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Despite not having visited even half a dozen worlds since he started working with the Nameless, Caelus’ patience for dealing with troublesome inhabitants is growing thin. He loves helping people, and even though he would rather be lazy, having something to do with his time besides hanging around the express is something he can look forward to. He doesn’t like being berated. In fact, Caelus would wager that being looked down upon by some asshat who’s too self-absorbed to even show his face would be top on his list of things he would rather gouge his own eyes out than endure.
To try and show Caelus up against Asta and Screwllum as if he wanted to disappear Herta. The only bad thing she’d ever done to him was program the Simulated Universe to beat his ass to Sunday, and it wasn’t kidnap-worthy in the slightest. If anything, Caelus appreciated the challenge. And then, for Veritas to act so aloof about being proven wrong and still question Caelus’ intelligence after the fact had Caelus wondering how bad of an idea it would be to let Veritas know what the end of his bat tasted like.
They have to work together, unfortunately.
Veritas is a good fighter. He’s smart, cunning, motivated, and thinks so highly of himself that Caelus, who has quite literally defeated a god, looks like shit smeared on his fancy sandals. Intelligence can very quickly lead to arrogance, after all, and if equating the two, Veritas has enough intelligence to level a lesser city. Then again, the arrogance so very obviously outweighs his intellect when all he can do is talk about it and shove his nose where it doesn’t belong.
Then the flame fucks off, and they’re alone again, and Veritas is rambling about something or other and Caelus just can’t anymore. Listening to Veritas’ holier-than-thou monologue and watching his flippant hand movements as he’s dissing something that Caelus had done earlier—something about his fighting form or his articulation or something, and Caelus cannot deal with any more of his prattling or he’s going to release himself into a space vacuum.
“Hey,” he interrupts, smiling sarcastically, “Just a question—are you always an asshole or am I just lucky?”
Veritas blinks at him. It doesn’t take him more than a second to rebut, “Perhaps you should be asking yourself what you did to warrant such behaviour. Or perhaps you should do better in the future not to be so flippant.”
“So, you’re always like this, got it.”
Quirking a brow at him, Veritas crosses his arms over his chest. It makes the muscles in his bare arms flex and bulge, and Caelus realizes he’s probably doing it on purpose. Not only is he genuinely smart, but he’s also, terribly, horribly, disgustingly attractive, and he fucking knows it. He doesn’t wear that statue head for nothing. Caelus overheard someone saying that he needs to wear it because his students are so attracted to him that they can’t focus on lectures, which is ridiculous. He imagines Veritas is a terrible teacher—the kind that refuses to accept any other interpretations besides his own and marks hard enough that he has a 90% dropout rate.
“Do I need to put my head back on?” Veritas asks him smugly.
“Fuck off,” Caelus tells him. “I’m only working with you because I have to, you do realize that?”
“Well, I’m not an idiot,” he tuts, rolling his eyes. Waving a hand, he adds, “Unlike some people. When people are out of their element, they flounder, seeking proverbial low-hanging fruit to feel a sense of accomplishment in their childish insults.”
Sneering, Caelus bites, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I strike a nerve?”
“You missed entirely, but kudos for trying. Statistically, if you keep going, you’re bound to have one land.”
Fists tightening, Caelus turns up his nose at him. He will not let this pompous dickhead get under his skin, no matter how assholish and ridiculous he is. All he does is talk, hoping the people around him are stupid enough to get lost in the pointless words he utters just to gain the upper hand. To Veritas, no doubt, everyone he speaks to falls under that category, save for, of course, most members of the Genius Society. Caelus would bet strales that underneath it all, Veritas probably saw himself above them, too. It’s so hard being a prodigy, isn’t it?
He isn’t going to give Veritas what he wants. He can play him at his own game.
“Do you want to know what I think?”
“Not particularly, but you are obviously going to tell me regardless.”
“I think you’re a brat,” Caelus tells him. Well. So much for not letting Veritas get to him. “No one has ever put you in your place because you think you belong on a pedestal and they’re too scared to question you.”
To Caelus’ credit, Veritas does look bewildered at the implication, which to him counts as a win.
“If you’re so all-knowing,” Veritas says sarcastically, “what exactly is my place?”
“Someone needs to knock you down a few pegs. You like being challenged, and you like being right, but I think part of you craves that feeling of being rightfully bested.”
“And what would that somebody do,” Veritas asks, stepping closer. So near, Caelus can smell his cologne, something sweet and a little bit spicy, like cinnamon and cayenne. “To knock me down a few pegs, hmm? To put me in my place?”
A pleasant shiver dances along Caelus’ spine. He has to tip his chin up to meet Veritas’ gaze, but for the first time since they met, he doesn’t feel looked down upon. He licks his lips and glares, shoving his hands into his pockets. Veritas’ face falters, if only for a moment.
“Oh,” he says, realizing, then scoffs out a laugh. “You’re not the first and certainly not the last to consider this tactic, but I’ll have you know I’m no harlot.”
“I never said anything about sex,” Caelus argues, “but if that’s where you want to take this, I suppose I could indulge you.”
“Indulge me ?” Veritas asks, scandalized, “Why, you—!”
Pleased by another victory, Caelus smiles triumphantly. Sure, he might not be the smartest person in the room, but Caelus is savvy. He knows, after however long he’s been alive, what makes people tick, especially self-righteous dickheads who feel the need to let everyone know just how much they pale in comparison. Looks, smarts—they mean nothing when Caelus knows how to put Veritas on edge, fluster him and twist his words to make him seem like the perpetrator.
Face twisting into a scowl, Veritas tells him, “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I accept your challenge, though don’t be too disappointed when you realize that you aren’t as cunning as you think you are.”
This is not exactly where Caelus thought this conversation would lead when he instigated it, but he isn’t going to complain. It’s not like Veritas is particularly hard on the eyes, nor does he seem like he’d be a particularly bad lay. A mouthy one, that’s for certain, but what’s sex without a little challenge, anyway?
Grabbing Veritas by the wrist, Caelus drags him towards one of the portals, swirling with twinkling blue energy like it contains all the stars in every galaxy.
“Where are you taking me?”
“One of these has to lead to my bedroom.”
“There,” Veritas points, after a few seconds. “That one. I deduce we have roughly thirty minutes before Asta and Screwllum question our prolonged absence. Surely that’s enough time for you to try—and fail—to do your little experiment?”
“Plenty of time, princess.”
Veritas scoffs but doesn’t say anything else on the matter. Through what Caelus can only imagine is some extensive mathematics and probability testing, Veritas leads him through a handful of portals until they end up in one that leads them to the corridor of the Express. The end contains another portal and the air feels tepid and cloying. He pulls Veritas into his bedroom and shuts the door behind him.
“Strip,” Caelus orders, kicking off his shoes.
“No,” Veritas tuts. “You don’t intimidate me.”
With one single push to his solar plexus, Veritas lands with a muffled oof against the wall adjacent. He shrinks minutely against it, squirming uncomfortably as Caelus crowds him.
“Take off your clothes,” Caelus says, “or I’ll leave them in tatters and you’ll have to explain to Asta and Screwllum exactly why you look that way.”
“It implicates you, as well, you realize?”
“Unlike you, I’m not ashamed of being a harlot.”
Begrudgingly, Veritas peels off his toga and undershirt, then frees himself of his trousers. It leaves him mostly bare, nothing but a pair of tiny black underwear that leave little to the imagination.
Veritas is stone-carved. Every crevice in his body was hand chiselled and fashioned to be as close to perfect as possible, and Caelus takes to mapping out each one with this index finger. A mole next to his left pectoral. One, too, beside his navel. A small scar on Veritas’ stomach, raised and faded white.
“Surgery,” Veritas explains, looking away. “I swallowed a safety pin as an infant. Naturally, it couldn’t be done laparoscopically.” After Caelus continues his exploration, he adds, “I see what you’re doing, and scrutinizing me isn’t going to make me feel worse about myself.”
“How could you?” Caelus asks. “Looking like this. Besides, my objective isn’t to make you feel bad about yourself, it’s to make you understand that just because you’re handsome and smart, that doesn’t mean that everyone should bow to you.”
“I never suggested they should,” Veritas insists snarkily. “If I recall correctly, it was you who made baseless assumptions about me.”
“They’re not baseless if they formed from being around you. You accepted, did you forget? If you want to back out, I’m sure there are some other ways I can test my hypothesis.”
“I am not backing out,” Veritas tells him. “This way is…interesting. Your dedication to your cause is charming, if not, somewhat misguided. I’m compelled to think you just wanted me in your bed.”
“Unfortunately for you, you don’t need that alabaster head to keep me at bay. I’ve little interest in you outside of using you as a means to be right.” Drawing his fingers into the waist of Veritas’ underwear, He tugs downward until they’re in a pool at his feet. Veritas steps out of them, peering down at Caelus with heavy eyes as he takes his half-hard cock in hand and gives it a slow stroke. “For someone who isn’t interested, you’re awfully hard.”
“Tense situations and attention will do that,” Veritas says plainly. “Basic biology. Or did you want me to compliment your sex appeal? Tell you how being prodded at and talked down to has me dripping? Twenty-seven minutes, by the way.”
Sinking to his knees, Caelus peers darkly up at Veritas and takes his cock into his mouth. It’s an effective way to shut him up for about five whole seconds. He tastes clean, maybe a little salty from the precum. Caelus wastes little time in hollowing his cheeks, running his tongue along the underside just to make Veritas squirm. It has him trembling, fingers digging into the wall behind him and his head flops back with a thunk, and he huffs out, “Gods, keep doing that.”
Caelus does not keep doing that. It fills him with a cloying sense of pride as he hears the frustrated groan above him, pulling off Veritas’ cock to instead take him in hand and draw his mouth over his jagged hip bones.
“I see what your plan is,” Veritas tells him, voice somewhat uneven, just from a little stimulation. “Do the opposite of what I want—deny me the pleasure to frustrate me. While an effective tactic on some, you gravely misjudge my resolve.”
“If you say so,” Caelus murmurs. He draws his thumb under the crown, leaning down to slurp obscenely at Veritas’ sac. It’s positively lewd, and even from down on the floor, Caelus can see the flush spread over his angular face.
It dawns on him, from the way that Veritas is trying so hard to hide his embarrassment, that perhaps when he said that he isn’t a harlot, he meant that he doesn’t do it at all. It’s hard to imagine that he doesn’t get propositioned frequently, but it also isn’t hard to imagine him turning every single one down. Caelus wonders if he’s ever done this—if anyone has ever taken him, if he’s ever let himself be touched and picked apart or if the mere notion was enough for him to shut down over. Oh, how delicious it is to think that his first is someone who doesn’t even really like him at all.
“Are you a virgin?” Caelus asks him. Veritas’ cock is hard now, ruddy and curved upwards toward his stomach, which quivers as the words leave Caelus’ mouth. The resounding silence and Veritas’ refusal to meet Caelus’ eyes is telltale and makes his smugness bleed into something fond. “It’s fine if you are. I’ll be gentle. Or, well, as gentle as I can be.”
“I’m a grown man,” Veritas bites, “I don’t need you to treat me like I’m some blubbering schoolgirl.”
Caelus stands, tugging Veritas’ cock on the way up. It has his brows furrowing, his mouth falling open in a quiet moan. With his free hand, he pulls Veritas down by the hair, and when Veritas flinches, and only then, he presses up on the balls of his feet to slot their mouths together.
Despite his apparent lack of experience, Veritas is, regrettably, a pretty good kisser. He opens for Caelus after they fight about it for a few moments, pushing and prodding against one another until Caelus squeezes the head of his cock and he gasps, melting against his mouth. He has a long tongue and plush lips and he tastes like mint tea, soft and tangy and nervous as he grabs at Caelus’ clothes so he doesn’t topple over from the force of it. Caelus starts jerking him off roughly, and there probably isn’t enough slick but Veritas doesn’t seem to mind much, pushing his hips up to meet Caelus’ skilled touches and moaning into his mouth like he’s trying not to let Caelus know he likes it.
But he does like it. Of course he likes it.
Caelus had him pegged from the moment he saw him, that he’s a brat who wants someone to make him submit—to question and challenge him. His whole life, he’s probably only been wrong a handful of times, and even when he is wrong, very few people will try to correct him to protect themselves from the verbal assault of cleverly disguised insults and accusations he’d know doubt throw at them. If Caelus weren’t so hard-headed, he probably wouldn’t have challenged him, either.
Fumbling between them, Caelus pulls away to tuck two of his fingers into his mouth to get them nice and wet before he reaches around behind Veritas to press one to his quivering hole.
“What are you doing?” he stutters out, jerking away from the touch.
“Opening you,” Caelus tells him lowly. “I can’t just fuck you without any preparation. I’m not a barbarian.”
“When was it discussed that you would be fucking me?”
“When you agreed to let me try to knock you down,” Caelus explains. “Sorry, but I don’t bottom for people like you.”
Veritas scoffs, though his eyes don’t meet his look of distaste.
“There’s a spot in you,” Caelus tells him, sinking the tip of his middle finger inside. Veritas’ face twists in an array of emotions. Fear and uncertainty and something like desire. “It’s nice if you let it be.”
“I’m well aware of human anatomy,” Veritas grits, “Get on with it then. Twenty-three minutes left.”
Caelus laughs at him, stroking his cock fervently to distract from the stretch. He’s so tight, Caelus has to work for it to slip inside of him, fucking his finger in to each knuckle until Veritas relaxes enough to let him get all the way inside. His mouth is agape in a silent gasp, eyes screwed shut so tightly the skin around them is red from the blood flow. Caelus leans up to his ear.
“When I get my cock in you,” he murmurs, “And I will, if you’re good—you’ll be begging for it. I’ll hem and haw over it, just to tease you, letting my head catch on your hole until you’re crying for me, Doctor. Pleading for me to put it in you, nothing but a little whore for it. And then, only when I’ve decided that I’ve heard enough of your whining, will I give it to you. Press myself so deep in you, you’ll be able to taste me. You won’t be able to sit down without thinking of me.”
To Caelus’ surprise, he doesn’t receive a single rebuttal as he’s stroking at Veritas’ insides and jerking off his cock. Instead, he gets a whiny moan and Veritas’ hips kicking up off the wall with a cry of, “Fuck, I’m going to cum.”
And Caelus stops. Let's go of Veritas’ drooling cock and allows his hand to still inside him.
Veritas’ eyes fly open, head snapping down to glare. “What in the world is wrong with you?”
“Oh, my apologies, princess.” Caelus grins. “But I don’t remember telling you that you could cum.”
“You—” Veritas grits, then, defeated, slumps against the wall and says, “Fine. That’s fine.”
Caelus cocks an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Yes,” he insists. Veritas sounds sure of himself, as if Caelus would let him eventually, positive that it must be the case. How sweet it is to see him flounder. Caelus finds himself eager to break him, to whittle him down to nothing and reshape what’s left behind.
“Bed,” Caelus orders. “Now.”
Veritas saunters over to the mattress where he sprawls gracefully in the centre, his long, slender legs parted and outstretched before him. Caelus peels his shirt over his head and doesn’t miss the way Veritas gawks at him. He may be on the shorter side, but he takes care of his appearance and is so physically active that it’s gained him a fair bit of muscle. Nothing like Veritas, who clearly spends the time he has when he isn’t scrutinizing equations and philosophical queries at the gym. Unless he just looks like that, which—annoying.
Crawling between his legs, Caelus reaches over to his bedside table where he retrieves a bottle of lube and hovers over a condom.
“I know I’m meant to be disciplining you, but how averse are you to being creampied? I’m clean, obviously.”
Veritas squawks out an indignant noise. “That’s—disgusting.”
“So, no…?”
“No.”
Sighing dramatically, Caelus retrieves what he needs and yanks Veritas forward by the thighs. He lets his legs dangle over his own, pale skin smooth and creamy, nearly hairless like he takes the time to shave. It’s a little bit comical, watching him be so uncomfortable at being picked over like this, to see the way he clearly wants to squirm away from the scrutiny and fuck off back to his castle, but Caelus doesn’t let him stew in the feeling long because he can’t help but slick up two of his fingers and press them inside.
Veritas gasps for him, one of his hands coming up to his mouth so he can gnaw on the knuckle, a look of determination melting onto his features. “You’ll have to do more than that,” he snarks around the digit, “I still feel pretty good up on my pedestal .”
Caelus could kill him. Instead, he leans forward and uses his palm against the mattress as leverage to really get in on him, pistoning his fingers so quickly that his forearm cramps. Veritas’ body makes a terrible noise around the intrusion, but Caelus drinks it up hungrily, smiling gleefully as Veritas arches and groans, his own hands fisting the sheets beneath him.
“That better?” Caelus asks sarcastically.
“No difference. Try harder.”
Challenge accepted.
With his other hand, Caelus cups the head of Vertias’ cock, circling around it in a way that ought to be bordering painful, but Veritas positively weeps for him, eyes screwing shut and mouth falling slack as he swallows around spit and whines. When he’s stretched enough, he slips in a third finger, curling them just so until Veritas is shaking.
“Gods,” Veritas mutters, trying to stay level. “Gods. Close.”
And so Caelus stops again, and Veritas can do nothing but slump, defeated, his cock twitching and drooling over Caelus’ knuckles. He rubs his face miserably. Beautifully.
“And you said I was an asshole.”
“Oh, you certainly are,” Caelus says. “The difference is that I never denied it.”
“Never been accused of being nice?”
“Not to the likes of you, no.”
Drawing his fingers out slowly, Caelus fucks Veritas with a gentle, frustrating rhythm. Not quite enough that he really enjoys it, but just enough that it makes him writhe, trying to fuck himself down onto Caelus’ hand. He’s not even sure if Veritas realizes he’s doing it. It’s easy to fall into a pattern, to get lost in the way Veritas’ body so obviously wants more, but his brain is getting in the way of asking for it. Too proud to be weak, too loud to hear. Too bratty to give Caelus what he wants—what they both want.
He can tell Veritas is getting close again when his breathing starts to falter. He shudders and makes these little mewling noises from the back of his throat like a puppy, his deep voice pitched up an octave, even through grit teeth.
“Are you going to ask for it?”
“No,” Veritas answers, shaking his head.
“Even though you want it?” Caelus questions in response, dragging his finger through the slick beading at the tip of Veritas’ cock.
“Want and need are not mutually exclusive,” Veritas tells him. “You’re not good enough.”
“Oh, I think I’m fine.” Drawing his fingers out, Caelus shimmies backwards on the bed. “You, on the other hand…”
“What are you doing?”
Unanswering, he grabs Veritas by the hips and flips him over so he’s on his knees with his chest pressed to the mattress. He likes him better like this, he thinks. The position shows off how trim his waist is and the gentle dip of his spine; the ripple of his muscles like starskiffs cutting through the air, trembling when Caelus dips his thumbs into the dimples at the bottom of his back. He draws his own cock from his trousers and presses it to Veritas’ quivering hole.
“Will you ask for it?” Caelus questions again.
“N-No,” Veritas tells him, swallowing audibly.
A murmured laugh. Caelus drizzles some lubricant over himself and slides forward. It makes the head of his cock slip right over where Veritas wants him. He wants it too, he realizes distantly, to feel Veritas’ insides caressing him, to know what it tastes like to have a genius crumble underneath him. Maybe not the most impressive lay he’s had in terms of notoriety, but he’d wager Veritas would be close to the top of the list.
“Alright,” he says, and so he does it again. And again. And over and over until Veritas is panting, gripping the bedclothes so hard they pull free from the corner.
Something unintelligible comes from him a few moments later.
“Speak up,” Caelus barks. “It’s not like you to mumble.”
“Fuck me,” Veritas relents miserably, turning his face to the side so he can speak clearly.
“What was that?”
“Fuck me,” he says louder.
“No, I don’t think I will,” Caelus tells him.
And Veritas, renowned member of the Intelligentsia Guild and doctor with eight degrees, cries for him. Something syrupy and thick settles in Caelus’ chest. As Veritas reaches back and grabs at his wrist, he recognizes it as triumph.
“Please,” he begs. “Gods, is that what you want to hear? Please fuck me, please. I don’t—Gods. You’re driving me mental, you bast—ah.”
Caelus doesn’t let him finish, pressing his cock downward and sliding in with one swift motion. Veritas opens for him like Caelus belongs there, hips flush to his full ass and his fingers digging so hard into his hips he’ll leave traces of indigo in his wake. He tips his head back, sighing as the achingly sweet warmth of Veritas’ body surrounds him, twitching around his cock like it’s trying to suck him deeper.
“There you go,” Caelus purrs, petting Veritas between the shoulder blades like he’s a prized show dog. Vertias can only whimper in response, burying his face in his forearms to hide the way his cheeks have gone dark. Pulling out and fucking back inside roughly, he punches a winded mewl from him. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Not to have another choice? You wanted me to take away your options, didn’t you, Doctor?”
“No,” Veritas bleats around a moan, pounding his fist against the mattress as Caelus begins to fuck him in tandem.
“Isn’t it, though?” Caelus asks, “You begged so nicely for it.”
“You—” Veritas’ insult dies on his tongue. It doesn’t take long for it to be replaced with a plea of, “Fuck, more. Harder.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Caelus tells him. He leans down next to Veritas’ ear, slipping a hand into his hair to pull him backwards. His neck cranes at an awkward angle, but there’s nothing other than complete and utter pleasure on the good doctor’s face. “You’re going to take what I give you, and you’re going to like it.”
Swallowing, Veritas jerks a little. It takes Caelus a moment to realize he’s nodding. He’s agreeing.
Ha! Caelus could jump into a black hole and die happy. To think all it would take to break down Veritas’ defences was nothing more than a little old-fashioned edging and the mean part of himself that only slips out when he’s being patronized. Veritas can bitch and moan all he wants about how ineffective Caelus’ methods are and how his experiment was doomed from the start, but nothing can stop the glee he feels at how easily Veritas broke under pressure.
Really, he’d thought it would take more. He isn’t sure if Veritas is just wildly unused to being stimulated so thoroughly, or if being told no just sets off some neurons in his brain he’s always tried to keep quiet, but Caelus is more than pleased at the outcome. Look how much a person can be swayed when incentivized. If he knew all it would take for Veritas to stop being a dickhead was a cock in his ass and a hand in his hair, he’d have propositioned him the first time they met.
Caelus leans back but maintains his grip on Veritas’ hair. It’s soft like he uses expensive product and makes him cry deliciously when it’s tugged on. When he snakes a hand down to touch himself, Caelus swats his hand away and tuts at him. Still, he can’t help the smile splitting his face.
“You terrible, wretched thing,” he says, barely winded despite the way he fucks him. “I didn’t say you could.”
“I want to cum,” Veritas tells him. He continues pitifully, “I want—”
Caelus cuts him off. “That’s too bad, isn’t it? I’ve still got ten minutes to deal with you.”
Lifting one leg to give himself a little more leverage, Caelus presses one hand flat to Veritas’ spine so he arches like a bow under him. He’s flushed all the way to his ass, skin tacky with perspiration and leftover spit from when Caelus had dragged his mouth over him. For someone who’s—probably—never done this before, Veritas takes Caelus’ cock like he was made for it, gasping and writhing, twitching backward like he can help but want Caelus deeper. Born cockslut, he is, so warm and tight around him. Caelus fucks him dizzy, fucks him cross-eyed, tearing down all of his walls and leaving behind nothing but someone so pathetic he can’t help but feel a little bad for him, amused by this pitiful display.
“Haven’t I been good?” Veritas grits, peering at Caelus over his shoulder. His eyes are glassy and his pupils are blown, lips spit slick and wracked with tremors.
“You?” Caelus scoffs. “No. You’re not good.”
“I’ll be good,” Veritas insists, nodding. Caelus doesn’t even know what he’s nodding for. “I will, I promise, so, please ?”
“No,” he tells him. “Be good and listen. Take it like you’re meant to.”
Swallowing, Veritas nods again, albeit tinily. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”
“Good,” Caelus purrs. He pulls out for a moment, and at Veritas’ whine, adds, “Turn over. I want to see your face while I ruin you.”
Veritas melts into the bed as Caelus lines himself up again, arms spread and chin tipping to the heavens as he sinks back inside with a revered sigh. His face scrunches minutely, brows pinching and mouth pursing as a low hum rumbles out of him. He lets his hands wander over Veritas’ thick thighs, dragging him down onto his cock before he starts rocking into him shallowly, punching upwards to nail his prostate with every thrust.
“Oh,” Veritas whimpers, “This angle, I—”
Caelus hums again at him. “Good, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Veritas gasps, grabbing at Caelus’ wrist tightly. His other hand moves to rest in the dip of his hips. “I feel you… here.”
Caelus’ head swims. He can’t take this anymore. He tucks his hands under Veritas’ knees and pushes until he’s folded in half, eyes widening as the angle shifts again and Caelus fucks him fervently. When their eyes meet, Caelus can see the blooming desire interlaced with fear behind Veritas’. His mouth hangs open as if begging for a tongue in it. Caelus indulges him.
It’s barely even a kiss. Veritas’ mouth is soft and pliant under him, trying so desperately to meet Caelus’ movements but failing. It doesn’t matter. Caelus licks into him, panting into his mouth, his own resolve faltering as his hips jitter and he drinks down Veritas’ minty taste.
“Caelus,” Veritas pleads, his voice breaking, the word punched from him. “Please, please, please, I need it so badly.”
A glance at the clock tells him they have five minutes. Caelus would be content to fuck him for hours, to make Veritas cum until he was going dry and pleading for Caelus to stop , even though he didn’t really want that.
“Please,” Veritas cries, tears welling in his eyes, “Please, Caelus, let me cum.”
He’d have him until he was shaking, until he passed out. He’d make even more of a mess of him. But Caelus doesn’t have time for that, so he reaches between them and takes Veritas’ cock in hand for the millionth time. Veritas’ eyes roll back into his head, a hiss of yessss, escaping his lips as his chest arches into Caelus’ and his head thrashes about.
“Good boy,” Caelus rasps, “Does it feel good?”
“Wonderful,” Veritas agrees. “Gods, can I? Can I really?”
“Yeah,” Caelus heaves. He won’t last much longer either. “Go ahead. Cum for me.”
Veritas wails, nails digging so hard into Caelus’ back he’s sure he’s drawn blood. His cock spurts violently between him like Caelus’ cock ripped it from his body, streaking him all the way up to his collarbones. He shudders through it like he’s being shocked, gasping and crying as wave after wave hits him and Caelus doesn’t stop, chasing his own release desperately.
“Hurts,” Veritas moans pitifully, “Enough.”
“You can take it,” Caelus says, and then, correcting himself, “Be good and take it, Doctor.”
Caelus fucks Veritas’ writhing body until he feels his own orgasm build and burst within him. He sinks his teeth into the junction of Veritas’ neck, groaning over Veritas’ squeak of surprise as he thrusts twice hard into him and spills into latex. He presses in slow until he’s finished, shuddering a sigh of his own when he presses his forehead to the sticky spot on Veritas’ shoulder.
“Did you get it out of your system?” Veritas asks after a handful of seconds, his voice shot.
Hating him, he means. Taking it out on him.
“Did you enjoy being forced into submission?” Caelus asks in return, slipping out of him with a wince and tying off the condom to be discarded. Veritas doesn’t reply to him, but the flush on his cheeks is answer enough. “I’m deeming my experiment a success, by the way.”
“Naturally,” Veritas murmurs, taking the cloth Caelus offers him to wipe the seed from his chest and the lube from his ass.
“We should get back,” Caelus tells him, “Two minutes.”
“Right,” Veritas says. It’s all so inarticulate, Caelus almost prefers him when he’s word-vomiting. “If I’m ever back on the station…” he adds quietly, trailing off. His eyes won’t meet Caelus’.
“I’ll push you off your high horse whenever you want, princess.” Caelus grins at him, throwing Veritas’ discarded clothing at him teasingly.
“Right. Well, best try to look presentable. I’d hate to be seen like this.”
“I like you better like this,” Caelus says, waving his hand at Veritas’ fucked up hair and the bruises that litter his porcelain skin. Veritas sits up and slips into his undershirt. “But sure. I’ll wait in the hallway for you.”
When Veritas emerges, no more than thirty seconds later, he looks just presentable enough that they could blame his sweat-stringy hair and flushed face from the battle they’d had. Caelus knows better, and is amused by the way he limps over to the next portal.
“Be quiet,” Veritas grits.
“Whatever you say.” Caelus grins. “Doctor."