Work Text:
The metallic thumps and clangs of Rett’s tinkering created a discordant harmony with Pyke’s quiet humming of some partially remembered tune, forming a new melody all their own that wreathed them within the workshop in invisible replicas of the plumes of smoke from Pyke’s cigarette.
His golden eyes drifted over his focused Aetheron companion, lingering on the restrained power held within Rett’s shoulders as he worked on one of the fiddly bits that Pyke barely understood, the way his muscles coiled and shifted beneath lavender skin, waiting to be unleashed.
The sight had his thoughts shifting to other times those shoulders hadn’t hidden their power...straining under the weight of the grav cannon...releasing as some giant scrap of metal was tossed aside...heaving above him as they easily held him against the wall with the rhythm of their bodies...
With a sharp intake of breath, he squirmed upright from his comfortable slouch in the corner of the couch, grinding his forgotten cigarette into the ashtray at hand, and stood to stretch with a soft, barely audible groan. When that failed to draw Rett’s attention, Pyke sauntered over and, after a light graze with his fingertips to give a silent warning of his intent, draped his arms around those massive shoulders.
“How much longer, big guy?” he asked, breath puffing softly over Rett’s ear, almost smirking when he heard the quiet whirring of Rett's bionic eye turning to try to focus on him.
Rett sighed, not setting aside the space soldering iron as Pyke had hoped. “I dunno, Pyke. ‘Soon as I can figure out why the signal’s not going further than the control panel, then I’ll let you distract me.”
Pyke pursed his lips–not in a pout, thank you very much–and leaned some of his weight into the sturdy back before him. His fingers, with the increased freedom, began to roam in teasing eddies to match the tumbling flow of aether outside the window. “You sure I can’t convince you to take a little break? You’ve been focused for hours...” He traced the tough, sensitive scar that framed the attachment of Rett’s prosthetic arm, barely peeking from beneath the singlet he wore.
When Rett inhaled and tilted his body to meet Pyke’s lean, Pyke had to bite his lip to stifle the triumph that rushed through him, sure it wouldn’t be that simple. Even with this recent aspect of their relationship–their partnership, in all definitions of the word–the new territory founded in an adrenaline rush of their last bounty. When there had been one too many close calls for either of their comfort, it resulted in a prize more on the ‘dead’ side of the dead or alive bounty and the two of them naked and tangled in the medbay once the scans showed no major or lasting injuries, grunting in an odd mixture of pleasure and pain in their exhausted bodies... Even with the memory of collapsing in Rett’s bed after, still entwined, Pyke was cautious in pushing too far too fast, in thinking it would lessen Rett’s irritation at being pulled from his self-imposed overtime. But that didn’t mean Pyke was above using their burgeoning proximity as a new tool in his repertoire, a new persuasion to keep Rett from burning out with the need to keep his mind busy.
And if it helped Pyke with his own overactive brain? Well, that was just a bonus.
“So it’s that kind of break, huh?” Rett rumbled, turning his head to press their temples together. “...I could be convinced, I s’pose.”
With a pleased hum, Pyke pressed more into the touch, then shifted to kiss the apple of a darkening royal cheek. “I’d make it worth your time...”
The damned space soldering iron finally clattered to the worktop as Rett’s flesh hand rose to tangle in Pyke’s hair to draw their lips together in their new favorite dance.
“You always do,” was breathed against his now kiss-swollen lips, barely enough room to contain the words between them.
Pyke pulled back just enough to meet Rett’s steady gaze, a look of confusion wrinkling his brow. “We’ve only had sex once, big guy.”
Rett didn’t waver. “And? We’ve done plenty o’ other things. Together. Doesn’t change what I said.”
A flustered fuschia flush painted its glow across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Oh, shaddup. Sentimental bastard.”
With a low chuckle, Rett carefully untangled himself from his workstation, his project, and his chair, but attempted to keep their connection as he spanned the remaining gap to grasp Pyke’s hand. “C’mon, pretty boy. Gonna show me what’s more worth my time?”
Pyke rolled his eyes, but still grinned as he interlocked their fingers and led the way to Rett’s room. Since it was closer, of course. And had the bigger bed.
It wasn’t long before Pyke was pushing Rett to sit on said bed, straddling his lap and cupping his jaw in his palms as their mouths gravitated to each other. His muffled moans vibrated Rett’s lips as he felt hands–one flesh, one metal–wrap around his waist. He slid his hands into Rett's hair for a handhold, to tether himself as their lips and tongues and breath mingled and danced and parted, only to join again as if magnetized, as he rolled his hips to grind into Rett’s lap, his belly, as the need to be closer flared hot within him
Rett met every increasingly frantic movement with his own, steadfast and unrelenting as the inevitability of a black hole event horizon–their destination would be reached, but he would not be rushed.
The thought of what that unmoving force could do drew a whine from Pyke’s throat, the throbbing below his belt guiding his hips in a faster tempo supported by those steady hands sliding from his hips to his ass, drawing him impossibly closer.
Pyke lost himself in their kiss, in the simulation of what their bodies could be doing without all their troublesome clothes in the way. Imagining all the different ways they could join their very beings, all the possibilities, was fit to drive him mad with desire. But he was unwilling to part long enough to voice the options aloud, to see which had Rett losing just a little more composure, to crack how he held himself in restraint.
Until a tiny thought tickled the back of his mind, fluttering, fleeting, and gone before the rest of his body caught on with the next roll of his hips to press his hard cock against the eager body below him.
With the distinct lack of matching hardness.
A confused and concerned hum escaped him before he could catch it as he struggled to slow his own movements and break their kiss, to press his forehead to Rett’s as they panted together.
“Everything ok, big guy?” he rasped, voice already hoarse with arousal. Again, he didn’t want to push too fast, didn’t want to be on different pages of the same book, no matter how his mind reminded him there had been nothing but enthusiasm in Rett’s movements, no sign of hesitation.
But he needed to hear it, needed the clarity.
“Yeah,” Rett breathed, dragging his metal hand gently up and down Pyke's back, petting him. “Just peachy.”
Pyke almost cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. “We can stop. We don’t have to do anything else,” he murmured, even as his body screamed to return to their previous activities. He would never push Rett, never wanted him to feel obligated when he wasn’t in the mood, even to save Pyke from his boredom. His right hand could just deal with getting abused later.
He could feel Rett’s brow furrow in confusion. “Why would I want to stop?” Rett leaned back to meet his eyes, suddenly unsure. “Unless...you want to stop?” His hands settled lightly back on his waist, waiting.
“Well...no, but...” Pyke bit his lip and shifted to thrust his hips down once, against the missing expectation to emphasize his unspoken question.
If possible, the blush highlighting Rett’s features darkened to a shade of purple to rival dusk and his eyes darted away with a flash of shame.
Then Rett leaned forward to hide his face in Pyke’s shoulder, and Pyke embraced him, arms around his shoulders in a mirror of earlier, louder mental questions almost causing him to miss the soft “fuck” muttered into his collarbone.
“It’s ok, Rett,” he mumbled, somewhat awkwardly, attempting to smother the feeling of rejection that tried to bubble up. “M’sorry if I pushed or made you feel like you couldn’t say no. You can always say no.” He hid his own ashamed blush in Rett’s hair, unable to will himself away, to let go.
“No!” Rett growled, causing Pyke to tense, but his arms remained gently locked around Pyke’s waist. “No, it’s not that. You didn’t force me, and I know you never would.” His voice was rough but firm and unwavering, drawing some of the tension from Pyke’s spine, even with the sad sigh that followed.
Pyke hugged him tighter, lightly scratching the back of Rett’s neck in an attempt to be soothing, giving him space in the silence despite his own worries.
Rett spoke the next words into that void between shoulder and ear, hiding his face as Pyke knew they were both wont to do, finding it easier to talk when not looking at one another, his voice soft, almost weak.
“It’s...me. My body. After...” he swallowed heavily, and Pyke continued his gentle petting. “After...everything... Sometimes the wires get crossed and just...don’t respond like they should. Or like I want it to.” His hand gripped tighter on the back of Pyke’s shirt, as if he was afraid Pyke might run, or worse...perceive him. “Like...like when my hand locks up, or my eye goes blurry. Just...on the organic side. A different kind of...broken.”
“We’re both a little broken and fucked up, buddy,” he murmured into Rett’s hair, smiling softly at the huff he received in response.
“I was gonna say I still wanna mess around, but now you’ve ruined the mood.”
Pyke laughed, feeling more of the lingering tension leave them both with Rett’s gruff teasing. He leaned back, trusting in Rett’s hold, hand sliding to cup his bearded jaw again. “So what do you want to do, big guy? What still feels good when this is happening?”
Rett’s gaze still darted around shamefully, but hesitantly came to rest on Pyke’s face, Pyke willing himself to remain open, calmly curious, not demanding. “Well...all the usual stuff... I may not be as sensitive, but...” The corner of his mouth twitched up into a sheepish smile. “Don’t think I can fuck you as good as last time, though.”
A new bolt of arousal flashed through him, crashing into his groin with the power of a meteor at the memory. “That’s fine,” he wheezed, then cleared his throat. “Plenty of other options.”
Rett seemed to have felt the twitch of his cock since his smile morphed into a smirk. “Why don’t we start with getting rid of these pesky clothes, huh? Before I make a mess of you, pretty boy.”
“Shaddup.” The dark pink embarrassed flush of Pyke’s cheeks belied the gruff grumble as he stood and immediately pulled his shirt over his head, jacket likely long forgotten back in the workshop.
Rett’s only response was that same damned, adorable, cheeky smirk as he silently stood and stripped, tossing his clothes aside and out of the way as he watched Pyke do the same
Pyke could feel his gaze like a physical presence, dragging over every inch of revealed rosy skin until they stood bare before one another, their bodies orbiting and drifting together in that same magnetic pull, stretching out face to face on sheets as dark as the space outside their ship, Pyke struggling not to squirm under the threat of being seen, of being too eager to mesh their bodies together, mouths locked as their hands explored, learning the curves and valleys of each other. But Rett earnestly met him at every turn, guiding him onto his back with a hand at his hip.
When the need for air became more urgent than the desire to map the layout of Rett’s teeth and tongue, Pyke let his head fall back into the plush pillows with a breathless moan. Rett accepted the invitation to kiss and nip the exposed expanse, bristly beard scratching and lighting up Pyke’s nerves–literally, the magenta flush radiating a soft glow.
With a soft whine, Pyke clung to Rett’s shoulders, nails almost clawing at his back, though careful not to drag too sharply over his scars, hips bucking and thrusting against his bulk as want thrummed and coursed through him, pooling in his pelvis as every point of contact just drove him higher into the cosmos.
“Rett...” he panted, one hand reaching to tangle in Rett’s raven locks. “Touch me... Pl-please...”
“I’ve gotcha, Pyke,” Rett murmured against a long, pointed ear, shifting enough to move the hand from his hip to wrap delicately around his cock. “I’ll catch you.”
Pyke moaned and rocked into the touch, biting his lip to stifle more noises with a wave of embarrassment that was so desperate when they’d barely done more than makeout and grind against each other. But this was Rett, the same dwarf he trusted with his life, that he’d pined for, watching from afar even as they worked closer together every day. He couldn’t be blamed for the pent up urges.
He wormed a hand between them, wanting Rett to feel the same yearning he did. He teased his fingers over Rett’s soft cock, reminding himself it wasn’t a sign of Rett’s level of desire, supported by the rough groan in response in his ear, the fact that Rett’s touch never faltered, never pulled away.
Even as he wrapped his hand around Rett, massaging more than stroking as he tried to match the intensity around his own cock, he felt his mind wander as the pleasure bloomed within him, drawing him into the black hole of bliss, the power in the metal fingers that held him so delicately, eliciting whines and moans he desperately tried to hold back–to no avail.
“Pyke...” was breathed against his neck as kiss swollen lips dragged down to his chest, seeking and finding new sensitive areas to suck bright fuschia blossoms into his skin. “Let go. I’m here. Not going anywhere.”
With a whine, fingers digging into the softer flesh of Rett’s flank and the cool metal of his arm, Pyke soared, his body sparking and flaring in a constellation of sensation as he came, clinging to his Aetheron anchor so he didn’t float away into nothing.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Pyke,” was purred into the valley of his chest, the note of awe making him blush impossibly harder.
Voiceless and gasping, he pushed weakly at Rett’s head, both to move him and metaphorically push away the words as teasing, not as hopelessly sincere as they truly were. Rett allowed the physical movement, collapsing on his side, gaze still intent on cataloguing every one of Pyke’s blissed out features.
But Pyke could tell his body was shaking minutely, vibrating with a barely contained excitement like a current under his skin.
He turned so they were face to face once more, willing his body to turn to the side as he slowly regained control of his limbs, shivering at the soft whirr of that mechanical eye, of being its sole focus.
“My turn to explore you, big guy,” he whispered, unsure why he spoke so softly but feeling it was appropriate. He dragged clumsy fingers beneath Rett’s beard and over the cords of muscle that held such quiet strength.
“I’m all yours,” Rett murmured with a solemn gravity that contained multitudes that Pyke wasn’t ready to know or accept yet, not with the way it tangled into a knot of elation and dread for the future, of the immense joy forever could contain and the intense horror of the pain the inevitable loss would cause.
He shook the thoughts away before they could paralyze him, choosing to lean into his lover for a softer kiss than they had shared that evening, to focus on making his own catalogue of sights and sounds, of reactions and sensitivities, to distract from the brief mind-sense of impending doom.
“I want to try something.” He stroked a finger over Rett’s cheek, eyes darting to meet that intense gaze. “If you’re amenable, of course.”
“Anything you want, Pyke.” His voice never wavered.
Pyke’s breath hitched slightly at the trust evident in his tone, trying not to let the panic of potentially fucking up creep into his voice. “Have you ever...you know...bottomed before?
“No. Can’t say I have. I’ve explored a bit.” Rett shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “But I don’t think I ever got the right angle to understand what all the fuss is about.”
Pyke swallowed, mouth suddenly watering in anticipation, in the desire to help Rett understand the craving. “Can...we try?”
Rett glanced down and back up with an arched brow. “You gonna be ready to go again that soon?”
Pyke’s lips pursed in an offended pout. “Maybe...”
That brow rose another degree, joined by a knowing smirk.
“...Fine. No, probably not. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy everything that would lead up to it,” he huffed.
Rett chuckled and drew him closer, pressing a kiss to Pyke’s forehead as he rolled onto his back, pulling Pyke with him in an ungainly sprawl. “Show me what you got.”
With another huff, more amused this time, Pyke pushed himself up on shaky elbows to reach for the bedside table. “Top drawer?”
“Yep.” Rett’s hands remained steady on him to provide balance so Pyke didn’t fall flat on his face as he retrieved the lubricant from its hiding spot.
Pyke tossed it onto the bed beside them, within reach, and spread his hand against the expanse of Rett’s chest, briefly marveling at how almost miniscule his hands looked in comparison.
Rett continued to watch him with a patience he felt he didn’t deserve, lost in his thoughts as he was.
With an awkward chuckle, barely a huff of breath, Pyke began tracing some of the smaller, scattered scars, feeling how some were smoother with time, others gnarled and twisting with depth, watching for any signs of the wrong kind of sensitivity.
And still Rett watched, eyes hooded, though his cheeks were burning with a self-conscious violet hue.
“You’re gorgeous, too, Rett,” Pyke breathed, bending to follow his fingers with lips and tongue, lingering when he heard Rett’s breath catch or felt his fingers flex against his ribcage. “You’re strong,” was spoken softly along his pectoral. “And so damn smart,” pressed over his heart in the desire to answer a question indirectly asked, to offer what he couldn't yet say aloud so soon, despite their years-long partnership.
Pyke shifted further down Rett’s chest, settling between his thighs as his mouth followed. Rett’s hands rested on his shoulder and his head, not gripping but maintaining contact.
There weren’t many things in life any one person could say Pyke was devoted to. Once, long ago, they could have said his faith. Some might now say he was devoted to bounty hunting. More would definitely say the Sparrow, when Pyke would expound on the stellar qualities of his precious ship. Fewer still could remark on his devotion to Rett, to their friendship and bond, tried and true and tested.
And Pyke realized–there between thick purple thighs, face buried in a deceptively soft belly–that he had new ways to show that devotion, in these private moments between them. That he could spend hours in sensual worship, no defined end goal in sight, now that his own throbbing need had been sated.
He glanced up to meet a faintly questioning eye as he reached for the lube to coat his fingers, holding the question with confidence, his answer to bend his mouth to soft flesh, tracing the shaft with his lips as he slipped a slick finger between plush cheeks.
The soft, rumbling groan he received in reply almost had him smiling as he brushed his finger over the tight ring of muscle, massaging in small, gentle circles, matching the movement with his tongue over the tip.
Carefully, Pyke timed the wrapping of his lips around the head of his cock with the pressing in of his finger, watching for any signs that Rett wasn’t enjoying himself.
Rett’s prosthetic hand dropped to grip the sheets by his hip, his other fingers tightening in Pyke’s sunset waves, prompting a pleased, muffled hiss from the elf between his thighs.
The cockhead in his mouth was more pliable than he was used to, and Pyke appreciated how much easier it was to fit between his lips. And while he couldn’t easily bob his head, he could still lick and suck and explore with his tongue while his scalp tingled from Rett’s grip.
So he did, starting by sketching the letters of the alphabet while he tested a second finger against Rett’s rim, only pressing inside when he felt brazen hips rocking into his touch.
When he curled his fingers, searching gently for his prostate, he had to pull off his cock with a soft gasp as Rett’s hips bucked with a strained moan of Pyke’s name.
“Right here, big guy,” Pyke rasped, free hand sliding over Rett’s hip in a soothing caress. He bit his lip around a smug grin. “Guess I found the right angle, huh?”
Rett snorted and sent him a mock glare before letting his head fall back again with a demanding roll of his hips.
Pyke snickered quietly and continued curling and petting with his fingers now that he’d found what he was looking for.
Rett’s soft groans rose in pitch and volume as Pyke proudly took him apart, thrilled that he could bring Rett this pleasure even when his body refused to cooperate, despite the worry that his touch wouldn’t lead anywhere.
He could spend days here, he thought, finding all the ways to make this body sing, to see what harmonies they could build together, as he leaned in to take Rett’s flaccid cock in his mouth once more.
Soon Rett was muttering something incoherent above him, fingers still tangled snugly in his hair, but he paid it no mind as he lost himself to his oral fixation.
Until something warm and bitter splashed across his tongue, forcing him to pull back in surprise as Rett came weakly across his chin and down his neck.
Pyke blinked dumbly as he registered what had just happened, then broke out into a cheshire grin. “Well now... That seems to answer my question.”
“Sorry,” Rett muttered, releasing him to cover his face. “Can’t say I’ve had that happen before. It...ususally builds to nothing.”
“That’s the power of prostate massage. Gets ‘em every time,” Pyke teased, slowly withdrawing his fingers as carefully as he could to avoid inciting oversensitivity, wiping them on the sheets they would need to clean anyway. “Next time, remind me to grab a towel.”
“C’mere,” Rett rumbled, sitting up shakily to haul him closer without a word of protest, uncaring of the mess as they kissed, sweeter and more gentle now the urgency had faded. “Thank you, Pyke.”
He frowned in confusion at the sheer humility Rett seemed to be exhibiting. “What the fuck for?”
Rett ducked his head. “For working with my...current limitations. I know it wasn’t what you wanted–”
“Bullshit.” Pyke let the flare of irritation guide his hands to grasp Rett by the beard and force their gazes to lock. “I can’t believe you’re making me say this, but I want you. In any and every configuration we can think of. Comprende?” He almost shook Rett in his hold, desperate to shake some sense into him.
A tiny smile peeked from within Rett’s beard. “Yeah...yeah, I comprende.” The smile widened into a grin as his eyes shifted over Pyke’s face. “You got a little something...”
“And whose fault is that?” Pyke relaxed his hold and slid from Rett’s lap, extending a hand. “C’mon, you can help me clean up your gratitude.”
That drew a startled laugh from Rett as he took the offered hand and allowed himself to be guided from the bed. “I think you also helped me figure out my circuit board problem.”
“Oh yeah?” Pyke asked, guiding them backwards towards the shower. “How’s that?
“I need to come at it from a different angle.”