Work Text:
Rett doesn't know how he got here.
One minute, he was working on his project- nothing important, just something to keep his hands moving, to keep his mind from spiraling- while Pyke and Ophelia were tucked in the corner, on the couch he'd tugged in here for Pyke years ago, keeping themselves busy.
Maybe not the best wording to use right now- but he was getting ahead of himself.
It wasn't a new thing, for Pyke to sit in the same room as Rett and do his own thing. He liked to watch, Rett had discovered half-early on in their partnership, liked to exist in the same space as another beating heart even if he didn't want to do whatever they were doing. He just wanted to be there- and adding Ophelia to the mix had, surprisingly, not changed that fact.
Rett had figured that, when Ophelia was staying with them on the Rhapsody, Pyke would become more scarce- would take the time to spend with the woman he knew so long ago, to try and relearn each other, to grow a new form of friendshi- of relationship with these new versions of themselves. He figured they'd disappear, so to speak, would sneak off into his room, or hers, and... figure out who they were again. In more ways than one.
But... Pyke had stuck around. Still lingering, still watching. Just with someone new at his side, someone else to keep him company and speak with in hushed tones while Rett hammered away at some weird piece of metal, wondering how the fuck it got so twisted out of shape when it's been tucked in a random closet for at least a few months. Maybe years- Rett has really got to clean these out.
It was... An odd thing, to have Ophelia there too. Not bad, persay. Just... Different. Exhilarating, in a way he dared not admit. So, he hadn't- focusing on his crosswords when they were sharing their morning coffees together, or flicking through the channels on the television as they slowly slipped into a cuddle on the couch beside him. Or, focusing on whatever project was in front of him while they chatted from their spot in the corner, like now.
At least, that's what was happening.
One minute, everything was normal- their new, steadily forming version of normal.
The next, he started hearing... Noises. Slick, wet noises in-between his tinkering, that made him slowly still to a stop to furrow his brow. He isn't sure what he was going to say, just knew that he had opened his mouth to make some stupid comment as he turned to face them-
And immediately froze in place, eye widening as his jaw dropped.
The last time he'd peaked over at the two, Ophelia's legs had been thrown over Pyke's lap as she lay across the couch, crossed at the ankle with her head laying against the armrest, chattering away. Now, now, she's sat up over his waist, straddling him and holding onto the sides of his face for dear life as they- fuck, as they heavily made out in front of him, going at it like they didn't have a care in the world. Her flattened nose bridge rubs against his cheek- cheeks which have brightly flushed into an ombré aurora, great Agathos- as she pushes in tighter, presses them even closer together, until there's barely any room between them. Pyke's hands are grasping at her back, nails digging into the baggier casual clothing she'd worn instead of her battle-worn suit and palming at the fabric, skimming across her back, up and down, up and down like he can't get enough- like it'll kill him if he stops.
A low, rumbled moan escapes, and just for a second, their mouths pull apart, and Rett can see the glint of their tangled tongues, a swirl of orange and pink- their mixing spit dancing in the overhead light.
Rett forces himself to look away, turning his body away in his haste, inhaling sharply as his lungs start to burn. He can feel how flushed he is, and can't help the mix of arousal and shame pooling within his gut. His grip is knuckle-white against his wrench in his hand as he keeps his eyes focused downward, flickering from one rusted spot to the next.
He should tell them to stop. To go to one of their rooms, if they want to- to have their way with each other like this. Hells, they probably forgot he was here in the first place! Why else would they be... Doing that... here?
If they knew he was in the room, they'd be... Ashamed. Embarrassed. He knew Pyke would be mortified- gods, they'd never want-
...Sure, maybe, maybe Rett has thought about them once or twice before, late, late in the hidden cover of the night, when he was purely and utterly alone. Maybe, Rett has taken a few quick glances at the way Ophelia's hair curls around her sharper features, and wondered how good the locks would feel grasped tightly between his fingers. Or, at Pykes ass, as he's walked in front of him the millions of times he's gone ahead on missions, and thought about giving it a quick smack, or a squeeze, just to see him squirm. Just to have him snap back towards him with some harsh words he never truly meant. Gods, all of the ways he's thought of Pyke in the last few years... Below him, above him, kissing him, holding him...
And maybe, possibly... It was more than that too. There'd be times where he caught himself, wondering what it'd be like to curl into Ophelia's side after a long, long day. To lean up, and press a quick peck to Pyke's lips when he brings Rett his coffee in the morning, black and occasionally, with a dash of cream, just the way he likes it. Sometimes, he finds himself smiling, gooey and warm as Ophelia cradles Hank tight to her chest, with that gorgeous smile adorned across her face, and sometimes, on his weaker nights, he clutches a pillow and waits for it to warm, to pretend it's Pyke, holding him close as Rett slowly, but surely, settles into one of his more restful sleeps.
But... it was all a dirty little secret. Something Rett hated, loathed about himself... but couldn't help but to indulge in, sometimes. Nothing more. Never anything more.
It was something he would take to his grave.
They'd never... want something like that. Not with him, gods, never with him. And especially not like this.
He really, really should tell them. He has to. He has to, he-
He swallows, heavily, past the dryness in his throat, and almost gets the courage. Almost gets the words up before loud rustling catches his attention, and he unconsciously ends up turning back. All of the letters die in weird forming lump in his throat, as Pyke's jacket slips off his shoulders and plops onto the floor, just beside his feet. As his shirt follows soon after, dragged up by blue, blue hands over his chest, around his arms, up over his head- and Rett can't help but to admire every single uncovered inch, can't help but to soak up the flushed pink skin he's never gotten to see, too nice to take glances, too polite- fuck, the hidden strength beneath the thinner form sends him spinning, the faint glint of abs, a hint of his ribcage-
Pykes hair comes out all jumbled, messy in a way he never lets it be, not intentionally- and it just adds to the debauched, ruined look he has right now, to the way his lips are parted in a small oh to help his heavy breathing, to the way his head tilts slightly to his left to give Ophelia more room, to let her slip in closer and nip at corner of his jaw, sucking a mark right against his pulse. To the way his eyebrows are bunched up, held together almost in a plea, that only grows tighter as Ophelia leans up and whispers soft words into his ear- that Rett has to assume is some form of dirty talk, gods, the things he can imagine Ophelia saying. To the way Pyke's eyes burn bright, brighter than he's ever seen in their near-decade together, almost looking like two suns as they burn with a heat, a longing, a hope and everything in between, staring directly towards him as he grips onto Ophelia's sweater tighter, bucks up once unconsciously- whispers something back, something that Rett can't hear over the heavy thump-thump-thump of his heart, of the blood roaring in his ears, over the way he can't help but to slink his eyes down, down, down, towards their entangled legs, towards their connection, the searing heats he can't see at this angle but can oh-so easily imagine, towards Ophelia's heavenly ass, fuck, her ass-
...wait.
Wait wait wait- his gaze shoots back up, stomach dropping to his feet-
Pyke is staring right at him.
Rett jerks upright, having leaned towards them in whatever daze he'd stumbled into, his chair creaking loudly underneath his weight and making his appearance known, fuck, fuck- the wrench ends up clattering to the ground, too, his grip having loosened in the haze and his surprise making him drop it entirely- and, and his face is burning a royal purple, he's sure he must look like a mess, fuck, he should've- he should've told them- why didn't he tell them? Everything is twisting tighter and tighter in his chest, his lungs squeeze even as his entire body is burning, with regret and lust and pure unfiltered shame-
But- but Pyke is still staring. And he's... he's got that smirk on his face, that stupid fucking smirk. He doesn't look upset. And fuck, Ophelia is watching now, too, yellow slitted eyes glinting at him almost like a predator spotting it's prey, gleaming with promise and- and pride and-
It's enticing. It's horrifying. Why is he still not moving?
He starts to get up, about to start apologizing as much as he possibly can, about to ramble about how fuckin' sorry he truly is, how he'll leave them alone, he swears, how he'll stay on his side of the ship and they can stay on theirs, they'll never have to see him again, just please don't leave-
But then, Pyke holds out a hand, and quirks an eyebrow. "Come on, big guy. You just gonna sit there and watch?"
There's a heavy pause, a moment, two, three, as the words spin around his head like baby birds-
"That's fine, if that's what you want." Ophelia pipes in, then, grin growing and showing off her sharper teeth, leaning back just enough so her face is more in the light, less obscured by Pykes long, long neck- and she shrugs, once. "We won't judge."
"I'd rather he join in on the fun," Pyke admits, snarky, and Ophelia just gives him a look, playful and heavy.
"And a pretty boy always gets what he wants, hm?"
Rett is just glancing back and forth, back and forth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlines, in the bright, bright light of an incoming train- but then Ophelia grinds against him once, intentionally hard, and Pyke's head is being thrown back against the back of the couch, squinted eyes flicking back towards Rett with gritted teeth. The extended hand flexes, shakes- "Fuck, Rett, please-"
Rett's jumping into action before he can even think.
When has he ever been able to say no to Pyke?
And truly, who is he to look a gift horse in the mouth? If this is his one chance, the one time they both look at him and see something more than just- fuckin' damaged parts, wasted potential, broken goods, then-
Well. He isn't going to let it go to waste. He's never one to let opportunities pass him by, and this, in no way in fucking hell, is an exception.
Rett stumbles forward, ends up with one knee on the couch, on the cushion just to the right of them both, his other leg dangling off carelessly- before he freezes back up, hands hanging useless in the air as he gawks, unsure of where to even start. He's never done something like this before, never in a million fuckin' lightyears-
Pyke's smirk has softened into a smile, a true smile that shows off the gap in between his two front teeth, something Rett has always, always loved, adored, treasured- and his mouth ends up crashing onto Pyke's. Their teeth crack together in his haste, and Rett goes to rear back, to apologize, but thin hands hold him in place, one on the back of his head weaving tight into his hair, another digging into the collar of his raggity work shirt and tugging. The kiss smoothes out, first with just lips, then Pyke pushes in tighter, mouths open- and he's feeling that gap with his own tongue, fuck. His shaking hands press against Pykes body, feeling the smoothness of his stomach, the faint ridges of his ribs as their tongues dance, Rett tilting his head and pressing Pyke against the back of the couch with his body weight. A groan bubbles out of him, and a deep moan responds in kind, sending a shiver running through his body. His cock is throbbing in his pants, begging for any sort of relief, friction, attention, anything.
It's better than he ever could've imagined. He knew Pyke was a good kisser, had to be with that smug fuckin' confidence, but all of the gods in Agathos above. Rett's toes were curling in his socks, his body is ablaze, and all they've done is kiss. He hopes he can last. Architect, help him last-
"Gods," A breathy exhale slowly drags them apart, a string of spit connecting them for just a moment before it breaks, Rett blinking up into dazed, radiating infernos. "You two together is a sight to behold." Ophelia's words stroke at the fire within him, turning to look into her hazy, half-lidded eyes. Her pupils are still those two, draconic slits, almost sharpened from their normality- unlike Rett's one organic pupil, that he's almost positive is blown wide and swallowing his entire iris whole. "I'm so glad I finally get to see it."
Rett isn't sure what that means, but doesn't get the time to think on it as she shifts, crawling across Pykes lap to end up half on top of his, closer, closer than she's ever been before. He can smell the lingering remains of her perfume, rich and decadent against her skin, and it makes him dizzy as a hand brushes against his jaw. "My turn, 'big guy',"
He barely hears her whispered words, too busy leaning into her aura, her everything as her thicker lips press against his already wetted ones, the slickness easing the glide. Rett only pulls one hand, his left hand away from the expanse of bright pink skin, his other much too busy rubbing against the sharpened nipple he'd found in his earlier hunt, to grab at her hip and pull her in closer. The pretty little gasp from Pyke makes his blood burn, at the same time as Ophelia's knee slips and settles between his legs, brushing against his bulge through his sweatpants. It makes him moan a little too loudly, echoing in the room as he pushes upwards to press his tongue in further, to feel the ridges on the top of her mouth, the backs of her sharper canines, to slip his hand around and squeeze at that ass he was eyeing earlier- it feels just as good as he'd thought it would, plush and full against his palm. She hums, and he can feel the vibration against his teeth.
The hand in his hair runs calloused fingers through the strands, before they're sliding down, through his beard, down his shoulder, across his chest, down, down-
Until Rett has to pull away with a sharp hiss, eyes held shut and thrusting into the warm, warm palm now firm against his straining cock. It presses downwards, just once, and he can't help the shutter that runs down his body, the heavy, near-growled, "Fuck, Pyke-"
"Getting ahead of yourself, are you?" Ophelia sounds amused, thankfully. He can't help the quiet whine as the hand disappears though, leaving him panting heavily, his hips chasing the friction, the feeling.
Pyke's voice is low, rumbling in the back of his throat. "You know how long I've waited for this."
That gets Rett to open his eyes, to look up at the pair in bewilderment, the lens in his right eye turning as it attempts to focus in, "W... What?-"
A pink hand is placed onto his thigh, and Rett realizes Ophelia's has a hold on Pykes wrist, realizes she had stopped him from touching Rett, just moments before- that she must've dragged his hand away just to scold him before plopping it back down somewhere she approves- and that sends another wave of pure arousal shooting through his veins. Fuck, that's hot- he feels like his brain is melting out of his ears. "Be a dear, Rett," His gaze flicks back into focus at her words, and Ophelia is smirking, nods her head in Pyke's direction as she shifts to stand, wait, what?- "And keep him busy, will you? I'll be right back."
And then she's blowing a kiss and walking out the door- fuck, he should really lock that thing, anyone could've walked in- and the door is clicking shut behind her in finality.
There's a moment of silence, then, the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing. The faint hum the Rhapsody always has, buzzing in the background.
Rett turns back to Pyke, eyes still wide as he blinks, flickering between glowing yellow eyes, his mechanical eye whirring. He can feel the electricity in the air start to sour into an uncomfortable awkwardness, and shifts, unsure of what to do, what to say-
His knee rubs against a thinner thigh, he glances down unconsciously, and his focus ends up sticking to the straining tent bulging from the solari's pants. It has been blocked by Ophelia's body, before, but now, now he can see it clear as day, can see the wet patch growing against the zipper of his jeans- one of his more causal outfits, must have been a day-off for both of them- can see his cock throb through the fabric, most pleading to be released-
"Like what you see?" A rough voice drags him out of his mind, and the unwavering bravado, the immovable cockiness is etched back onto Pyke's features, his eyebrow raised with a grin.
He wants to wipe that look off of his face, wants to say something to make Pyke's blood boil as much as his own, but all that comes out is a quiet, honest croak. "Always have."
Pyke's expression softens, and it feels like it was the right thing to say, somehow- his words coming out in an airy, breathless way that's driving Rett crazy. "Yeah?"
Rett nods, decides fuck it and dives down to press open-mouthed kisses against that glorious chest he's been eyeing for what feels like forever, starting with his clavicle, trailing down his sternum. He hums, considering, and makes a quick pit stop to suck at his nipple, the one he didn't give any attention to earlier, to gently rake his teeth along the sensitive bud, just to feel him twitch. And twitch he does, Pyke's thigh spasming against his knee, his chest pushing up against his mouth, his hand raking back through Rett hair as he inhales sharply, grits out his name between his teeth. He needs to hear it again, Rett's name between his lips, again again and again, right now, he needs- he needs Pyke, needs Ophelia- gods, he just needs.
Rett continues his path downwards with a fervor, across his ribs- and he can feel his racing heart beating against his tongue, convinces himself that it's trying to claw its way out to meet him- to his heaving abdomen that twitches at his touch, until he's pressing just against the lip of his jeans, right at the start of his v-line. He can't help the pause, the steading breath he needs to take, and hopes it isn't too obvious as metal fingers start to pop open the straining button, as he slips down to the floor between Pyke's spreading knees.
He's never done this before, not with these types of parts. But he's- he's done the research, so to speak, has watched enough videos, and embarrassingly, even looked up way, way too many things, quickly destroying any trace of his search history soon after lest Ziggy get ahold of it, somehow. He's thought about this, over and over and over again- thought about being here, on his knees, between Pyke's fucking thighs, and now that it's actually happening, he's not going to let a little inexperience get in the way.
He'll just... Do the things that he has liked done on him, in the past. That should work, right? And if it doesn't, he'll improvise. He can figure this out. He's an engineer, for Gods' sakes, he can suck a fucking dick.
Rett lets his fingers drag against the bulge as he pulls the zipper down slow, feels Pykes trembling fingers dig into his skull, tugging once, twice. "Come on, Rett," He whines so beautifully, hips jumping, "Don't make me wait any longer."
"Haven't you heard that sayin'?" Gods, Rett's voice doesn't even sound like his own, low and raspy as he leans down to blow against the front of his boxers, soaked-through and damp, "Somethin' about good things..."
But Rett is also an impatient man, and can only wait a few more seconds before he's pulling down the band of Pykes boxers, lightly flinching as his cock springs out and almost smacks him across the face. He doesn't really know what's big or not, doesn't have much to compare it to, but damn does Pyke seem like he is, so hard it's nearly pressed flat against his stomach, tip weeping. It throbs again, and some pre starts to drip down the side, running alongside a bulging vein.
Rett goes on as much instinct as he can, and dives in to lick the dripping pre-cum off, holding the cock with his flesh hand and squeezing onto Pyke's hips with his left to hold him steady. And thank all the gods in Agathos that he did, as Pyke immediately tries to thrust into his mouth with a loud curse, the noise bouncing around them as his nails claw in deeper. "Fuck, Rett,"
Rett just hums, pressing Pyke's hips back down as he suckles against one of the bigger veins right alongside the bottom, letting it lead him to the tip until he's pressing his closed lips against it, just to feel Pyke squirm. "Ah! Oh Gods-" The words only make Rett burn up brighter, his gut feels like lava as he laps and sucks, flicking his tongue against the slit, and hoping he's doing something right.
He can't seem to rid the anxiety in his chest, even as Pyke shifts and shakes and groans against him, but he pushes it down as far as he can, inhaling sharply and finally letting his mouth open, letting the tip slide between his now-bruised lips, ensuring his teeth stay well out of the way as he starts to slip down further.
He lets himself look up, and immediately gets lost in the sight- Pyke is leaned almost all the way back, head tossed against the cushion and his eyes squeezed shut, back curved to press as much of himself as he can into Rett's touch. All of his skin is flushed in that orange-pink-purple sunset, he's heaving for air, lips moving in a litany of inaudible curses. He's gorgeous, ethereal, and Rett wants to see more, wants to see him fall apart at the seams.
He pushes down even further in his excitement, taking too much far too quickly, as the head hits the back of his throat and Rett is sent flying backwards, pulling off of him with a heavy gag, eyes watering and face burning, shit-
"Easy, big guy, easy-" Pyke wheezes, and then a hand is against his face, fingers rubbing at the corner of his jaw as his thumb brushes away the spit, the tears running down his cheeks, how embarrassing. "Just breathe. There you go, buddy, nice and easy,"
Rett gags again, coughs heavily into his fist, feeling his face scrunch up and his stomach tie back into knots, "'m sorry," He croaks, out, rough, rubs at his aching throat, "I just-" Another cough, "I thought-"
"-The hell are you sorry for?" It's incredulous, as Pyke fully holds his face and tilts him upwards, to look into his eyes and see the genuine confusion attached to his words. His nose crinkles before smoothing out, recognition sparking as he wheezes a gentle laugh. "You have no idea how hot you are, do you?" Rett feels his cheeks brighten, burning as hot as Pyke's palms pressed against them, and he just blinks, dazed, opens his mouth to retaliate- "Just go slow, alright? Take your time."
His jaw clicks back shut, eyebrows furrowing together. He still wants- even after?-
His face is pulled, oh so gently, back towards his cock, now steadily weeping, bobbing as soon as it's back in his sight, and Rett swallows around the dryness in his throat. Oh.
He lets himself be led back to the top, lets the tip slip back in against his tongue, presses it upwards to feel the ridges, the saltiness against his taste buds. "Yeah, just like that," Pyke murmurs softly above him, and it sets his blood on fire in a way he doesn't expect. Makes him shift against his heels, to rub his thighs together in some form of friction as he lets out a rumble from deep within his throat, leaning into hot hands and letting his eyes slip shut. "Gods, Rett, just like that." He slides just a bit more into his mouth, but doesn't get ahead of himself this time. Tries something else he saw somewhere, once, and hollows out his cheeks, creates as much suction as he can. Pyke's hands slip to the back of his head, the loudest moan yet erupting out of him, hips twitching heavily in his hold. "Ah! Fuck, fuck-"
Rett just echoes a moan back, releases the suction as his lungs start to ache (but fuck, the ache feels good), forces himself to pull back to gulp down gasps even as his mind spins blissfully. It's sooner than probably advised that he's sinking back down, loving the way Pyke's fingers tug at the locks of his hair, the way one hand drops to his flesh shoulder to dig into his skin. "Gods- Alara, please-" Pyke's whimpering, actually whimpering, and Rett lifts a half-lidded gaze upwards, keeps their eyes connected as he sucks again, pulls back, relaxes his throat and pushes even deeper, getting just a tiny bit further- their gaze is locked, heated, searing like a brand into his memory as he forces himself to note every tiny detail, the line between his brows, the tip of his tongue between his teeth, the crinkle of his nose- the taste of salt and sweat, the heft and weight in his mouth, the burn behind his eye and the beautiful ache in his jaw.
He gets lost for a while, drifts in the steady waves of pleasure that tingle down each bone in his body, as he slowly but surely takes more, and more, and more- until urgent pulling at his hair drags him back to the surface. "Gah, hah- Rett- Rett, I'm close," Pyke grunts, his thighs are starting to squeeze around Rett's shoulders as they shake and shutter around him, tossing his head back again as his gut starts to tense up, his breathing becoming erratic. There's another whine, a harsh shiver, and then- "I'm so fucking close, Rett, please."
Please. What a beautiful word leaving his lips.
He can almost taste it on his tongue, the pure desperation mixing beautifully with the salty tang coating his teeth, and Rett's body throbs in anticipation. He wants to see it, wants to see him fall apart so badly it aches-
But, he gathers as much of his shattered will as he can muster, before quickly pulling off of him with a pop, keeping his face far away as Pyke jerks abortedly, thrashing in his arms with heaving whines as he tries to get any sort of friction to push himself over, to give himself a release that Rett can't, won't give. "Ah!- Hn- Wh- no, Rett, why? Why, please, please-" He whimpers, pitiful, and it breaks Rett's heart, but he forces himself to wait until Pyke has flopped back onto the cushions, panting and unsatisfied, before leaping forward to press soft, soft kisses onto the insides of trembling thighs.
"'m sorry, 'm so sorry," He whispers over and over into the skin, his voice hoarse and shattered, letting him come down as much as he can off of the cusp of the edge, "I ju' don' think- Op'elia wouldn't like it if I- well, y-y' know-"
"I don't give a rats ass what she'd think right now," It comes out harsh, shaky, and Rett can't help the wince, the way his heart drops and his lungs squeeze as he goes to respond, to plead- he doesn't think he can stomach it if Pyke is actually upset-
"He's right." The words make them both jolt, as Ophelia is standing just beside the shut- and hopefully now locked- door, leaning against the wall and watching with hazed eyes. They're narrowed, now, almost glaring at Pyke as she bounces off and steps towards them- she isn't wearing her combat boots, but Rett can almost hear the click of the heels, anyways. "I wouldn't have liked it if you came too early. Where's the fun in that?" Rett stares with wide, unblinking eyes as she leans down, then, and yanks harshly at Pykes downturned ear, hissing as he winces, "Especially for brats that don't deserve it."
"'phela, please-" He begs, admonished, but she just lets go and pulls away with a tsk. Looks down to Rett, and her features soften into a smile.
Longer, softer fingers run through his bangs, brushing them away from the sweat on his forehead. "You did good, Rett, thank you." Her words feel molten, and it sends a rush down his body, flooding him with her praise and burning him from the inside out. He feels feverish as he leans into her touch, feels the coolness of her palm against his boiling skin. "And good boys deserve a reward, don't you think?"
He follows her movements, lets her shift him to the side, to face towards her instead of towards Pyke, so she can kneel in front of him and half-straddle his thighs. The angle is a bit awkward, but she doesn't let it phase her, rubbing her hands against the sides of his face, pushing down his beard and brushing her thumbs across the apples of his cheeks. "Maybe we start with taking this off, hm?" One hand drops down to tug at his shirt, to start undoing the first button as she coos, "You must be so warm, doing all of the work. You poor thing."
"O-Ophelia..." He starts, a gruff stutter, unsure of what he wants to say, what he's asking for- but she quickly, gently shushes him, thumb brushing away the remaining spit from around his mouth.
"It's alright, sweetheart. Let me take care of you." He can't help his reactions to her words, the shiver that runs through him, the way he can feel his face flush darker. Her eyelids droop as her smile grows into a faint, feral grin, "You like it when I call you that? Sweetheart?"
Rett doesn't respond- he doesn't have to, just raises his metallic hand to grab at her wrist, to keep it in place as he turns his head to place kisses all over her palm.
"You're so sweet," She sighs softly as the last button on his shirt comes undone, the fabric shifting open. "You should teach a certain someone some manners."
At her words, Rett can't help but to glance towards Pyke, to find him just as stun-locked as he is, mouth slightly ajar as his eyes flicker between them both, his hands twisting into the fabric of his jeans as if it's the only thing holding him back, the only thing holding himself into place. "Ah, ah, ah!" The hand on his face tugs him back, and he falls back easily into her orange haze. "Eyes on me. Don't give him any attention he doesn't deserve."
He hears fabric shift to his left, a sharp, smothered inhale, and in the corner of his eye, he can see Pyke twitching, his knees tensing and relaxing. He likes it, it dawns on him with a pulse, likes the beratement, the insults, the belittling, the torment of it all- and any tension tightening Rett's shoulders finally loosens. That makes it all oh so much sweeter.
Ophelia starts to pull off his shirt, and Rett jumps to help- it can be tricky to get around his prosthetics, the wires and solder, the metal plating dug into his skin- until it's slipping into a pool right beside Pykes jacket, a growing pile on the floor. He swallows heavily as her hands slip down to his chest, finger pads caressing and brushing down his arms.
He knows he can be... hard to look at, with the jagged scars slashed across his body, the gashes all around his left stump leading to thicker, deeper lines, trailing down his chest, along his surviving arm, even down his legs. There are smaller spots littered all over his body, of tinier scars from rocks, scattered debris, shards of shrapnel. It's evidence, brutal reminders of how the explosion had taken its course- stolen half of his body and more than enough of his mind, his soul, his essence, his harmony. It- the explosion, the war, that whole part of his life- had chewed him up and spit him back out, a shell of the man he once was.
Rett had fought to gain it back, the sections of himself he had lost, and he doesn't think he's done too bad, if he says so himself, but-
He just hopes it isn't too much of a turn-off. A buzzkill.
There's a reason he hasn't done this in a very, very long time.
Ophelia doesn't hesitate for a moment, though- hands wandering with some semblance of... awe. "You're beautiful," She breathes, eyes gleaming, and Rett releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding, leans heavily into her touch and blinks away the burning at the back of his eye. Her fingers brush against the heavy scarring, and he can't help the sharp gasp, his nerve endings shooting off sparks. "Sensitive?"
"Yeah," His voice is shaking, rough, coarse, "Yeah, a li'le" She drags a thumb against it once more, and he squeezes the hand still hanging onto her wrist, trembling in her arms, overwhelmed and dying. "Ophelia, please."
"Please what, sweetheart?"
Her hands ease away from the scars, but her touch scalds him anyways, fans the flames within him, sends them roaring back to life. He grabs at her waist- her tiny, tiny waist, his fingers can almost touch around her, so similar to Pyke's thinner disposition- and tug her close once more, feels her breasts brush against his uncovered chest, feels her core rub against his cock even though the too many layers between them. It's beautiful, it's everything. "Great Agathos," Now he's the one almost whimpering, begging to worship this new God forming in front of his very own eyes, "Fuck me. Please, Ophelia- please fuck me."
Even saying it brings the burning back to his eye, and he squeezes them both shut, lowers his head in desperation, in absolution, in prayer. A kiss is pressed to his forehead, as hands squeeze his shoulders. "Of course, love. All you had to do was ask."
He shutters an exhale, almost a sob, as he blinks back up to her, to watch as she leans back, just a touch, to grab at the bottom of her sweatshirt and pull it over her head, tossing it further into the room. Rett's eyes trail down her neck, from the ends of her tendrils to her sharper, defined collarbone, the darker stripes running along her shoulders leading him directly to her heaving bosom, to the brighter pink bra holding them high. Not quite a neon, but not quite muted- a color he wouldn't expect but that he finds stunning against her turquoise skin. His hands brush against the newly uncovered stripes running along her sides, the ends pointing downwards towards her hip bones, inwards towards her center-
He almost feels something snap within him at the sight, and before he knows it, he's pressing heavy, hot kisses against her clavicle, leading up the lines of her neck, hands roaming to feel every inch of new skin, to feel the smoothness of her scales, the firmness of her hidden muscles, the padding of her boobs. It isn't long before they're caressing down her back, mirroring what he saw Pyke do just minutes ago, and grasping at the clip of her bra as Rett reclaims her mouth. He, thankfully easily, unclasps the latch, their tongues twining together like leaves in a tornado, pulling the straps down her arms and slipping the bra off without having to pause, to break apart from their wonderful tango- thankful that at least this is familiar territory, that his muscle memory from years and years ago has somehow retained. He feels her inhale against his cheek as he finally, fully grasps handfuls of her breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers before squishing once, gentle, but firm. Her hips roll forward, grind down right against his cock, and he puffs out his nose, groans into her mouth, thrusts upwards to meet her jarred movements.
Ophelia pulls back, her hands shooting down to undo the knot tied into the strings of his sweatpants with dextrous fingers, not even hesitating as it comes undone to start pulling them down further around his waist alongside his boxers. It gets caught on his heels still dug into his ass, and Rett shifts his hold, grabs her glorious ass to heave her up, to tilt them both backwards- fuck, his feet are numb, tingling with that dead sensation, he hadn't even noticed- until his back is pressed against the bottom of the couch, until they're both leaning heavily against it and his legs are sprawled out in front of him, until he can lift his hips and she can drag the fabric down, down and away. He heaves a sigh of relief as his cock is finally freed, but he doesn't pay it much mind, just bounces up to grind into her, grunting between gritted teeth. It feels so much better like this, the friction, the grinding against his uncovered skin- and his mind is swirling, he needs her pants off, now.
Thankfully, Ophelia seems one step ahead of him, lifting up onto her knees as she reaches behind her, playfully swats one of his hands away to grab at the lumps in her back pocket that he'd hardly noticed through the lust, pulls out a couple packs of condoms and a small squeeze bottle of lube. "Figured we might need these," She says, coyly, smirks- and he throbs at the realization, of where she had gone to, earlier. Fuck, fuck- doesn't get the chance for his head to stop spinning before she's pulling down her pants with no preamble, tugging as they get stuck around her ankles, trapped on her socks- she leans against him to balance, chuckling as they finally pop off, and he lets out a small, breathless laugh, too.
It cuts off into a loud groan as lithe fingers grab at his dick, bobbing up and down once, twice- he pushes his face into her hair, inhaling the smell of her shampoo, the scent of fading perfume and hairspray, sweat and sex. His shoulder brushes against a leg, Pyke's leg, his leg hairs bristling against the scars on Rett's back, and stars spin behind his eyes. He drops his hand down to grab Pyke's ankle and squeeze as Ophelia twists her hand around the tip, the dry drag just on the right side of painful, making him shout. He could cum like this, he realizes with an ache, and the sensation doubles as a burning hot hand reaches down and rubs into his shoulder, smoothes up to pinch at his neck.
"Did I say you could touch, Pyke?" Her accent sharpens her words, and Rett can't help the whimper as the hand pulls away, as the ankle shifts beneath his touch but doesn't quite escape it. "Better." There's a faint lower grumble from beside him that quickly shifts to a louder whinge, and Rett shifts his gaze to see Ophelia rubbing at Pykes thigh, just teasing at his balls on the upstrokes. "You'll get your turn soon, darling. Patience."
"Patience ain't his strong suit," Rett's panting into her ear, hoarse but full of mirth, and his heart sings at the laugh it drags out, the way her eyes sparkle even as they roll upwards towards the ceiling.
"Tell me about it," She huffs, but then her eyebrow is quirking as she lifts her hand, opens the lube bottle with a light click. "But this isn't about him right now, is it?"
Rett swallows heavily at the sight. "No, Ma'am."
Ophelia tilts her head, leans forward until their noses are brushing, free arm curling around his neck. "Mm... I could get used to that." And then she's kissing him again, and he's lost in her whirlwind, in a crashing wave of passion.
There's crinkling, the ripping of a wrapper, and then a hand is running down his length, rolling on the condom with a practiced ease that sends shivers down his spine, sends him thrusting upwards- and he almost loses his mind as the tip of his cock slips between her folds, rubs against her wetness for the first time, brushes against her clit and makes her choke on an exhale. A few moments later, the hand returns, cool and slick, and slavers the lube around with a few quick tugs, causing him to hiss into her mouth, to press in as tight as he possibly can without ending up crawling inside of her. The cold touch against his hottest parts is setting off tripwires in his brain, his thoughts are practically static- electromagnetic waves of energy showcasing nothing and absolutely everything.
He's thankful for his one last brain cell as she shifts against him, leaning forward and lining herself up- he presses a hand to her hip, holds her steady, blinks up through the haze- "W-Wait, wait- y'aren't- I should-"
Her lips curve into a softer doey smile. "I got myself ready, sweetheart. Don't you worry about a thing."
And then she's pushing down onto him, and Rett is gone.
He feels his eyes rolling back into his head, his legs bending and his toes curling as he loses himself to her overwhelming heat. She takes half of him easily, but it's still a stretch, her walls still tight and clenching around him like a vice. His body begs to twitch, to thrust, to take, but he forces himself to be still- to let her take her time to adjust, roll her hips to sink down further, lean back up and push down again. He can't hear over the loud buzzing in his ears, but he's positive he's cursing up a storm, can feel his lips moving and the vibrations coming out of his throat. His grip is tight, tight against her hip, and he can only spend a passing thought to hope he isn't hurting her before its lost to another wave as she circles again, panting before sinking forcefully down and taking him fully, settling into his lap.
She's so warm, warmer than he'd expect- something about her species, it half flitters through his mind, but disappears just as quick as he feels her muscles throb, as her forehead settles onto his shoulder and her wonderful wonderful hands run all across his chest, his belly, his back. Rett tries to give her time, to get used to the fullness, to his width- but it's been a long, long time, and he can't help his spasms, can't help but to groan and jerk as she squeezes instinctively around him. Fuck, she's tight, but so fucking wet, he can feel her dripping around him, slipping down his length and onto his balls-
She gasps lightly as they move- as he thrusts up into her and her body fully bounces in his arms- pressing her mouth against his neck and sucking marks, leaning up to nibble at the shell of his ear. It's a signal, the bright neon sign he couldn't help but to look for, and he can't hold himself back anymore- grips even tighter and lifts her almost full off of him, watches keenly as he nearly slips out before slamming her down atop of him once more.
He sets a harsh pace, hard and fast and oh so fucking good as she rolls in his lap, squirming and meeting his thrusts head on with her own. Ophelia works with him, bounding along to his brutal rhythm, the slaps of their skin echoing within the smaller room. She's near silent, not making even half of the noises that Rett is- but her bottom lip is between her teeth, nearly bleeding, and her inhales are sharp, her breath punched out of her on every down stroke, her eyes are nearly squeezed shut with the ecstasy. He leans forward to lick at her collarbone, to messily suck a nipple into his mouth, playing with it with his tongue, a half attempt at muffling his noises. It's too fast, too soon that he feels the building pressure in his gut twist sharply, near unexpectedly, tumbling towards the edge, a crescendo, much quicker than he'd like.
Rett runs his flesh hand down, presses between her folds, can feel where they're connected- fuck, it's sopping, a messy, filthy mix of fluids, just the thought of it almost does him in- and scoops up enough to make his calloused fingers slick, drags them up to her bulging clit and being to circle harshly, trying, needing to bring her there right along with him. Her nails dig into his back as she chokes, "Hah-!", she's starting to heavily twitch around him, her walls tensing and fluttering, her thighs trying to close shut around his waist- just a little more, just a bit more-
He can almost feel her cervix on the next thrust, deep deep inside, smacks her down against him as hard as he can without hurting her- and that does it, she's curling forward into him and clenching, oozing gooey slick and lube and white frothy cum around his cock- her nails drag deep lines down his back, her hips are flailing, senseless and erratic, her entire body spasming against his own, head thrown back and face scrunched up, mouth hung open in a silent, choking scream-
And then Rett is blinded, sees nothing else as he gets lost in the explosion behind his own eyes, as he gurgles and drives in deeper, deeper, tries to bury himself into her soul, as he gasps and heaves for air, for forgiveness, for salvation. A flashbang has gone off, a grenade, ripping him apart and pulling him back together again, filling his mind with an empty, blissful white noise. He doesn't know how long he's like this, drowning in the waves of ecstasy that crash over him again and again and again, until he can slowly feel his limbs tingling as he falls back into his body, as he collapses back against the firm couch structuring behind him.
He's heaving, trembling with uncontrollable shocks- but there's a hand running through the stands of his hair, from his bangs all the way to the crown of his head, scratching lightly as his scalp. Two much, much shakier ones are running up and down his sides, careful, soothing, stopping only to gently squeeze at the extra mass before continuing their path. Rett has to fight with himself to get his limbs to move, forces himself to regain control enough to peel open his eyes, to let go of Ophelia's waist and drag the few clean fingers up and down her back, to press her tightly to his chest. Aftershocks are wracking her body, muscles twitching as she pants onto his neck, tries to regain the breath lost to the whirlwind. Her arms end up circling his body, wrapping around him and squeezing, and he turns his head to press a soft, soft kiss to her forehead, finally beginning to fully, truly settle.
A pink hand slides slowly into his view, still hazy and off centered as his mechanical eye struggles to refocus, raking through the tendrils at the back of Ophelia's head, soothing down the top of her spine. "You two alright?" Pyke's voice is broken, as torn apart as Rett feels, and he knows he can't speak, wouldn't be able to even if he tried, so he loosens his grip around Pykes ankle (that he's still holding onto, great Agathos, he hopes he didn't break it-), rubs his metal hand up and down his calf and hopes that's enough.
"I'm alright," Ophelia groans, starting to pull away, no, no- "More than alright. Gods... That was great, big guy," It's teasing, the smile, the wink, the way she slips off of him, rolls the used condom off soon after- but the reality of the situation is starting to shadow over him, stomach dropping as she turns away, gives Pyke a toothy smirk, caresses his knee, eyes sparkling, "Don't think I've forgotten about you, darling," Her voice is a purr, she leans in closer to Pyke, leans further away from him, and he can hear Pyke swallow through the ringing, somehow, the roaring in his ears.
"'Phelia, are- are you sure?" Rett is unconsciously drawn to the flickering source of light, brightening under new attention, Pykes hair burning and casting a glow onto the walls. He looks unsure, even as he's practically begging for it, stomach drenched in his own fluids and body glowing brighter than he's ever seen. "You don't have to-"
"Oh, I'm sure." She stumbles, trying to stand on shaking legs, and Rett instinctively helps her, holding her steady until she's safely secured into Pyke's lap and away, away, away from him. "I want to." Ophelia circles her hips, Pyke lets out a louder moan, and wisely says nothing more.
It feels like watching a train wreck, two ships crashing in orbit- she leans down as he leans up, meeting each other in the middle. A blue hand fumbles back against the cushion, to grab at a condom, to tug it out and roll it on without a moment's hesitation. They don't even bother with lube, just using the leftover fluids from before as Ophelia lifts up and slides into him with ease, as if it's as easy as breathing, as if it's coming home. They're two stars within a system, shining brilliantly against the pitch darkness, the void, the emptiness of space. A sun and its planet, circling each other but always, always together in orbit, as if they truly, deeply belong. Two broken pieces of a puzzle well-used, torn apart and ruined by the grasp of time... Still slotting together seamlessly. Perfect, he realizes, they're perfect. Together and apart, separated by endless galaxies or lounging in the same room, they're perfect.
And Rett... Is space itself, empty and void- the aether waves that expand throughout it. A meteorite, crashing through their atmosphere and exploding on impact. The paint, cracked, thinning and worn, scratching off of each puzzle piece and hanging on by a thread.
Always able to exist within their world... But never able to be a part of it.
Never able to truly, truly belong.
He keeps watching, a sweet, sweet torture, as they set an easily, slower rhythm, one of a practiced ease from doing this gods knows how many times. Pyke is rolling into up into her, helping her bounce as her thighs still shake, their mouths muffling the near-wails escaping from his bitten, ripped apart lips. And Ophelia is a beautiful mess, her entire body is trembling, coating in a thin layer of sweat as she tries to keep up with the movements- but she's so clearly into it, face flushed a darker teal, moans starting to escape as Pyke punches in again and again and again. Their hands are roaming over each other, grasping at lean muscles and firm flesh, and Pyke breaks apart to lean down into her shoulder, sucking and biting bright marks into her darker skin. Their pace starts picking up, Ophelia riding his heavier bucks with the ease of a cowgirl, louder gasps and hiccups spilling out. They gravitate towards each other, not even needing to pull away to find each other's hands and intertwine their fingers, the couch starting to shake and groan, the sound of slapping skin, filthy squelches filling the room once more.
Rett feels his body react, his cock twitching as it tries to harden again at the beautiful sight, his brain spinning in the bright light of the cosmos, but all he feels is cold, cold, cold.
He knew this would happen- he thinks even as he leans closer, as he spots Pyke's cock, absolutely covered in slick, completely escape from her cavern before being quickly swallowed once more, spots Ophelia's aching clit throb and flutter, remembers the way her walls had fluttered around him, knows exactly how Pyke is feeling- he knew that, at the end of the day, this was what this was about. Pyke and Ophelia, getting pleasure. Pyke and Ophelia, absorbed in their own universe and swallowing each other whole. Pyke and Ophelia, in love and loving each other and never ever him. Rett was just... An add-on, a plus one, a fun little thing to try and spice things up. Nothing else. Nothing permanent.
He knew, coming into this, that this was a one time thing. He knew, when he took Pyke's hand earlier, that this was never going to be anything more. He knew, he knew.
He knew, he knew, he knew.
His vision starts to blur- as Pyke fully bites into her shoulder, as she yelps, nearly shouts, "Gah, Pyke!-", as blue and pink blur into a harmonious purple, as two defined shapes melt into each other and become one, as Rett drops his head to their lean against their entangled thighs and falls falls falls along with them, tingles wracking his body and his hips convulsing into nothing- but isn't that natural, when watching a supernova? When the world is swept from beneath your feet, and explodes into a cacophony of colors so bright it burns your retinas, your skin, your bones, as they all melt away in the inferno of heat, of longing, of searing, numbing pain- until it slips into the quiet, eerie calm of the abyss? Until there's absolutely, undoubtedly nothing, nothing left? Until you're irreparable, only specks of bone and sinew, scattered across the galaxy like stardust. Broken. Defective. Useless. A mistake.
He doesn't remember coming back this time, is still feeling distinctly detached and far, far away, but there's hands on him- on top of him?- caressing the tip of his shoulders, swaying down to brush at his deltoids before sliding back up, pausing and squeezing at the traps- the back of his neck? "Rett?" It's Pyke, he'd recognize him anywhere, safe, safe- he sounds- breathless- worried? "What's wrong?"
Wrong? What's wrong? Wrong- Rett tries to scrunch his face, finds it already pulled taught. His nose is wet, liquid running through the wrinkles- there's darker, growing spots in the fabric underneath his face... He's crying? When did he start crying?
His shoulders are trembling, the next realization. He attempts to breath normally, inhale, exhale- but it jitters, jolts. Ends up choking into a full-blown, audible sob.
The embarrassment that washes over him, a tsunami, drags him back down into the depths of his body, brings him back to full, full awareness as he stares down at the cushions in absolute horror, as his insides curl and rot away into nothing but despair- as the pain, the exhaustion, the fear, the longing, sorrow, hope, loathing, all crashes into him at once.
How fucking pathetic. He got exactly what he wanted- had sex with the two people he loves the most, had wanted for so, so fucking long- and he's crying? Ruining whatever tiny, tiny fucking chance he already had that they'd want this again, taking it and shattering it into tiny, irreparable pieces- and all because- what, because they fucked each other? Used him, like he knew they would, then threw him away, like he knew they would? He knew. He knew! He got exactly what he wanted and exactly what he deserved. How could he be this fucking stupid? He should never have done this, shouldn't have even hoped- fuck, fuck, what the hell is wrong with him?!?
"Hey, hey," The hand shakes his shoulder, trying to get his attention, and there's a faint, admonishing, "Pyke," before there's more hands on him, longer nails dragging over his skin like they would on a chalkboard.
"Rett? Sweetheart, it's alright-"
It's the nickname, somehow, for some reason, that sets him off. That sends him stumbling back, throwing the hands off of him and rubbing his face clean. He wobbles on his knees, leans down to snatch at his clothes, making sure his expression is perfectly blank even as he feels the tears slip into his beard- the roaring pit of anger is always so, so much better than the bitter cold anguish. "I hope y'all had yer fun," He spits, venomous and bitter, as he pulls up his pants and stumbles to a stand, swaying dangerously and grabbing onto a nearby table for stability. "But I'm done being used as your toy fer t'night."
He tries to slip on his shirt, but his arms won't cooperate- dysfunctional, they won't stop fucking shaking. His left arm rips through the fabric, and he has to grit his teeth to keep himself from screaming-
A hand clasps around his arm, and he's spinning around, smacking it off hard before he can even think. Pyke is standing behind him suddenly, Rett hadn't even heard him get up, but he looks so- so afraid that Rett can't help but to freeze- instinct clawing against lashing, screaming hurt. "Rett, wait- just hold on a second," His hands are held out, placating, as if he's a wounded animal, as if he's a threat. "What's going on? Why are you upset?"
"Why am I-" And Rett cuts himself off with a laugh, loud, echoing, empty, before it quickly hiccups into another sob. He raises a hand to rub at his forehead, to rid himself of these stupid, useless fucking tears, but Pyke cuts him off, grabs at his forearm. "Let go of me, Pyke."
"Talk to me,"
"Fuckin'- let go of me. Right. Now."
"Not until you tell me what's going on. Come on, Rett. What happened?"
Rett's teeth ache from clenching so tight, his hand is balled in a fist, and he's about to rip his arm away, to turn tail and storm off- flee from the room, and into the safety of his own where he can grieve and wail in peace when-
"He thinks we didn't mean it." Ophelia cuts in, suddenly- Rett had almost forgotten she was there, from how quiet she's been since he got up. She's curled into the spot Pyke once was, legs pulled up to her chest as she stares into Rett as if seeing through him, reading into his soul- and if the way he feels like his heart is on his fucking sleeve is true, than maybe she is. Her eyebrows are pulled together, and she looks... Sad. Guilty. "That we just wanted the sex."
Rett scoffs, disbelieving, aching. "Is that not what this is?" He waves towards the couch, towards them as if to emphasize. "You two wantin' to... To spice things up, and draggin' me along into it? Knowin' how I... Knowin' I wouldn't say no-"
"Did you want to say no?!?" Pyke interrupts, looking sick, all of a sudden, pale and queasy and horrified. "Rett, did we- gods, did we force you-"
"No!" Rett sputters out, stumbling over his words, "Gods, no, not- no. No, I-I wanted... I wanted all o'this."
Pyke shutters out a wheezy exhale, rubbing a hand down his face, the fingers on his other hand scratching at his chest right where his cigarettes would be. He doesn't have his gauntlet on, Rett notes, realizes, mind swirling with the implications- "Then why are you-" He waves a hand, dropping it again with a heavy sigh. His expression falls, suddenly, unexpected and peculiar against his usually neutral features. "...you really think we only wanted you for this?"
Rett just stares at him, incredulous, furious. "What the hell else am I supposed to think?!" Pyke flinches, genuinely flinches, but it just makes his blood pressure rise further. "You two start- fuckin' going at it on my couch, graciously decide to invite me to join, seeing as I'm right fuckin' there, and then, when you're done with me, you just toss me to the side!" He laughs again, that same laugh from before, cracked and broken and hollow. "No need for him no more! And I get it, alright? I understand I ain't... that this ain't anythin' more than a quick fuck to y'all- and that's fine, it is, but I can't..." The anger seeps out of him just as fast as it arrived, leaving him nothing but bone-deep exhaustion and a growing well of sorrow. "...I can't pretend it don't affect me. That I don't... Feel this way towards you two. I tried, I swear I've tried, but I just..." He trails off into a shrug, can't help the sniffle as traitorous liquid continues to slip down his cheeks anyways. Can't look either of them in the eye, focusing instead on the blurry, blurry ground beneath his socks.
This is it. The moment they realize just how messy all of this truly is, with these one-sided feelings involved, and decide that it- that he- isn't worth their time, their effort, their energy. The moment they finally pack up their shit, and leave him in the dust. He's been waiting for it, for this day to arrive. He expected it a while ago, when Ophelia first joined- it's no real surprise that it's his fault, that he's the one that pushed them away in the end. It's always, always his fault-
But then, he's surrounded, being suffocated into a warm pink chest, a nose digging into his hair, arms squeezing his waist tight. "Gods, Rett," Pyke sounds choked up, hoarse- something's drip, dripping onto his scalp, and Rett's heart aches. "It's not like that. It's not like that at all- fuck, we really fucked this up. I'm so sorry." Pyke is crying. Unmovable, unbreakable Pyke- sobbing in his arms. What the fuck has Rett done? "We were just- we were just trying to get your attention. We've been trying for weeks-"
"Months, in Pyke's case." Ophelia's voice is a near whisper, soft and low, but it cuts through anyways, reaches their ears through the hum. "He's been wanting you for years, Rett. I just... Tried to push things along."
"She helped me get my head out of my ass," Pyke murmurs, hoarse, leaning the side of his head against the top of Rett's- they're swaying now, slowly, side to side, as Rett tries to wrap his head around- around all of this, what all of it means. "Helped me to realize just how much you mean to me."
"And when I realized I was also... Interested," Ophelia continues, and Rett's heart spikes, feels like he's going into cardiac arrest as his mind spins and swirls- Pyke feels- and she does, too?- "We talked, and decided to try and see if you were feeling the same way. We didn't want to bombard you, though, so we tried to start small... tried to tell you through little things, little moments, tried to drop hints-"
Hints? What hints does she- it smacks him across the face once more, the cuddling, the way they always stuck close to him, these past few weeks, the morning coffees and the television and-
"And when those didn't work, we jumped to this," Pyke bemoans, notably tensing beneath Rett's touch, and Rett's still shaking hands instinctively soothe down his back. "We never should've-"
"It was my idea, Pyke," Ophelia's voice is firm, unwavering. "You can't blame yourself for this."
"But I knew- I could've-"
"-That's what all'a that was about?" Rett interrupts, sudden, voice low and breathless, near-silent, but the two hush around him anyways. "The... Coffees, and the- and the touches?"
The fucking touches. They'd brush against him, sometimes- a hand against his back as they slipped around behind him, a clasp on the shoulder as Pyke leaned in to lean more about their bounty- hells, Ophelia had kissed him on the cheek, once, before prancing off to get ready for something he doesn't even remember, anymore, but- but Rett hadn't- he thought he was going insane, thinking too much into nothing, he had just assumed-
"We're pretty private people, Rett," She keeps the hushed, softer tone, but raises an eyebrow from her spot on the couch, just a touch of a tease. "We don't tend to... Cuddle, especially in public spaces. Nevermind anything else. I figured you'd have put that together by now."
"I brought you flowers," Pyke groans, giving Rett's shoulders a bit of a shake- and Rett can't help the light, airy chuckle, still choked and confused and disoriented, but- but the darkness, the anguish is slowly softening, fading as the light of two brilliant suns rise to burn it all away, and leaves space for something akin to... hope to reignite in his chest. "When have I ever gotten anyone flowers?"
He did get him flowers, almost a month ago now- and they were these bright, beautiful peony-esque flowers, off of some planet they had stopped into to refuel, with many lips of petals that shifted between a light, gentle violet to a near neon magenta, held together on a bright orange stem. They had an ombré effect that had changed and swirled from one color to the next, until the flowers had long wilted, many, many weeks later. Rett has tried to keep them for as long as he could, had dug into his memories of time spent with Dandy to feed and take care of them- had stared at them late, late at night, and thought to himself just how much the colors reminded him of Pyke, of himself, of them both. He's only now realizing that maybe that was the intention.
Ophelia laughs at Pykes indignation, a beautiful twinkle that makes that ball glow ever brighter within Rett's chest as the realization of it all settles into him, as the aching dread steadily shifts into a wondrous anticipation. "He hasn't even gotten me flowers, you know that? You must be pretty special, Rett."
Rett flushes darker, as he feels Pyke's chin shift against his head- and he can so easily imagine the faux-glare Ophelia is receiving right now, the middle finger he's sure Pyke is throwing her way, even as Rett can feel his hands still roaming across the scarred planes of his back.
"I figured y'all were just... I dunno- just being nice. Guess it is a bit foolish o' me, in hindsight," Rett chuffs, rubbing his beard against the padding of Pykes chest- hears the faint ba-dum, ba-dum of his heart for a few seconds longer before he pulls away just enough to look up into his eyes, to flicker over to hers, one last bundle of nerves flaring up protectively. "So you two... You both..."
"Have immeasurable, overwhelming feelings for you? Yeah, Rett, yeah, we do." When Rett blinks up at him, shocked by his brutal, uncouth honesty, Pyke just stares back with a furrow, uncharacteristically serious, "I don't want this to be- misconstrued anymore than it already was. Rett, I..." He can see the hues change in his face, as it shifts from pink, purple, red, orange, back to darker pink. "I..."
"He loves you, Rett." Ophelia finishes for him, gaze soft as her head lay across her arms, leaning against the armrest of the couch. "A lot. Just the same as I do. He just... has a really, really hard time saying it."
Pykes face scrunches up, and he stares off above Rett's head, face aglow and ears twitching. "I... It's-"
"-Complicated. I understand." Rett cuts him off gently, runs his hand down Pykes forearms, and the Solari gives him an overwhelmingly thankful look, squeezing in return. "I-" -Don't understand. Why would y'all love someone as broken, defective, useless as me?- "-Really care about the both o'you, too."
There's a heavy sigh, long and dwindling, from their side, but there's a smile etched across Ophelia's face, pushing up at her cheeks with indented smile lines. "I should've known you wouldn't be able to say it either. Two sides of the same, fucked up coin."
She shakes her head with a tut as Pyke pulls away, only to wrap an arm tight around Rett's neck, to tuck him into his side as they angle themselves towards Ophelia, her gravitational pull luring them back in. "You signed up for this," Pyke snarks with a finger pointed, and she just sighs again, defeated yet dreamy.
"That I did, that I did." And then, after a moment, she sniffs, lifts her nose into the air, pompous, "Now get your asses back over here. It's freezing, and my two heat sources are being terrible at their jobs."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, your Highness, we'll be there right away," Pyke mocks, but it's playful, topped with a crooked-toothed grin as he flourishes it with a bow, and Rett can't help it- he laughs. Chortles at their theatrics, as he's dragged back to the couch, as a hand grasps his own and gently intertwines their fingers.
Rett can't say he understands, not fully, why they'd ever choose him out of the millions of brighter stars in the galaxy. He isn't sure he ever will. But, it doesn't matter in this moment- as he settles against Ophelia's left side, presses right up to her now-chilled skin and tucks his face into her neck with an soft exhale, his hand held in Pyke's laid gently across her ribs- feeling lighter than he's felt in... Fuck, in years. Glowing, almost overwhelmed with the zaps of joy that spark within him, as Pyke presses a kiss to his forehead, leans down to do the same for Ophelia, as he pulls them both in close. As she wraps an arm around them both, and holds them tight. Holds them together.
Safe. Happy. Warm. Whole. Loved.
In this moment, as they slowly fly to wherever they're going next, tucked into the arms of his- his partners... Rett finally feels like he genuinely, truly belongs.