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Aventurine likes having sex.
It took years of hard-earned experience and too much soul-searching for him to admit this fact without shame.
Of course, enjoyment depends on the circumstances—who he’s with, whether they know what they’re doing, whether he can stand to be touched that day. But he likes the power of choosing the when and the who, and choosing to let someone into his bed at all. That choice had not always belonged to him, after all.
For a long time before this, though, sex had been less about pleasure and more about punishment or distraction. A way to drown out the noise in his head or burn off the restlessness under his skin. Eventually, he realized it could feel good if he allowed it to. That discovery came slowly. Learning to feel comfortable in his own body and learning to respect himself enough to seek partners who cared whether he enjoyed himself had been a difficult affair.
Sometimes it’s still a hit or miss. At the very least, though, it usually ends in a decent orgasm and Aventurine slipping out sometime before dawn.
Romance, on the other hand, has never been in the cards for him. At least, that was what he believed until he met Veritas Ratio.
They started off as business partners. In the beginning, Ratio struck him as exactly the sort of man Aventurine would very much enjoy fucking: sharp-tongued and broad-shouldered and strong enough to manhandle him just the way he likes. But the longer they worked together, the more Aventurine realized the good doctor was not easily charmed. Unlike most people, Ratio never looked at him with obvious hunger. There was never even a tiny speck of lust in those keen golden eyes.
If he’s being honest, it bruised Aventurine’s ego badly at first.
And yet there was something strangely comforting about knowing Ratio could not be swayed by flirtation or the easy promise of a warm body in his bed.
No, Veritas Ratio has standards.
And unfortunately, someone like Aventurine does not seem to meet them.
Still, they have worked together for years now. Missions became conversations and conversations became habits. Somewhere along the way, Ratio became someone Aventurine trusted and someone he sought out without thinking. Someone whose company lingered pleasantly long after they parted ways.
And, disastrously, someone Aventurine wants with an intensity that refuses to fade.
See, normally, attraction burns itself out quickly. Aventurine sleeps with someone once, satisfies the curiosity, feels better, and moves on. It’s never anything beyond that. But this is different. The years of orbiting around one another have turned his feelings for Ratio into something deeper. Something like… affection. Longing. Love, maybe?
Aventurine doesn’t know. He’s never really done romance. So he doesn’t quite know where that puts him.
What he does know is that Ratio occupies his thoughts constantly now. From the moment he wakes until the moment he falls asleep carrying the marks of someone else. He catches himself searching for traces of Ratio in strangers: broad shoulders, large hands, glasses balanced low on a long nose. Men with respectable professions and clever mouths, just so Aventurine can pretend, for a little while, that it is Ratio speaking to him before he drags them into bed.
But Ratio wouldn’t kiss him like that, would he?
After all, he isn’t interested in Aventurine. Not like that.
The one from last night was kind enough that Aventurine let him stay after sex. Residual sentimentality, perhaps. The stranger touched him gently, held him through the night with something almost resembling affection. But that made something in Aventurine’s gut churn, because every tender touch only made the fantasy of Ratio hurt more.
In the morning, they have sex again, and then Aventurine ushers him out with fake promises of seeing each other again. He doesn’t meet up with anyone twice, no matter how good they made him feel. He can’t risk them forming attachments or trying to ask for things he can’t give.
After that, the apartment feels too quiet and cold, and Aventurine still has someone else’s pleasure sticking to his skin. Disgust unexpectedly crawls beneath his ribs in a way it hasn’t in a while. The aftermath has always been complicated, but lately the balance has shifted.
Ever since he started wanting Ratio, one-night stands have begun to feel less like fun and more like compensation for his aching heart. He’s no longer sure he enjoys them at all. Worse, he feels guilty for seeking out honest men, and for letting them believe that he is offering something genuine when really he is just trying to outrun loneliness.
He ought to stop. Maybe get some help. Just jerk off by himself instead of this endless search for pleasure and comfort offered to him by strangers.
Barefoot, he pads toward the kitchen for a glass of water, hoping it might wash away the taste of another man’s mouth.
That’s when a knock sounds at the door.
Aventurine barely thinks about it. Probably the courier. They usually knock once, leave the package outside, and disappear before he answers. Which is exactly why he opens the door without bothering to make himself presentable.
And nearly dies on the spot.
Veritas Ratio stands in the hallway, immaculate as always, already dressed for the day and smelling unfairly good for this early in the morning. Aventurine’s stomach plummets to his feet.
He's wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that hangs loosely from his narrow frame, barely covering him. Dear Goddess, please let Ratio assume he’s at least wearing underwear beneath it.
“Oh,” Aventurine manages, his throat suddenly tight.
“Oh, indeed,” Ratio echoes dryly. “Do not tell me you’ve forgotten our scheduled meeting, gambler?”
Right.
Yes.
That meeting.
The one he has absolutely, definitely, not forgotten.
“Of course not,” Aventurine lies immediately, putting on a fragile smile. “Ah, I must’ve gotten the time wrong.”
“Evidently.” Ratio’s gaze drifts over him once, clinical and devastating. His eyes pause briefly at Aventurine’s exposed neck where the collar of the shirt has slipped aside.
“You failed to appear at the agreed location,” Ratio continues, “and you were not answering your phone. I assumed something unfortunate had occurred and came to verify your condition. Clearly, my concerns were unnecessary.”
The way he says it sets Aventurine’s face ablaze. Ratio knows. Of course he does. He’s far too observant not to piece together exactly what Aventurine spent the night doing. There’s no disgust in Ratio’s voice, but surely there must be disgust somewhere beneath it. There’s no way a man like Ratio can look at Aventurine’s tangled hair, bruised throat, and swollen lips, can smell sex lingering in the apartment, and not feel at least a little repulsed.
Sweet Gaiathra, this can’t be happening. He’s really messed up, hasn’t he?
“...I appear to have caught you at an inconvenient time,” Ratio says after a moment. “We can reschedule.”
He turns to leave, but for reasons inexplicable to Aventurine, he quickly lunges forward, grabbing a hold of the doctor’s arm. “Hold up, Doc,” he blurts. “No need to reschedule.”
“I insist.”
“No, I insist,” Aventurine presses, though he’s unsure why he’s fighting it. Really, he should slam the door shut and spare himself further humiliation. “You already came all this way, friend. Least I can do is let you in. Give me five minutes and I’m all yours.”
He doesn’t know why he phrased it that way. Stupid, stupid—
Ratio studies him for a long moment. For a moment Aventurine is certain he hallucinates, those blazing eyes dip to his thighs.
“Very well,” Ratio concedes, allowing himself to be guided in.
Ratio settles neatly onto the couch while Aventurine escapes to the bathroom as fast as dignity allows. There’s no time for a shower, so he settles for splashing cold water on his face and pulling on the first clean pants he finds in the dryer. That still doesn’t help, knowing there is still someone else’s spend inside him.
He feels disgusting, but he’d dug his own grave. Now he must jump headfirst into it.
The moment he looks in the mirror, despair crashes into him anew. There are indeed hickies and bites covering his neck and shoulders, which means that Ratio saw everything.
He wants to scream into his hands. Knowing that the only man he is genuinely interested in saw him in such a state… there’s no coming back from this, is there? Even if Ratio felt anything beyond friendship for Aventurine, that has now almost certainly been ruined by Aventurine’s careless display of his frenzied sex life. Fuck.
He braces his hands against the sink and inhales slowly until the urge to combust becomes manageable. He can do this.
Professional. He can still be professional.
He tries to walk back into the living room with some shred of dignity intact, shoulders squared and chin high, but the slight limp in his steps betrays him immediately. Worse still is the stifled gasp that escapes him when he takes in the scene before him.
His clothes from last night are still strewn across the floor.
And there sits Veritas Ratio on the couch, perfectly composed, legs crossed elegantly as he flips through a magazine Aventurine had abandoned on the coffee table. He appears utterly unbothered by the mess of discarded clothes surrounding him.
That is the precise moment Aventurine’s composure fractures again.
“Fuck,” he breathes, lunging to gather the clothes into his arms. “Sorry, Doc. Last night, I… uh…”
I fucked someone who looks like you.
“There is no need to apologize,” Ratio says calmly, not even glancing up from the page. “I am the one who intruded upon your home at this hour. I would not presume to pass judgment on your personal life.”
Aventurine wants to crawl out of his own skin.
“No,” he mumbles, embarrassed, devastated. “I mean, yes, but I—”
Before he can stumble through another humiliating sentence, Ratio rises from the couch, effectively shutting Aventurine up. He approaches with measured steps until he is standing directly in front of him, close enough that Aventurine can smell the clean fragrance clinging to his clothes. Close enough that Aventurine has to tilt his head slightly upward to meet his eyes.
Ratio’s brows knit faintly. Then a warm hand settles against Aventurine’s cheek to tilt his face, stunning him into silence.
“Were you crying?” Ratio asks suddenly, his eyes flitting between Aventurine’s.
For a moment, Aventurine cannot think at all. He is disheveled, marked up, still aching between his legs, and Ratio is touching him as though none of that matters. As though Aventurine is not something sordid to recoil from.
He hasn’t cried. Not yet. But he knows he will the moment Ratio leaves.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Aventurine admits, swallowing hard. Then, he lets out a brittle laugh. “Of all people, I was hoping you wouldn’t think badly of me, Doctor.”
Ratio’s expression softens. “I would not. I was merely concerned your… visitor may have harmed you in some way.”
Aventurine stares at him, stunned silent all over again.
“He didn’t,” he says after a beat, voice quieter now. “I wanted it.”
Ratio’s thumb shifts ever so slightly against his cheek. Something in his expression shifts.
“It was pleasurable for you, then?” he asks slowly.
The question makes something in Aventurine’s chest clench tightly. Why does Ratio want to know that? Moreover, why is he looking at Aventurine like that?
Aventurine makes a small, confused sound before he can stop himself.
“The sex,” Ratio clarifies, his tone maddeningly composed. “Was it satisfactory?”
“I—” Aventurine breathes, confused. “Why would you—?”
“I was under the impression friends discussed such matters, on occasion.”
“We are friends,” Aventurine repeats, stupidly, “but we don’t— We’ve never talked about this before. You’ve never…”
Ratio has never spoken this directly about sex before, let alone with Aventurine. Never in a million Amber Eras would Aventurine have imagined Veritas Ratio calmly asking whether a stranger had fucked him to his satisfaction.
There has to be an explanation.
Either Ratio is so utterly uninterested in Aventurine sexually that this is some kind of academic fascination of a man observing behavior he personally has no stake in. Or he is a cruel sadist who likes punishing Aventurine for wasting his time by forcing him to stand here flushed and ashamed, still carrying another man’s touch on his skin.
There is no alternative. Right?
“You needn’t answer, if it upsets you,” Ratio says after a moment, as though he’d only just realized the nature of his question. “My apologies. I overstepped.”
“No, it’s…” Aventurine exhales shakily. “It was good. I guess. Or, as good as hookups can be. Not exactly emotionally fulfilling, if that’s what you mean. I just needed relief, that’s all. It wasn’t a date or anything serious. Just…” He gestures helplessly. “Just sex.”
He wants to slam his face into the nearest wall. Is he truly so desperate to prove to Ratio it didn’t mean anything that he’s embarrassing himself further like this?
Ratio’s throat works once, and then his hand retreats from Aventurine’s cheek.
“I see,” he murmurs. “So he left you unsatisfied.”
“I—yeah,” Aventurine rasps, frozen in place. “I guess you could say that.”
And suddenly—terrifyingly—he is forced to consider the possibility of a third option after all.
That something about this…
…is affecting Ratio?
He inhales sharply when Ratio comes even closer. Close enough that Aventurine has the insane urge to lean forward and breathe him in.
“What exactly dissatisfied you?” Ratio asks softly.
Oh Mother Goddess, Aventurine might actually pass out.
“He, was um…” Aventurine falters when Ratio’s fingers rise to examine the bruises scattered along his throat, hovering just shy of contact. “Kind. Just…” He swallows hard. “A little boring. Didn’t really fuck me the way I wanted him to. Kept asking permission for everything instead of just—”
“Did he empty himself into you?” The low murmur against his ear sends goosebumps racing down Aventurine’s spine. He’s not touching Aventurine. He’s not, but it feels like he is. Like Ratio is dismantling him piece by piece without even trying.
“Yeah,” Aventurine whispers hoarsely, shame bubbling up his throat. “Twice.”
“I see. Is that something you generally enjoy?”
“Sometimes,” Aventurine admits, eyelids fluttering shut when Ratio’s breath ghosts across the sensitive skin of his jaw. Something about the way his tone is so clinical and detached makes Aventurine’s stomach flip on itself. “If… they’re clean and… if I’m feeling good.”
“Good. I am relieved to hear you exercise some degree of caution.”
Ratio’s voice has gone very, very rough.
Aventurine can’t take this anymore. He doesn’t understand. Why does Ratio want to know all this? And why… why is he making Aventurine feel so—
“Ratio,” he breathes. “Why are you asking me all this?”
“I understand you are confused,” Ratio says calmly. “But you need not concern yourself with it right now.” His eyes lift to meet Aventurine’s. “Simply tell me if you would prefer I stop.”
Aventurine thinks his brain just short-circuited. Of course he doesn’t want Ratio to stop whatever it is he’s doing. But he’s still confused. “You… like hearing about this? About someone else fucking me?”
Ratio studies him for a long moment before answering. “I enjoy hearing about your pleasure,” he says quietly. “Your desires. And perhaps”—his thumb brushes over one of the bruises on Aventurine’s throat—“discovering what it would actually take to satisfy you.”
“Is that what you want?” Aventurine asks, the idea suddenly taking root. “To satisfy me after someone else has failed?”
Ratio pauses his exploration, then hums softly in agreement.
So maybe he has misread Ratio’s behavior in the past?
“Aren’t you disgusted?” Aventurine whispers, not understanding. Isn’t Ratio supposed to be a clean-freak? This doesn’t make any sense. “Someone else was here an hour ago. He fucked me. He came inside me.”
“And he evidently failed at something rather fundamental,” Ratio murmurs. “I would like to offer you a different experience, assuming you are neither too sore nor too exhausted.” A faint pause, followed by a frown. “Unless, of course, you dislike the idea. I am aware this is an… unconventional proposition.”
Unconventional barely begins to cover it. But instead of recoiling, Aventurine feels heat flood through him so intensely it borders on painful. Is Ratio really… into that? Or is it pride driving him—the need to prove himself superior to every careless stranger Aventurine has dragged into this apartment?
“I don’t dislike it,” Aventurine admits weakly. “It’s just… I haven’t cleaned up yet, and there’s still…”
There’s still someone else’s cum inside him.
But Ratio simply keeps running his hands along his body. Like he doesn’t care. Or worse—as though he likes it.
Ratio's hand wanders lower, below the hem of his shorts, until he’s cupping Aventurine’s bare ass. His fingers dip closer to where he’s still sore from last night, gathering the slickness there. Ratio lets out a satisfied sound when the evidence of someone else’s pleasure coats his fingers.
“I see you were not exaggerating,” Ratio murmurs. “There is quite a bit.”
Aventurine makes a broken noise in the back of his throat. Sweet Aeons, is Ratio really doing this to him? He didn’t fall and hit his head, did he?
“Ratio, what—” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale when one slick finger circles lazily against his entrance, teasing just enough pressure to send pleasure crackling straight up his spine. “Oh—”
“Are you enjoying this?” Ratio asks near his ear.
He steps closer still, until their bodies are fully pressed together. Aventurine can feel the hard outline of Ratio’s cock straining against his slacks now, heavy and unmistakable against his hip.
“Yes,” Aventurine whines.
“May I do more?”
Aventurine’s knees threaten to give in. “Like… like what?”
“May I fuck you?”
The question obliterates every coherent thought in Aventurine’s head, leaving him hard and aching. He’s leaking in his shorts, and Ratio’s fingers never stop drawing maddening circles and applying only the faintest of pressure.
“Yeah,” Aventurine gasps, dizzy with want. “Please. You can… fuck—you can do anything.”
“Good.” Ratio’s voice drops lower. “Tell me if you wish for me to stop.”
Aventurine cannot imagine wanting that. Not when Ratio’s other hand also slips beneath his shorts to spread him open with humiliating ease. A choked sound escapes Aventurine when fresh slickness drips down the inside of his thighs.
“Ratio…”
“Do you even require preparation in this state?” Ratio muses, almost thoughtfully. “I doubt lubrication will be necessary.”
“I don’t think…” Aventurine nearly folds in half when Ratio’s thumb finally breaches him properly. “Goddess."
He can’t even finish the sentence before his hands are fumbling clumsily with Ratio’s belt, driven entirely by desperation now. Thankfully, Ratio allows it, watching him with burning eyes while Aventurine struggles to open his slacks and tugs them down enough to free him. And then, he’s kissing Aventurine, tilting his chin back to properly devour him. Aventurine has been kissed countless times before, but never like this—never with such restrained intensity finally breaking loose.
Aventurine doesn’t complain when he’s led backwards into the bedroom, on the bed where someone else had taken him just this morning.
Ratio strips him carefully, peeling away shirt and shorts until Aventurine lies bare beneath him, marked skin exposed without mercy. This time, when he spreads his legs, he doesn’t need darkness or imagination to pretend.
Ratio doesn’t ask for a condom, and Aventurine certainly doesn’t plan to offer him one. There is something deeply shameful about the way desire twists inside him at the thought of Ratio feeling exactly what another has left behind. He ought to feel sick of the thought. But it only serves to fan the flames more when Ratio continues toying with his entrance, wetting his cock when he ruts against him. It’s depraved and hot and… gods. It’s surely leaking onto the bedsheets, soiling them further.
When Ratio finally slips inside, the groan that leaves him sounds almost reverent.
It’s far too wet, far too easy. Aventurine is still loose, still pliant and sensitive, but Ratio is larger than anyone he has taken in a long time. The ache burns deliciously as he sinks deeper and deeper until Aventurine’s toes curl against the sheets with a whine. It’s sweet agony, the burning shame which he feels when the first thrust forces a humiliating squelch between them.
“Ra…tio,” Aventurine gasps, breaths leaving him in fragments. “Fuuuck.”
He starts moving in earnest then—not rough, but steady and purposeful. As though Ratio has memorized every complaint Aventurine uttered earlier and made it his personal mission to correct them.
“You take me very well,” Ratio says softly, gaze fixed on where their bodies join. “Though perhaps I should thank the one before me for preparing you so thoroughly.”
Aventurine whines.
“Wanted it to be you,” he confesses breathlessly. “I, mhh—kept pretending it was you.”
Ratio makes a low sound deep in his throat.
“Is that why you allowed him to finish inside you?” he asks, voice rougher now, strained around the edges.
“Yes,” Aventurine moans instantly, too overwhelmed to lie.
“You simply could not help yourself, could you?”
Aventurine shakes his head, moaning when Ratio connects their lips again.
The kiss is messy this time—hungry in a way Aventurine never imagined Ratio capable of. Their bodies move together harder now, the rhythm turning steadily filthier. Every thrust drags wet, obscene sounds from between them, the evidence of another man still inside Aventurine mixing shamelessly with Ratio’s own slick pace.
Every drag of his cock feels intentional, overwhelming Aventurine with how good it feels. Aventurine’s limbs still ache, but Ratio makes the sensations blur into something soft and pleasant. The pleasure building in his stomach takes almost no effort, simply because it’s Ratio doing this to him.
“Come inside me,” Aventurine pleads, locking his legs around Ratio’s hips.
He needs it so badly it hurts. He needs Ratio to add his mark. For him to replace the traces of another and defile Aventurine further, but not in a way that will make him feel disgusting later.
Ratio keeps thrusting into him as though the idea had never even been in question. As though he had intended from the very beginning to fill Aventurine and leave him dripping with it. And the thought of Ratio coming inside him—of him wanting to—pushes Aventurine helplessly over the brink.
He comes with a broken cry, back arching off the mattress as pleasure tears through him.
Ratio spills inside him with a groan shortly thereafter, hips stuttering, hands holding Aventurine’s thighs apart to get as deep as he can. It feels intimate in a way Aventurine is entirely unprepared for. Like he wants to irreversibly claim Aventurine like this, so that he’ll feel the traces of it forever, no matter who Aventurine might take to bed afterward.
“Ratio,” Aventurine gasps shakily. “Fuck, oh gods—”
He fucked Aventurine while another man’s release still lingered inside him. He kissed him through it, came inside him anyway like the thought only excited him further.
And Aventurine—
Aventurine has absolutely no idea what this means.
“Are you alright?” Ratio asks once the room has finally gone quiet again, their breathing no longer ragged.
“Mmh.” Aventurine groans softly, sinking deeper into the mattress. His entire body feels heavy with exhaustion, pleasantly sore in places he knows he’ll still feel in a week. Ratio's spend slips slowly down the inside of his thighs, warm and thick, and the sensation alone sends another humiliating pulse of heat through him. The gravity of what they’d done sinks in gradually.
“I have to say,” Aventurine murmurs after a moment, voice rough and lazy, “I never took you for the sort of man who’d enjoy sloppy seconds, Doctor.”
Ratio pauses, taking a moment to think.
“I hope this has not upset you,” he says at last, quieter than before. “I must confess, I have never experienced impulses of this nature with anyone else.” His fingers drift absently along Aventurine’s thigh. “I found that I did not particularly mind another person having touched you before me, so long as I was permitted to be the one who truly satisfied you.”
Aventurine swallows hard.
So he hadn’t imagined it. Ratio really had been aroused by the idea of someone else having defiled him. This is something they'll probably still need to unpack.
“What I mean to say is,” Ratio continues, “that I hope this has not caused you to think less of me.”
“You can admit you’re kinky, Doctor,” Aventurine smiles. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”
Ratio exhales slowly through his nose, the faintest crease appearing between his brows. He runs a hand across Aventurine’s body.
“If you are not opposed, I’d like to stay and help you clean, and… I believe we ought to discuss what occurred here once we are finished.”
Something tender unfurls unexpectedly in Aventurine’s chest at that, part nervousness, part relief. If Ratio wants to talk afterward, then maybe this had meant something to him too. Maybe this wasn’t destined to remain a single reckless lapse in judgment.
“Sure,” Aventurine agrees. “Though, you’ll have to help me up first.”
That finally earns him the faintest hint of a smile.
Ratio slips an arm around his waist and helps him sit upright with surprising gentleness.
And if the bath eventually leads to a second round, well. That’s nobody’s business but theirs.