Chapter Text
You run your hand idly across Otto's chest, soaking in his warmth through your fingertips. Once they're warmed up you purposefully make your touch featherlight, absentmindedly drawing random patterns and staring half-lidded at his chest. His hand that's across your thighs and resting on your hip grabs tighter around you, and you hear a low rumble build in his chest.
"Having fun, dear?" Otto nearly growls down at you.
Your whole body shivers into tension, and your breath comes out shaky. You will your hand to stop tracing nonsense into his skin and instead press into him, and it's when you don't respond for several beats after this that the hand at your hip shoots up to grab your own that's placed in the middle of his chest.
"My dear boy," he says to you sweetly, hand tightening on top of yours, "Answer when I ask you a question."
Your mouth opens silently, breathing uneven as your mind starts to get foggy. What did he ask? You search your mind and recall his question back to him out loud.
He chuckles low, and the hand grabbing your own softens its grip to instead rub circles on top of yours. "Yes, dear," he says.
"Yeah, 'm havin' fun" you mumble into his shoulder, face moving up his neck to his jawline where you place small kisses.
Your mind is racing, hazy thoughts of how you want Otto to take control and flip your positions on the couch interspersed with the fleeting, anxious thoughts of how you still haven't told him you're trans. How you're currently sitting on his lap, tilted hips and legs crossed atop his own, would obscure a dick, if you had one. You desperately crave more of him, and you think through the myriad of wants in your brain until you find an idea that wouldn't involve having to come out yet. You lift yourself up, scooch down his body, and roll over to lay on top of him, your own hips between his legs to avoid contact, and you rest your chin on your hands folded on his stomach. He completely lets you go when you first start to move, letting you position yourself how you want, and when you settle his hand comes back to rest in your hair, petting your head as he looks down at you.
"I know you said no pressure," you start, leaving the sentence open-ended.
The hand that isn't in your hair comes up to cradle your jaw. His thumb swipes along your lower lip before he speaks, his soft tone betrayed by the smirk on his face. "Got an idea in that pretty head of yours?"
Your grin is huge. "You could say it has to do with heads, yeah." You both laugh at your joke before you continue, your hands gently grabbing the waistline of his pants, "You mind if I?"
Otto's hand in your hair turns from a gentle placement to a firm grip, and he looks at you darkly over his glasses. "What did you have in mind?"
He is speechless. Or at least he would be if he didn't have four other minds who feel completely comfortable with filling his own with words to say. You're laying down between his legs and your chest is, at present, pressed into his crotch as you slowly pull yourself down his torso. The actuators have barely moved, quite literally all eyes are on you right now. Otto's hand in your hair has a slight tremble, and he hopes you don't notice, or if you do that you don't take it as fear or hesitation. Your proposition hangs in the air and echoes hollowly around in his brain, and he asks what you have in mind almost purely because of the actuators doing. He's finding that having all four of them on board with what's happening makes it much harder to ensure he doesn't move too fast too soon.
Your voice floats back into his consciousness as he feels your fingertips lightly curl into the waistband of his pants, tugging downward. "I'd like to have a snack," you say innocently, looking up through your lashes at him, and he swears to burn this image in his five minds forever.
Otto softly cards his hand through your hair and whispers an, "Of course you can, love," before he can mentally stumble again and lose his self-control. He's trembling now, the exertion spent on not just letting the lower two, aggressively hornier actuators decide how this is gonna go. He doesn't want to scare you off, but if you keep playing sweet like this, it's going to be hard.
Upon hearing Otto's confirmation you, a bit more excitedly than intended, hop back the final distance needed and quickly work on popping open his slacks and undoing the zipper. He makes a soft noise of surprise at the sudden movement, and the lower two actuators whip around to close in on you in response to your readiness. They stop before they reach you, clicking open and shut and rotating, eyeing you like prey. You look into both of them one at a time as you place a kiss to his covered and semi-hard bulge, and when you look back at Otto to ask him to shimmy out of his pants you see something almost heavenly.
Otto is leaning back against the armrest of the couch. His entire face is flushed and the blush has fully crept down his neck. His glasses are slightly askew from jumping when you surprised him, and his breathing is coming out a bit ragged. The hand that isn't on top of your head is slightly covering his mouth, mostly over the lower half of his face to give him some reprieve from the rising heat there, and so he can measure his breathing, rather than out of shame. When you make eye contact with him, your eyes finally finished with their slow crawl up his body, there's a fleeting moment of pause between the two of you before his head tilts down and you fully see how dark his eyes have gotten. His pupils have completely consumed his irises.
Both of you move hastily and at the same time, not to get his pants off, but to pull them down just enough so you can get your mouth on his clothed dick without a zipper in the way. You want so badly to take it slow so it doesn't escalate into sex. Not yet, but the space for tenderness has already been given up.
You place open-mouthed kisses on his cock through his boxers, looking him in the eye as your mouth works along each additional inch that grows. A growl rumbles in his chest at this, and the hand covering his face quickly drops to his boxers, thumb tucked under the waistband before he stops himself. Otto wants you to set the pace it seems, and so he trails his hand back up to his chest, massaging a pec as he tries to regulate his breathing.
' This man is going to be the death of me ' Otto thinks both to himself and the actuators, who are currently lamenting very loudly in his head about how he won't just grab you and mark your body with his teeth. They want you to be theirs, all of theirs, and this messing around is making them impatient. Harry and Larry are completely focused on you, projecting multiple angles of you practically kissing his cock through his boxers into his brain. Flo and Mo are drawn back, much more actively vocal in his mind and feeding him idea after idea on how to ruin you, make you come undone by his hands. He sees you go to open-palm massage his balls through his boxers before he feels it, Larry sweeping around to get a view, and the image distracts him just enough to where he then feels you tug the band of his boxer-briefs down to uncover his cock before he sees it.
He sucks in a breath at the sensation of his underwear rubbing over his length, the tightness applying a rough pressure as it drags. Otto watches you intently as you softly roll his balls in your palm and mouth at the base of his cock, taking a deep inhale of his smell there. He sees your pupils dilate after this, takes note of the hazy look in your eyes as you continue to kiss and tongue at the base, sees how you keep adjusting your hips before giving in and pressing them into the couch below you. As you lap at his cock you occasionally loll your tongue out your mouth to lick at where his sack meets his cock and suck, eventually pulling his underwear the last bit down so you can pull one of his balls into your mouth and suck at it. One of the actuators, he isn't present enough to tell who mentions it, points out that your hips keep twitching up as you try to breathe through your nose while your mouth is occupied. He refrains from shoving your face into his cock.
You drag your tongue up the underside of his length and pull the head into your mouth in one smooth motion, and that's when he can't help but grip the hair in his hand tighter. Otto shifts his hips slightly to keep himself from thrusting up into your mouth, a full-on growl coming out of his chest as he instead resorts to pressing his engulfed head across your tongue. The shallow thrusting placates the actuators, for now
Your mind is going blank. The smell of Otto completely overwhelms your senses. It's taking a lot of self-control to not take him in as far as you can go in one fell swoop. He's big and you know you'll practically get stuck halfway down if you rush. The last thing you want to do is reflexively close your jaw or gag around his cock, so you opt to draw a deep suction in your mouth and heavily tongue and lap at the sensitive underside of his dick. In a seemingly practiced motion, you pull back slightly against Otto's iron grip on your hair and press your tongue into the space between his pre-cum-beading head and foreskin, swirling to pull it back in one swoop before returning. His hips jerk up at having the sensitive skin of his cockhead exposed and lavished by your slick tongue, shoving a couple of inches into your mouth.
A keening moan reverberates through your mouth and you begin to bob your head on the portion of his cock you've managed to fit in your mouth in earnest. He takes this as an invitation to start thrusting on his own, not quite holding your head in place to fuck your mouth. A part of you knows you can reach down and touch yourself if you want, that there haven't been any rules set that would disallow it, but his grip in your hair, the thrusts into your mouth, the smell of sex entering your nose as you try to breathe through it all, they compound together into a cacophony of lust that bleeds red hot fire in your veins, rendering your brain useless. Your hands have been pressing, grabbing at Otto's thighs, and you move one to grab the half of his dick you don't want to risk choking on.
Muffled moans fill up the room and you squeeze your thighs together, grinding your hips down onto the couch in an attempt to get some relief for your own aching cock. It doesn't even cross your mind that you've wrapped your fingers tightly around the base, a futile attempt at prolonging his orgasm so that you can indulge in your task behind closed eyes for as long as possible. He's thrusting harder into your mouth, grunts and mechanical whirring surrounding you but falling on deaf ears. You're lost in sucking Otto's dick, subconsciously going a bit farther down each time you go back after catching your breath. It isn't until your nose touches hair that you realize you're now throating his cock. You finally notice the way his cockhead is touching your throat, jumping with each greedy swallow you give it.
Otto draws out a long and hoarse "Good boy," as he shallowly fucks your throat. Grunting as he feels your fingers around the base of his cock loosen, not that they were doing much to stop him from cumming, he pushes you down the last inch of his cock and grinds the base against your lips. He watches as your attempts to breathe through your nose when you're this far down on his dick makes your body twitch against him.
Your eyes open at last, watery eyes glassy as you look up at Otto and start to moan around his cock before the action causes you to reflexively swallow, hard. The swallow turns the moan into a whine, and you tilt your hips up, grinding forward to put pressure on your pubic bone. His grunting from exertion mellows out into moans as he uses your lax state to manually move your head up and down the last couple inches of his cock faster than he can thrust upwards from his spot underneath you. You can feel his pulse in your throat from the head, the length jumping on your tongue, and for a second you feel a small, deep orgasm ripple through you from being used like this with just his one hand.
Otto sees your full-body shiver and erratic hip jerks as you come from deepthroating his cock, how your eyes go a bit unfocused as you try to maintain eye contact with him through it. His other hand, long since forgotten as he absentmindedly used it to play with his chest, runs through the hair on the side of your head. He uses his second hand to cradle the back of your head, back hunching forward to breach the gap, and the other grips firmly so he can return to thrusting with his hips.
"So good for me. You're so good to me. Sweet thing," he rambles before taking in a gulp of air, "Can I? Inside?"
You, head now clearing, let out a stable moan and try to nod, bobbing your head up and down his cock more than anything.
Otto stutters out thanks, praises, and mangled groans like a prayer, pressing you back down onto his dick all the way and holding you still as his hips jerk and shudder beneath you. His cock pulses in your mouth, and you feel a warm splash of cum hit the back of your throat more than you taste it. His load is big, and you look up at him dazed and half-lidded as he thrusts softly out of your mouth, leaving splatters of cum across your tongue while you gently keep sucking and rolling your tongue along the retreating dick.
"Fuck," he says breathlessly as both the hands in your hair soften their grip and pull you off his cock. "God." The hand at the back of your head stays in its spot, softly playing with the hair there while the other gently travels down your face to cradle your jaw. He stabilizes his breathing as he pets your hair and gently caresses you, running his thumb over your lips with a look of adoration and amazement on his face.
You both take a moment to just breathe, neither of you moving, just looking at the other and touching what parts of them are under your hands. Otto, already hunched from his climax, moves first. He threads his arms under yours and goes to tug you up his torso, but before you move you tuck his cock back into his boxer briefs, neither of you bothering to rezip and pull back up his pants. When you're done, he pulls you up and leans back against the armrest of the couch. Once you're settled he lets his arms fall to your back, wrapped around you. Your head rests on his chest, legs splayed to be on either side of him, arms around his neck, and you both just lay together, synchronizing your breathing and enjoying the afterglow.
One of his hands moves up to play with the hair at the back of your head again, and as you relax into his touch the exhaustion kicks in. You pull yourself up a bit to tuck your head into his neck, and you feel your eyes flutter closed a few times. There are no words exchanged as you both fall into a satisfied slumber on the couch, and there doesn't need to be. The way Otto had looked at you, and the way you had looked back at him, said everything that needed to be said.