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Apparently, so, Red Velvet really wants to bone Madeleine's boyfriend. That's fine.
While he's in a muzzle, ears, and a tail.
That's fine? Madeleine's never heard of it before, but, uh, sure?
Dark Choco cautioned him beforehand that it could get more intense than normal, that he'll probably be a bit forceful, slapping Red Velvet around, and that it's fine . Madeleine established early on that he won't be doing any of the physical, kind of violent kind of stuff, but he doesn't mind being part of the audience, doesn't mind engaging in some audience participation every once in a while. But Red Velvet has a thing for his boyfriend, he thinks—but, then again, when they both went to the apartment gym last week, there were so many people catching a glance at Dark Choco. Which could have made him a little jealous, because they didn't ask before daring to look , and Madeleine may or may not have wound up eating Dark Choco’s succulent ass out in the gym shower.
Oops.
Sidetracking.
Anyway, Madeleine does not mind necessarily sharing Dark Choco, but he'd prefer to watch his pretty boyfriend, or at least know who it is beforehand. Something along those lines, yeah? Like how Dark Choco always tells him before going over to Latte's to be her art model and personal seat. Stuff like that.
Red Velvet is pretty, too, at least. Pretty in a different way than how Dark Choco carries his gloomy elegance, how he takes up all and none of the space in a room. It's just the two of them right now, his lover having left to prepare something or another in the bathroom or bedroom or wherever. Red Velvet has long, dark red hair, with those scarlet streaks through it, and it looks shockingly natural.
( "You don't even need a leash, not with his head of hair," Madeleine said a few days beforehand, when he’d realized just how close the day had already came. "Just yank him around by the end of it."
Dark Choco chuckled, pulled up a list of Red Velvet's preferences in bed on his phone, the text zoomed in enough so only two or three huge words fit on screen at a time. Next to 'hair pulling', after Dark Choco scrolled down some, a 'yes please' had been cited.
"Interesting." Madeleine's mouth was very suddenly very dry.
"He is not like you," Dark Choco said. "You are masochists in different ways. You like... being humiliated, and denied."
"Heh, yeah," Madeleine agreed, softly, squirming in his seat at the blunt observation.
Dark Choco looked down at his phone again, scrolling through it with his index finger. "...He does not mind degradation—quite likes it— but he prefers pain being inflicted... This will be... interesting...")
Madeleine had seen Red Velvet around before. His eyes, one sclera pitch black, had always looked dim. But, when they lock gazes now, he seems thrilled, a muzzle strapped around his face, his chin, a metal and leather cage around his head.
He likes degradation , Madeleine remembers. Wait, what's the difference between degradation and embarrassment? "Hey, boy, are you excited?" He asks in his high pitched, overly thrilled, somewhat patronizing talking-to-doggie voice.
Red Velvet glares, but there's a smile curling around his eyes.
"Are you gonna be a good boy?" Madeleine continues.
Instead of words, Red Velvet starts barking. Realistically, too. It's not quite Madeleine's thing; but, he supposes, it's cute, plus Red Velvet is obviously really into it—and the passion is, perhaps, infectious.
He pats his thighs. "Was that a no, boy? Was that a no? Are you gonna be a bad boy for us?"
Red Velvet makes a show of snapping his teeth though the metal bars of his muzzle, and Dark Choco opens the door.
"Hello, my darling! My sweet, the love of my life!" Madeleine chirps. He notices Red Velvet glaring again, a little harder than before.
There's Dark Choco’s duffel bag in hand, the one that always seems to carry whatever weird implements he has in store for more intense scenes. It gets dumped on the side of the couch before Dark Choco stands at Madeleine's side, on the other end of the couch. Genuine leather, imported from the Republic, with only one very, very light stain from where Madeleine came in his pants while Dark Choco and he were playing Super Smash Bros Brawl that time. Nobody would even notice, ever.
"Hmm?" Madeleine asks after a second.
"You are doing... well with him, already," Dark Choco murmurs, voice resonating and deep , low enough so Red Velvet can’t hear, low enough to where Madeleine comprehends by the tones moreso than the words spoken.
Madeleine turns to loop his arms around Dark Choco's torso, aims a kiss at his soft belly, says, "Thank you, sweetheart, now go and do your worst."
A chuckle, a hand running through Madeleine’s hair in a sweet caress. His lover likes to do that sometimes, likes to pet Madeleine’s head; ashamedly enough, Madeleine loves it. Dark Choco walks over and sits on the couch. "Red Velvet, come here, boy," he calls.
Red Velvet growls at him and stays where he is in front of the TV. His boyfriend mentioned that they will probably get forceful, at the very least; Madeleine hopes that the Wii won't be collateral damage. Madeleine likes his Wii. Maybe they could all play some games later, like Super Smash Bros Brawl, or Pac-Man Fever, or Mario Party 8.
The moment stretches, longer and longer, Madeleine squirming in his seat as Dark Choco and Red Velvet stare the other down. He’s starting to get a little bored at not getting included in the tense moment, trying his best to not let his mind wander. Yeah, it’s really weird that there’s no Fortnite for the Wii, actually. Madeleine saw some ads for that on Tik Tok, and it looks really fun. Plus, there’s those team modes or something, right? Madeleine would love to play that with his lover, and maybe Latte, and Milk, and Purple Yam, except Purple Yam breaks a lot of controllers, even more than Dark Choco does. Did. After he started with that new therapist, he’s developed some better coping skills, or so he says. And, then, once his attention drifts again, the moment Madeleine half-missed gets shattered—Dark Choco lunging at Red Velvet—threading his thick fingers through the root of his long, vibrant hair to yank him into a heel at his feet.
Silence, again, Madeleine’s heart hammering in his chest, until Red Velvet begins growling, until he tries to lunge, to bite at Dark Choco and all that reverberates through the air is the clang of teeth together, a hitch of breath afterwards from the man. Dark Choco had held him in place with the grip on his hair, after all; that must have hurt .
Dark Choco turns and locks eyes with Madeleine, a little mirth coating his voice, "He will be a... difficult dog to train."
"Yeah." Madeleine's mouth is dry again.
A tinge of a smirk on Dark Choco’s face. It looks like it fits him well. Madeleine wishes he would get cocky more often. "How would you suggest handling this mongrel, my love?"
Underneath them, Red Velvet glowers at the floor. His right arm, the one that's almost double the size of his left, is tied behind his back; apparently, he could do some true damage with it, and simply tying it well turned out to be the best solution. It clenches and unclenches, now, like Red Velvet can't control his anger.
"I mean," Red Velvet is here to be roughed up, we might as well get on with that , Madeleine thinks. Says aloud, "We wouldn't want to spoil him and keep his rotten attitude. He already tried to bite you. Well-behaved dogs don’t need muzzles, after all... He needs to be punished, I think."
"Hmm... I agree." Dark Choco yanks upwards from where he never let go of Red Velvet's hair, pulling him onto the couch, across his lap, facing Madeleine. One thigh shifts Red Velvet's butt up high enough for Dark Choco to cup and squeeze. Madeleine feels a little pride, at least, for having a bigger tush.
Red Velvet locks eyes with Madeleine and his tight-pressed lips open into whines, his left arm hanging limp, garbed in a tight sleeve meant to resemble a paw.
And then, Dark Choco goes to work, slapping at Red Velvet's butt, and Madeleine watches him yelp and bark and squirm. Each strike is slow, and Dark Choco lingers afterwards, squeezing and digging his fingernails into the flesh to bruise.
And Red Velvet watches Madeleine, stares him down, as he also squirms in his seat, Red Velvet takes in every detail of how Madeleine’s thighs clench together with every drawn-out strike.
It is.
Madeleine gulps, reaches for his water bottle on the side table, keeping his gaze on the scene before him, almost falling off the couch.
Terribly arousing.
After around the ten-hit mark, Dark Choco lifts Red Velvet's butt up, the man pressing his muzzle-covered cheek against his left arm. He’s tilted high enough for Madeleine to see, to be shown off the marks forming there. "Is this sufficient, Madeleine?"
Madeleine looks down at Red Velvet's face, barely any tears at all. He’s humiliated, and, yet, still remains utterly defiant. "Hmm... I'm not sure. Maybe..."
It's really obvious when Red Velvet clenches around the tail plug in his ass, how it bobs up and down a little. How he keens at the attention, two people zeroed in on him.
"I think that's enough for trying to bite you," Madeleine finally continues. "But, hey, he's on the couch. Doggies aren't allowed on the furniture. Especially this one. It's antique genuine leather . No stains at all, whatsoever, and I don’t want to change that fact."
Red Velvet opens his mouth to say something, or bark some more, but all that comes out is a long-winded yelp of pain as Dark Choco starts anew. He is furious, light eyebrows clenched together, indignant at the punishment over something he can't even control.
Madeleine has never been outwardly sadistic before— that’s always been the people around him —no. Anyway. But—before he knows it—he's on his knees at Red Velvet's side, petting his hair, cooing, "Aw, poor doggie," just to watch Red Velvet's mind scramble more, just to watch another tear leak out.
They've only just begun , sinks into his stomach.
His patronizing seems to get to Red Velvet more than Dark Choco's punishment, actually. Red Velvet starts shoving at Madeleine's chest with these pathetically soft pads adorning his arm, barking, writhing in Dark Choco’s lap.
“Calm him down,” Dark Choco grunts.
“Aw, I don’t know how, though,” Madeleine says. “He’s all upset with me, even though all I’ve been doing is petting him!” Because he hates being patronized, of course, in all actuality. It’s degrading.
A pause in Dark Choco’s strikes. “...This is not working.”
“No, no, it’s really not.”
Dark Choco’s massive palm roves over Red Velvet’s ass, squeezes until Red Velvet whimpers and then yelps. He must’ve gotten a bruise. Madeleine can feel every callous of Dark Choco's hand by memory alone, can feel it on his own buttocks from bygone times.
“Maybe we should try something different?” Madeleine asks. “Maybe he’d respond better to positive reinforcement?”
There’s a glint in Dark Choco’s eye, and he presses his thumb into Red Velvets’ tail plug, making him try to squirm away. “Mm... Perhaps... I have an idea.”
Red Velvet gets lifted by his chest and placed on the ground. Dark Choco doesn’t even need two hands to lift him, he’s so strong; Latte still doesn’t believe he can, actually, even though she’s seen it before. Red Velvet shoots Dark Choco a mean look just for him to pinch his inner thigh to bruise.
“Hmph. Follow me, boy,” Dark Choco commands, getting to his feet. Red Velvet scrambles after him on three limbs, rough kneepads scraping against the cheap apartment carpet. Madeleine follows. He might as well.
They settle in the middle of the floor, Dark Choco laying on his side. Red Velvet attempts to kneel delicately, gets yanked into a sit, and whines into the air at the pressure of the floor on his tail plug, or the carpet on his butt, or something else. Dark Choco hadn’t looked like he was holding back when he was pulling Red Velvet around by the root of his hair; although, now that Madeleine thinks about it, he probably was, at least a little. Dark Choco is strong .
“Wh-what do you have in store?” Madeleine asks. He hopes that Dark Choco’s plans include Madeleine getting off, even though he knows he's not really part of the show this time; he knows he is just a spectator this time. But-but, anyway, sometimes, Dark Choco is really mean, and he doesn’t let Madeleine come at all, even when he earned it!
“You will be watching. If you are good, I may let you jerk off.” Dark Choco stares at Madeleine, in that way that he always does where his eye looks a little out of focus. Maybe only having one has messed with his depth perception or something? Madeleine doesn’t think he has depth perception either, though, and he can focus on stuff just fine.
“I will be! Just for you. Babe. Love of my life.”
Dark Choco nods. His gaze looks a little fond for a moment, but it fades away quick, unfortunately. “And, as for you,” He looks at Red Velvet, “You will fuck me.”
Madeleine balls his hands into fists on his thighs. He doesn’t get to fuck anything, but Red Velvet does? Where’s the justice in that? It’s not fair , not fair that Dark Choco likes getting, um, well—it’s embarrassing, now that, now that the initial hard edge of arousal has leaked out—not fair that Dark Choco seems to like everything but Madeleine up in his booty.
Red Velvet yips an affirmative bark. No, no, this is not happening, Madeleine is not jealous of the dude in the dog muzzle and little clip-on ears and fluffy tail plug in his heiney.
Dark Choco gets on his hands and knees, gestures for Red Velvet to come over with a nod. Madeleine shifts over to watch—with only the faintest little tiny bit of jealousy, nothing more than that—Red Velvet mounting Dark Choco, his humps as he attempts to get his cock in Dark Choco’s glistening hole.
It is infuriating to watch. Madeleine glares at Red Velvet when the head of his dick finally pops in, when Dark Choco tilts his head down and makes a little sound. He’s so jealous. It’s—it’s everything, everything that he’s kind of wanted.
To watch someone else fuck his lover.
Because Dark Choco is right. Madeleine likes being told no. Being forced to sit and watch, dick straining hard in his khaki slacks, little high-pitched sounds pouring out of the back of his throat. There’s a wet spot on his pants.
“C-can I suck your p-penis,” Madeleine asks, face burning, on fire, nipples poking through his light blue button-up that he got from Belks, “Choco? P-please?”
“No.”
“Aw,” Madeleine mutters.
He just wants to do something .
Anything.
To be given the chance to earn getting off. To be useful .
And then, suddenly, Red Velvet’s half-thrusts half-humps turn into hip indulations, turns into one final grind in and a low howl, a series of yips, and Madeleine’s breath catches in his throat when Dark Choco turns and snatches Red Velvet's collar, hooking two fingers in.
“He came before I did,” Dark Choco growls, and Madeleine squirms, nails digging into his thighs. “Bad dog.”
Red Velvet pulls out and Dark Choco throws him to the carpet, almost slams him down, those little whines and barks and sounds coming out of him more than ever. One of the vases imported from the Republic rattles and almost falls off of the shelf, and the noise only stretches Madeleine’s nerves along more, his entire being being held on a thin, thin string. His lover’s strong, huge hands easily flip Red Velvet onto his back, knock his thighs apart, probably starts fingering him or something. Red Velvet makes a cut-off scream that catches Madeleine off guard, shoves at the ground with his left hand still trapped in that paw sleeve, tries to push Dark Choco away with his long, flailing limbs. Man, what will the neighbors think of all this noise?
Some—some liquid spurts out of Red Velvet’s half-hard dick, and he shudders, his squeal going up at least an octave . Madeleine shudders, too, and asks, “Wh-what are you doing to him?”
“Prostate,” Dark Choco grunts, and Red Velvet’s hips cant up, his shoulders drop to the ground, enough for Madeleine to see where Dark Choco’s fingers are inside. They’re stretching around the tail plug still nestled inside, and—it’s gotta be a lot, so much, Madeleine knows better than anyone else how thick Dark Choco’s fingers are. “Get his arm,” Dark Choco bites.
Madeleine pins Red Velvet’s arm under his leg, kind of like how Dark Choco has the man’s calves trapped as well, careful to not put anywhere close to his full weight on him. “Do you want me to get his nipples, too?”
“Yeah. Good boy,” Dark Choco says offhand, clearly not thinking about it at all, and Madeleine almost comes at the thought, clenches his thighs together, splays his hands on Red Velvet’s chest.
But.
Wait.
It’s fine that Red Velvet’s into this acting-like-an-animal stuff, Madeleine isn’t judging, of course, but Madeleine isn’t into it at all. He’s not. He’s not. That’s weird. He would never .
Madeleine watches Red Velvet writhe on the floor from overstimulation, eyes wide and unseeing. He’s not. He’s not! Definitely not jealous . Not jealous at all. He plucks meanly at one of his teats, at both, holding and squeezing until Red Velvet is staring up at him, heaving for air.
“Madeleine, love,” Dark Choco calls when Red Velvet isn’t making noise at all anymore, just breathing and choking, “Madeleine. You have been a good boy.”
Madeleine looks up, makes eye contact.
“I want you to jerk off. All over him.” Dark Choco’s eye focuses on Red Velvet between them, like there was any question at all.
Madeleine absolutely cannot complain. He shoves his underwear and slacks off in a hurry, just barely getting them down his ass before plopping his penis out and beginning furiously masturbating. Or, no, “Wait, wh-when do you want me to come?”
There’s this little tinge of a smirk on Dark Choco’s face, something satisfied, like Madeleine did good . “Anytime you want, my love.”
Madeleine’s heart is seized by love for a moment, fluttering in his chest, and his hand speeds up to get him off quick, quicker. Just thinking about—Dark Choco, his love, he loves him so much, he’s so strong and he’s so sweet and, and, he’d be so nice, cupping the back of Madeleine’s neck, tilting his head up so gently to praise him and call him a good boy—wait, no.
No!
He’s not. Not into that. Not into how stern Dark Choco can be, not into how loving he always is, not into how he would be such a perfect—No!
His ass clenches around nothing, he shifts in his seat on top of Red Velvet’s arm, he moans out, “I love you, so much—Choco!” as he comes, semen splattering all over Red Velvet’s muzzle.
The world is flames inside and—all he sees is static. He only registers his own arched back when he starts to come down from his orgasm.
“You came so quick, Madeleine,” Dark Choco says, after some deep breaths, when they look at each other again. There’s a wet sound from Red Velvet’s asshole, and Dark Choco looks down and grunts, twists his thumb into the spot under Red Velvet’s balls to make him let out another squeal-moan- something .
Pinpricks of shame fall down Madeleine’s back. He did . “I’m—sorry—”
“You did good.” He’s consoling Madeleine, now, and it makes more shame pile into Madeleine, up and up and up, his dick twitches, even soft as it is right now. “I know you. I wanted you to. Look at Red Velvet.”
Madeleine looks down, past his own embarrassment. Red Velvet blinks and glares up at him. He is infuriated , and, “Oh, goodness, gracious... you look so good like that.”
“Would you say he looks like a whore?”
“Ye-ah. Ah. Yeah.”
“Describe it to me.”
Madeleine stutters another gasp. “He—his muzzle is dripping with my, um, um, stuff.”
“Say it.”
“My s-semen?”
“Good enough.” A pause, a really high sound from Red Velvet filling the silence. His dick is hard again, hard enough to look painful. He still must be sensitive. Madeleine knows, first hand, how determined Dark Choco can be, how he just doesn’t let up in bed sometimes. “...Continue.”
“He’s mad.”
“Mad at you, or mad at how much he enjoys being marked?”
Red Velvet chokes on a breath, eyes wider than ever, jaw falling open. “He likes being marked, I think. Marked as territory. Like a—like a b-bitch who couldn’t even fu—satisfy you properly.”
“Good boy,” Dark Choco says, and he’s staring right at Madeleine, and he knows . He’s so good at knowing. He knows how much Madeleine strains to be good. “Anything else?”
“He’s got tears in his eyes.” Madeleine brushes away a tear track down Red Velvet’s temple, mingled with white mascara and eyeliner that had ran. “He—he looks so hot when he cries, when his makeup is a complete mess. Y-you made him like that... I want to see more.”
Dark Choco grunts, nods. His fingers slide out of Red Velvet with a thick, wet sound, like how it sounds after he’d been eating Latte out for an hour. Red Velvet is a mess, too, just in general. Absolutely, thoroughly deranged, come drying on his muzzle, tears from overstimulation making his eyelashes clump together. They’re so long .
“We have a pretty dog,” Madeleine says, a bit softer than he intended.
“Yeah.” Dark Choco’s voice is also softer, and it’s scratchy in the back. Like a purr, almost. He has been talking a lot, Madeleine supposes. He knows it must hurt a little bit, but, oh, the Divine above, it is arousing. His lover continues, “The pup still has something he needs to do, though.”
“Are you gonna do a good job this time, doggie?” Madeleine asks, reaching back into his talking-to-doggie voice. “Are you not gonna mess up this time and come inside your owner again?”
“Nngh,” Red Velvet murmurs.
“No words, Red,” Dark Choco says. “Unless...”
Any words at all is Red Velvet’s safeword.
He shakes his head and whines.
Dark Choco nods like he understood the noise, shifts to get off of Red Velvet’s limbs. Madeleine follows suit. “Come on,” Dark Choco says, shortly, and Red Velvet clambors into a kneel, limbs far removed from his usual serene elegance.
Madeleine backs up again, unsure, until Dark Choco is on his hands and knees—wait, Dark Choco’s in his, like, forties, that’ll hurt his knees!—and his thoughts get derailed by Dark Choco simply looking his way.
“Come,” and he nods underneath him, at his really, really hard cock.
“You want me to finally blow you?”
“ Yes .”
“O-okay!” Madeleine scrambles underneath him, the position almost like a sixty-nine. Madeleine’s done it before, with Pastry; back when they were married, a lifetime ago. It wasn’t as great as he thought it would be, or maybe it was only because he didn’t really enjoy sex in particular with her, or maybe neither of them were that good at it but—but—whatever, it doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t—
Madeleine ends up with an elbow beneath him for support, holding onto the base of Dark Choco’s huge, perfect dick as he laps at the head, starts taking it inside when Red Velvet starts rubbing his cockhead along Dark Choco’s taint again, trying to get the darned troublesome thing in his ass.
The moment drags on, until, a sharp inhale comes from Dark Choco when it does finally pop in. Precum spurts on Madeleine’s tongue, salty and bitter, and it feels like a second wind coming on, Madeleine moving quicker, riding with Red Velvet’s single-minded rhythmless thrusting, like he’s lost all thresholds of humanity. The head slips further in Madeleine’s mouth, into his throat, he half-stops a gag and he hears Dark Choco groan from his belly out, feels the rumble of pleasure through his body. Oh, his voice is going to be gone by the end of this encounter.
Red Velvet’s whines spill from above as well, his sac slapping against Dark Choco hard, like he really doesn’t care about the pain at all. Maybe he’s still a little over-sensitive from earlier. Maybe—maybe he likes it, indulges in it.
And it’s suddenly—Dark Choco vocalizes, somewhere between a moan and a murmur and a shout and a growl, “I—Madeleine—I am—”
He shoves in, all at once, and comes, Madeleine desperately sucking him down, lapping at his frenulum with his tongue, a frantic, manic energy overtaking him all of a sudden. He wants to make him feel good .
One more stuttered gasp from his lover, and Madeleine lets Dark Choco’s gorgeous cock fall out of his mouth. “Red— Stop —” Dark Choco commands, a moment later, voice edging just a bit grainier, a bit rougher, like the calluses on his palms from who-knows-where, and his lover shoves Red Velvet by the hip out of him, making him fall on his butt.
(He entertains a fantasy, briefly, so quickly, of his lips around Dark Choco’s cock, his lover running his hand through his hair as he’s simultaneously loved and ignored and it—it is—it gets chased out of his head in the here and now.)
Red Velvet makes a ‘ pfffa ’ kind of noise of annoyance, glaring at Dark Choco with those cutting blue eyes.
“You are not fucking me anymore tonight. You have even gotten to come already. Be grateful, dog.”
Madeleine, still under Dark Choco, eyes Red Velvet’s dick, his swollen balls. He looks hard enough to hurt. “You’re gonna send him home like that?” Madeleine asks, surprised at how broken up, how used his own voice is. It makes him shudder.
“Yes. I think his little boyfriend would love to see him like that,” Dark Choco says, turning around, taking Red Velvet’s chin, addresses him directly. “They would love to see how cute you are... how desperate you get when you want to come... if they do not already, that is.”
Red Velvet tosses his hair back, huffing an unamused snort.
“Madeleine, love.” Madeleine perks up. “My duffel bag. Please.”
“Get it for you?”
“Yes.”
Madeleine scrambles to grab it, to pass it off to Dark Choco. He places it by his side and, all at once, threads his fingers through Red Velvet’s hair, pulls him close.
“We will be taking your muzzle and ears off,” Dark Choco says, pulling a smaller bag out of the duffel, “And you will put your clothes back on. And you will walk back to your apartment.”
Red Velvet pants, shivers. Madeleine asks, “Wait, with the plug still in?”
“Yes. But first—” He pulls Red Velvet into him, curls the both of them against the couch. Where the duffel was already. Why would Dark Choco make him grab it, then? He didn’t even need it, didn’t even need him to fetch it!
Dark Choco gently tugs each strap of the muzzle free, carefully unclips the ears out of Red Velvet’s hair. “Madeleine, wipe his muzzle clean,” he commands, nodding towards a container of wet wipes.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, sure,” Madeleine grumbles, snatching it from Dark Choco.
Dark Choco shoots him a look.
Anticipation sinks in, anxiety, like he’ll be in some hot water once Red Velvet leaves. He decides to hold out on pressing his luck to see what Dark Choco will do. “S-sorry,” he whispers.
Madeleine hasn’t really had to do chores before living on his own. He’s still not great at them, but at least he’s better than mixing bleach and toilet cleaner in the bathtub multiple times and then wondering why he kept on fainting whenever he entered the bathroom, like he was in his first year. But he—anyway, um—he does his best to clean Red Velvet’s muzzle of his own fluids, he wonders why that reminded him of being on his own, and he places that and Red Velvet’s ears in the bag.
And he looks up at Dark Choco, looks at him untangling Red Velvet’s hair, and he kind of yearns. Wishes Dark Choco would look at him, nod for him to come over— why is he ignoring him now ?
He doesn’t like this type of jealousy.
Doesn’t like— doesn’t like this .
It’s not sexy, it’s just—well, Red Velvet needs to be returned back to acting like a human being, and he’ll be gone soon, and then maybe Dark Choco will finally hold him like that and love him like that instead of anyone else. But he can’t help how he feels right now.
This is the first time Madeleine’s really shared Dark Choco, or at least—well. It’s different than when he shares him with Latte. Madeleine knows Latte, knows her well, had dated her for a while, still are great friends. He doesn’t know Red Velvet that well yet.
Dark Choco seems to like him, though. And—and Madeleine does trust Dark Choco. That’s the most important part.
So, Madeleine resolves, he’ll just sit and wait for Dark Choco.
But he can’t help but, he feels so terrible all of a sudden, he can’t help but remember forever ago, two years ago, that relationship, that really horrible break-up. It had caused him to stumble upon a draught of love, a little tiny fear of romance. ‘Cause of a really, really shitty, completely awful, no-good boyfriend.
He was always mad at how, as he called it, needy Madeleine is. Maybe—maybe Dark Choco will realize, too, sooner or later. Madeleine is needy. A little bit. But—he can—he’s gotten more mature! He can admit that nowadays! He is a bit needy. And—and, but, what if, what if Dark Choco realizes, and he leaves him, too? Because Madeleine’s too much . That’s what that shitty, stupidly smart, ex said, after all. Because he’s a big ole handful, sometimes, way too much for anyone to want to deal with.
It’s been really, really nice with Dark Choco, though, Madeleine has found. It’s been so good. Way better than anyone before. What if, once Red Velvet leaves, Dark Choco thinks that anyone else is lower maintenance then him? And leaves . Leaves forever .
All of a sudden, Madeleine doesn’t want Red Velvet to go, doesn’t want that possibility to have a chance to occur. Wants this moment to draw out forever, because at least he gets to be near his boyfriend, even if he doesn’t want cuddles from his dearest.
All of a sudden, during the whirlwind of thoughts in his head, Madeleine watches Dark Choco patting Red Velvet on the butt, helping him change into clothes suited for the chilly night air, has a hand on his lower back. They’re talking at the door, Madeleine can’t see or hear from where he’s sitting on the floor, where he’s been fiddling with his own hair, tempted to take a bite out of it, or—where did that thought come from?
“Madeleine,” Dark Choco calls, gingerly, plopping on his side of the couch. His voice is rough from murmuring to Red Velvet, Madeleine thinks. Softer, his lover says, “Come here.”
Madeleine nods, scampers next to him, to get hauled onto Dark Choco’s lap.
“You’ve been a good boy tonight,” he says, and Dark Choco’s voice is so fried, so tired, and Madeleine doesn’t want him to have to talk any longer. He probably won’t be able to talk tomorrow as is.
“Thank you,” Madeleine says, squirming, realizing his half-hard dick in his pants, realizing that it’ll probably get ignored tonight. Needy . If he—if he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t ask Dark Choco about it, then, he’s not needy, right? He’s self-sufficient! And then, if he keeps this up, he gets to even stay with his boyfriend.
He really, really wishes he hadn’t remembered that night. It wasn’t the night they broke up—Madeleine and his horrible evil awful ex—but it was even worse than the night they broke up. Because what he said hurt . And it was the truth. That’s even worse. Bigger. Worse-er.
He doesn’t—he doesn’t want to get that way with Dark Choco. Fear pulses through his veins.
“Are you alright? Are you dropping?” Dark Choco asks, his voice like a whisper, his calloused palm cupping the back of Madeleine’s neck.
“I’m—what’s dropping? Is something falling? Is it the vase? That was—expensive—” Madeleine, a second too late, notices Dark Choco having his mouth open, and Madeleine cuts himself off.
“Subdrop. I should have—hmph. Come.” Madeleine gets pulled into Dark Choco’s embrace, gets pulled tight, so tight, and it feels like water over a burn, like the soothe after a harsh word. Madeleine’s never been comforted after someone said something mean to him . Nobody has ever even said sorry before Dark Choco . “I apologize, my love. I will not let you sit neglected again.”
“W-wait, I’m not needy, though—you didn’t neglect me, I’m self-sufficient—”
Dark Choco smiles down at him, and it’s soft and genuine and it’s everything, it’s everything, Madeleine has wanted something so huge and so little and it feels like everything, like Red Velvet and Esp—and him , and everyone and everybody and everything else has just fallen off the face of the world, like the planet they spin on is plummeting and Dark Choco has him tucked in his arms.
Madeleine is a big man. Broad in the shoulders, big forearms and hands and thighs and everything, and he feels so small, and he feels like, like—
“I apologize, but I am losing my voice... I will not be able to talk tomorrow... Look at me?”
A soft husk of a question, kindled by the final dying embers of his lover’s voice. Madeleine gazes up. His eyes feel— wet , his face feels wet, he’s been crying, and it’s so embarrassing, how he didn’t even notice.
“You are needy. I love you for it.” Every word dies, a little more, a little less vocal cord vibration and a little more breath. “I love you, and your arrogance, and your jealousy, how unobservant you are... your neediness... I love your cold feet, your cold hands, when you get excited and talk too loud and flail your hands around. I am not fooled by your handsome exterior. I know the man that dwells within is imperfect. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you, bragging... I do not think lesser of you because of your faults. I love,” and his voice is nothing, just huffs of breath on the wind, Madeleine hears the movements and shapes of his lips more than anything else, his eye is crinkled with adoration, and it, it, in between Madeleine’s blinks, Dark Choco finishes, “I love you, all of you. Because of your imperfections.”
“Oh—” Madeleine starts crying in earnest, his eyes are too blurry to see Dark Choco’s tender face, and he, and he—
“We shall shower, and then sleep,” Dark Choco says, and it’s the final thing he says for the night. Both of them fall into silence.
Madeleine hadn’t thought he’d known so much , hadn’t thought that he could still—love him—
It’s unbelievable. Unbelievable that Dark Choco still stands with him in the shower, combs and blow-dries his hair, holds him in a one-armed embrace as he puts products in his own hair.
Unbelievable that there’s so many that scorn Dark Choco for no reason. Sometimes, they’ll be holding hands on the street, and people will look right past Madeleine and give his lover hateful looks. Dark Choco called him unobservant earlier—which, he supposes, is fair—but, he sees more than what Dark Choco knows. But—those people—if they just gave Dark Choco a chance—
It makes Madeleine feel special, though, in a weird way. Because, even though Dark Choco seems to be fornicating with half the apartment complex at this point, nobody knows him like Madeleine does.
Nobody gets to collapse in bed with him at the end of a long night. Nobody else gets the promise of it, night after night, forever.
Madeleine wants to give him forever.