Work Text:
Arthur was trying very hard to focus, really. He had set out this morning with the goal of revising the civilian evacuation routes to incorporate some new intel Eleanor had gathered, but as usual, Dee was determined to make his life much, much harder than it needed to be.
Another pair of boxer-briefs landed on his map.
“Stop that,” he said, closing his eyes in exasperation. “I have work to do, you know.”
“I’m more important,” Dee replied, tone unyielding in their self-assurance. They sat cross-legged on the floor of the backroom, in front of the cabinets they were using as a dresser. A few plastic-wrapped packages of socks and underwear lay next to them, some torn open, some still intact—fresh from Quincy’s trading on the black market, surely. “You won’t need those plans for, what, three weeks?”
Arthur sighed. “And if I don’t do them now, I don’t know if I’ll have time later.”
Dee ripped open another package of socks, inspected them, then threw a pair at his face. “Bullshit. Besides, you’re always talking about ways to ‘boost team morale when we have downtime’. Put your money where your mouth is and boost my morale.”
Arthur huffed, pushed the boxer briefs and socks off the desk, and went back to work. They’d get bored of bothering him in a few minutes, and he’d be able to finish this so he could participate in some guilt-free morale-boosting later, maybe in the afternoon after he’d taken a shower…
A single crew sock, this time. Arthur flicked it off the desk. Another crew sock, followed by a pair of boxers, with another sock after that. He could hear Dee walking closer with each thrown item until they were right behind him.
They dropped a small mountain of socks and underwear onto his map.
He put his pen down and swivelled the chair around to face them. “For the gods’ sake, Dee—”
Dee cut him off by grabbing his chin and cramming a rolled-up sock into his open mouth.
“Heh,” Dee laughed. He tried to spit the sock out, but Dee reached up and clasped a hand over his mouth. “Stuff a sock in it, Sunshine. Literally.”
Arthur waited for a wave of annoyance to wash over him, but it didn’t come. Even when they were literally sticking their laundry in his mouth, he couldn’t seem to muster the exasperation this situation surely warranted.
Sol. I am well and truly fucked.
He reached up to pull their hand away from his mouth—the fabric of the sock against his tongue was really quite unpleasant, and he wanted it out as soon as possible—but they responded by pressing their palm more firmly to his lips.
“So, what do I need to offer to sweeten the deal here? I could I could jerk you off while you pretend to work.” Even though Dee was surely a bit flustered—it had taken them a long time to get so comfortable discussing sex—their voice sounded flippant and unbothered.
He couldn’t respond, so he just frowned.
“No dice? I could take you from behind instead.”
Definitely no. He was still sore from last night. He shook his head as much as he could with Dee’s hands on his face.
“Hmm… I could eat you out. You liked that last time.”
He made a negative-sounding grunt, and Dee finally lowered their hand, allowing him to pull the sock from his mouth. “Haven’t showered today, so no.”
The corners of Dee’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. Apparently emboldened by his admission—a firm ‘no’ to getting eaten out, but not a no to whatever else they could come up with—Dee continued, “Then I’m just going to keep listing things until something catches your interest. Dig out that maid outfit? Have a wrestle? Peel up your armor and finger your techrot?”
Arthur thought he had been doing an admirable job of keeping a straight face until that last sentence. Unbidden, a flush rose to his cheeks. He tried to swivel the chair away, but Dee caught the arms and leaned forward, boxing him in.
“Hah! Got you. You try so hard to pretend you aren’t just as hot and bothered as I am when I open you up, but I can tell. What do you say?”
He averted his eyes from their face, but there was nowhere to look that wasn’t Dee, Dee, or more Dee. Their well-muscled arms that trapped him in the chair, their hair that hung down and tickled his forehead, their knee that had moved to press between his legs.
“I, er—” Arthur cleared his throat. Dee pushed their knee more firmly into his crotch. “Ah,” he continued eloquently.
Well. Since he couldn’t seem to string two words together, he settled for nodding his head.
Dee pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. “Wait right there. You know the rules.” With that, they hustled off to retrieve whatever tools they thought they would need, leaving him breathless and alone in the loft of the backroom.
They were right; he did know the rules. Dee had burned them into his mind through deliciously positive reinforcement: follow their directions, remember the safeword, and tap out if it got too much.
A few moments later, Dee returned with an armful of tools and the cardboard box that he knew held all their sex toys. His heart beat faster as he wondered what they would pull from that box this time. The exact contents were a mystery to him; Dee never let him look inside, and he didn’t know where they stored it.
He didn’t wonder for long. Without fanfare, Dee dumped the tools on the desk, opened the box (angling it so that he couldn’t see inside, of course), and withdrew a circle of dark leather, adorned with a gunmetal buckle. They held it out for his inspection, and he realized that it was a gag, with a black silicone bar opposite the buckle. His breath caught in his throat.
“See something you like?” Dee asked, demonstrating the action of the buckle for him. “You could probably bite right through it, what with your strength, so you’d have to be careful.”
“Alright,” he said, already feeling breathless. He needed no convincing, not with the way Dee’s eyes lingered on his lips.
Dee’s smile was wide and mischievous. “Groovy. Open wide, Sunshine.”
He complied. Dee hooked their fingers behind his jaw, using their thumbs to press the gag deep into his mouth. The rod ended up spanning the space between some of his rear molars, stretching his lips a bit with how wide it held his mouth open. It was already much more comfortable than the sock had been, even though it did have that plastic-y ‘new silicone’ flavor and pinched his lips against his teeth until he managed to wiggle it into a more comfortable position. Dee fastened the buckle behind his head, then leaned back to inspect their work, a self-satisfied smile taking over their face.
“Now you can’t complain when I make fun of you.”
This is what you got yourself into, Nightingale. Time to deal with the consequences.
“Ready?” Dee asked.
Normally, he would have responded with Always or perhaps Only waiting on you, but with the introduction of the gag, he had to settle for squeezing the arms of the chair and nodding.
Dee started by stepping one leg between his knees, knocking his legs apart with a side-to-side motion. “I have another rule for you,” Dee continued as they knelt down on the hardwood. A blush rose high on their cheeks as they spoke, though Arthur couldn’t tell if they were excited or embarrassed. “If I don’t think you’re making enough noise, I stop. And I need to be able to hear it around that gag, so don’t hold out on me.”
As soon as they finished speaking, Dee grabbed his right ankle, lifted his leg, and licked a slow stripe from the ball of his ankle to his knee. He yelped around the gag and jolted in the chair, but Dee’s grip on his leg was firm and allowed him very little movement. They continued to hold him in place as their tongue traced the outlines of his armor along his thigh, dipping into the little crevices between the plates and lingering at the seam at his groin. They took a moment to re-wet their tongue before repeating the motion. Although he could only barely feel their tongue against his technocyte–his armor was borderline insensate–the sight of Dee licking his leg made him feel lightheaded, and his cock already ached with want. And when he saw a bit of Dee’s spit drip down onto the floor, it was only his ironclad self-control and the gag that kept him from whining or doing something equally embarrassing, like attempting to goad Dee into touching him more directly.
Just a moment into Dee’s third pass over his leg, they stopped at his knee and caught his eyes, tongue still extended and touching his technocyte. He froze, unsure what he’d done to make them stop, and before he could figure out why, some of Dee’s teeth made contact with his leg. The angle wasn’t right for them to be able to bite, but they could still drag their canine along his technocyte. He yelped again, and as soon as the noise left his throat, Dee continued their journey up his leg.
It took all of Arthur’s self control not to roll his eyes once he understood what Dee wanted him to do.
Arthur had never lived alone, not even when he’d been an officer in the Britannic army—he’d been deployed almost immediately after finishing training. He’d always slept and bathed and dressed side-by-side with the soldiers under him and his fellow officers, and in that environment, privacy was as valuable as gold. And even then, ‘privacy’ was never truly private—it just meant he was out of everyone’s direct line of sight. If he wanted to find any pleasure in those brief unobserved moments, he had to be perfectly silent.
So it had taken him by surprise when Dee complained about how quiet he was in bed.
“How else am I supposed to know if you’re enjoying yourself?” they asked, running their fingers through his hair. Arthur’s head was propped on their shoulder and their legs were tangled together among the blankets as they basked in the afterglow.
Arthur let out a short laugh. “Really?” he said, incredulous. He trailed a finger down Dee’s abs, where his spend had not yet been wiped away, holding it up for their inspection. “Is it not obvious?”
Dee just leaned forward and took his finger into their mouth. Once they had licked the cum from his fingertip, they smacked their lips and said, “Nope.”
And thus began Dee’s crusade to make him moan, whimper, groan, yelp, and all manner of other embarrassing noises. It seemed that the gag was just an extension of this larger plot, and Dee was clearly taking their mission very seriously today.
Once their tongue reached his groin again, they dug their fingers under the edge of the armor plate at his crotch and shoved it aside, heedless of the way it dragged across his erection as it folded away into its crevice at his hip.
Dee, as always, inspected his body with a spark of dangerous curiosity in their eyes.
Arthur had very little recognizably human skin left, and with the exception of his foreskin, what remained was mostly hidden on the underside of his cock–the upper side of his dick had been consumed by ridged gray technocyte, broken only by small blue luminous nodules and a metallic plate running down the center; the glow was visible through his foreskin, though the metallic plate was indicated only by its texture. The rest of his groin was cross-hatched by a complex pattern of wires, techrot muscles, and small masses of infested flesh.
With another partner, Arthur might have felt self-conscious about the way he looked, now that he was more warframe than human. But with Dee… well. It seemed that the atypical genitalia situation was actually a benefit in their eyes.
Once they finished raking their eyes over his crotch, Dee enthusiastically reached forward to run their fingertips up his length, pausing slightly at each ridge. The gentle contact was maddening—nowhere near enough pressure to give him any real gratification, but just enough to make his breath come faster. Mindful of Dee’s new rule, Arthur didn’t fight the whine that bubbled up in his throat.
Dee grinned and took his length into their hand. His hips twitched almost involuntarily into the contact, desperate for the firm pressure of their grip.
Oh, thank sol. He’d been worried that this would be one of those times where Dee refused to touch him, or forced him to beg for release. But that was clearly not the case right now—Dee stroked him in time with the thrusts of his hips, letting him fuck their fist with abandon until he could feel himself nearing completion. Just before he could topple over that cliff, though, Dee removed their hand.
“Not so fast, Sunshine. You’ve been too quiet,” they said with a smirk. “Besides, we haven’t gotten to the fun part yet. Let’s get this armor off and see what’s underneath, hmm?”
The process of having his armor removed was much the same as when Dee had installed the mods in his legs, except this time, Dee’s hands deliberately massaged his inner thighs before starting to pry up his armor there. When they cut away at the fascia, they playfully snipped at his other armor plates, and once the armor was removed and secured out of the way, they indulgently slid their lubricated hands up and down his techrot muscles until he squirmed in the chair.
“Feels good, right?” Dee said, digging their thumbs between cords of techrot. “I have to be so careful installing mods on the others—don’t want to make things uncomfortable—but not with you. You like this, you weirdo.” They punctuated the sentence with twin flicks of their index fingers against the mods in his knees. Sparks of sensation travelled up the wires and terminated somewhere around his groin, and faint echoes like aftershocks followed. He moaned, though again, the gag muffled much of the sound.
The feeling of Dee’s fingers roaming around his technocyte muscles wasn’t directly sexual, like if they had been touching his dick—the experience was more akin to receiving a massage from a partner before sex. Physically intense and arousing, yes, but it was only the context of Dee sitting between his knees that made his cock throb.
Dee flicked the mods again, he moaned again, and Dee’s eyes flashed with inspiration. They refocused their attention on just his left thigh, both hands pressing firmly into the techrot cords there. It took them only a moment to locate the wires running from the modification to that place near his crotch where it interfaced with his nervous system. They carefully tugged on the wire with one hand while the other palpated his muscles farther up his thigh. He didn’t understand what they were doing until Dee’s fingers found the point on his techrot that was directly above the barbed connection point of the wire. It was near enough the surface that Dee could just barely roll the barb between their thumb and forefinger, and–
Bloody hell!
Dee’s manipulation of the linkage point sent a shockwave through his body so intense that he keened unself-consciously and he became very, very appreciative of the gag.
Relentless, Dee twisted the barbed junction again. “Fuck, sweetheart. Turns out all I needed to do to get you to sing was gag you.” The filthy words rang in his ears, and he gripped the arms of the chair even more tightly. He could feel a thin trail of precome drip down the length of his dick when Dee continued flicking the barb.
Dee continued like that for the next handful of minutes, flicking his mods and fingering the electronics underneath the surface of his techrot. Each tug and twist sent delicious sparks dancing across his nerves and quivers through his muscles. Under normal circumstances, he might’ve been self-conscious of the way he moaned and whimpered as Dee manipulated his body, but as it was, it was getting harder and harder for him to focus on anything except the way his cock ached for more contact.
It must have been obvious that he was getting close, because Dee redoubled their efforts, using one hand to fondle the connection point and the other to gently pull at that same wire. The motion lit fireworks under his skin, and he managed not to scream, though it was a near thing. His hips bucked in the aftermath of the massive shock, unable to keep still through such intense stimulation. Not giving him a chance to recover, Dee repeated the motion, and after the initial jolt, Arthur could feel himself teetering on the edge of orgasm. He was so close; another shock like that would push him over.
Yet Dee shocked him again, and then once more, and he still didn’t come. Tears were streaming down his face now, and he had long since given up on controlling the whimpers bubbling up in his throat. He was desperate for any kind of additional sensation, anything that could put him over the edge, no matter how unconventional. He worked his teeth around the gag and fucked his tongue against the silicone; he slid his feet back and forth over the grooves between the floorboards and let a string of desperate noises buzz in his throat. Nothing worked, and the feeling of Dee touching him was just so, so much, and if he wasn’t touched immediately, he was going to—
He tapped out, frantically grabbing and slapping at Dee’s hip. They stopped immediately, withdrawing their hands from his body to unclasp his gag.
Once the gag was out of his mouth, his desperate hmmph hmmph hmmphs turned into a nearly incoherent babble, consisting mostly of please please please and oh sol oh my gods and if you don’t touch me right this bloody instant I’m going to burn right up.
Dee gave him a funny look, and with a rush of red-hot embarrassment, he remembered that his hands weren’t restrained—he could have reached down and finished himself at any time. Breathless, he pried one hand from its iron grip on the arm of the chair, wrapped it around his dick, and began to stroke himself.
Arthur wasn’t right at the edge of orgasm anymore, not like he had been before tapping out, but it still didn’t take long before he was gasping again. He was still very sensitive from when Dee edged him earlier, and the electric eye contact Dee was lavishing on him didn’t help either. They weren’t touching themself; they just watched him like they wanted him to be absolutely certain that every ounce of their attention was completely devoted to cataloging his facial expressions and nothing else. If he hadn’t been so lost to his arousal, he might’ve felt self-conscious. But right now, he found that he wanted to be the center of Dee’s world, wanted their perfect focus, wanted them to remember this moment forever.
The idea of Dee pleasuring themself to their memory of this moment in the future pushed him over the edge, the image burning white-hot in his mind as his orgasm rolled over him. Their hand shot out, catching him beneath the chin and forcing him to maintain eye contact as he came, spilling messily across his hand and down onto the edge of the chair. His climax fluttered through his body, the aftershocks pulling moan after moan from his throat.
After so long wearing the gag, the noises sounded excessive and over the top to his ears, like he was playing them up and putting on a performance. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth—he was simply that far gone.
Dee kissed him once, brief but firm, then released his chin and let him collapse back into the chair. He closed his eyes, and after a moment, he became distantly aware of the sounds of Dee bringing themself to completion from where they knelt on the hardwood: heavy breaths, the hum of their vibrator, and one soft moan before all fell quiet. The air in the backroom felt heavier somehow, and Arthur was more than happy to just breathe and let his ears ring.
A rustle of fabric broke the silence; Dee stood up and moved next to him, where they rested their hands on his left forearm. “How are you feeling?”
He nodded, understanding that it wasn’t really an answer to their question, but his mind was too scrambled to form a coherent sentence. Dee pressed a kiss to his temple and squeezed his arm reassuringly.
“Let me get you cleaned up, hmm?” Dee asked, and he nodded again.
Some of the aftercare was standard: wiping the cum from his body, massaging his jaw, coaxing him to drink some water. But some of it was only vaguely familiar to him: cleaning the lubricant from his exposed techrot, testing the integrity of the mod’s connections to his nervous system, replacing the armor over his inner thighs. He melted into all of it, indulging in the experience of being so delicately cared for.
Once all his squishy bits were covered and he was mostly clean, Dee led him to their bed, stripped their clothes, and sat on the edge of the mattress. They reached out and touched his cheek. “Tell me what you need.”
Arthur did not hesitate. He grabbed them—one hand on their shoulder and one hand on their ass—and dragged them on top of him. He needed their weight on his chest like he’d never needed anything before, needed to trap their knees between his thighs, needed to run his hands up and down the muscles of their back, from their tailbone to their neck and back again. Dee yelped when he first grabbed them, but otherwise let Arthur manhandle them without complaint. They even buried their face in his neck, pressing featherlight kisses to the technocyte ridges there.
As he lay underneath Dee, delighting in the simple pleasure of feeling their body against his own, he started to come back to reality. He focused on matching his breathing to Dee’s, and after a few minutes, he felt clear-headed enough to speak.
“Bloody hell, Dee.” His voice sounded exactly like he felt—rough and fucked out.
Dee rearranged themself so that they could see his face, crossing their arms and resting their chin on top of them. “So how’s that for a morale boost?”
Arthur laughed, and instead of answering, he propped himself up on his elbows and kissed them.