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“GRIAN!” Scar shouts, bringing his horse to a stop in front of the Permit Office. Strange for such a dilapidated building to have such a neat and clean parking lot, Scar thinks, but he trusts Grian’s building expertise. And the parking lot being clean probably contributes to getting less customers… Somehow. Maybe. Scar clicks his tongue and coaxes his horse into the little garage. Grian’s own is already in the horse hole parking spots, so he knows the man is here, only he doesn’t know where.
Grian, of course, is nowhere outside or in the surrounding trees. Scar checks, just in case, because his boyfriend is playful enough for it. The windows of the Permit Office are tinted, meaning he can’t really see inside, and Scar sighs. He just wants his stupid permit for all the mobs! It fits right in with his theme for this season; Grian’s had plenty of fun messing around with his time-wasting forms, but now Scar has had enough! He’s going to march in there and tell Grian in no uncertain terms exactly the kind of permit he wants and will be getting. No amount of hold music will stop him. Even though it’s really catchy… NO! Scar shouts at his own thoughts. He will not be swayed by Grian’s siren tunes again.
Scar digs his shovel out of his inventory and crosses ‘round to the side of the Permit Office, where his usual hole has been filled back in with fresh dirt. He grumbles under his breath and gets to digging until he has a sizable tunnel for him to shimmy through on the other side. It’s cramped and dry and dirt falls to the white-grey floor once he climbs out, but he refuses to care. Grian absolutely deserves it after the hell he’s been put through with this stupid form.
“Grian!” Scar declares loudly once he’s inside the building, sweaty with dirt clinging to his cute Indiana Jones-style zookeeper uniform. The man in question squawks from where he’s standing behind that dumb desk, clearly surprised to see Scar. He’s got a feather duster in one hand and a random book in the other. “Mister Officeman, I have a bone to pick with you!”
“Scar?” Grian’s wings settle against his back from where they’d puffed in defence. “What’s this, then? Have ya finally figured out form MJ… whatever it was?”
“You can’t even keep track of your own form names?!” Scar cries out in exasperation. Grian grins, looking on the verge of laughter. He’s terrible. And of course he still looks gorgeous, even in horribly dim lighting with that pale green-blue polo on that washes him out and his silly little clip-on tie. Scar hasn’t gotten much time to admire him this season; he’s been preoccupied with his train and Grian’s been fishing and then there was that whole absolutely hilarious mending book fiasco. He’s glad Grian finally got it, though. For a minute there, Scar thought he was gonna have to stage an intervention just to get Grian to sleep.
“Well? Have you done it or not?” Grian’s eyes gleam with mischief. Scar narrows his own in return, suspicious of that sparkle. Grian only gets like that when he’s about to do something to make Scar’s life hell, usually in a funny way. “‘Cause, y’know, I think it’s almost my break time…” He trails off meaningfully with a snicker.
“No!” Scar exclaims, dropping his shovel as he jumps over to the desk. Grian raises an eyebrow. He sets down the book and the feather duster, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s not super buff, but fishing has done amazing things for his arms. Scar swallows and makes sure he’s looking Grian right in the eyes. “You, kind sir, cannot take a break right now!”
“Pretty sure that goes against like…every labour law ever, Scar.” Grian retorts immediately, smirking. Scar splutters.
“Excuse me! I would never⎯ You’re distracting me again, aren’t you?” Scar realises, deflating. Grian bursts into giggles, twirling his tie around his fingers absently.
“Maaaybe,” Grian taunts, dragging the word out. Scar huffs, pouting. He knows Grian’s weak to it even when the avian pretends like he isn’t; Scar’s better about being oblivious now that he and Grian are actually dating and not just fooling around on the downlow. Sure enough, the other man raises an eyebrow at the exaggerated pouting but the look in his eyes softens. “Ah, come on, Scar, lemme see your form.”
“I haven’t done it,” Scar mumbles. Grian blinks, feathers fluffing in surprise. “I tried! The letters did a bunch’a swimmin’ in front of my eyes and the questions were super silly and anyway I am not doing it, Grian! Just give me my mobs permit and I’ll be on my way and you can go back to your lil fishin’ day-job.”
Grian is clearly holding back laughter. “But Scar, that’s not how it works. I can’t give you special treatment over everyone else! Besides, that just makes more work for me, and really, I do not need that in my life. Nope, I’m afraid you’ll just have to come back when you’ve filled out the form.”
Scar pouts, but Grian doesn’t budge. Well, there goes all of his solutions. He gives in immediately, despite a resolve to hold firm, mostly because he really needs this damn permit and if he can’t get special privileges at least he can get Grian to answer his questions about the form! He’s not on break for once, after all.
“Okay, wouldja just explain the bloorben boonben test then⎯”
“Oops, sorry, looks like I’ll have to put you on hold!” Grian exclaims, seeming far too excited for the mere prospect. Scar is going to kill him right now with a dagger through the throat, he swears to God.
“Gri, don’t you dare⎯”
The disc is slipped into the jukebox and the familiar tones of Grian’s hold music fill the air. His maniacal giggles accompany the sounds before he ducks behind the partition and exits the building, leaving Scar staring forlornly down at the jukebox. Ugh…He thinks, bored and absently bopping his head along with the beat. He hates this music so much, but he loves it at the same time because it’s so catchy. As the meandering musical notes fill his ears, an idea slowly takes shape in Scar’s mind. Grian can’t give him special treatment over everyone else just because he asked, but he never said anything about negotiating. Scar is very, very good at negotiating.
(Grian insists it’s conning, but that’s just rude, especially from his boyfriend!)
The Permit Office doesn’t make diamonds, and it’s technically on a complete volunteer basis, no matter how reluctant Grian is to do any work. That doesn’t mean Scar can’t try to sweeten the deal here with a little something under the table, just for him. It’d have to be a one-time thing, but Grian would probably go for it if he was caught off-guard enough. Scar smirks to himself. He carefully pops one more button on his uniform, surreptitiously checking one of his many pockets to make sure he has lube. Look, you can never be too prepared! And maybe Scar was hoping to get Grian on his lunch break for a quickie handjob anyway.
Plus, there’s really been too many times Scar has had to escape from handcuffs with lube for him not to carry it around on the regular.
Scar tucks the bottle into his left main pocket so the lid peeks out slightly, just enough to catch someone’s eye if they’re observant. He knows Grian is. Scar’s heart races in his chest as the full force of what he’s doing hits him. The windows of the Permit Office are tinted, but not enough that no one couldn’t see in if they just looked hard enough. Not to mention his own tunnel, still open, and whatever back entrance Grian keeps disappearing out of. Scar palms himself through his shorts, a breathy half-sigh falling through his lips at the feeling. Arousal sparks up his spine. Anyone could walk in right now. Anyone could come in here and see him acting like a whore.
Hold music continues droning on in the background.
Scar works himself up with featherlight touches, waiting for when Grian comes back. He might like to make Scar sweat, but he always does come back, or at least shoots Scar a message so he doesn’t spend all afternoon in the Permit Office. Scar really hopes this isn’t one of those times where Grian decided to go work on his base or fishing dock. His nipples have stiffened into hard little peaks, rubbing up against the fabric of his button-up every time Scar moves. His eyes fall shut, imagining Grian’s hand where his own is right now, whispering absolutely filthy things in his ear.
Grian would make him wait. He’s sadistic like that, gets off on Scar begging for him. Scar grinds his palm against his dick, straining for relief, just a bit harder than he normally would. A low whine builds in his throat. Grian would be mean about it, Scar knows. He’d make it so Scar couldn’t touch himself or Grian, maybe even bind his hands if there was enough fabric to work with on that dumb clip-on tie. Scar swallows, imagining one of Grian’s hands wrapped tightly around his throat. He doesn’t know if Grian would go for it. Maybe it’d remind him too much of the desert. Scar wants, though, wants Grian to use him. Wants him to call him a slut.
Not like Scar wouldn’t deserve it, as shameless as he’s being.
“Okay, okay, I’m back, I gotta go finish up that crane at some point, so if we could⎯” Grian’s voice abruptly cuts out as he makes a choking sound. Scar opens his eyes, making them half-lidded as he looks at his boyfriend. “Scar?!”
“Hey, G,” Scar says, like he isn’t still feeling himself up. He hasn’t stopped; it’s making his arousal simmer in his gut, kind of like when he edges himself. Grian’s gaze darts around wildly at the very public building they’re in before landing solidly on Scar, flicking down noticeably at the bottle of lube sticking out of his pocket. “Glad you’re back.”
“..Uh-huh,” Grian manages, cheeks fiercely red even as something curiously predatory settles in his dark eyes. “Mind explaining why you’re being so obscene in my Permit Office, Scar?” There’s just a bit of derision to the words, enough to make Scar bite his bottom lip. Grian clearly catalogues the move, his gaze unblinking and entirely consumed with Scar. It took him a while to get used to that in the beginning, the way Grian would just forget to blink if he was entranced enough with something. Now it only fans the flames in Scar’s ribcage.
“I dunno, you off hold yet?” Scar teases, glancing at the jukebox. Grian raises one challenging eyebrow but reaches forward nonetheless, plucking the disc from its confines. The hold music, blessedly, stops. “I know you said you can’t give me special privileges…but I was thinking, what if we negotiated? In exchange for my services, you hand over the all-mobs permit, free of needless complicated forms.” He winks, feeling breathless.
Grian scoffs. “You think you can waltz in here, acting like a whore, and I’ll give you whatever you want?”
“Oh, Grian,” Scar sighs, a slow smirk curling his lips. “That’s exactly what I think.”
“I do hate making you feel like you can get away with this shit…” Grian walks around the desk in long, purposeful strides until he’s standing in front of Scar. He grabs Scar’s chin firmly, tilting his face towards him. “But it’d be rude, I’m sure, to leave you all needy and wanting when you’re practically begging for someone to fuck you.”
“Only you,” Scar corrects. Grian’s grip turns bruising. He wonders, idly, if there’ll be fingerprints on his jaw later. Scar kind of hopes there is, blooming purple and indigo for him to see in the mirror. “Only for you, Gri.”
“Cute,” Grian says patronisingly. He clicks his tongue. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? You’d let me fuck you right here in this very public building, wouldn’t you? Just because you have preference on who’s dick it is doesn’t mean you aren’t a slut. I bet I could drag you right out in the shopping district and you’d still let it happen. Wonder what the Hermits would think of this little show, hm?” He talks like he’s discussing the weather, like he isn’t making humiliatingly attractive threats about using Scar in front of all their friends. Ridiculously, it only turns Scar on more, the disinterested tone of Grian’s voice.
“Grian,” Scar whines, desperately grinding against his own hand. “Please, just lemme have my permit.”
“If you work hard enough, maybe I’ll think about it.” Grian slaps his hand away, hitting his thigh in the process. Scar’s hips jerk at the sudden lack of friction. He’s been working himself up for so long, now it feels like he needs to come or else he’ll go insane with the lust in his veins. “I didn’t say you could touch, did I, sweetheart? No. I know it’s hard to think when your brain is just so foggy, but you’ve gotta do better than that if you want your permit.”
“Sorry, Gri, sorry,” Scar apologises immediately, looking at Grian with shiny eyes. “Can I⎯ How, how do I make it up to you, sir?”
“Good slut,” Grian says approvingly. The praise shoots straight to his cock, making him throb in his stupidly constricting shorts. Oh, why had he gone for the form-fitting ones? They do make his calves and thighs look amazing, but for the love of everything holy, he’s regretting it now. “I’m thinking… maybe we put that big mouth of yours to use, hm, sweetheart?” Grian’s thumb swipes across his bottom lip and Scar’s mouth falls open instinctively.
“Grian, please,” Scar says again, this little breathy wisp of a word. Grian smirks. He presses his thumb against Scar’s tongue, holding it in place as drool collects in his mouth. Grian lets it build up until the first strands are slipping past his lips, making Scar keen in embarrassment. His face is so warm, burning just right.
“Kneel.” Grian’s tone is flat, unflinching as he lets go of Scar’s face, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. Scar drops to his knees so fast it sends jolts of brief pain wracking up his frame. “Scar. Are you alright?” Grian asks, concerned. Scar’s feeling pretty damn floaty, though, even if the pain had been a shock. It hadn’t hurt enough to warrant this demeanour switch, in his opinion.
“Fine, fine, Gri, wanna be good for you,” He rambles, looking up at Grian through his lashes. Grian’s breath catches in his throat as that familiar smug, better-than-you expression fills his face.
“Oh, you’re so gone right now, aren’t you?” He breathes, looking wickedly excited. Scar whines in agreement, hands folded carefully in his lap even though he’s practically killing himself not to move. “Good slut, you’re doing so well. C’mon, open those pretty lips for me, sweetheart.” Scar does as he’s told, mouth falling open again as he stares at his boyfriend. Grian unzips his khaki pants, pulling his cock out of his boxers without taking anything off. It stands proud and pretty, an angry red near the tip and shiny with precome. There’s a thatch of blond hair at the base of his cock and Scar, immediately, has a desire to choke on it until his nose is buried there.
Dull humiliation prickles at the back of his neck when he realises how Grian’s practically all clothed while Scar’s on his knees, looking obscene as drool drips past his lips onto his chin and chest with the V-neck of his shirt unbuttoned whorishly low. He likes it. He likes it so much, too much. The windows at his back, letting in mild sunlight, only serve to make it all so much more intense. The reminder that anyone could see them if they just happened to come by… Scar looks up at Grian, a ragged groan leaving the other man’s lips as he strokes himself. He tries to beg with his eyes only, because he thinks he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t have Grian’s cock in his mouth in the next few seconds.
“God, Scar, you’re perfect. So trusting, so pliant, so pretty and gorgeous. Makes me wanna wreck you,” Grian hisses, rubbing the tip of his cock right against Scar’s cheek. He whines at the degradation of it all, like he isn’t even worth sucking cock, only meant to sit there and look pretty while someone uses him. The idea makes him feel high, almost, lost up in the clouds.
“Grian,” The name practically tears itself from Scar’s throat. Grian’s thumb catches over the head of his cock and he moans. “Please, please, lemme touch you, Gri, need to suck your cock. Please, Grian, please…”
“You’re beautiful when you beg.” Grian slides a hand into Scar’s brown hair, knocking his hat off to the floor. He moans, eyes practically rolling in the back of his head as Grian’s cock finally enters his mouth. He’s careful to mind his teeth, drooling everywhere and making everything so much wetter and messier. “Shit, Scar, you gonna let me fuck your mouth? Gonna let me use you like a cocksleeve, sweetheart?”
Scar nods with a desperate whine, tears prickling at his eyes as Grian’s cock hits the back of his throat. The contradicting insults and vulgarity to the love of the pet name is giving him whiplash in the best of ways. He craves it, needs it, needs to be Grian’s sweetheart and Grian’s toy. It’s addicting, this rush Scar gets every time he hands over the reigns of control. This is what he’s worth, anyway, why he’s so pretty and so dumb. He’s just meant to be Grian’s to use, however the other man wants.
Grian tightens his grip in Scar’s hair to the point of pain, beginning to fuck Scar’s mouth in earnest. He hardly has to do anything as he gags on it, moaning as he tastes the salty and musky precome on his tongue. Scar can barely drag in enough oxygen through his nose to keep his vision from flickering and he wraps one hand around Grian’s ankle, just in case he needs the other man to stop. But it feels so good to be so mindless, to think of nothing except the cock sliding to the back of his throat and the man above him. His vision is blurry with tears, spilling out of his eyes, as he looks up at Grian. He seems feral, eyes completely black with no hint of dark grey to be found, and not wavering even as their gazes meet each other. Grian smiles, soft with a razor’s edge, all at odds with how rough and unrestrained he’s fucking Scar’s mouth.
“Oh, so good, so good, Scar,” Grian coos, loosening his grip slightly on Scar’s hair. “So good, sweetheart, uhn, you’re doin’⎯ doing so well for me. G’nna come all over your pretty face, you okay with that?” He slows his relentless pace as if giving Scar a chance to nod, but a loud keen rips from Scar’s throat before he can. A smirk curves Grian’s lips, horribly mean and proud and vicious.
“Oh, you like that, sweetheart?” Grian breathes, drawing back from Scar’s mouth. He jerks himself off, the movements rough and fast. “Want everyone to know just how much of a slut you are for me? How you practically served yourself up on a silver platter here, just for me?”
“Please, Gri.” Scar burns. He sounds absolutely wrecked, his voice hoarse and torn to shreds from how aggressive Grian was with him. Humiliation and arousal blend into some mind-melting combination, reminding Scar of the throbbing need in between his thighs. He closes his eyes as Grian rubs himself, panting. Grian moans, long and drawn-out, and then he’s coming, painting ropes of white across Scar’s face.
“Oh, fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Grian mutters. Scar’s tongue flicks out and licks the come off of his lips before he can stop himself, making Grian let out some half-distorted noise from the back of his throat. “One sec, sweetheart, I got you.” There’s the sound of footsteps rapidly leaving and approaching again before there’s the cool sensation of a wet wipe against Scar’s skin. “Shh, there we go, I’ve got you, don’t worry. Did so good, sweetheart.”
“Gri,” Scar says, ragged, as he opens his eyes. “Want you t’fuck me, sir, please?”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” Grian sounds half-disbelieving as he lets out a brief chuckle. He drops the used wipe off to the side, cradling Scar’s newly-cleaned face in his hands. Scar leans into the touch, nuzzling against his palm. His dick throbs painfully in his shorts. “How floaty are you right now, baby?”
“Just want you,” Scar complains, ignoring Grian’s question. “...Don’t you wanna fuck me?” He pouts, making Grian huff in amusement. He drops a gentle kiss onto Scar’s lips. He hums against Grian’s lips, pleased at this turn in affection.
“You don’t get this deep often,” Grian remarks as he pulls away, seemingly amazed. Scar chases after his lips needily only to earn an amused glance, like he’s just some overly-excited pet. Arousal coils in his stomach. It doesn’t seem important, whatever Grian’s going on about, not right now. Not when he’s got his hands on Scar and he looks so pretty, so effortlessly handsome even in this ugly building. “Yeah, sweetheart, I want to fuck you. You wanna move somewhere more comfortable for this, though?”
Now that he mentions it, Scar’s knees do hurt from the hard floor. It’s draftier in here, too, making Scar shiver as the realisation settles in. He nods and Grian smiles indulgently. He pats the top of Scar’s head degradingly, making Scar’s cheeks burn red. His boyfriend then reaches down briefly to grab Scar’s hands and pull him to his feet. Scar sways a little once he’s standing, happily accepting the kiss Grian bestows upon him. He pulls him behind the big desk and the partition he hides behind whenever he goes on hold. To Scar’s surprise, there’s a whole little set-up back here, completely with a comfortable enough cot and a small set of bookshelves.
“You’re so amazin’,” Scar mumbles, shifting his thighs together to get some sort of relief. Grian doesn’t miss the breathiness to his words, gaze sharp as it lands on where Scar is touching himself. He doesn’t hesitate to let go of one of Scar’s hands and smack his thigh. Scar yelps, immediately straightening and freezing where he stands. Grian’s expression is disapproving once he meets his gaze.
“No touching, Scar,” Grian reiterates firmly, making Scar whine. “I’m gonna touch you all you want, baby, don’t you worry. Here, let me…” He grabs the lube from Scar’s pocket briefly. “I want you to strip for me, sweetheart, and then you can join me on the bed and I’ll fuck you just how you want.”
“You’re mean,” Scar mutters as Grian drifts away, lounging on top of the cot. He manages to look perfectly put-together, even with bitten-raw lips and lustful eyes. He snickers at Scar’s words, making a faint get-on motion with his hand. Scar blushes a dark, dark red. He runs a hand down his button-up, feeling each one as he does so and slowly popping them out of the holes. Grian watches his every move with lidded eyes. Scar drapes it around his shoulders, showing off his chest for a second or two longer than necessary before he drops it to the floor. Next is his shorts, his form fitting shorts. It’s so hard to keep from touching himself, but the sharp tut Grian makes whenever Scar strays too close helps. Eventually he shucks those off along with his shoes and socks, leaving him entirely naked. He climbs into bed, crawling over to Grian like a dog.
“Good slut,” Grian coos affectionately, drawing Scar in close for a possessive kiss. It’s like he’s a man starved for Scar’s tongue and spit, the way he kisses. It leaves Scar gasping for breath when he pulls away. “Tell me what you were thinking about when I walked in on you earlier.”
“Mmm.. ahh, Grian,” Scar moans, eyes falling shut as Grian’s hand wraps around his aching cock. He knows exactly what Scar likes, how he wants it, but he’s ruthless about it. Sadistic, Scar thinks again fuzzily. The responding chuckle is low and dark and dangerous and sends sparks dancing along Scar’s skin.
“Oh, Scar,” Grian sighs, oh so condescending. “I know you were thinking of me, sweetheart. I’m gonna need specifics.”
“Sorry, sorry,” chokes out Scar. “I was, hahh, I was thinkin’ ‘bout your⎯ your hands, Gri, love ‘em, love your hands. Your arms, too, Jesus, all that..fishin’ really did somethin’ for you.” He loses all concentration as Grian’s mouth latches, warm and wet, onto his nipple. Scar yells, hips jerking against Grian’s fist and trying to fuck into it. Immediately, Grian stops moving. “No, no, please, plea⎯ ah, Gri, please,” Scar begs fruitlessly as Grian sits back, tears stinging in his eyes.
“Aww, you gonna cry, pretty boy?” Grian’s eyes light up with a dangerous glint. “I didn’t say you could stop, did I? Go on. Tell me what you wanted, Scar.” He uncaps the bottle of lube, drawing his hand away from Scar’s cock to pour it over his fingers. Scar watches as sobs build in his throat, so desperate and aching for stimulation.
“Wanted, oh, fuck, Gri, wanted you t’call me a slut, wanted you to be mean to me, ‘cause I was, am, being such a whore in public,” Scar groans, eyes falling shut as he leans forward. Grian’s hand slips across his back and down to his ass before he’s prodding at Scar’s hole with one lubed finger. He makes an encouraging noise before his mouth latches onto Scar’s nipple again, and Scar sobs. “Wanted you t’choke me, Gri, sorry, wanted you to put your hand ‘round my throat and⎯ and, uhng, please, Grian!”
“What a painslut,” Grian remarks matter-of-factly as he pushes a second finger into Scar. He keens, rutting desperately against Grian’s thigh from where he’s practically collapsed on the other man. “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You can’t control how slutty your body is, I know that.” The words are sweet like roses and degrading like barbed wire. Scar moans again, mindless as he humps against Grian’s still-clothed leg. He’s not undressed at all, and Scar feels exactly like a cheap whore once more, writhing and naked as he is.
“Need you in me, need it, please, Gri, wanna come with you in me,” Scar begs.
“You sure?” Grian sounds concerned, Scar notes from some distant part of his mind. “It’ll burn. You aren’t quite stretched enough.” He’s still scissoring his fingers inside Scar, occasionally brushing against that one place that sends molten lava straight to Scar’s cock.
“Want it to, please, please,” Scar sniffles, words stuttering in his throat. Grian sighs, the sound fond and exasperated.
“Alright, baby.” He manhandles Scar onto his stomach, winding one hand back into his hair. It’ll hurt tomorrow like hell, but Scar doesn’t even care, practically forcing himself into the touch. Grian’s cock brushes against his hole and Scar keens, begging silently for Grian to put it in already. “I got you,” Grian promises as he presses in, the burn aching in Scar’s very bones. He loves it, can’t get enough of the pull-push of pleasure-pain from Grian fucking into him. He isn’t slow, doesn’t draw anything out as he pushes deeper on every thrust. Whiny, slutty uh-uh-uhs fall from Scar’s lips every time Grian gets closer to bottoming out until he’s finally flush against Scar’s ass.
“You like that, you slut?” Grian growls, nails digging into Scar’s hips as he fucks into him. “Couldn’t resist the chance to whore your way into what you wanted, huh, could you, baby? Oh, you’re just so pathetic, so fucking needy for me⎯”
“Grian!” Scar sobs as Grian nails his sweet spot.
“Yeah, I know, I got you, sweetheart, go ahead and touch those pretty tits for me,” Grian orders, sounding breathless. Scar lifts a shaky hand to do as he’s told, pinching and tugging sharply in the ways he knows Grian would if he had a hand free. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, so good for me, such a pretty boy, aren’t you? Wanna come, Scar, baby, you wanna come for me?”
“Please, please,” Scar agrees, unable to think of anything else as Grian fucks him so perfectly. He thrusts in harshly, letting go of Scar’s hair to briefly lay his hand across his throat. He doesn’t apply pressure, just has it there, but the sheer threat of Grian choking him is more than enough to get Scar right up to that edge. “Can I⎯”
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, sweetheart, touch yourself,” He reaches down and grabs his throbbing dick, stroking it in time with Grian’s thrusts. They’re becoming more erratic as Grian nears the edge, too, more sensitive after coming so soon before. “Come for me, Scar. Come for me, my pretty boy.”
Scar’s vision whites out as he comes with a long, drawn-out moan of Grian’s name.
⎯⎯⎯
The floaty feeling is dissipating when Scar mentally checks back in.
He opens bleary eyes to see that he’s laying in Grian’s cot, entire body aching. He can hear familiar humming from the other side of the partition, but when he tries to move, he can only groan. Jeez. He hadn’t expected this when he came into the Permit Office that day. Not that Scar’s mad about it or anything… It was pretty fucking great, actually. He loves it when Grian doms him like that, considering it isn’t their usual dynamic. They’re both fairly vers, but normally Scar has a preference towards being in control. That only makes it all that much sweeter when he does let go, though.
“Scar!” Grian pokes his head ‘round the corner, looking delighted. “Hey, sweetheart. You doin’ okay? I got you some water and some light sandwiches.” He brings the water and food over, handing the glass off to Scar carefully. He puts the sandwiches on top of the bookshelf, taking a seat on the bed.
“Thanks,” Scar whispers, voice rough. A brief flash of pride sparks in Grian’s eyes before he visibly tamps it down. He drains the water quickly. “I needed that. The sex, I mean, not the water, though it’s appreciated.”
“Mm, think we both did,” Grian agrees cheerfully. “You back solidly on Earth now, big guy?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Scar says, waving it away with a laugh. “I don’t know if I have actually been that deep before. It was…really good. I can see why you love it so much.” He nudges their shoulders together pointedly, making Grian squawk in embarrassment.
“Oh, shove off, you,” Grian complains. Scar smiles, dragging him in close against his chest. His boyfriend’s arms immediately latch around him, snuggling in close. “Love you, Scar.”
“Sap,” Scar teases. Grian lightly hits his chest, making Scar let out a faint ‘oof’. “Alright, alright, I love you too! No need to resort to violence!”
“There’s always a need for violence,” Grian replies sagely. “Now cuddle me, you asshole.”
“Yep, yep, doing that right now.” Scar pulls Grian underneath the comfortably light sheets. They intertwine their bodies, settling in as humanly close as they can possibly be. Scar doesn’t feel gross, aside from being a little sweaty, so he assumes that Grian must’ve cleaned them both up while he had a little pseudo-nap. “...So, whaddya think? Did I do a good enough job?”
“Oh my God,” Grian huffs, giggling. “Yes, Scar! I’ll get you your stupid all-mobs permit.”
“Wonderful.”
“Now stop talking. Nap time.”
“Gri⎯”
“Shh. Grian’s on break. Close your eyes and shut up.”
Scar laughs fondly, tousling Grian’s blond hair with one of his hands. His other is wrapped around the smaller man’s waist, holding him close. He decides to settle in, forgoing all plans he may have had about working on his train or getting literally anything else done. None of it is quite as important as cuddling Grian and napping with him is, after all.
⎯end.