Chapter Text
It starts off as a joke - as most good things do.
Grian had been barely paying attention to the Hermit’s monthly meeting. Due to everyone’s chaotic schedule and timings, it was held at an unvoidly hour of the morning. If it weren’t for the cup of steaming hot tea in front of him, he would’ve been slumped over in his chair.
He’s scowling into an almost empty mug when a short “clink” sounds in front of him, and he looks up to see Mumbo setting one down in front of him.
“You’re so handsome,” Grian hisses feverishly as he snatches the tea cup carefully and starts sipping at the fresh cup.
Mumbo scoffs lightly but doesn’t say anything as he slips into the chair next to Grian. The other hermits begin to fill in the meeting room - some are way more awake than others.
Grian half pays attention to the meeting. None of it really concerns nor does it interest him, so he keeps quiet, instead daydreaming about his build and what kinda prank he could do next to get back Jevin.
It isn’t until the mention of broken farms does Grian tune back in.
“I’m aware the server update has caused some difficulties with some farms, but we’re working on it to be fixed soon.” Grian doesn’t have any farms complicated enough to be affected by the new change.
“By server update, do you mean the masked criminal going around breaking farms?” Joe Hills offers, and Grian sinks down in his seat.
“Poultry Man is a vigilante, not a criminal,” he offers in a short grumble under his breath.
“We all know it’s you, Grian!” False claims, but Grian simply gasps at her.
“We may share a megabase, but I’m just his landlord, False. And - and for the record, if he does - break stuff. It’s an accident. Maybe… maybe he just gets excited trying to learn?”
The attempt to clear his name is shot down as Keralis says - in a desperate attempt to keep the meeting short and concise, “We’re beginning to get off track.” Xisuma sighs from next to him, but he’s long grown used to the meetings getting derailed.
“As I was saying--” Xisuma begins with folded hands only to be interrupted by Cleo, loud as day despite it being so early in the morning.
“No, we’re on track. X, he’s getting out of control.” Grian knows it’s lighthearted, but he feels the need to sink down under the table nonetheless. He settles for playing it cool even as his cheeks flush with all the attention on him. “Can’t we do something?”
Grian flushes at that as his heart begins to pick up pace in his chest. “But it’s not--” Memories of past servers getting so angry with him for his pranking nature comes rising up, and the words “annoying” and “nuisance” roll around his head until he’s almost sick. The tea against his lips suddenly tastes like acid, but he refuses to let go of the mug for the comfort it brings him when his mind gets carried away.
“If anyone doesn’t want me to, I can leave you alone,” Grian offers even as it burns on his tongue. “And I’m always happy to makeup for any damage--”
“I never said I’d want you to stop.” Cleo’s voice is so cold and concise but caring all the same. Grian settles at that, but his nerves don’t dissipate completely. “But… I think it’d be in the server’s best interest if we agreed on a punishment.”
Grian tilts his head as some of the other hermits nod in agreement. “Grian always helps out. Just yesterday when he threw me into the void, he replaced all my stuff to make up for it!” Scar chimes in only for Cleo to click their tongue.
“I propose an additional punishment - if we really wanna get back at our resident prankster,” Cleo continues. “If we can be all in favor.”
Xisuma’s violet eyes flicker with interest from under his visor. No longer annoyed from the direction it was going, he twists around to write on the holoboard in front of the oval table.
The hermits are silent as Xisuma types something until it’s displayed for everyone to see.
Any prank or wrongdoing committed by Grian relinquishes all rights of the proper punishment to be decided by the victim.
“Within reason!” Grian chimes in, not too bothered by the ordeal. “Sounds fair enough, but if I’m gonna be put to work, make sure it’s reasonable.”
Tango tsks from beside him before suddenly bursting out into laughter. Grian narrows his eyes, “And why is it specifically me? I’m not the only pranker on this server!”
“No, no, but you running around pranking people is a cry for someone to do something about it,” Impulse offers with a short laugh. “I think this will be good for you.”
“If this goes into favor, Grian, you’ll be at the hands of whoever you’d pranked. Is this okay?” Xisuma asks carefully.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m not just all bark. I can take whatever people throw at me,” Grian replies, earning numerous snorts from across the room. Grian shoots them a cold glare as Xisuma asks if anyone has any objections - and no one has any. The notion is passed without argument, and the meeting continues on without a second thought.
--
It isn’t until over a week later when he’s setting a long awaited prank into play.
Grian is sprawled over his stomach over Impulse’s latest flower farm. He’s been in there for hours now, and he’s been waiting for him to leave. All he wanted to do was place a couple of chickens around - nothing too harmful or insanely elaborate. He was content waiting on top of the roof with a book in his hands and headphones over his ears.
The moment Impulse rocketed away, Grian swung into action. He slips his Poultry Man mask over his head before slipping into the flower farm.
As hippies, Grian had been spending a lot of time with Ren and Impulse. He had been hoping he’d learn a trick or two from the redstoners only for neither of them to allow him close. Impulse, specifically, had forbade him from touching any of his machinery.
Grian! Don’t touch!,
The sign reads.
Next to it, a very, very alluring button.
He shifts from one foot to the other. Well. This sign can’t stop him because he isn’t Grian right now!
He grins underneath his mask before slapping his hand down on the button only for nothing to happen.
Grian furrows his eyebrows together.
Well that’s weird--
Grian’s internal monologue is cut off as he starts screeching. His world turns upside down, and before he knew it, a rope tie around his feet is keeping him suspended.
… This is not looking good.
He huffs, trying to propel himself forward. Really, what kinda button was this? A trap? Quite a cruddy trap if you ask him.
“Yeah, yeah,” a voice from outside the building starts. Grian’s blood runs cold. “One of my alarms has been rigged. Yeah. If that’s fine?”
Grian prepares himself, crossing his arms over his chest as Impulse, cheery as ever, stumbles into the farm. His communicator is pressed to his ear, and he nonchalantly waves to Grian as if him dangling upside down is no strange occurrence.
“Mhm, that works with me, Tango. Bye now.” Impulse finishes saying his goodbye into the communicator. Grian waits pain painstakingly second by second for him to finish.
“Ahem,” Grian begins with a cough in his throat. “Are you going to let me down?”
Impulse sets his communicator down on the sidetable. He doesn’t reply until he’s dragged himself in front of Grian to stare face to upside down chicken mask.
“There was a sign,” Impulse tells him. “I put it up specifically to remind you, and what do you do?”
Grian’s blood rushes to the top of his head as he sways. His wings awkwardly stretch out behind him in a piss-poor attempt to fix his blood flow. If Impulse lets him hang any longer, he’s going to pass out.
“Actually,” Grian interjects, fighting the wooziness taking him over. “The sign was addressed to Grian. I’m Poultry Man.”
Impulse quirks an amused eyebrow. Even when Grian is trying to get on his bad side, he only treats him with kindness.
“And what business does Poultry Man have in a simple hippie’s flower farm?”
“Ah, well--” And Grian stops short when he realizes he’s going absolutely nowhere with this. “Y’know -- button.”
“A button,” he parrots dryly.
“Yes,” he repeats like he’s just figured out something big. Grian holds up a finger, a silent gesture for ‘hear me out.’ Impulse regards him with careful amusement. “Now, this is top secret, but Poultry Man’s number one weakness is buttons. It’s my kryptonite.”
Impulse chuckles and taps his chin.
“Funny. You remind me of my friend Grian.” Grian withholds the urge to snicker. Impulse is one of few who willingly go along with his antics, even far after he’s been caught red-handed.
“Funny,” Impulse continues on without giving Grian a chance to continue, “You’re lucky you’re not Grian.”
…
Suddenly, Grian isn’t having to hold back his laughter anymore.
Impulse is smiling. Impulse is almost always smiling - really, the demon hybrid is hardly in a bad mood. He’s always active in the chat, wishing good mormons and good byes and asking how everyone’s doing. He’s the type of friend to notice the things you think you’re good at hiding. Careful. Attentive. Kind. Loving.
These are all attributes Grian could use to define Impulse. And it’s true, right now he’s smiling like his kind and loving friend typically is, except…
Except, there’s something dark within those soft eyes.
Grian gulps.
“And why is that?” Grian prompts. He has to cough to clear the nerves in his throat.
“Well, Grian’s a bit of a troublemaker--” Impulse is cut off as the doors to the farm swing open, and their resident blaze born storms in.
“An underestimation of the century!” Tango, appearing in the doorway, announces with a cackle. “Hey, Impulse. Wasn’t a false alarm after all, huh?”
“Told you it was a matter of time,” Impulse sighs, not at all seeming actually bothered. “I was just explaining to Poultry Man here how lucky he is not to be Grian. Seeing as we passed that new rule.”
“I know I wouldn’t mind. Grian blowing up my base just means getting to watch his tight ass-” Grian pinks, and he’s never been so thankful for the mask over his face, “--bend over as he rebuilds it.”
Grian’s heart skips a beat at the crude comment. Tango was never quiet about his thoughts, especially when they tended to make the subject darken a pretty shade of pink. Grian was never a seclusion from these teasings, but this was new to him.
He couldn’t count on his fingers how many times he’s had to rebuild a mess he’s caused due to a well calculated prank. He didn’t mind cleaning up at all, especially if the prank had accidentally gone out of hand. He was happy to clean up a mess if it meant they both got a good laugh out of it.
But knowing Tango was checking him out while doing it?
“Though I am curious, just who could be hiding under that mask,” Impulse ponders aloud, tapping his foot onto the tile.
“He’s been causing a lot of trouble, too,” Tango tacks on.
Grian’s really done it now.
“Boys, boys, we all know a vigilante must keep his identity a top secret. Bad things could happen! Very bad things,” Grian insists. Sweat begins to bead on his brow. The mask has a tendency to keep his skin warm and heated, but it’s not the mask making him overheat right now.
It’s playful. It’s a playful prank. Everything about this situation should be playful. The way Impulse is staring at him is anything but playful.
His hippie friend is regarding him with such an intense gaze he, who loved being the center of attention so much he rebelled against the Watchers just so he could be seen , was starting to sweat. Half-nervousness, half-excitement.
“Bad things also happen to naughty boys,” Impulse croons; Grian gulps. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Grian tenses when Impulse steps forward and tugs off the mask. It falls to the floor like a feather, and Grian winces as his sweat covered red face is revealed to the other two in the room.
“Surprise…!” Grian cheers half-heartedly. Neither one of them look surprised in the slightest. He tacks on an awkward laugh as Impulse moves to let him down.
“Oh, this is going to be good.” Tango throws his head back as he releases a hearty cackle. Grian’s feet hit the ground, and his bloodflow starts to return to normal. If Impulse had left him hanging any longer he would’ve fallen ill. He sighs, shaking his feet off after having been tied.
“No, no, you can’t tell anyone,” Grian cuts in sharply, wagging a finger in Tango’s direction. “It’s top secret. I’ve allowed you civilians to see my face--” Impulse snorts at ‘allowed.’ “But no one else can know!”
“That’s… not what I meant,” Tango says between snickers. He sobers up as Impulse stands directly in front of him. Grian’s distracted by Tango’s ominous words, but before he can properly ask Impulse is closing in on him.
Grian wraps his arms around him instinctively for the hug only for him to be propelled forward. He gasps shortly as he’s set up on the table with his legs on either side of Impulse. Whatever abandoned project was left on the desk is pushed to the floor unceremoniously as Grian takes their place.
“What’s that--” Grian had began only for Impulse to cut him off with the sudden capture. Tango loses his attention as he gawks at Impulse, who is lifting up his foot. “Impulse?”
Impulse murmurs a short, “Ropes hurt at all?” Grian shakes his head, albeit confused. He’s been caught in rope traps like that and for a lot-longer too. Mumbo still brings up the time he got caught in a sticky piston trap and was too embarrassed to call for help.
“Did you forget?” Tango is crooning at him, but Grian’s breath is caught in his throat. Ever so gently, Impulse peels back Grian’s jeans to prod at the area the rope had caught him. His skin isn’t so much as a pale pink, shades lighter than his face. Grian hardly feels any pain, only a pleasant buzz where Impulse’s fingers gently rub the skin.
“Forget--” Grian has to clear his throat and try again. Impulse presses a chaste kiss to the pink mark on his joint, and Grian chokes. “Forget what?”
Impulse laughs, flashing him a warm smile. Grian gawks at him as he lets go of his ankle in favor of leaning in until their noses are a few centimeters apart. Impulse presses in closer between Grian’s legs, and the undivided attention is making his cock stir to life. He shifts in what he hopes isn’t too noticeable.
“Oh, just that you’re all mine,” Impulse replies at last. He says it nonchalantly as if he isn’t dangerously close to his crotch, as if Grian isn’t putty on the desk before him. “You play a prank on someone, and they get to choose the punishment.”
Grian groans, throwing his head back in anguish. “Impulse, if you wanted me to work on the campsite, you could’ve just asked. No need to set tempting buttons out and trap me!”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Grian rolls his eyes. “And as much as the campsite does need more flowers, I have a better punishment in mind.”
Tango starts cackling then. Grian raises his eyebrow. Something tells him he’s privy to a fact Grian’s been left out from.
“I’m sorry to say I can’t stick around,” Tango says in such a regretful tone Grian knows he means it. He sighs with his whole body shifting as if he’s in mourning. “Don’t go too hard on him, Impy.”
Impulse laughs gently before whispering something to Tango he can’t quite catch. He leans in to press a quick kiss to Tango’s cheek before the redstoner is bidding them both a goodbye and rocketing out the door.
“What -- what was he even here for?” Grian squawks, raising his hands in defeat as Impulse’s undivided attention is handed to him on a silver platter.
“I think he’s a bit jealous,” Impulse purrs as he slots himself in his previous position. His hands settle on his hips. This time when his nose comes close to his own, he whispers, “Is it alright if I kiss you?”
“What happened to me following ‘any punishment deemed fit’?” Grian remarks confidently even as his heart skips a beat inside of his chest.
Impulse frowns, “Are you implying kissing me is a punishment?”
“Not at all.” Grian sneaks his hands around Impulse’s neck and tugs him in closer. “But as you said, I’m yours for the night. Any way you want me, you’ve got me.”
“You haven’t even heard the terms, birdie. How do you know it isn’t something unfair?”
“What’s cruel is that you promised to kiss me and you’re not doing that,” Grian tuts, earning a warm exhale of a laugh against his face. Impulse obliques then. One hand holds his chin to guide him up to meet his lips as the other cups the back of his head.
Fingers entangle with his messy locks as Impulse’s tongue licks at his lips. Grian parts for air when the hand entangled in his hair yanks. Impulse doesn’t hesitate before licking into his mouth, pressing on his tongue until Grian is gasping for air.
He pulls back when Grian starts to huff against him, and Grian only whines as if he wasn’t seconds away from passing out from lack of oxygen.
“Any way I want you, hmm?” Impulse ponders aloud, tucking a stray strand of Grian’s unruly brown hair behind his ear. “I’m in for a treat tonight, I think.”
Impulse’s hands move down to his back. They leave warmth where they pass over his skin. As much as he loves his red jumper, he wishes he donned something lighter to feel his large hands over his delicate skin.
He presses his back into his hands shamelessly. Every touch from Impulse is electric, and he wouldn’t ever be willing to give that up.
The hands travel down until they’re reaching his lower back. Grian waits in anticipation for the hands to cup his ass only for them to rest at his hips before yanking him into the air.
His wings flutter out behind him as he’s lifted up like he’s a sack of grapes. He gasps when his chest lands against Impulse’s shoulder. A hand rests over his ass, slapping him lightly.
“I think I want you on your back in my bed. Naked.” The hand squeezes him through his jeans, and Tango’s comment about his ass hangs heavy in his head. “If that’s alright with you, bro?”
“As long as you don’t call me ‘bro’ when we’re naked,” Grian huffs. “And again, this isn’t much of a punishment. I’m happy to be naked in your bed, Impulse.”
He laughs as they step out of the farm into the crisp night air. Across the camp, they notice Ren, plucking at his guitar in front of his own van. He waves at them but doesn’t comment outside of a light, “Take it easy, my dudes” before returning to his music.
“You underestimate my creativity, G.” Impulse kicks the door open to his van, allowing it to slam shut behind him before tossing Grian down on the bed. His hands fly up beside him as he bounces on the mattress, and Impulse towers over him at the foot of the bed. He slips off his leather jacket and offers him a hungry smirk.
“Then do enlighten me,” Grian purrs, lifting himself up on the bed. His feet remain flat on the bed as he lifts his knees up, his arms supporting him against the bed as he rivals Impulse’s intensive stare.
“I was thinking,” Impulse drawls, crawling on top of the bed. Grian makes room for him, but the movement isn’t necessary because Impulse is kicking at his knee forcefully, manhandling him into the way he wants him. His hands ghost over Grian’s own - left open purposefully for him to grab. “I want to spank your pretty ass until you’re crying. Is that fair?”
Grian chokes over the sultry words washing over him. Impulse gives him enough air to mull over the words, but his answer comes to him immediately.
Yes. He’s burning for it, anxious need making itself known all throughout his body. He’s barely strong enough to stop himself from wrapping his legs around Impulse’s back in their current position.
“I meant it when I said I can take anything you throw at me,” he taunts coyly. “You wanna spank me, Impulse?” His gaze darkens, and in the dim light of the van he catches him licking his lips. “Better get some help ‘cause momma didn’t raise a wimp.”
“And there you go, underestimating me again.” He sighs dramatically. His hands squeeze around Grian’s fingers before letting go to stand back up. “Strip. I know how to get a pretty sub crying, don’t you worry.”
Grian doesn’t waste anytime lifting his sweater up off of his head. “I’m holding you to it.”
Grian would be a liar if he said a scene like this wasn’t exactly in his mind when Cleo had suggested the rule. As much as the hermits are mostly comprised of horny bastards, he never actually expected such a scene to come to life. He was more than prepared for it to stay a fantasy, and for his real punishments to be limited to clean up duty and embarrassing errands.
A night with his hippie comrade and a larger than life demon hybrid who treated Grian as if he was fragile glass - promising to spank him?
He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t excited to see how this one played out.