Work Text:
Viridian prepared himself for what this night would bring. He entered the portal to the cathedral, lighting a smoke along the way, heading towards Roathe’s area. As always the Orokin was in his chair, reading that grimoire, acting like nothing had happened when they’d said a lot on the KIM just moments earlier. Green eyes pierced through the din, metallic fingers flicking ash of his cig as he moved forward meeting those silvery eyes.
“Usurper, to what do I owe the pleasure.”
“Don’t be coy, it doesn’t suit you, Roathe.” Viridian smirks. “Brought you something.”
“Oh?” He gives him his undivided attention, watching that metal hand reach into his duster.
“I know how much you like sweets.” Metallic fingers hold out an assortment of candy bars and snacks. “Found these for you.”
Roathe’s eyes light up, taking the treats, and opening one of them. Little pieces of colorful candy fall into his hand, and he pops them in his mouth.
“Bribing me?”
“No. Treating you.” He ashes his smoke. “I bring you things because I want to - not to get anything out of it.”
“What if I want to give you something in return?”
“Then that’s entirely up to you, baby.”
His eyes heat, the silver glowing softly in the candlelight.
“Those words… did you mean them?” Referring to their earlier KIM convrsations.
“Of course I did.” Viridian traces his cheek, thumb wiping under his eye. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
“It’s the first time I find that I don’t have to …perform. I’m not certain I know what to do with myself.” Roathe gently places the rest of the candy on the table beside him. “No one has ever… treated me thus - has wanted me other than for my body or my mind. Never my heart.”
“Then they were all fools.” That metallic hand slides into his hair and he leans into the touch, starved for kindness - for love. “You are not what they made you, Roathe.”
The devil looks at him, meets those neon eyes, and he pulls him into a kiss. It’s the first time in so very long that what he craves doesn’t feel like a transaction. That he could get lost in this - in Viridian - in someone who actually cares. This is a feeling he’d never thought he could have. He craves connection and is finally free to choose - and he chooses this.
Viridian pulls back and Roathe chases his lips, the feeling, needing him to understand.
“Roathe, we don’t have to.”
“I want to.” He stands, towering over him and taking his hand. “I rarely say this… but, please.”
A nod, and Viridian is following him down the hall, into a decent sized room. The clack of the door sucks the air out of the room - and Roathe is huddled against his back, nuzzling, nipping - Viridian turns, looking up into silvery glowing eyes and they almost resemble stars against the black backdrop of his sclera.
“I’ve got you.” He says softly, gently guiding Roathe to the bed - dropping his duster to a nearby chair.
Said proto has never seen the full extent of Viridian’s body and he’s surprised by how much of him is steel from the void and how much is flesh. The edges of the skin where the metal appears to burrow look raw, and his entire left pectoral is swirling and twisted with divots that leak that eerie green void. It leads up to his shoulder where thick barbs jut out and then down to the middle of his upper arm breaking off into vines only to coalesce at the center point of his forearm in a solid piece down to his left hand. The only splash of color is sky blue nails in an otherwise green palate. There’s a thick choker-like pattern around his neck, and little veins highlighted by twinkling silver here and there.
It’s a strange and beautiful thing and Roathe can’t help but feel himself harden beneath his loin cloth - he two changed by the techrot and his Orokin physiology.
His eyes watch as Viridian undoes his gun belt, setting it in the chair with his duster, then next is the belt that holds up his jeans. By the Void, if he’s hoping to tease - he’s doing a damn good job of it. The pants drop around his boots, which he toes out of them both leaving him in a set of boxers - a trail of thick green hair leading down beneath the fabric.
Roathe licks his lips, practically pulling the cloth off, and reaching into the end table drawer for a half-used bottle of lube. Just because he hadn’t been with anyone since the empire fell didn’t mean he didn’t have needs.
But right now, he needed Viridian in a way he never needed or wanted anyone else before - and perhaps this was why he always felt so empty - felt so out of place - out of touch - no one had ever loved him. That metal hand comes up, caressing his cheek again, the other taking the bottle and he falls - falls harder than he’s ever let himself …and literally taking Viridian with him to the mattress behind them. He groans, quivering, as their lips meet and he’s so utterly moved by the tenderness.
It’s not quick.
It’s not hurried.
It’s not fumbling in the darkness.
It’s not a scandalized encounter.
It’s not a curiosity.
He doesn’t have to leave before morning.
He doesn’t have to look over his shoulder.
He doesn’t have to worry about whether he’ll survive it.
Roathe whimpers, arching into kisses pressed against his collarbone, his chest as what’s left of his armor is gently removed and tossed aside. He shivers when Viridian caresses the warped patterns of Uriel’s transformations. Purrs escape him when he hears the cap pop and a cool hand wrap around his changed cock.
“Don’t…stop…” He hears himself say.
“Never…” Viridian promises, swallowing his length and he can’t help but grip his hair, the green soft strands tickling his fingers, his eyes slamming shut as he’s sucked, and teased, and …and more…
By the Void, he has no words.
Before he even gets too close, Roathe pulls Viridian back gently, taking his hand and gently squirting a heavy-handed dollop on his fingers, moving them down between his cheeks and pressing them against his entrance. A soft whine escapes him at the teasing pressure and he’ll later deny it.
“I’ve got you, baby…” Viridian works him slowly, checking his expressions, gently scissoring his fingers, stretching him. Roathe can admit no one had even bothered with this.
“Please…” He begs, whimpering with each press on his prostate, thighs spread wide, rumbling a growl. His cock twitches, slick fluids leaking from the slit and down the sides of his shaft. The techrot changed appendage with ridges and bumps catching the twinkling gilded slick.
Suddenly fingers are gone and Viridian removes the last layer of clothing between them, and Roathe catches an eyeful of…Void above.
He’s thick, accented with steel along the veins and around his groin where hair would be and as he pulls back his foreskin, there’s metal beneath the glans wrapping around underneath the head. Another click of the bottle and he’s lubing himself up generously. Roathe swallows, feeling himself lifted and hips settling on a pillow.
“We’ll go slow…”
Roathe doesn’t have the capacity to form words, groaning at the gentle press and clenching that ring of muscles before relaxing - whimpering when that same hand is wrapped around his cock and stroking him in time with the soft prodding, each press a little more, each coax a little deeper. He feels himself part around Viridian’s length, gasping at the sweet little burn - it’s been too long - and at the hiss feels Viridian stop, lean down, and kiss him.
It’s sweet, slow, achingly tender.
“You okay?”
“Yes…”
Another press and reverse, another stroke, Roathe is seeing stars as his eyes cross and soon Viridian has bottomed out inside him and he pants for air.
Is this what he’s been missing?
That feeling of belonging?
A whine escapes him as Viridian pulls his hips back and thrusts forward, he gasps then lets out a choked moan.
Fuck.
“Okay?”
“Yes…” He growls, reaching up with his clawed hand and tugging him forward, legs wrapping around his waist. “Fuck me!”
And then he lets go.
Roathe takes it, needs it, craves it - craves him - craves each thrust, each stroke, each sloppy kiss. It’s gentle and rough and all-consuming. Everything he needs and has been wanting. A sting in his shoulder, the feeling of chill and heat, and he roars, clenching around that delicious fullness, whimpering with each press and grind.
“Come for me.”
And he does.
Back arched and thighs shaking, rocking down on Viridian’s cock and painting his stomach and chest - feeling the moment said man follows him down with an aching cry, eyes pulsing in that neon glow before practically collapsing atop him. His free hand squeezes around the knot that’s formed at his base while the other holds him up.
“You alright?”
“Yes. I believe I am.” Roathe lets his head flop to the pillows, taking in deep gasping breaths.
“Give me a minute and I’ll find something to clean us up with.”
“Don’t bother…not yet. I’m not done…”
“I’m gonna need a minute.” Viridian pants softly as he slips out of him.
“We have all night, yes?” Roathe hums, switching their positions.
“As long as you want.”
“Perfect…”