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Tyreen was right.
He was a gun slut.
He didn't admit that easily - mostly because he hated being wrong, but also because he hated the Calypso's being right. This time, there was no arguing the point. Tyreen’s voice had drifted through his ECHO, cacophonous over the airwaves, to tell him what a ‘big mood’ it would be if he were to kill himself for the enjoyment of her followers.
He had no idea what a ‘big mood’ was but he knew he wasn't getting killed for views, or follows, or subs - or any other weird pseudo-currency the Calypso's liked.
A gun, though... yeah. He might for a gun.
He was doing great at resisting for about half an hour. Tyreen kept sweetening the pot.
“C’mon, Superfan,” Tyreen whined. Zane flicked the volume off on his ECHO.
He had a few blissful moments of silence, punctuated by gunshots, the hum of his favorite drone, and the screams of COV shits falling dead to the ground.
“Don’t be like that,” Tyreen cut back in, her voice growing more cloying as the volume on the transmission crept back up, “You know it won’t work. Your security sucks!”
Zane zipped by Tyreen’s death chamber, noting the gaudy neon sign she had put up since he’d last driven by ‘INSERT VAULT THIEF HERE’ with an obnoxious red arrow pulsating, pointing towards the entrance of the tiny chamber. Zane snorted. Points for tenacity. No amount of shiny lights will get him to die for the amusement of the bloody Calypsos. Even if he does really, really like shiny lights.
Zane zipped past again an hour later. Another sign. ‘FREE ELECTROTHERAPY’. Real subtle.
“Ohhh, Vault Thief,” Tyreen’s sing-song voice screeched, “we got a real good offer - limited time only.”
“Yer slipping,” Zane warned her, “Where’s the subtlety? The nuance? You’ve taken all the mystery out of it!”
“How’s this for a mystery?” Tyreen had a teasing lilt to her voice. That never meant anything good for him. “I’ll throw in a prize. One of a kind, limited edition - swear you’ll love it. How’s that sound?”
Zane couldn’t deny that he was interested.
“Offers still on the table for another hour! I know you won’t let me down. I mean. Come on. You’re a total gun slut. Buh-bye now!”
So, yeah. He’d stepped into Tyreen’s deathchamber. And no, it wasn’t the stupidest thing he’d ever done, and it definitely wasn’t the most humiliating.
He'd been sporting a semi since she had screeched ‘gun slut’ at him, harpy-like over the digital compression of his echo. She had cackled and thanked him for the new followers and most importantly, told him his prize would be waiting for him back at camp. When he'd turned up to Reliance to find a gun-shaped package thrown half-heartedly over the perimeter wall, wrapped with a damn bow, well - his package presented itself too. He snatched up his gift and hustled into his room, spewing a string of excuses all along the lines of ‘oh, right, yeah, the meeting, I’ll be there, right, yeah. Got to make some calibrations to the ol’ firing rod’.
He shut his door tight, giving it a good kick with his foot to be sure it latched. He pressed his back to it. His head knocked against the door. With the mystery package held in one hand, the other fumbled with his belt. Zane had plenty of experience removing belts one handed (for a variety of reasons, both personal and professional. He has a weird job.) and it was only a few torturous seconds before his hand was wrapped firmly around his cock. A reverent, stair-stepping sigh pushed out of his lungs and he pressed his hips forward into his hand.
“Feckin’ finally,” he grunted. He trailed his fingers along the underside of his cock, featherlight pressure coiling a faint heat in the pit of his stomach. A twinge of irritation tightened his jaw. It wasn’t enough.
Zane pushed off the door, dragging himself over to his cot. He dragged the gun along with him, the wrapping paper crinkling in his grip. Gear trailed behind him like breadcrumbs. He flopped onto the cot, shoving his pants to his knees and tugging lazily at his cock. He tossed his present down and fumbled with his ECHO, pulling up the porn vid he had hidden within his files. Eight megabytes of grainy, stuttery erotica. He propped it up on his nightstand.
It only took a single fumbly minute to realize that it wasn’t doing it for him tonight. Zane rolled his head back, frustrated. The bright polka-dotted packaging of the gun caught his eye. He thought for a moment. Yeah. All right. Fuck it. He’d have himself a grand time christening his new gun, no matter how shitty it was. He clumsily tore the wrapping paper from his present and - holy shit.
Tyreen didn’t screw him over. This was a nice gun.
Zane lowered his hand to massage his balls as he looked the gun over. Maliwan, incendiary and corrosive, and - shite. No charge time. He dragged his hand torturously slow up from his balls and wrapped his hand around his shaft again. Zane swallowed thickly. He stroked his fingers over the weapon gently - far more carefully than he was tugging at his cock.
“What am I gonna do with you, beautiful?” He mumbled to himself. He bit his tongue at the ideas flickering through his mind. His soft touches shifted abruptly to hard tugs. He flicked the switch on the side of the pistol, and the lights shifted to a soft red glow. Zane moaned in the back of his throat. He wasn’t in the mood for this game today. All that ‘will-they-won’t-they-murder-me’ was enough build up. He needed it hard and fast.
This wasn’t the first time he’d spit-cleaned a gun and it wouldn’t be the last. He dragged tongue up the barrel and fucked into his fist desperately. This wouldn’t take long. It had been a while since he’d had time to himself. He tipped the gun into his mouth, deeper, deeper, and --
“Hey Super-- whoa.”
Fuck.
Zane flung the gun down by his hip. He slapped around for his ECHO device. He couldn’t get one bleedin’ moment of peace anywhere on this shite-stain of a planet.
“When I called you a gun slut I didn’t mean - but damn, okay!” She laughed. Zane finally snapped the ECHO device into his hand. He slammed it face down on the bed.
“Aww, hey, that’s rude,” Tyreen whined. Her laugh was muffled against the paper thin sheet of his cot. He ground the ECHO further into the sheets. He could just turn it off. “C’mon, flip me over. I gave you a gift. You owe me.”
Zane hadn’t stopped pumping his cock. He gave himself a few more cautious strokes. Logically, he knew wanking it with Tyreen bloody Calypso on the line was a bad idea.
But it was also pretty hot, if the heat smoldering in his groin had anything to say about it.
Thankfully, Zane loved hot, bad ideas.
He swore under his breath and flipped the ECHO over, propping it up so the camera cut off just above where his hand worked to milk his dick dry.
“What do you want?” He snapped.
“Whoa, c’mon. Is that anyway to talk to someone who gave you a new toy? I didn’t think you’d, y’know --” Tyreen cut herself off. On the tiny screen, he saw her eyes cut down and her brow furrow. “Are you… are you still jerking it?”
Zane grunted. He swirled his fingers around the head of his cock. His nostrils flared as he only barely controlled his breathing.
Tyreen fell uncharacteristically quiet.
“Lemme see,” she said, her tone harsh and commanding.
Zane huffed out a laugh. “What? You like a peep show?”
“Okay, fine. If you’re gonna be a prude, I’ll just --”
Zane shifted, sitting back on his legs. He propped the ECHO up on the rickety nightstand. He knew his angles. This wasn’t the first time he’d jerked off for someone over ECHO. His cock would be proudly on display.
Christ, he wished those ECHO screens were just a bit bigger. No doubt she had this display put up on a comically oversized screen.
Zane managed to keep his cool and give her a tease for all of ten seconds. That was as long as he could restrain himself before he was back to furiously pumping his length. He moved his other hand to grasp his balls. He squeezed and tugged. The gun lay forgotten by his hip, replaced by his new audience.
Tyreen clicked her tongue. “Ungrateful,” she drawled out. “I give you a new toy - and you won’t even use it?”
Zane snatched the gun up tight in his hands, his balls already missing the pressure of his hand. He strummed his fingers along the barrel in time with the strokes against his cock. His mouth ran dry, his head falling back while his lips parted. Tyreen pouted. She sighed dramatically and examined her nails.
“God, I - I guess I can just vacuum the throne room. Get some breakfast. I got a psycho marinating. I’m just so bored,” she laid her hand dramatically against her forehead and made to get up.
Zane rolled his eyes. He brought the gun up to his lips and kissed along the barrel, lewd wet kisses smacking through the air. Tyreen smirked.
“Cock it,” Tyreen demanded.
A thrill shot through Zane - a jolt of electricity arcing through his spine, to his cock, curling his toes. He clenched his teeth and turned his moan into a growl.
“The feck do you think I’ve been doing?” Zane ground out.
“Cock. It.”
The click of the hammer being pulled back sent Tyreen into another laughing fit.
“Holy shit,” she breathed out, swiping at her eye. Her breathing quickened. Zane craned his neck to get a better look at the ECHO. Her flushed cheeks, the arm lowered out of frame, muscles in her forearm pulsing rhythmically - it told him all he needed to know. Her breathing stuttered. She regained her composure quickly, sneering at him through the screen, “Holy shit, you really did that. You are such a himbo.”
Zane groaned. He had no idea what a himbo was, but it sounded derogatory, and that was hot. He pumped his cock faster, ruthlessly fucking into his hand, his hips stuttering. “Say it again,”
“What? You like that, slut?” Zane moaned. He tossed his head back against his pillow, his back arching up off of the cot. He heard Tyreen suck a breath in through her teeth, heard the whispered fuuuck she drawled out, and he nearly came then and there with his cock pulsing in his grasp. “You like it when I tell you what a dirty little sellout you are?”
Sweat beaded at his hairline. His mouth fell open, ragged pants and growls slipping freely out of him. He lost all rhythm, bucking short and quick into a tight fist.
“Yeah - yeah, feck yeah,” he pleaded.
“Earn it.”
Zane took the barrel of the gun into his mouth and sucked. Spit dribbled down his chin, his jaw dropping so he could sloppily take in more of his gift. He forced his eyes open, staring at the tiny screen. Tyreen had propped her legs up onto her gaudy throne. Her fingers rubbed furiously at her clit, her other hand buried in the heat of her cunt. He could see the sheen of slick on her thighs even on the shitty little screen. His tongue licked flat and broad against the gun and he wished it was her pussy he was tasting instead of her gun.
“That’s my bitch.”
Zane came. His thighs twitched as the heat in his groin seared through his veins. The gun slipped from his swollen lips. He pressed it flat against his forehead and moaned raggedly. Thick, hot ropes of cum laced across his chest as his toes flexed against the sheets tight enough that he felt the burn in his knuckles.
When his mind cleared and the muscles in his stomach unclenched, he forced himself up onto his elbow. Sweat clung to his flushed skin. He reached to grab his ECHO. He froze with his hand gripping the side. Tyreen sat on her throne, her legs kicked wide, pants back on as if they had never been off to begin with.
"You have yerself a grand time, then?"
“Cool,” Tyreen droned, already seeming bored and clearly not paying attention to him. She rested her cheek on her fist. She lifted her hand up to her face, holding two fingers up and inspecting them. Her eyes cut to him, staring straight through the screen. A corner of her mouth twitched. She waited until his eyes were on her and then she scissored her fingers apart slowly. A string of her fluids drooped between her fingers. She licked a stripe up them and pressed them deep into her mouth, her eyes shut as she sucked herself clean. She pulled them out with an exaggerated pop. Zane’s spent cock stirred against his stomach, oversensitive and flushed.
“Shame this is as close as you’ll ever get to me. Can’t wait to tell your friends about this one,” Tyreen purred. She leaned closer to the camera and waved to him, her fingers shiny with spit. “Buh-bye, Vault Thief.”
The air in his little shack was heavy with sweat and his own familiar musk. He breathed heavily through his nose until his chest rose and fell at a regular rate. The gun lay at his side, cast away in the middle of his orgasm, his spit already drying against the metal. Idly, he wished he’d had the presence of mind to cum on it, even just a bit.
Well, he thought, staring down at the cum staining the front of his shirt and the panels of his jacket. His cock bobbed against his stomach, another thrum of pleasure twanging through his body already. Shite.