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The noise of the day had long since faded.
The sounds of his four apprentices moving about in their own little worlds, the scratch of pens across paper, the occasional spill of paint, and the endless stream of questions thrown at him without a second thought, had finally silenced. Qifrey had endured it all with his back straight and that gentle, elegant smile still fixed on his face, answering every question and indulging their strange little habits as he always did.
But the moment the heavy door shut behind the four young girls, their voices fading as they disappeared into their rooms, the weight he had been carrying all day pressed down on him at once. He wanted nothing more than to let it go.
He walked down the hallway slower than necessary, savoring the silence for himself. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to simply exist in the quiet. One hand rested lightly against the stone wall, as if the cool surface could steady him. The oil lamps lining the corridor had been dimmed, casting a soft golden glow that bathed every corner of the atelier. Shadows stretched across the familiar shelves of grimoires and the jars of spices he often used for cooking. The air still carried the faint scent of ink, dried herbs, and that subtle metallic tang that always lingered after a long day of spellwork.
Qifrey exhaled slowly and began to make his way toward him and Olruggio's shared quarters. His steps were quiet on the wooden floorboards, the hem of his robe brushing softly behind him. He was already imagining the relief of loosening his clothes, of lying down and letting the day finally slip from his shoulders.
They had only recently decided to share a room in the atelier. After months of sneaking between separate room, stolen nights, and the constant risk of curious apprentices catching them, they had finally stopped pretending. It was simpler this way — one bed, no more pretending they weren’t lovers. Qifrey still kept his own study for lessons and research, but at night they came back here. Together.
So, the door no longer needed knocking.
Then, thought that had been following him all day returned with full force the moment he stepped inside and began to undress.
There was something he had been daydreaming about again and again lately — not like the usual hazy thoughts that came when he was alone and frustrated. He had woken up with his fingers between his own folds, breathing hard, the image of Olruggio’s face between his thighs burned behind his eyelids. With he riding him. Using his mouth.
The thought had followed him through the entire day like a second heartbeat.
Now, he lay on his back in their shared room with the lamp turned low. His white hair was loose against the pillow. The black turtleneck and white robes had been shed and draped over the nightstand. Only his small glasses remained, one lens dark, the other catching the faint glow of the flame. Between his legs his cunt was already slick and aching, though no one had touched him yet.
He was still thinking about it when the door opened without a knock.
Olruggio stepped inside, beard a little rough from the long day, robes already half-unbuttoned at the collar. He smelled like liquor and ink and the faint metallic tang of the protective spell he had been drawing all afternoon. His eyes found Qifrey on the bed and softened immediately.
“Figured you’d still be awake,” Olruggio said, voice low as he closed the door behind him. He crossed the room with that familiar, slightly heavy tread. “You get that look when you’re carrying too much again.”
Qifrey sat up slowly, the sheet pooling around his waist. His white hair was loose and slightly tousled from lying down, “I’m fine, Olly. Just a little tired. The apprentices were… lively today.”
Olruggio let out a short huff of amusement as he sat on the edge of the bed after get rid of his cloak. The mattress dipped under his weight. “Lively is one word for it. That one apprentices of yours, Coco, literally set the practice dummies on fire again. Had to talk her down before she turned the whole courtyard into a bonfire.” He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. “You handled it better than I would’ve. Kept your cool the whole time. I was ready to yell by the third time she messed up the spell.”
Qifrey’s lips curved in a small, fond smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’s always enthusiastic. That’s not a bad thing.” His fingers traced idle patterns on the sheet. “You were patient with her too, even if you grumbled about it afterward.”
Olruggio studied him for a moment. The way Qifrey’s shoulders stayed a little too tense. The way his gaze kept drifting slightly, like his mind was somewhere else even while they talked. Something was bothering him — Olruggio could feel it in the air between them.
“You’re never fine when you act like this,” Olruggio said, quieter now. He reached out, thumb brushing gently over the corner of Qifrey’s mouth, lingering there. “C’mere.”
Qifrey leaned in at the obvious invitation, closing the small space between them. Their lips met in a kiss that started slow and familiar, the kind they always shared when the world finally left them alone. Olruggio’s mouth was warm and slightly chapped from the long day. For a few heartbeats it was nothing more than that — soft presses, the faint taste of the fine wine he had drunk earlier, the steady rhythm of their breathing. Qifrey’s hand came up to rest on Olruggio’s shoulder, fingers curling loosely into the open collar of his white tunic.
He tried to lose himself in it. Tried to let the familiar comfort of Olruggio’s body pull him out of his own head. But the thought that had been following him all day refused to stay quiet. It lingered at the edges of his mind, making his pulse quicken even as he kissed back.
Olruggio seemed to notice the slight tension in him. He didn’t push. Instead, his hand rose first, palm warm against the side of Qifrey’s neck. His thumb stroked slowly along the line of Qifrey’s jaw in a soothing rhythm, as if giving him permission to stay exactly where he was. Only after several long seconds did that hand begin to drift lower.
It traced the sharp edge of Qifrey’s collarbone, then slid down over the smooth plane of his bare chest. The rough pads of his fingers contrasting with the gentleness of the movement. Qifrey’s breath hitched softly against Olruggio’s mouth when that hand continued its slow path downward, skimming over the flat of his stomach. The sheet had already slipped lower, leaving Qifrey exposed from the waist up, and the cool air of the room brushed against his heated skin.
Qifrey made a quiet sound into the kiss when Olruggio’s hand finally reached the sensitive skin just below his navel. His thighs parted on instinct, a fresh rush of slick gathering between his legs. He deepened the kiss, tongue brushing against Olruggio’s, trying to anchor himself in the present moment even as his body betrayed how worked up he already was.
Olruggio’s fingers continued their descent, finally brushing against the slick, swollen folds between Qifrey’s thighs.
As he hummed low against his lips, the sound vibrating softly between them. His fingers didn’t stop their slow, patient stroking through the slick folds, circling Qifrey’s clit with familiar care. “Already wet,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “Been thinking about something?”
Qifrey’s breath caught sharply in his throat.
The odd fantasy slammed into him again. Olruggio on his back against the pillows, Qifrey straddling his face, lowering himself until his cunt pressed fully against Olruggio’s mouth. The image of grinding down, of riding that tongue while it pushed inside him, of slick dripping down Olruggio’s chin… It hit so hard that Qifrey’s hips gave a tiny, involuntary twitch. Heat flooded his face instantly, burning all the way to the tips of his ears.
He turned his head away, unable to hold Olruggio’s gaze any longer. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, the dark lens catching the low lamplight as they tilted. His chest rose and fell too quickly.
Olruggio noticed. Of course he did.
His fingers kept moving — gentle, steady circles that refused to stop even as the tension in the room shifted. But his voice dropped, quieter now, edged with something heavier. “Qifrey. What is it? Tell me.”
Qifrey swallowed hard. His throat felt tight. His cunt clenched around nothing, another rush of slick coating Olruggio’s fingers, and he hated how obviously his body was reacting even while his mind spiraled. The words had been sitting heavy in his chest for days — weeks, maybe. He had whispered them to his own reflection in the mirror when the atelier was quiet, practicing how they might sound, only to stop every time because they felt too filthy, too exposing. He had never imagined saying them out loud like this.
His lips parted. Closed again. He squeezed his eyes shut behind the slipping glasses, as if that could make the moment less terrifying.
“I’ve been dreaming about it,” he finally whispered, voice barely more than a breath. It cracked on the last word. “About… sitting on your face.” He had to force the next part out, each syllable dragging. “Riding your mouth. I want—” His voice broke completely this time. He turned his face further into the pillow, mortified, but the words kept coming anyway, trembling and uneven. “I want to do that. With you. Tonight.”
Silence.
Qifrey’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard it almost hurt. Heat flooded his face, burning down his neck and across his chest until he felt feverish. He felt ridiculous. Exposed. Like he had just torn himself open and offered something shameful, something Olruggio would surely recoil from.
He started to pull back on instinct, already regretting everything. His voice came out thin and shaky. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have—”
Olruggio’s hand moved before Qifrey could finish retreating. It caught his wrist, just steady and warm, fingers wrapping gently around the delicate bones as if to anchor him in place.
“Qifrey.”
The name was spoken quietly, but it carried weight.
Qifrey forced himself to look.
Olruggio’s expression wasn’t disgusted. It wasn’t even surprised in the way Qifrey had feared. He looked thoughtful, brows slightly drawn as he studied Qifrey’s face with focus. There was a flicker of something warmer in his eyes — something almost amused, but not at Qifrey’s expense. Mostly, he looked calm. Grounded. Like nothing Qifrey had said had shaken the foundation of what they were to each other. He let the silence stretch for another heartbeat, his thumb still tracing that slow, steady path across Qifrey’s wrist. Then he exhaled softly through his nose and gave a small, almost helpless shake of his head — not in refusal, but in quiet disbelief at how tightly wound Qifrey had gotten himself.
“Uhhh,” he said at last, “I don’t mind.” His thumb pressed once more against Qifrey’s pulse point, “If you want that… yeah. Gladly.”
Qifrey blinked, the word barely registering at first. His mind was still caught on the fact that Olruggio hadn’t pulled away. That he hadn’t laughed or looked uncomfortable. That he had simply accepted it.
“Yo— you don’t think it’s strange?” he asked, voice small and uncertain. The flush on his face deepened, spreading down his throat..
Olruggio didn’t answer right away. He studied Qifrey’s face for a long moment, his expression softening further. He shifted closer on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and reached up with his free hand to gently adjust Qifrey’s slipping glasses back into place with two careful fingers.
“It’s yours I get to have on my mouth,” he said quietly, the words low and steady. “Why would I complain about that?”
He leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of Qifrey’s jaw, right where the skin was hottest from embarrassment. The kiss stayed there for several seconds before Olruggio pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again.
“You’ve been thinking about it a lot, huh?”
Qifrey nodded, mortified and painfully turned on at the same time. His breath came unevenly. The relief that flooded through him was so strong it almost made him dizzy — mixed with the sharp, aching throb between his legs and the lingering fear that he had just ruined something by speaking his desire out loud.
Olruggio’s fingers, still slick from earlier. They stroked once more through Qifrey’s folds in a deliberate motion before sliding lower. Two fingers eased into him again. Qifrey’s breath hitched sharply. His cunt clenched around the intrusion, another rush of slick coating Olruggio’s fingers as his hips gave an involuntary roll.
A broken sound escaped him.
Olruggio watched his face closely, thumb stroking soothingly along the inside of Qifrey’s thigh. He didn’t move his fingers deeper yet. He simply held them there, letting Qifrey adjust, letting the moment settle.
“Then we’re doing it,” he said, voice quiet but certain. “But you tell me if it’s too much. Or if you want to stop. Yeah?”
Qifrey nodded again, quicker this time, though his throat felt tight. His cunt fluttered and clenched around Olruggio’s fingers, another slow trickle of slick sliding down to coat them further. He was trembling faintly now — not from fear, but from the overwhelming mix of relief, embarrassment, and raw need coursing through him.
Olruggio kissed him once more, slow and deep, pouring reassurance into it. His tongue moved languidly against Qifrey’s, as if he wanted to steady him before anything else happened. Only when Qifrey’s breathing had evened out slightly did Olruggio gently pull his fingers free from between his legs.
He shifted back on the bed with deliberate care, lying down against the pillows and propping his head up just enough so he could still see Qifrey clearly. His expression remained steady, but there was a new intensity in his eyes as he looked up at him, quietly hungry.
“C’mere then,” he said, with voice low and rough.
Qifrey’s legs felt unsteady beneath him as he moved. He climbed over Olruggio’s chest slowly, knees settling on either side of his ribs. The position already made heat rush to his face all over again. He could feel how wet he was — slick glistening along his inner thighs, a slow drop trailing down toward Olruggio’s sternum. The cool air of the room brushed against his exposed cunt, making him shiver.
Olruggio’s hands settled on his hips, warm and solid, thumbs stroking small, grounding circles into his skin. He didn’t pull Qifrey down. He simply held him there, steady and patient, giving him time.
Qifrey hovered above his face, thighs trembling faintly on either side of Olruggio’s head. His cunt was right there, inches from Olruggio’s mouth. He could see the way Olruggio’s eyes darkened as he looked up at it, could feel the soft brush of his beard against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. The closeness was almost overwhelming. Qifrey’s breath came shallow and quick. His glasses had slipped again, and the room felt too warm suddenly.
He swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper when he finally spoke.
“You sure, Olly?” he asked one last time, the words trembling slightly. “You can still change your mind.”
Olruggio swallowed visibly. His hands tightened just a fraction on Qifrey’s hips. His gaze flicked up from Qifrey’s cunt to his face, eyes dark with something deeper than simple want.
“I’m sure,” he said, voice rough and honest. “I want it too.”
The words hung heavy between them. Olruggio’s thumbs kept tracing those slow circles against Qifrey’s hips, patient even as the air between them grew thick with tension.
Qifrey’s thighs trembled as he began to lower himself.
He moved slowly, almost hesitantly, even though every part of him ached for this. His breath came shallow as he watched Olruggio’s face between his legs. The position felt impossibly intimate — his cunt hovering just above Olruggio’s mouth, slick and swollen, the cool air brushing against his wet folds.
The moment his slick cunt finally pressed against Olruggio’s mouth, a low, hungry groan vibrated straight through Qifrey’s core.
Olruggio didn’t ease in.
He sealed his mouth over Qifrey’s cunt like he had been starving for it all this time, lips parting wide to cover him completely. The first thing Qifrey felt — besides the hot, wet drag of tongue, was the rough scratch of Olruggio’s beard against his sensitive skin. The coarse hairs brushed over his slick folds and the soft skin of his inner thighs, creating a strange friction that made him shudder. It felt odd — almost too rough against such a sensitive place — but the contrast with the wet heat of Olruggio’s tongue only made everything hotter.
Olruggio’s tongue dragged in one long, filthy stripe from Qifrey’s dripping womb entrance all the way up to his swollen clit. Slick and spit mixing instantly as his beard scraped lightly over the same path, adding a rough, tingling edge to every movement.
Qifrey’s hips jerked hard. A shocked, broken gasp tore from his throat.
“Olly…. aanghh!"
Olruggio’s hands tightened on his hips and pulled him down the rest of the way with steady strength. Qifrey’s cunt smothered his face completely, thighs bracketing his head. There was no space left between them. Olruggio’s nose pressed firmly against Qifrey’s clit while his tongue immediately pushed inside him, fucking into his womb in deep, wet thrusts.
The beard kept brushing against him with every movement.
Every time Olruggio’s tongue thrust deep or curled upward to stroke that sensitive spot inside Qifrey’s entrance, his beard scraped lightly over Qifrey’s swollen folds and the base of his clit. The rough texture sent strange, electric sparks through Qifrey’s nerves. Intense in a way that made his stomach tighten and his cunt clench harder around Olruggio’s tongue.
Olruggio definitely knew what he was doing.
He worked with the knowledge of Qifrey’s body. His tongue curled upward on every thrust, stroking firmly against that sensitive spot just inside Qifrey’s entrance while the bridge of his nose rubbed steadily against his clit. At the same time, the rough drag of his beard kept grazing over Qifrey’s slick folds and inner thighs with every movement.
"Mnmghh…. Olly…! Haahh!"
Qifrey’s hands flew to the headboard, gripping it hard. His hips twitched helplessly as Olruggio eating him without mercy. Every motion was intentional. The wet heat of his tongue, the firm pressure of his nose, and the rough scrape of his beard all worked together to unravel him.
Slick poured out of him, soaking Olruggio’s tongue, lips, and beard. The wet sounds of Olruggio’s mouth filled the room. Soft sucking noises mixed with the filthy drag of tongue and the occasional rough scratch of beard against soaked flesh.
"I-it's tingling… O-olly!"
Qifrey’s head fell forward, white hair falling around his face. His glasses slipped further down his nose as a trembling moan escaped him.
“Olruggio…. your beard, it feels… ahh! weird but.. it’s so—”
His voice broke into another gasp when Olruggio sucked his clit between his lips and flicked his tongue over it rapidly, the coarse hairs of his beard brushing right against the sensitive bud at the same time.
Qifrey’s hands still gripping the headboard. His thighs still shook. He had imagined this so many times, but nothing had prepared him for how good Olruggio actually was with his mouth. It wasn’t clumsy like he imagined, but the opposite. Olruggio licked into him like he wanted to taste every drop, sucking on his inner folds, then sealing his lips around Qifrey’s clit and sucking hard enough to make Qifrey’s vision white out for a second.
“Oh God, your tongue… ! Nghh, how are you— keep going,please….” Qifrey’s voice cracked. He had never heard himself sound like this before.
Olruggio didn’t answer with words. He just groaned against Qifrey’s pussy and kept going, messier now. Slick was already pouring out of Qifrey, and Olruggio was drinking it down, letting it coat his beard, his chin, his lips.
Qifrey started to move.
At first it was hesitant rolls of his hips, like he was still too embarrassed to fully take what he wanted. But Olruggio’s hands encouraged him without hesitation. They slid down from his hips to grip the soft flesh of his ass, fingers digging in firmly as he pulled Qifrey forward, guiding him into a steadier rhythm.
Qifrey’s clit dragged over Olruggio’s tongue with every slow roll. The wet sounds grew louder and filthier, squelching every time he ground down, Olruggio’s tongue pushing back inside him, sucking and licking with hunger.
Olruggio kept guiding him, hands firm on his ass as he encouraged deeper, longer grinds. His tongue keep working, thrusting deep into Qifrey’s hole one moment, then flattening to lap broad and slow over his clit the next, all while his beard kept brushing roughly.
Then it happened.
"O-olly…! Haah! Aahhh…!!"
Qifrey’s cunt clenched hard around Olruggio’s tongue. His whole body went tight for a split second before a sudden, powerful gush of clear fluid sprayed out of him. The squirt was messy and forceful, soaking Olruggio’s mouth in one hot rush. It dripped down his neck and onto the pillow beneath him. The man made a deep, satisfied groan against Qifrey’s cunt and opened his mouth wider, eagerly drinking it down while his tongue kept working through the mess like he wanted every drop.
Qifrey’s eyes flew wide behind his fogged glasses. His mouth fell open in shock.
“I— I didn’t mean to… ahh!”
His thighs shook violently on either side of Olruggio’s head. Another weaker spurt followed as his cunt kept pulsing, slick and squirt mixing together and completely drenching the lower half of Olruggio’s face. The rough scratch of Olruggio’s beard against his oversensitive folds only made the aftershocks feel more intense.
But the man didn’t stop. If anything, he got rougher. He sucked Qifrey’s clit between his lips and flicked his tongue over it fast and relentless while another smaller squirt pulsed out, then another. Qifrey was trembling now, thighs shaking violently on either side of Olruggio’s head. Slick and squirt were everywhere — running down Olruggio’s mouth and chin in shiny rivulets, even soaking the pillow beneath his head, coating Qifrey’s inner thighs until they glistened.
And Olruggio don't mind at all.
He was soaked. His entire lower face was drenched. Every time Qifrey lifted slightly he could see it — Olruggio’s beard dark and wet, chin dripping, lips shiny and red. Olruggio looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, completely unbothered, almost proud, and dragged his tongue slowly through the mess before pushing it back inside Qifrey’s twitching cervix.
Qifrey’s head dropped forward. His white hair fell around his face. “Godss! Olly… your tongue is— I can’t, it’s too good…..! Excuse me, I can't… help myself."
He was riding faster now. Really riding. Hips rolling in desperate circles, grinding his cunt down onto Olruggio’s face with wet sounds. His hands flew to Olruggio's hair to lock his lover's head in place. Every time he pressed down hard, more slick poured out. Olruggio’s tongue fucked into him, curled, licked, sucked — like he knew exactly how to pull another gush out of Qifrey. And he did. Qifrey squirted again, a longer, messier spray that made Olruggio groan and grip his ass tighter, holding him down so he couldn’t escape the sensation.
Qifrey was losing it.
His glasses were completely fogged. His mouth hung open, soft broken moans spilling out every time Olruggio’s tongue did something particularly devastating. His clit was swollen and oversensitive, every drag of Olruggio’s tongue sending sparks through his whole body. He could feel another orgasm building fast — tighter, hotter, more intense than the first.
Qifrey tried to lift up when it became too much.
The overstimulation hit like a wave. His clit was throbbing, his womb fluttering, everything too sensitive. He pushed up on shaky arms that still gripping his man's hair, trying to raise his hips off Olruggio’s face.
“Too much.. Olly, I— I need a second—”
But Olruggio’s hands moved instantly.
Both palms slid up to Qifrey’s thighs and gripped hard — fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding him down firmly. Qifrey couldn’t lift anymore, Couldn’t escape. Olruggio’s mouth stayed locked on his pussy, tongue still moving, slower now but relentless, licking broad and wet through the oversensitive folds while Qifrey trembled violently above him.
Qifrey’s eyes rolled back.
A broken, helpless sound tore out of his throat. His toes curled hard. Another gush of squirt pulsed out of him, weaker this time but still messy, soaking Olruggio’s already drenched face even more.
Qifrey’s vision blurred. His mouth fell open. Drool slipped from the corner of his lips. He couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop the tiny, involuntary rolls of his hips even though it was too much. Olruggio’s grip on his thighs was possessive, steady, keeping him exactly where he wanted him.
“Olruggio—! I’m gonna— again…. I’m— ahhhhh!!”
Another orgasm crashed through him, smaller but sharper, making his cunt spasm and squirt one last weak gush. His whole body trembled like a live wire, held down and forced to take it while Olruggio’s tongue worked him through every aftershock.
Only when Qifrey was whimpering brokenly and completely limp in his hold did Olruggio finally ease his grip.
His fingers slowly loosened their tight hold on Qifrey’s trembling thighs, stroking soothingly over the red marks his grip had left behind. As if he was making sure Qifrey was truly spent before letting him go.
Olruggio help him lift up this time, guiding him slowly and carefully until Qifrey was overing just above his mouth again. While he looked thoroughly wrecked in the best possible way, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.
“You…” His voice came out hoarse and shaky, barely above a whispr. “Your tongue… I didn’t know you could— Olly…” He swallowed, struggling to find words as another weak tremor ran through him. “It was too much… but it felt so good. I couldn’t— I couldn’t stop shaking.”
Olruggio licked his lips slowly, deliberately tasting Qifrey's all over again. The motion was lazy and satisfied, his tongue dragging over his own swollen lower lip as he savored the mess still coating his beard and chin. A small, lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked up at Qifrey with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Mmm,” he hummed, voice rough and low. “Told you I don't mind,"
His hands stayed on Qifrey’s thighs, thumbs gently stroking the sensitive skin in slow, grounding circles as he gave him time to catch his breath.
“You can come on my face as much as you want,” Olruggio murmured, voice low and rough against Qifrey’s skin. “I’ll keep you there as long as you need.”
Qifrey collapsed right beside Olruggio with a shaky exhale, catching himself on unsteady arms. His whole body trembled with the aftershocks, white hair falling messily around his face. He made a weak, embarrassed sound and let his man pull him into a messy kiss. Their mouths met slowly. He could taste himself everywhere — on Olruggio’s tongue, his lips, even caught in the damp strands of his beard. The flavor was unmistakable, and it should have made him shy all over again. Instead, the knowledge that Olruggio had let him do that — had wanted it — sent another wave of heat pooling low in his belly.
Olruggio’s hands stroked slowly down his trembling thighs, thumbs brushing gently over the senstive skin as if to soothe the tremors still running through him.
“You good, love?” he asked quietly against Qifrey’s mouth.
Qifrey nodded, though his face was still burning. His voice came out small. “I— I just squirted on your face.”
“Yeah.” Olruggio’s mouth curved into a small, lazy smirk. “You did. And it was hot as hell.”
Qifrey made a mortified little sound and tried to hide his face in his hands, but Olruggio only laughed softly and tugged him down until Qifrey was lying half on top of him. Their mouths met again, slower this time. Qifrey could taste himself on Olruggio’s tongue, and he couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped him.
Olruggio kept kissing him slow and deep, one hand stroking steadily down the line of Qifrey’s back while the other rested at his waist, thumb brushing gentle circles as if to remind him that he was safe and wanted. For a while, they simply stayed like that — kissing lazily, tasting each other, letting the intensity of what had just happened settle between them.
“You’ve really been thinking about that for a while, huh?” Olruggio murmured against his lips.
Qifrey nodded, forehead resting against Olruggio’s. “I didn’t know how to ask.”
“You just did,” Olruggio replied softly. He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Qifrey’s eye, right beside the dark lens of his glasses. “And I don’t mind. So next time you dream about it, just tell me. We’ll do it again.”
Qifrey’s chest felt tight and warm all at once. The relief that washed over him was almost dizzying. Olruggio hadn’t judged him. Hadn’t made him feel strange or filthy for wanting something like that. He had simply accepted it — and even asked for it again.
He kissed Olruggio once more, slower and deeper this time, pouring the mix of relief and leftover arousal into it. They stayed like that for a long while, trading lazy kisses while Olruggio’s hand continued its slow, soothing path along Qifrey’s back. Eventually, Olruggio reached down and pulled the blanket up over both of them. Qifrey shifted until he was tucked comfortably against his side, head resting on Olruggio’s shoulder and one leg draped over his hip.
For a long minute, neither of them spoke. The only sounds in the room were their slowing breaths and the occasional creak of the old building settling around them.
Then Olruggio spoke, voice quiet in the dark.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed about wanting things with me. Ever.”
Qifrey’s fingers traced slow, idle patterns on Olruggio’s chest. His voice was soft when he finally answered.
“It felt… embarrassing. Saying it out loud like that, Olly.”
“Yeah,” Olruggio said gently. He found Qifrey’s hand and laced their fingers together. “But you did it anyway. And I’m glad you did.”
Qifrey turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to Olruggio’s shoulder. The embarrassment was still there, lingering at the edges, but it felt softer now. Manageable. Because Olruggio hadn’t pulled away. He had simply accepted it like it was the easiest thing in the world.
For the first time in a long while, the thought of asking for what he wanted didn’t feel so terrifying.
He could ask again.
And he knew Olruggio would say yes, though.