to the house. Looks it at it for a moment before looking at the little sign next to the bell.
Narri Thorson.
This sounds nice and has style. Fabbo is about to get wrecked until he won’t be able to walk anymore. He does notice the bear carvings on the door and wonders for a moment if he is the prey for once. Let’s say he isn’t wrong about this. But I promise I will be gentle. If he behaves…
Narri waits a moment before opening the door. It is of pure enjoyment to let Fabbo simmer outside for the bit. His thoughts running in all directions, yet his feet staying glued to the ground. He pulls on an awkward smile, which he thinks is sexy (it isn’t). It is pathetic.
Though this is exactly what he should be like.
Narri smiles at him at least. Again. It is the same situation as this morning, just reversed. And Fabbo shall stay here a bit longer… (Forever?)
“I am so glad you came”, Narri’s voice is music in Fabbo’s ears. Understandable. He has an amazing voice. Picked as the narrator for the music video for a reason. It is a shame you can’t hear my voice now that you are reading this. The author can because he is listening to the song on repeat so maybe you put on the song as well? For authenticity, if you haven’t already. It is going to get YOLO. (Steamy is for PolyKAJ. That was the first description which was changed to YOLO because YOLO fits better here than steamy does… Anyways.)
But it gets to Fabbo just the same way. He stares at Narri’s teeth when he smiles. Is unfortunately not yet thinking about how those teeth will feel on his skin but we will get him there in just a moment. Fabbo is nervous. It is his most obvious emotion at all times. He fiddles on his belt and tries to see past Narri to get a look of the apartment, is brought back into consciousness by Narri nodding and closing his eyes at the same time. It is cute and Fabbo notices that.
He definitely hasn’t forgotten the feeling of kissing this smile.
“Thank you for your invitation”, Fabbo says. He stretches out his hand because he is formal and old like that. The hand feels soft because Fabbo has never worked a day in his life.
“My pleasure”, Narri winks and gestures for Fabbo to walk in before him. “I hope you are not allergic?”
“Allergic?”
His question answers itself before he has even out his shoes off. Aevin comes along, meows loudly and eyes Fabbo quite judgmentally. “Don’t be so mean”, Narri says and kicks the cat away.
“This is Aevin. Not sure where the others are.”
Fabbo nods. His eyes are more honest than his thoughts. He wants to find this embarrassing, be confused and judge. Be an old man with no imagination. But really he is intrigued. By this twink in front if him. Per definition twink is the wrong term but our dear Narri shall prove this later. He picks Aevin up and hands him to Fabbo to make him even taller.
“Ehh.”
“You have animals?”
They walk through the very orangy house. It is blinding for Fabbo. But also he can’t look away. Every ornament, decor. (Some is self made!) There is still Christmas Stuff up because I usually don’t bother with time as such.
Instead of halting in the Living Room Narri takes it straight to the Bedroom. Fabbo almost lets Aevin fall on the floor, when he realizes. And he is blushing so hard. Straight to the point.
Narri sits down first. The sheets are soft and silky. He taps the place next to him to invite Fabbo to take a seat. He swallows. Not yet the time Fabbo…
Fabbo takes a moment longer to appreciate the bedroom. All different sorts of plushies are lined at the shelves. Narri isn’t as innocent as he looks and even Fabbo appears to slowly realize this. Like a secret sanat, whatever that it.. Narri is certainly pretty. A hidden artwork. His gaze falls back on Narri. Then he sinks down. Aevin jumps off his lap to walk out of the door with an upright tail. Fabbo’s eyes follow him until he is out of sight.
“Is that why you have invited me over?” Fabbo asks. His blush isn’t gone. More than that, he is showing visual signs of being quite excited to what will follow.
“You haven’t answered my question yet, Fabbo.” Narri throws himself backwards on his bed, giggles towards the ceiling and wiggles his ass into the soft silk. Alluring.
It rattles hard inside of Fabbo’s brain. Trying to get to the point of it. To remember. He doesn’t know I can interpret his answer however I want lol.
“I have pigs.”
“Dirty.”
“What?”
Narri smirks, rolls on his stomach to get closer. He touches Fabbo’s thighs with his finger tips. Taps in the beat of the song. It is a little awkward but funny enough, even if Fabbo doesn’t get it.
He only has eyes for Narri’s ass anyways. Thinking how much he looks like a schoolgirl. Which is funny because didn’t he want to fuck a girl he’s known since she was a child? Pretty weird if you ask me. Fiction Police come and imprison this man! But the show works. He likes seeing this younger man. Showing himself off for Fabbo like that. Narri lifts his ass to be supported on his knees instead. Makes it look even bigger.
And the jeans are tight, the fabric is stretching.
“I have invited you here because I want to bury my cock in your ass and fuck you until you’re passed on this floor. We can do some age play after that if you want. I can nurture you.” Fabbo’s heart skips a beat and his mouth has fallen open. He slowly shakes his head.
“You don’t want my cock?”
This Fabbo doesn’t deny.
“Okay sorry, this was a joke. I have to squeeze in some references somehow you know. But everything is checked off now so I can shift my focus back on the plot?”
“What” is going on. Fabbo finishes the sentence only in his mind.
Narri shrugs apologetically. He shoves his lower lip forwards. Fabbo isn’t impressed, just confused.
And so hot. This old totally overwhelmed man on this bed with a boner just because he saw a big ass. A pearl of sweat is running down his forehead. Narri licks his lips at the sight. Painfully hard too. Fabbo’s incompetence is so [redacted].
Narri finally moves forward to get on with it. Fabbo hasn’t shaved properly this morning which is noticeable as his stubble rubs against Narri’s chin, hot hairy man. Narri moans into his mouth before shoving his tongue inside. He sits up and begins to climb on Fabbo’s lap.
Their mouths are so hot and Narri’s tongue is sticky. He feels Fabbo out, ignoring his pressing erection for now. And Fabbo’s brain has gotten to moosh since first contact. He was less aroused with his hand around his cock.
Feels Narri’s tongue and gets pushed back on the bed quickly, he falls with a groan, reaches out himself to grab Narri’s face and smash their lips together. Fabbo under Narri where he belongs.
“Yeah—”, Narri confirms because Fabbo might get a hang of this sooner than expected. He rubs his clothed cock against Fabbo’s bulge. Which still isn’t very big but that makes it even better. Fabbo’s inside squeeze at the sensation and his eyes roll back.
Already, huh?
Narri doesn’t lower the pace. More even, he rubs himself off, movement to have Fabbo feel his body weight everywhere. And Fabbo does. Every last bit of contact from the crotch right to the lips. Narri is hungrily devouring him, having had far too much self control at the club.
Neither cares about messing up the sheets while Narri fucks him. Just dry like this.
And his cock is so hard, Fabbo tries not to relax too much into this. But all the pressure is forcing him. He can’t help it. He has never been very good in bed. He groans loudly, trying to hold it in. Narri hasn’t even touched him yet. He is embarrassed, ashamed for the need of more. The mindset of a slut in denial.
“Come”, Narri whispers in his mouth.
He feels the vibration in Fabbo’s body as he lets go. Wets his pants with cum and drills his fingers in Narri’s arm.
“Good boy”, Narri grins.
Fabbo opens his mouth to deny. Narri is barely centimetres away from his lips. He can feel his breath on them. And see his eyes. A light blue. Fabbo hadn’t been able to see yet. The sunglasses are hiding most of Narri’s expression. Yet there is this reassurance and praise Fabbo has been craving so much lately.
“I want you to come as much as you can. I want this room to smell like you for days and these sheets soaking with your sperm.” And this is the purpose Fabbo has been looking for.
He is still shaking, breathing heavily. Trying to get his heart rate under control. And his cum smells so delicious. Slowly filling the entire room. Narri sniffs. It is a shame you can’t smell it. Nor see Fabbo’s twitching eyebrows. He has just been exposed to being weak and lustful. Having his urges under control only until some boy tells him to stop. He doesn’t have a free will like that. Just patterns, everyday life and suppressed needs.
Narri will try and draw as many of them out as possible. Sorry if the entertainment lacks out for a while, my cock is hard and Fabbo is whimpering because his crotch is cold. I have priorities.
But Fabbo is still wearing too much. Narri kisses his scared face, deer in headlights. Frozen, bear in front of him. Narri’s teeth are actually quite sharp and Fabbo notices this too now.
“Need a plushie?”
“What?”
“You seem nervous and if a plushie would make you feel better…?” Narri gestures at the wall.
The question is so bizarre to Fabbo that he just stares at a giant peacock for a solid ten seconds before turning his head back to shake it.
“Okay, let me know when you change your mind.” Narri jumps off Fabbo.
“Narri?!”
“Yes?”, Narri appears back in Fabbo’s sight. Almost already hidden between his legs. He is practically shining. Like the sunrise. Hence all the orange, Fabbo thinks. He is so bright. And horny. But Narri doesn’t let himself show this too much. He needs to focus on Fabbo who is still wearing too much clothing and doesn’t want to have an emotional support plushie.
“What are you doing?”
Narri chuckles. “A good narrator never reveals his secrets.” Or maybe he does. I just made that up. This isn’t the fic to gain literature knowledge from.
Finally Fabbo’s pants are open and he doesn’t have any time to think about what Narri just told him. But he feels Narri freeing his cock, that has gone soft again. His head turns red, he squirms while Narri takes his cock in one hand. “No need to be embarrassed, you did good earlier. You need me.”
Narri pulls the pants off full way leans down and wraps his lips around Fabbo’s tiny cock. It is really small. Fits all the way in his mouth. And Fabbo’s crotch is so dirty. All his pubic hair that is so sweaty because he spent his time in the shower another way. And it is so sticky from his cum. This makes what makes it smell and taste so beautifully. Especially when soft, Narri can easily play with his tongue around it. Fabbo groans. It doesn’t help. He just came. It will be a while until he will be able to do so again.
And again.
And again.
But Fabbo is still wearing too many clothes. His shirt, Narri needs to see his waist. His eyes shoot up at Fabbo’s face while he is still trying to suck him hard. Fabbo shivers. He closes his eyes. This is humiliating and he knows this. It is so clear to him. It is just a game, not real. (Let’s not dive into this please.)
Fabbo needs it.
Narri is gentle with him, it might be as pretty as when Fabbo’s actor does it when he comfortably moans and lets his eyelids flutter. So Narri leaves the cock and his gift for a moment and reaches to the shelf. He doesn’t think long before picking one. Hides it from Fabbo. Fabbo has to get naked first.
After the shirt is stripped off, thrown in a corner Narri takes another moment to appreciate Fabbo’s body. Now free. He has some hair patches sprinkled over his chest. Light ones, having lost a bunch of hair already. There is folds and creases. More smell. He looks old. Narri’s gaze doesn’t burn Fabbo with shame, this isn’t the intention. No, it burns with lust.
Fabbo watches Narri stripping naked in awe. He doesn’t wait long to get back to his gorgeous meal. The picked plushie is still hidden on the floor. Fabbo buckles his hip. Narri’s bare body has done enough to finally set him free again, arouse him too. Fabbo can’t help and share the hunger in Narri’s eyes. He tastes the air and realizes how wanted he is.
Guess what, there is still an audience for small stinky old man cock. (I am looking at you. But who’s the one about to suck one off again? Me. Point taken.)
Because nothing beats Fabbo’s taste. His spit gave a great insight on this. Back at the club that was a great preview on the real thing. Narri licks over the entirety of his cock to the base, enjoys the hair for a moment, making Fabbo quiver. Then licks. His lower stomach.
Fabbo blinks. Blinks away his dizziness. A poor attempt. Narri’s cock is huge. His eyes go big. And he stops.
Can’t I enjoy his body for more than two minutes without some odd form of catholic guilt kicking in? The eye rolling stops just in time. “I made you cum with this once and I will again.”
Narri kisses his stomach.
“Trust me.”
His smile does wonders to Fabbo’s brain chemistry. He allows himself to relax into his touch again. (If it isn’t for the neediness Fabbo clearly still holds.) And he was still so nervous. Sober and therefore much more shy than at the club. Narri’s tongue calms him. Pathetic. He is so easy to handle, this is so much fun. I should give Christina a lesson.
Fabbo needs his ass filled. But not yet.
Narri goes back down between Fabbo’s legs, his hair the only thing visible, but his mouth. Fabbo looks at the ceiling to manage his boiling blood. Narri is licking up his cum. He is rock hard again. And Narri touches his tip. No one ever had, he licks under Fabbo’s dirty foreskin to get all that smegma off. It is a quite amusing how Fabbo didn’t even clean himself properly for the occasion, knowing damn well what was to come. He could have just taken a proper show since there was plenty of time.
But Fabbo is just yolo.
Fabbo moans. His voice might be even better. Especially endearing like this. Its own music.
He enjoys getting his tiny cock sucked even if his body is already breaking because of a fat cock having robbed against him. Flat against Narri’s stomach.
No innocence. No cinnamon roll.
King of Erotica seems fitting but this is my thought and not Fabbo’s, sorry. At least he has finally realized that he is a dirty old man who has been missing something his entire life. Narri will be the first one to fuck his ass.
And this needs a little bit of preparation. Fabbo lets out a surprised gasp when he feels Narri’s tongue at his hole. “Mmmh”, Narri makes and Fabbo’s brain short circuts. He can see Narri’s shoulder blades moving while Narri is trying to get closer to him, he is making Fabbo wet.
Yet Fabbo’s bod isn’t even ready for another round. He might be hard again but his thoughts are big mess. That is good like that. “Please—”
It is the first actual beg. The first of many for this evening. Drawled out from Fabbo’s stomach, with just Narri’s tongue.
“I can’t—”
“You can. C’est la vie.”
Fabbo’s life has never been like that. But Narri’s tongue fucking him senseless sends waves through his body. Helplessness.
Because of some young man…
Fabbo lets go again. It messes up Narri’s hair. Some of his sperm drips behind his glasses.
Narri sits up, wipes his mouth. Fabbo is pale, even if his second orgasm is over, he still can’t move, open his head. His legs are spread. More cum on the sheets. His fingers helplessly grip the sheet. Narri can’t resist the temptation that is this Fabbo. He needs to go fast. So he sticks his finger inside Fabbo’s hole. A second one immediately after. Fabbo squirms, he can’t see, the pleasure is already too much for him.
So he does need the plushie. With his fingers still in this sweet little ass, Narri reaches out.
The next thing Fabbo feels is soft plush against his chest. Instinctively he grabs it to wrap himself around it. It is stability. Narri is showing him a whole new world. Why again? He blinks in the same moment Narri’s fingers curl.
“This is Harri the Seal. He can accompany you on all your travels. Including this one.” Fabbo doesn’t reply he needs to get fucked in the ass and also press the white seal plush closer against his body. “You are safe.”
Fabbo whines. He shouldn’t let go off control like that. Let himself get infantilized like this. But the plush is soft and takes some of his nervousness away.
“Take a deep breath.”
Shaky. The smell of cum hanging in the air, making it thick, almost unbreathable. Narri presses a soft kiss on his hip bone and then begins stretching out Fabbo’s hole. Scissor movements. It is obvious Fabbo has never done this to himself, although I know he has sucked a dick before. Maybe this…
And he looks cute like this. The seal plush in his arms, an old man finally coming to rest. Allowing it himself. Narri soaks his scent in.
I apologize if I slip up with my agreement from earlier by the way, it is exciting to have Fabbo this close and willing. I need to soak all of him in and definitely share with you how good he feels. Narri is definitely not going anywhere hehe.
Fabbo is still hot, his hair that has fallen in just a few strands, all glued together by sweat.
Low moans escape Fabbo’s throat. He is following the earlier instructions. It feels good to let go like that. Narri slows down even more. Fabbo needs time to adjust. But he is enjoying it so much. The ship won’t sink until the narrator ends the story. I will give him all the time he needs, drag this thing out as much as I can. His story won’t end here. Or today. Because I did so much to give him this second chance. To find himself even if he has been a dick. And no one wants him like that.
I am in love with him.
Sweet and cosy. I position myself between his legs. See his hole, and just half his face. The rest is hidden by the seal. And now I take a deep breath. Not me. No, not me, fuck. Narri. Narri does it.
Fabbo’s feelings and perspective feels locked off, I can’t access it because my own mind is too full. I want him.
I need him. Narri is just a shadow of me. The Narrator shakes himself. He has to do this right, be there with Fabbo. He gives off some control and I am not sure if he will take it again…
The Narrator notices every twitch in Fabbo’s limps. His breath rattles while watching Fabbo. Fabbo is everything there is. His stomach is moving up and down. Individual hairs that move and tingle him. “Narri—” It is its own individual notes. Much more words in his feelings than thoughts or even speech. The Narrator is able to soak all of Fabbo’s experience in like a sponge. It is like he feels himself getting fingered open.
Fabbo rolls off to the side slightly, one leg moving to put those closer together. he doesn’t intend to move, however he just has to express this lust. Other than moans or groans, it isn’t enough.
With a gentle hand Narri pushes the leg aside again, squeezes his thigh to detense it. Fabbo can’t feel uncomfortable under his watch. Not when he is offering himself like that and seems to finally understand. He starts moving his fingers in and out. Caressing Fabbo’s sensitive walls with just a flick of them.
Fabbo is melting. The only thing he can hold is Harri. And he does, subconciously starts moving him up and down his chest to press his face in it again and again. His hip moves when Narri pushes in even deeper than before. He can’t reach his prostate like this. He slowly fucks his fingers in and out.
“Hhnn”, Fabbo lets out. Just as slowly as Narri is moving inside of him. “Need— harder.” So Narri moves his third finger, pulls out just enough to join it in. He needs to stretch him properly. He can’t get hurt. He is too precious and in need of protection.
“Just a little more Fabbo, you’re doing good.”
“Naar—”
Three fingers stretching Fabbo out will do. But Narri is still taking his time, determined to never let Fabbo go. He spreads them again. Strokes over to the inside of Fabbo’s thigh to keep them apart.
Fabbo’s shivers have turned into genuine shakes. He keeps lifting his hips up and down around Narri. The lube Narri has applied earlier mixes with the spit. He will get fucked with Narri’s help. And only when Narri deems him ready, he will actually do it.
And he isn’t ready yet. As simple as it is. Narri completely stops to moves his fingers. They are inside, coates by this sweet blanket that is Fabbo’s flesh. He has himself under control so Fabbo doesn’t have to. Fabbo has to get used to the feeling. His lips shivers, he doesn’t see anymore. And Narri can feel how good Fabbo is feeling. How much he enjoys being filled out properly.
This is his purpose.
And Narri’s purpose, his job, is to keep Fabbo like that. Treat him with the needed respect.
When Narri begins to move all three, Fabbo cries out his name so Narri goes even slower. This doesn't help. In and out, Fabbo doesn’t keep the sounds in anymore. The belly of Harri is already covered in his drool. Fabbo can’t keep his mouth closed anymore. His skin is burning under Narri’s touch.
“Please…”
Narri holds him in this position for a moment. He doesn’t want to torture Fabbo. His chin moves up and down but no more words make it out.
“Watch yourself”, Narri mutters. “There has never been anyone taking my fingers as beautiful as you do now”, he praises. He is at a loss of words. He can only say what he knows Fabbo needs to hear.
It is time and Narri shoves his irrationality and fear aside. He won’t hurt him. He has to be confident for him. As slowly as he fucked them in he pulls them out again. Leaving Fabbo empty and with his hole exposed in the air. Narri swallows. Fabbo isn’t quite. He is still whimpering. Vibrating.
Narri leans forward over him, shields him from the rest of the world, adjusts his legs.
“Fabbo.”
Fabbo doesn’t answer. Narri knows he has heard him but it is sinking in the rest of what Fabbo feels. Not more or less important then the other. There is no reaction that is expected of him.
“Fabbo, look at me.” Narri tilts up his chin and a soft smile spreads across his face. Fabbo tries to focus but can’t. “It’s okay”, Narri promises. He pushes Fabbo’s legs in position with his own knees and keeps his looks on Fabbo’s eyes. They are glowing, even if exhausted. Overstimulated even. Narri feels the plushie against his own chest.
Then the tip of his cock touches Fabbo’s entrance. It sends an additional shiver through Fabbo’s body and Narri bites his lip to not disrupt the moans. Fabbo is stripped off everything important for his character and reduced to his most primal state. Just his name remains.
“Narri.”
Much more coherent than anything before. Fabbo lifts his hips against Narri’s pelvis in a last desperate attempt, tries to push it inside himself.
And then Narri does what Fabbo needs. He pushes his cock inside. Not all of it, Narri watches how Fabbo’s face shifts in real time. The cock is much bigger than Narri’s fingers. He exhales to be ready. To do what Fabbo needs. The ultimate moment. So he rocks his hips forwards and gets all of it in at once.
Fabbo screams.
Despite all the preparation, all the time Narri has spent on Fabbo already, his cock is still too much for him to take. Tears run down Fabbo’s face but Harri is there for him.
“It’s okay”, Narri says again. His own eyes start to get wet, Fabbo’s emotions are too strong. “It is okay.” He can’t stop one rolling down his face. And Fabbo’s is trying to suppress his sobs. He shouldn’t. Narri can’t see him properly anymore; the tears make his vision blurry. Panic builds up in his chest. Since Narri wants Fabbo to hear Fabbo’s moans and begs, he also wants to hear his desperation. Overwhelm. “Let it out. Whatever you feel.”
Fabbo cant help it. His upper body curls against Harri, his stomach touches Narri. And the tears are running down his face. They reflect the orange walls in a way that they appear golden. Fabbo is crying his pain out in the form of golden ichor. He is bleeding but this makes him more perfect.
His sobs don’t stop. Narri doesn’t wipe the tears off and his own are stuck in his eyes. Fabbo’s wet cheeks, his moustache, he feels normal like that. He is only human. He is real.
Real to him and that makes him actually real. Narri doesn’t even attempt to stop the tears now. Fabbo needs all stability he can get. Narri doesn’t think that after this there will be nothing. He cries, he sinks down on Fabbo’s chest, isn’t moving his cock, he is just crying. One arm of Fabbo loosens around Harri and falls down. Narri takes his hand moves it to Narri’s hips.
This can’t be over. But Narri might have given up his position to be with Fabbo. But he still knows how all this works. That they are slowly nearing the end. He is still trying desperately to gain at least a little back. Is stretching this out by acting slow, to influence how the story will continue. But he can’t. This will be their first time as well as their last.
Narri starts moving. But the sudden awareness of his situation. Fabbo’s lack of knowledge. He can’t enjoy himself like this. He knows he is wasting time. Time he could have with him to enjoy each other. So he starts fucking him properly. Ignores his own tears, the future. He thrusts into Fabbo. Isn’t scared of breaking him anymore. Because Fabbo needs it.
Fabbo’s sobs turn into moans. He is being filled out by Narri. All preparation pays off. They are just fucking, having sex. Narri’s biggest wish and Fabbo’s biggest need. Aligning now and never again. Not like this.
No.
It is good to fuck Fabbo. He feels even hotter like this. His cock is more sensitive than his fingers. With every thrust there is Fabbo. Just Fabbo. No one other than Fabbo.
“You’re good. So good.” Narri has had sex before, in the sense of it. But he has never had sex before. He knows what it is about, how it works because he has told other people’s stories. Everything. But being here. Really, actually here. “Fabbo..”
And it’s fast. Fast and hard. Narri can only see white. The narrator has lost the narrative. Pleasure and helplessness. That’s all there is for him. He still wants to lead, but he doesn’t even know where it will go. The ship has hit the iceberg and no one will be saved.
It still feels good, Narri hates how good it feels. Because he has never allowed himself to get this close before. He had been deprived of connection. Interaction. Something other than just watching. He is a part of the story now. “Fabbo—”
There is nor rhythm or plan. It is messy and loud. The bigger picture is lost. If Narri doesn’t continue to fuck him.. him…
Fabbo is squirming much more than earlier. It hits Narri like a train. Flat on the mattress, Narri far above him. Fabbo still trusts him. His pelvis is up, his tongue is out. Narri’s thoughts had been too loud to hear his whimpers. Yet the delicate sounds are still there. And Fabbo’s eyes are rolled back so much, Narri can only see the white, flashing out from the tiny gap of his lids. Fabbo is fucked to rubber.
“More—” Narri would have never been able to hear it if he hadn’t paused.. right here. He breathes. Fabbo’s begging is waking him up.
He starts to move again, stares down on Fabbo. His cock is moving in and out. Scraping his Fabbo’s hole. Fabbo’s neck is exposed, his head pressed on the sheets. Narri can see his veins. Fabbo’s body is working through so much. Narri leans down again and presses his lips on his neck. It is much colder than anything else. Narri circles his tongue on there the same speed of his thrusts. Which are now deliberate and controlled. Narri breaths every time his hips move. He sucks on Fabbo’s neck as his cock is finally reaching the spot. He has found it.
He bites him, just lightly. Inside Fabbo he keeps hitting against his prostate. His teeth and tongue taste Fabbo raw. The bites draw out more whimpers. So quiet and tiny. But Narri’s ear is right next to Fabbo’s mouth.
“I am—”
“Shh.”
It is okay, was all okay, Narri wasn’t running out of time, out of control. He had everything he needed, here. He was right now. Time was still here, he would—
“Narri.”
The Narrator lost. His story was already written, had already happened. And he did a last few thrusts, not knowing that. Thinking there would still be room for negotiation afterwards.
He came. Inside of Fabbo. This was him letting go, he didn’t stop fucking him for another few moments, drag it our for more. Or that’s what he thought. Fabbo had come earlier. Narri hadn’t even noticed.
He collapsed on Fabbo, keeping his cock in for longer. His thumb caressed Fabbo’s collarbone. Harri was still soft, tingled Narri’s face lightly. He couldn’t come again. But he had at least his scent. Fabbo’s groans.
“You are everything”, Narri said. “Not just mine. You simply are.” He could still read Fabbo’s thoughts, knew what he was feeling. But there was something missing.
You gained one, you lost another.
“Narri”, Fabbo curled to the side, Narri fell down from him. His cock slid out half way. So he did everything he could to keep the feeling. His afterglow.
He adjusted his position; did pull out completely and instead wrapped his leg around Fabbo’s torso and scooted closer. Even if Fabbo wasn’t aware of what this all actually meant, it had still gotten to him somehow.
There were bite marks one Fabbo’s neck. He didn’t dismiss them, well, Fabbo wasn’t aware of anything. But if he saw, he would like them, Narri was sure. “Fabbo”, he could only smile. Narri put a strand of hair behind Fabbo’s ear. His eyes were closed, he was still cuddling the seal as well as leaning subconciously into Narri’s space. It was Narri’s job to care for him. They were naked and full of cum.
The orgasm had felt unlike Narri had imagined those to feel like. It was different living through them yourself rather than through second hand. It was real.
Narri started to hum. Fabbo was still somewhere different with his head space than here. At least he knew that Narri was safe. Safe and powerful enough to protect him from anything that was waiting for him. Even the end of the words. Because they would still be together by then. Narri knew so much. He felt out for more. But there wasn’t any. Narri blinked.
A meow interrupted him. It wasn’t just Aevin. Jaxel and Kakob conquered the room as well. Narri started to grin. His usual confidence filled his body. He thought of the joke he wanted to make once they were here. So he reached out to his readers, his audience. But he couldn’t feel them. Narri and Fabbo were left in the past and the Narrator wasn’t needed anymore. He blinked. When he realized he blinked and gulped. Why couldn’t he do it? When had this happened.
Narri had never been so alone before.
He lifted his head. The cats joined them on the bed. Jaxel curled itself into a big ball of floof by their feet.
The aftermath of their sex had left the room in a comfortable, if slightly loaded, atmosphere.
Yet Narri’s heard was beating harder than it should. He looked back to Fabbo. His closed eyes and soft breathing. In a state of absolute peace. Narri was the only one troubled.
“Fabbo?”, his hums hadn’t done anything. Only summoned the end. The cats were waiting. Everything backfired. Every joke. Every time Narri had broken the Fourth Wall, he hadn’t noticed the debris it left, and now he was climbing through them and didn’t know where anything was. New walls. Too high to climb and too strong to break. “Fabbo?!” He just had what he knew from before.
Narri had given himself up to save Fabbo which had just killed both of them in the process.
“Do you want to switch into some pajamas?” Narri immediately regretted the question.
Fabbo didn’t react at first. It would have been better he hadn’t at all. It wouldn’t have sealed Narri’s suspicions on how he had never had any power over anything. Just there to tell it, never influence it. He was the narrator, not the author. Well he had been the narrator… Yet even as a character he couldn’t change the outcome. Not anything.
“Neee, ne itt ere väl lege för he…”
This was the end.
And no matter how often you will read this, the end will always stay the same.