Archive of Our Own

The dining area was rather large for a two-person affair. Higher class individuals would consider it all to be expected, rudimentary; the patterned, vinyl-finished floors, the sleek wood walls of Romanesque carvings in a futile attempt of nostalgia-mongering, and the antiquarian furniture that filled less than a quarter of the space, were all features that reeked of inherited wealth.

Norton couldn’t help it that he grew up in less desolate confines, often sleeping near the mines, without a roof or a cushioned chair to sit at. The only meals he had were the scraps he dug out of the trash, eating every last crumb with his own, grimy hands. Despite its unsanitary nature, his hard work now is what allowed him the money to pay for food, without a fancy show of property or customary greetings latched to it. He was living, breathing proof that he didn’t need a title or inheritance to enjoy a meal.

Nobles would think him insolent. Norton saw it all as practical.

He hadn’t realized that the rest of the residents had set out for their day. Melly was likely in the garden again, but he had no clue where Alice or Frederick had gone off to. So now, the only two who showed up for breakfast were Norton and, unfortunately, Orpheus. 

Every day, Orpheus waltzed in to the dining room with a straightened back, chin elevated and arm tucked behind him. You could’ve mistaken him for something inhuman, a manmade machine that completed tasks as it was given to him.

Norton had already begun with breakfast. He was missing the company of Melly, the only other resident who had bothered to strike conversation with Norton whenever they were in passing. Frederick had kept to himself during his time at the Manor, the prospector never having heard more than a greeting or introduction from the guy. Alice was sweet, but every time they had a conversation, it was as though being subconsciously interrogated and analyzed; her questions were too calculated, so Norton never set aside any effort into growing closer to her.

Then there was Orpheus. There was no way the novelist didn’t have dozens of suits racked in his room, yet this was the fourth day he was seeing the cream-colored apparel, teal cravat and gray lapeled waistcoat.

Also, did he actually need that monocle? 

Orpheus brushed off the faux dust on his jacket, all while giving Norton a polite nod. Come to think of it, Norton knew absolutely nothing about this man, save for two things: one, he was an insufferable prick who threw condescending, targeted inquiries toward the person nearest to him and masked it as naïve interest, and two, he was a novelist.

Norton could go for a smoke already. Nothing irked him more than the spurious nature of the rich. He would feel bad though, leaving the table without taking a few bites of his food.

In eerie silence, Norton and Orpheus began to eat. Orpheus’s meal was oddly portioned, the vegetables and fruit leaving little room for any source of protein. If Norton had to guess, he was eating an expensive cut of ham, given its gorgeous pink color, and its glistening edges– perhaps with some sort of glaze on it. 

Norton requested the same thing every time for his breakfast; eggs and potatoes.

The portions were always half-and-half; you could barely see the edges of the plate. Then again, Norton had a large appetite, and large portions were essential for work like his; it kept his muscles strong and his body functional. It might be one of the only things Norton could hold over Orpheus’s head. The Novelist was not only shorter than him, but he also was way more lean. 

In the middle of taking another mouthful of the eggs, Norton couldn’t draw his eyes away from Orpheus when he reached for his wine, drinking one, two, three swigs of it. Norton may not be an expert on wine, but it was common knowledge that wine was a drink to be savored. You only ever saw someone drinking wine so carelessly when they were distressed. The cogs in Norton’s head slowly began to turn, whilst Orpheus set down his glass and cast a quick glance to him.

With everyone else’s day already started, Norton wouldn’t put it past Orpheus to grow more brazen with his disdain toward Norton in a public setting.

Bored of the man in front of him and his blatant silence, Norton tried to strike up a conversation. Purely for his own curiosity and entertainment.

“You got an actual name?”

Orpheus’s eye twitched. He brought a mouthful of his breakfast up to his lips. They both knew the answer already. Norton just wanted to be an ass.

“I see you forgot. I believe I explained that my publisher wishes me to not give away such information to my acquaintances.” Like sharp knives through Norton’s skin, Orpheus’s glare pierced into him for one, two seconds. He slipped the food into his mouth, just as he averted his gaze.

Norton pushed his own plate away from him– he was rarely hungry in the morning, anyway. If he stared long enough at the man across the table, maybe he too could inflict a needle-like sensation through the white suit and against his ridiculously perfect skin. 

“But you wouldn’t call me an acquaintance,” Rang Norton’s own reply. “Is what you wanna say.”

Orpheus tilted his head away, toward the window.

“You'd be wrong.”

Norton sucked on his teeth, sitting back into the chair.

It was clear that Orpheus was feigning innocence. Norton knew how his type viewed the working class.

Something the prospector never understood about the higher-class citizens is the ease of which they were able to thumb their nose at those they perceived as lower than them. Each and every one of them had an ego so large that there was no room for a heart. Not only that, but no one ever had the balls to say what they truly wanted to.

Watching Orpheus, he wondered if the famous author even knew how to feel shame. 

The upturned chin toward the sunlit window spelled out all Norton needed to know about his self-security. He continued to eat with an absent mind of the presence across the table. It pissed Norton off.

“Say.” Norton brought a finger to the metal on his nose, gently scratching at it. “I’m sure you’ve written some crazy things in your time as an author.”

Orpheus didn’t even offer Norton a glance as he continued to eat.

“Nothing that would be of interest to you.”

“You’re quick to assume.”

Their body language simultaneously slowed, long enough for both of them to send pointed glares to each other. Orpheus looked away first, continuing to eat.

With every second that went by, the air grew thinner and sharper. Maybe the lack of company was getting to his head too, because the only thing on his mind was Orpheus, specifically how he could get the novelist to say or do something of actual substance. He probably never had to do that, though, never had to show any sort of vulnerability or pure interest. He would never learn how to have a true conversation with someone, setting him up to be a miserable friend to others– a miserable partner, even.

And suddenly, while he watched Orpheus pointedly down his food, with impossibly perfect posture and practiced movements, something clicked in Norton’s head.

He probably knew nothing of sexual intimacy, either.

How could he? Would he have ever dared to taint his image for his own relief? Norton couldn’t picture it if he tried; Orpheus performing any sexual activity with another, with lax posture and a relaxed expression. He couldn’t imagine such a sight. Even so, the tightening in his pants seemed a little too interested in the concept of such a calculated man melting at the seams.

Norton had a new objective, now: see how uncomfortable he could make Orpheus. In turn, maybe he could make Orpheus’s façade drop as well.

When Orpheus set his silverware down and reached for his wine, Norton asked another question.

“Have you ever written something indecent?”

The morning glow of the sun was too yellow for Orpheus’s reddening face to be attributed to its beauty. Unfortunately his blush was the only feature of his that responded to the question. Orpheus’s face remained taught and proper.

“I write horror and mystery, Campbell. Does that answer your question?”

Orpheus swirled the wine around in his glass.

“Or do you find antagonizing me to be your utmost priority this morning?”

Perhaps Norton’s prodding was getting to him.

“The latter, quite frankly.” With a pleased grin, Norton lifted a cigarette from his pocket. “You know, it’s not every day I get to talk to someone as prestigious as a famous novelist.”

Orpheus drank the last of his wine. At the last drop, he lowered his glass to the sight of Norton lighting his cigarette over his plate. Norton’s eyes fell to Orpheus’s once again. This time, Orpheus watched without abandon, while Norton sucked the cigarette into his mouth, releasing it from his lips with a cloud of smoke from his mouth.

Norton was awarded with another eye twitch.

“I apologize for disturbing your pleasantry.” Orpheus folded his napkin up off his nap, setting it beside his plate of half-finished food. “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me–”

“You don’t have to hold back if you want to insult me, Orpheus,” Norton interjected. “It’s not like I know anyone else who would care to hear what terrible things you'd have to say about me.”

Orpheus scoffed, walking to the door that led to the hall.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Because you’re scared?”

Orpheus turned a shoulder. Norton was still seated. His grin was instinctive. His plan was working, and Orpheus was getting heated. His face spelled out a look that said ‘are you serious?’ but he only shook his head.

“Because I’m a gentleman.” 

Norton took another hit.

“It’s because you’re a wimp.”

Norton got up from his seat, as well. Even if Orpheus left, he could easily follow him. Orpheus seemed to recognize this as well, in how he stepped away from Norton when he got uncomfortably close.

Norton only took another step forward. He cocked his head down, finding amusement in their height difference.

"Truly just a coward."

But Orpheus seemed far from backing down.

He turned his body entirely, so that his body was squarely facing Norton from across the table. He tilted his chin up, eyes thinning. 

“Fine. I think you’re insufferable.” His nose twitched into a scowl. “And you don’t know manners.”

At this distance, with the height Orpheus was, he looked like a pouting toddler. His cheeks were still reddened, and his shoulders rose and fell with agitated breaths.

Norton now knew three things about Orpheus: one, he was an insufferable prick who threw condescending, targeted inquiries toward the person nearest to him and masked it as naïve interest; two, he was a novelist; three, he was too easy to rattle for Norton to not have his fun with it. Maybe Orpheus could be capable of genuine emotion and vulnerability. Norton was going to stop at little to nothing in his pursuit of this self-indulgent delight.

Norton scanned the room for the butler. Even listening past the breathing through Orpheus’s nose, he heard no footsteps nearby. There was no one here to mitigate the ideas filling Norton’s running imagination. He’d show Orpheus insufferable.

With Orpheus in front of him, unmoving, Norton leaned down to the ear that did not adorn the monocle’s chain. He continued to let the unfiltered thoughts spill out of his head, and onto his lips. 

“I bet you’d love to be called a slut.”

Orpheus flinched away, appalled.

“Excuse me?”

This time, Orpheus’s brows knit tight. His almond eyes widened in pure shock. Hell, even his jaw dropped, gawking at Norton as if he had just committed a murder.

This was beginning to be more fun than Norton had anticipated. Orpheus was sufficiently reddened in the face, and unable to grasp back his usual composure.

“Or, no, your type probably thrives on praise,” Tutted Norton with a patronizing shake of his head. “I wonder if a man like you grew up without your ma and pa telling you how much of a good boy you were?”

Orpheus froze in offense. Any man could see his embarrassment, with the unconscious flush that bloomed across his perfect cheeks. The pink tint was so pretty against Orpheus’s ghastly skin. It made Norton’s stomach flip. The novelist clearly didn’t know how to take his poison after dishing it. 

It would make for an exciting time riling up the novelist in different circumstances.

The coiling of Norton’s stomach reminded him of the tightness in his pants, from his previous ideas of the novelist. Though now with the overt possibility of Norton coaxing Orpheus into such a compromising situation, It made it almost impossible for Norton to contain his own composure. If Orpheus had just simply denied all of Norton’s words, or never reacted to them, Norton would have never gathered what he had from the novelist. He would still forever be seen as a stoic, proper man.

With Orpheus frozen in place, unsure of how to respond, Norton reached into his pocket for another cigarette. 

“If neither of those are your speed, though…” Norton grabbed Orpheus’s wrist. He was initially met with resistance, but Norton’s grip didn’t falter. He flipped Orpheus’s palm up, setting the cigarette in his hand.

Orpheus squinted at him, the same way nobles scoffed at weak children on the streets. Like they were so gross that it was entertaining.

It was no matter, though. Norton could care less how the novelist thought of him. It was thrilling to see Orpheus at a loss for words, mouth agape without a clue as to what to say next.

“We can figure something out in my room.”

Orpheus closed his mouth. The proposal seemed to turn him off, a switch turning, while his face stiffened and posture firmed.

“I don’t smoke.” He took the cigarette and shoved it against Norton’s chest. “And it’s still morning. Daylight's barely broken.”

Norton grabbed the cigarette. He bent down to Orpheus’s face, close enough that his smoky breath would fall across Orpheus’s face.

“You have yet refuse my offer.”

Once again, Norton took Orpheus’s wrist, setting the cigarette back in Orpheus’s hand and closing his fingers around it. Before Orpheus could chuck it at him, Norton was already off toward the exit.

“You rich folk must get bored not having options.”

Norton didn’t need to look back at Orpheus. His stillness was response enough. He was just as curious as Norton, and that’s all Norton was looking for. He didn’t expect his morning to take such a turn, but now, Orpheus’s heart had tangled into his own, with nothing more than a spiteful interest of whatever the fuck would happen next.

With that, he left to his room.

~~~ 

Lo and behold a knock at Norton’s door, where Orpheus stood, eyes to the ground and cigarette in his hand.

Orpheus seemed like the type to have a stick so far in his ass, all the while waiting for the day someone offered to pull it out of him. A slender hand held the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, shifting it impatiently between knuckles.

“Made up your mind?” Norton smiled, closing the door behind Orpheus.

Orpheus didn’t say a word. He still seemed hesitant to smoke, as though he would only do it to calm his nerves. Closing the door behind Orpheus, Norton walked over to his desk’s chair, easing himself into it. Orpheus stood by the door awkwardly. His typical poise was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t even look Norton in the eye. Norton could only hope that he could break Orpheus even more. He decided to start small.

“Leave your clothes at the door.”

Blinking incredulously, Orpheus gaped at him. As though he hadn’t heard Norton correctly, he took a step forward.

“I–”

“Leave your clothes at the door,” Norton set the lighter down on the edge of the desk. Orpheus paused in his tracks. “And we’ll discuss.”

Orpheus stood still, but Norton swore his chest shuddered and legs trembled, like a rabbit caught by a hunter. He hovered by the door, as though he had been caught red-handed in a crime and needed to make his escape. Norton didn’t quite understand why he was still resisting compliance. He’d need to learn that he would be taking only what Norton would offer him. He had a craving. And Norton was willing to feed him.

A huff was all that left Orpheus. His eyes scanned Norton, then the floor, then Norton again. The prospector didn’t move– couldn’t, if he wanted to convince Orpheus that these were his ground rules. When Norton didn’t budge, only crossing his arms over his chest, another huff escaped Orpheus.

“Fine.”

Orpheus slammed the cigarette onto the desk, next to the lighter. As Orpheus started with his gloves, all Norton could think was holy shit, that worked. He was going to watch as the famous author stripped in front of him, and Orpheus was allowing it. Norton didn’t think he ever met someone more desperate for indulgence.

Norton watched Orpheus remove each article; The jacket, next the vest, then the cravat and shirt. Each piece as folded and placed on top of each other, into a neat stack next to the door. Norton ignored the many, unsure glances from Orpheus, when he began to undo his pants. He didn’t waste any time with the lower half, taking both his briefs and pants down and stepping out of them.

Orpheus folded the last two items a little sloppily, likely from the trembling of his hands that Norton caught sight of. He tossed them down onto the stack, before straightening himself. He removed his monocle, tossing it onto the stack of clothes.

Norton’s mouth dried of saliva. As he suspected, Orpheus had a lovely figure. Not too much muscle, a gentle curve of his waist where it met his hip bones, and slender legs that stood proper, even when exposed to Norton like this.  Any sign of insecurity could only be seen in Orpheus’s weary eyes, past the long lashes that shaded them. He even held his hands down at his sides. Perhaps it was an act of defiance, a refusal to let Norton make a fool out of him.

Licking his lips, Norton decided to test that defiance.

“Wanna do a twirl for me?”

Orpheus remained silent. He reached for the cigarette and the respective lighter, but Norton beat him to it. He swiped the materials off the desk, holding it up teasingly. A soft laugh emitted from him at at the puppylike hurt that spread across Orpheus's features.

The expression resolved itself, as Orpheus snatched the items from Norton’s hand. He backed himself up against the wall, lighting the cigarette.

“You’ve plenty humiliated me already.”

Norton looked him up and down, a brow cocking as he drank in Orpheus’s gorgeous figure once again.

“Are you enjoying it?”

Orpheus tossed the lighter back onto the desk. His eyes training onto Norton as it clattered against the wood. They both knew the answer to that, when Orpheus’s cock twitched.

God, Orpheus was too easy.

“You know, I'm not that cruel.” It was only fair of him to strip down as well. The prospector took his time, starting with his suspenders. “Tell me why you want to do this."

Orpheus kept an arm wrapped around his middle, while the other held the cigarette up to his mouth. He barely gave himself a chance to breathe between hits.

“I’m doing this for myself.”

“Got it,” Norton responded with a disbelieving chuckle. He unbuttoned his shirt, watching Orpheus as he did so. Orpheus swallowed, continuing.

“I don’t care what we do. I only request that I enjoy it."

“Hm.” Norton’s shirt was undone, tossed over his chair. He reached for the button of his pants next, slowly undoing his fly.

“Have you ever been fucked?”

Silence as Norton’s pants pooled to his ankles.

“No.”

…

Hm.

With his own garments discarded, Norton angled himself toward Orpheus. The cigarette hung limp in his hand. He sported a cautious glower to Norton, eyes darting over Norton's more built form. When he landed back on Norton's eyes, they flickered curiously, lashes dark and fluttering.

I dare you to walk closer, they said.

Norton accepted the challenge.

He strode over to Orpheus, the cool air of the room sending goosebumps up his skin. If he took a hand and caressed the novelist's skin, he was certain that his skin would feel similarly. He only stopped walking to Orpheus, when there was a foot of distance between them. He watched as the shorter man’s own face seemed to abandon his will. The stern furrow in his brows broke, mouth wobbling out of its firm-pressed line. Norton felt like a fox that had just caught a rabbit. The vulnerability Orpheus oozed was solely existent due to Norton's prior persistence in harassing him. Here they both were now, facing the consequences of allowing Norton to be so dangerously antagonizing.

With a hand on Orpheus’s shoulder, Norton went down to Orpheus’s ear. A delectable gasp sounded out of the novelist when Norton let his breath out, hot against his skin.

“I will fuck you how I want, and you can’t refuse.”

Orpheus flicked the ash off his cigarette. His chest stuttered against Norton’s with a trembling inhale. The heat of their bodies surrounded them, soft breaths tickling their ears. Norton placed a gentle kiss to Orpheus’s lobe. A shuddered sigh escaped Orpheus, with a cadence similar to a moan.

“Fine.”

~~~

“...Are you okay?”

A silence passed for far too long in the tall-ceilinged room, Outside traffic in the far distance of the manor was audible if you listened hard enough. Birds chirped loud outside. What a wonder it would’ve been to been in a space where anyone could look inside, only to see the compromising position that Norton had settled them into.

It wasn’t a problem for him, though. Not in the slightest; he didn’t grow up with the same social compass that the rich did. Morals were a discretion, never the “sine qua non” of living.

He would almost feel bad for Orpheus, if he wasn’t such a priss during their prep to this moment. 

They both sat there, while Orpheus angrily remained silent. Though, Norton couldn’t be certain that the disdain toward him was the only thing on Orpheus’s mind. The poor guy had clearly never done something so daring in his life, something that could destroy his image should it ever get out to the public. 

Their breathing had never been so loud.

Asking him if he was okay was simply to know if he could begin. There was no way Orpheus still needed time to adjust (despite how tight Orpheus still was around him. Norton just wanted to believe that Orpheus was fine, and that he was simply being dramatic.)

Norton was met with a muffled whimper– or an actual answer, muffled by Orpheus’s arm; Orpheus was still too quiet for comfort. Norton felt like his breath was gradually increasing in decibels, with each heave he used to try and center himself.

“Hey,” Once again, Norton found himself removing the cigarette from his mouth, bending down to Orpheus's ear. “I can’t continue if you don’t say shit.”

“Give me a damn minute,” Orpheus had lifted his head just long enough to blurt out the sentence, only to collapse his head onto the desk with a pathetic moan. Norton could feel Orpheus pulsing around him, while his cock twitched deep inside of him. 

Need he remind Orpheus that he agreed to this?

With another moan, Orpheus shifted in slight where he laid against the desk. He had long since burnt out his cigarette, and it now laid at their feet, without a flicker of a flame in its end. From where Norton was hunched over Orpheus, he could see the latter’s white-knuckled grip against the edge of the desk. The other remained a cushion for his head, squeezed into a tight fist that flinched with each shift of weight from Norton.

“Fuck…” Orpheus winced, head turning to the side. Norton could see a silhouette of his side profile, a tease of the man’s maddeningly perfect complexion. He wondered how pissed Orpheus would get if he spat on his cheek, and watched as it oozed down the side of his face, and to his lips.

“It’s too big.”

No shit. It wasn’t new news to Norton, he didn’t need Orpheus fussing about something that was blatantly true. He needed Orpheus to take it like a champ and let Norton fuck him how he thinks Orpheus needed to be fucked.

“Don’t be a pussy about it,” Norton huffed back, placing the cigarette back into his mouth. Orpheus squirmed where he was bent over, a silent protest of Norton’s words. Norton’s left hand held tight onto Orpheus’s waist, immobilizing most of his movement. There was no way Orpheus was comfortable like this, laying atop sleek wood, its sharp edge digging into his lower stomach. Last time Norton saw Orpheus’s cock though, it looked pretty eager to be roughhoused by the prospector.

Slowly, Norton began to rock in and out of Orpheus. It wasn’t enough that either of them would derive any sort of pleasure from it, but rather a precursor to what would ensue. Norton was certain that right now, Orpheus was desperate to grasp back any semblance of self control, for his breathing was ragged, lacking oxygen with each thrust Norton gave him.

He probably felt so full. Norton’s cock was no easy feat.

“This is your first time like this, yeah?” Norton enjoyed the way Orpheus tensed each time he rehashed the conversation they had leading up to this. The rich snob clearly never had the opportunity to voice any sort of sexual desires he had, save for maybe the occasional vanilla hookup with a family friend, or a blowjob from a pretty face he met at some high-end function.

That is, if he ever indulged himself in such affairs.

Norton took pride in being the first man to ever bend Orpheus over like this. His legs were spread as if he had waited for this moment his entire life, like he craved the one thing he couldn’t have without sneaking away for it.

“Fucking Christ,” Norton groaned low as he slid out of Orpheus, only to push back in just as slow. Sucking in a breath of nicotine, he continued to shove himself back into Orpheus’s tight walls, until he was bottomed out. Orpheus whined again, his body wracking with a trembling breath. 

“Wish I did this sooner,” Norton created a slow, agonizing rhythm for the two of them. “If I had know how badly you wanted my cock inside of you, this wouldn’t have to be be your first time.”

Orpheus shook his head with another moan. Norton’s not surprised that Orpheus can’t control his shame, even when he’s already committed to carelessly giving his body away. 

“Lemme smoke,” Orpheus shuddered. His right hand lifted from the desk’s edge, back toward Norton blindly. With the cigarette left between his teeth, Norton pinned Orpheus’s wrist back to the desk.

“You already got yours,” Norton breathed out, even though he was on his second. Orpheus squirmed in his hold, to which Norton shoved himself impossibly deeper into Orpheus with a snap of his hips. The man below choked on his own cry, forehead slamming against the wood.

When he heard Orpheus’s desperate cry, and watched how his back arched in an attempt to move away, he felt enough pity to allow Orpheus the last of the cigarette. He let go of Orpheus’s wrist and held the butt up to Orpheus’s lips. Orpheus grabbed his hand, while his lips greedily latched on to the end, sucking in all that he could from the cigarette. Norton was so caught up in the desperate display of relief that he didn’t realize how Orpheus was holding his hand firm in place. He wasn’t expecting the cigarette to burn out so much that it stung Norton’s hand.

Hissing, Norton dropped the ashy remains onto the floor. Orpheus exhaled the smoke, his body relaxing into the desk. Norton shook his hand from the sting.

“You did that on purpose.”

Orpheus responded with a subtle wiggle of his hips, gently closing his eyes. His body still shook with each breath, but he noticeably loosened both around Norton, and sank into the desk.

What made him think Norton would let him stay comfortable after that?

Norton settled a firm hand against Orpheus’s back, fingers splayed between his shoulder blades. With another hand pressing into the crease where his hip and leg folded, it gave Norton the leverage to thrust into Orpheus with an abusive force. He’d let his cock slide out until only his tip was in, before slamming himself all the way inside. 

The nimble man beneath him jerked in surprise at the first forceful shove of Norton’s hips. He could hear soft “ow”s leave Orpheus’s lips.

Norton heard a grumbled “prick” through Orpheus’s choked gasps and moans. He was willing to bet that Orpheus’s cock was aching, desperate for any sort of affection. It wasn’t like Norton said he couldn’t jerk himself off; in fact, Orpheus probably enjoyed the ache.

Norton’s eyes trained onto the silhouette of Orpheus’s backside. He had broad shoulders, a back of glimmering skin and gentle muscle. His waist was uncharacteristically thin, not a hint of hard work put into his bones. Maybe Norton could get the novelist to experience back pain for the first time in his life.

Below his waist, Norton watched as he slid in and out of Orpheus. An obscene squelch of the copious amount of lube used to get here occasionally accompanied each thrust. He didn’t bother going so quick so early into fucking Orpheus. Rather, he let his hips snap up with every thrust in, just to hear the delicate man cry softly every time, while his body was shoved against the desk. Norton brushed his dark, sweaty strands back. 

When Orpheus grew used to the rough nature of their current rhythm, his moans quieted down to those heavy breaths of his. The blood boiling in Norton’s stomach was to blame, as he brought a hand down to Orpheus’s ass, smacking it so hard that the novelist let out a another hoarse cry, toes curling and legs kicking.

“Pretty thing,” Norton laughed, reaching for another cigarette and his lighter. “Pretty ass, too."

Orpheus’s leg curled around Norton’s calf, trying to keep himself stable as Norton continued to thrust into him. Lighting his third cigarette, Orpheus now pushed back into each thrust, sucking Norton into him. It made Norton feel on fire, each muscle set ablaze by Orpheus’s tense stature. If it weren’t for the cigarettes, Norton would’ve been fucking them both at a pace faster than Orpheus could write.

“You’re so tight,” Norton continued as he set the lighter down. “Are you sure you’re not practiced? You behave like you are.”

There was something addictive in the swivel of Orpheus’s hips, and the bow in his back in response to the sentence. The once-proper man didn’t even try to deny it.

“Hey,” Norton grinned wide. “You must love shit like this, bet it scratches that itch for adventure.”

Norton ran his fingers down the curve of Orpheus’s back.

“God, I could use you like this all day.”

Orpheus tried to squirm away from Norton, ultimately met by Norton digging his nails into the small of his back.

“Christ, Campbell–” Orpheus hissed through thrusts. “Could you stop talking— for one— ah— one damn minute— oh—”

Orpheus grit his teeth as Norton shoved him against the desk with an intentionally brutal thrust. Norton enjoyed the kick of Orpheus’s legs against his own, a gesture to get Norton to stop that shit, and fuck him normally. 

“What is this to you, Orpheus?” Norton only continued. While deep inside of a gasping Orpheus, he grabbed a fistful of the novelist’s sweaty hair and yanked his head back. “You see it as charity work? Doing it because I asked?”

Norton would never get over the way the slim man whimpered. Maybe it was how his back was arched to an unnatural angle, or the force of which Norton pulled his head up. Either way, whining was a fitting sound for the man. 

Orpheus, through Norton’s slowing thrusts, sucked in a bitter breath. 

“Someone like you would enjoy that, wouldn’t you–”

Norton could not fucking stand this man.

Norton sped up again. Orpheus’s sentence tapered off into another childish whine. The desk creaked with every thrust Norton pushed into Orpheus. It would shove both their bodies against the wooden architecture, causing the entire thing to shift. Shelved books began to shimmy out of their crevices, daring to slam onto the desk’s surface. 

The sunlight on their bodies didn’t help with the radiating heat around them, as sweat was gathering across their skin. After taking in a long suck of the cigarette, the nicotine centering himself, Norton flicked the butt with his thumb, letting the ashes fall against Orpheus’s glimmering back. He flinched as the ashes disintegrated against him, hair still in Norton’s tight grip.

“Tell me,” Norton began, sucking more of the nicotine into his mouth. His voice was hoarse, worn from fucking. His cock was rock solid inside Orpheus, reaching every wall of muscle and nerves that was inside the man with each rough thrust. He enjoyed watching the brat below him squirming in anticipation. He wished he could catch a glimpse of the uneasy furrow Orpheus most definitely had in his brow, or his own hard cock that most definitely twitched with every word that left Norton’s mouth.

He releasing the cigarette from his mouth, keeping the burning flax wedged between his index and middle finger as he settled that hand onto Orpheus’s bare waist. He bent down far enough that he had the luxurious sight of Orpheus’s rosy face. Where Norton held his face up, he could see the outline of Orpheus’s throat, and the trembling bob of his Adam’s apple with each swallow. There was no denying the twitch of Norton’s cock, for the purely pathetic sight of the novelist’s worried face, and the tousled hair framing his sculpted features with its sweaty ends, would be enough to send any man or woman into an early grave. 

Orpheus’s eyes were wide, lashes glossy (dare Norton chalk it up to being tears), lips red and glistening with saliva. His lips were sealed shut, but Norton could gather all he needed to know from another thick swallow from Orpheus, and the shaky inhale of the latter. Norton leaned in, cheeks brushing against each other’s. He then exhaled the smoke in Orpheus’s face. The grin on Norton’s face was taunting as he watched Orpheus’s poor face scrunch in disgust, coughing at the smoke. Norton left a firm grip in the latter’s hair to keep his head in place.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘someone like me’?”

Leaving his daze of a coughing fit, he steeled his resolve, as though Norton wasn’t eight inches deep inside of him. Norton knew Orpheus was enjoying this, a masochistic fuck he was. With eyes glossed, staring those daggers through Norton’s soul, Orpheus’s mouth offered a bitter response.

“The slum of the street who would do anything for a dime.”

Norton clicked his tongue, releasing Orpheus’s head. Nothing he hadn’t heard before. Orpheus’s smoky breath was hot against his face, and Norton felt it linger against his face as he lifted his head away.

“For a famous novelist, your originality is lacking.”

Norton waited for the moment Orpheus inhaled a breath to speak, before he began to fuck back into Orpheus.

The pace surprised them both. Norton was suddenly shoving himself into Orpheus, the new speed more desperate– harsher. Orpheus was repeatedly slammed into the desk, the prey pinned by its mortal predator. Orpheus gave a high-pitched moan against the wood, face planted on the desk surface. 

Norton didn't expect at the low, primal growl that escaped him. With the firm grip his rough fingers kept on Orpheus’s white, silky skin– untainted before Norton came along with his dirty fingernails– thin, sharp indents pressed into the flesh and marked Orpheus as his own. A bloody Orpheus would look pretty. It would give him the color was birthed from the hard work of the lower classes. He’d look like one of them.

“Oh, oh,” Orpheus didn’t bother muffling himself any more. His head hung low, moaning out with each thrust into him. Norton caught the occasional whisper of his name interlaced with the soft moans. With the pace he had set, it sounded as though Orpheus was no longer in control of his own voice. It was like molasses was shoved into Orpheus’s mouth, hindering his speech, void of the calculated eloquence that generally flew off his tongue.

He’d give the snob credit for one thing; making Norton thoroughly enjoy his time here.

His hair bounced with each thrust, the auburn locks tangled and sweat ridden. He slammed into Orpheus the same way he would with anyone who was willing to grab a quick fuck from him– unforgiving and frenzied. He wondered what sort of expression Orpheus was making in that moment, whether his face was ugly and scrunched from the dick inside of him, or if it was lucid and relaxed, with maybe a trail of drool falling from his lips.

"Shit." Orpheus twitched as Norton slowed to catch his breath, despite the heat stirring deep inside his stomach.

“Take me to the bed.”

Norton stopped thrusting, heaving and hunched over Orpheus. His hand went to Orpheus’s nape, holding his face to the desk.

“I call the shots.”

"Please, Norton.”

Norton heard a crack in his voice, a ripple through the glass atmosphere. It drove Norton’s attention to how much the novelist was truly trembling under him, pulsing around Norton’s dick with each heavy breath for oxygen.

Norton could take a moment of leisure to tease Orpheus over it, to prod at his attempt to sway Norton with the use of his first name— not that something didn’t arise in Norton’s stomach— but would that be the most productive thing that he could do, though?

Norton could imagine how Orpheus’s head would throw back against the pillows. He’d get to watch as those delicate hands gripped the bedsheets beneath him, stomach tensing with each shove of Norton’s dick into him. His pretty brown eyes would probably roll back in pure bliss, at a loss for words as Norton delivered nothing but pleasure. That was what Orpheus wanted. 

But that was far from what Norton wanted. Who was he to think he’d get what he desired? Did he think Norton ever got to choose what he wanted growing up? Was he so naïve as to think Norton would be merciful enough to fulfill his request?

Fuck comfort. And fuck Orpheus’s wishes. He’d see Orpheus how he wanted to see him.

Norton settled the cigarette between his teeth, and ripped out of Orpheus without warning. Orpheus spasmed against the desk, as though Norton had just administered a shock throughout his body. He supposed being brutally removed of a sensation as intense as his own dick would do that to someone.

Norton’s calloused hands grabbed Orpheus by the waist, turning him around. Orpheus shot him a surprised, pissed glare as his ass pressed against the edge.

The prospector took Orpheus by the thighs, throwing him against the desk. A soft yelp escaped Orpheus when his back and head slammed against the wood. 

Desperate to get back inside Orpheus, and fill him with his cock, he lifted one of Orpheus’s legs over his arms. Orpheus’s other leg scrabbled for purchase against the polished wood flooring, but ultimately failed. To this, Orpheus managed to sling the leg around Norton’s waist. As Norton took the cigarette back into his hand, Orpheus's leg hugged him close, resulting in Norton's cock shoving its way back into Orpheus's ass.

A choked gasp escaped Norton as he was thrown inside of Orpheus. Orpheus took Norton's moment of shock to remove the cigarette from Norton’s fingers, slipping it between his own lips. Norton slid into Orpheus with each sloppy swivel of his hips; Orpheus was drinking him in like a liquor that stuck to the back of his throat; a searing heat flowed in his blood, numbing his body at the force of the novelist below him. 

What made this so much worse (and so much more delicious) were the golden brown eyes that looked up to him like he was being blamed for this. Like Orpheus wasn't enjoying this, and like Norton was doing something wrong.

He'd make Orpheus regret catching him off guard. He wasted no time in reciprocating the selfishness, holding Orpheus in place, while his thrusts took on a frantic pace.

This affair has turned entirely selfish for Norton. Any whispered promise of fucking Orpheus the way he should be was long forgotten, because Norton was addicted to the way Orpheus arched into him, hands clawing at his back with his free hand. He had a feeling Orpheus was feeling the same way.

With an absence of thought for the desk’s squeaking against the floor, or the loud slapping of skin, Norton continued to slam himself into Orpheus, while the novelist emitted these disparate, filthy noises from his lips.  The hand that held Norton's cigarette hang limply beside his head, fingers holding onto it for dear life. He decided that Orpheus was just as pathetic to him when he had to resort to smoking, when he had to ensure that the flax wouldn't fall out of his grip as Norton fucked into him like rent was due.

Not to mention, Orpheus’s face did in fact scrunch up, as though he was in pain— as though he enjoyed it.

“Shit,” Orpheus’s head flew back, brows knit firm, hand pinching the cigarette tight. “Ah– o-oh!"

He was just further proving Norton's point.

Norton was approaching release faster than planned. He was a little disappointed at the underwhelming behavior shift from Orpheus at their change in position. While his pretty face told Norton how much the asshole enjoyed this shit, he wasn’t even trembling. 

“Orpheus,” Norton whined, a noise he couldn’t help as he settled his forehead onto Orpheus’s chest. 

You feel so, so good, Norton wanted to say. The more humane side of his conscience wanted to fall into a bout of praise, to let his words turn to honey for Orpheus’s tongue to taste, and for his ears to become clogged with. Norton couldn’t even wonder why. If this opportunity never surfaced, if Norton didn’t get to feel Orpheus’s nails against his skin, or listen to the sweet drawl of Orpheus’s lost cries, or watch the ivory skin as it twitched with each thrust, the appeal of spoon-feeding the man with praise would never be so tempting.

So much would never go voiced tonight though, because Norton was stubborn. He was stubborn and did not want to give Orpheus what he’d enjoy.

A mewl sounded through the wet slapping of Norton’s thrusts. Orpheus had whined out Norton’s first name once again; it so seamlessly fell off his tongue this time, out into the clogged air. The angle at which Norton could watch Orpheus’s neck arch back made his mouth water. His throat bobbed tauntingly with each swallowed gasp, while Orpheus brought the cigarette up to his mouth once again. A subconscious slow of Norton’s hips allowed Orpheus to take a seamless hit. His shoulders relaxed, as he began to exhale. With each thrust, Orpheus’s head lolled carelessly– had he forgotten that their time here was supposed to be more callous than this? Had Norton forgotten?

Either way, he needed Orpheus to enjoy himself a little less.

Something primal took over, setting Norton’s stomach on fire and his heart on overdrive. The calloused hand that flew to Orpheus’s throat was squeezing before Norton’s brain had a chance to catch up.

Eyes shot wide open at the impact. Tears welled in the glossy eyes, and Orpheus began to choke up a storm. Part of Norton felt bad for not letting the novelist finish exhaling the smoke.

The prospector wasn’t squeezing hard enough to choke Orpheus out of consciousness; but the sudden force alone had startled Orpheus enough that he inhaled before the smoke had escaped his mouth. Now his face was turning a bright red, as his swollen lips coughed for air.

And shit, did Orpheus look good.

Norton’s hips pistoned into Orpheus hot and fast, the slick of the lube creating a seamless track for Norton to shove himself consistently in and out of Orpheus. Through the novelist’s desperate gasping and coughing, he began to jerk beneath Norton, walls tightening, body tensing.

Norton grunted as he took the last huff of the cigarette. He let the butt fall to the floor, ash beginning to overtake its entirety. Losing all sense of rhythm, fucking into Orpheus like a wild animal in heat, Norton slid a thumb into Orpheus’s mouth. Locking it on Orpheus’s jaw, he held the latter’s gasping mouth open as he exhaled the smoke into his mouth.

Orpheus's body spasmed as he came. Thick, warm streams of cum sprayed onto Norton’s chest, onto Orpheus’s stomach. With Norton’s lips locked against his own, and wooly tongues clashing unceremoniously, his moans of bliss and gags for air were poured right into Norton’s mouth. He swallowed up Orpheus’s moans, relishing in his choked gags and gasps. Those gorgeous brown eyes rolled to the back of Orpheus’s head, desperate for breath against Norton’s warm mouth. His hands twitched at his sides with each wave of pleasure his orgasm brought on, unable to control himself.

Norton supposed that’s what a first-time fuck would do to someone.

It wasn’t long after that Norton’s orgasm crashed over him as well. The warmth that enveloped his cock, the velvety walls of Orpheus, made Norton’s head swim. Norton was thrashing into Orpheus too, body unable to control itself as he jerked into Orpheus, spilling his load into Orpheus, deep and hot. The leg around his waist pulled him in close. Orpheus knew how much he affected Norton, just as much as the prospector affected him.

Norton could taste the remnants of the nicotine inside of Orpheus’s mouth. With every wave of his orgasm came a jerked thrust, an uncontrollable tremor that rocked their bodies further into the desk. Norton came deep inside of Orpheus. Coherence fell out of his brain. Wave after wave, pleasure overtook Norton and his composure. His body succumbed to the earth-shattering sensation of Orpheus’s warmth, hugging his cock tight. It was no wonder Norton ended up coming so much. Orpheus’s body drank him in like an elixir, specially crafted for Norton.

Unfortunately, all the good things, holy and unsanctified, always had an end to reach. As the fire inside of Norton diminished, and his cock grew sensitive inside of Orpheus, he collapsed against the latter’s sweaty, cum-coated chest. It wasn’t by any means wonderfully comfortable, doubling over against Orpheus, knees digging into the side of the desk; but Norton couldn’t hold himself up. Not after emptying what must’ve been weeks worth of stress into the novelist beneath him. 

Norton’s ear pressed against Orpheus’s chest. With limbs tangled and limp, they shuddered for oxygen. Norton could hear the rapid “badump” of Orpheus’s heart. His own breathing was so loud that he almost didn’t catch with of Orpheus’s own trembled breathing.

Maybe he was still recovering from choking. Maybe Norton almost killed him with that orgasm.

Norton lifted his heavy head, a few strands of hair falling over his face. A dead Orpheus didn’t sound all that unappealing. Though the heaving of the novelist’s cum-plastered chest and fluttering eyelids proved he was nowhere near such a fate.

Norton pulled himself off of Orpheus. He removed his thumb from Orpheus’s mouth, and wiped it against the rosy cheek of the novelist. He didn’t react. It seemed that he was content to be used.

Norton pulled out of Orpheus slow. Not a noise came out of either of them, save for the sound of flesh sliding against flesh. Cum was already spilling out of Orpheus. It dripped down his ass, against the side of the desk and inevitably down to the floor.

Orpheus remained quiet. Maybe Norton could get away with doing this somewhere more public to Orpheus, somewhere humiliating, to see if he would stay this silent.

Norton swiped two fingers against the trail, up to Orpheus’s hole. He shoved the coated fingers back inside of Orpheus. The softest whimper escaped his stupidly perfect lips. To milk the moment, Norton let his fingers curl up against Orpheus’s prostate. Yet again another violent twitch, and a soft cry.

Nah, Norton thought. He’d still be just as loud in public.

“Hey,” Norton removed his now drenched fingers, his clean hand holding Orpheus by the waist. If it wasn’t for him, Orpheus would’ve already melted to the floor, disgusting and spent.

“Would you be alright if I fucked your face next?” 

He expected Orpheus to scowl. Lifting his head to see how the novelist would react, he was met with the messy complexion and lazy gaze of the man below him. His brow wasn’t even furrowed, nor was his lip curled. An off serenity overtook his features, mixed with something darker.

Orpheus, sat against the desk, leaned up to reach for Norton’s hand, the white fluid sticking to his fingers. He brought it up to his mouth. The glossy lips placed a kiss against the two messy fingers, before wrapping his lips around them.

Oh.

The shine of the sun was a blatant reminder of the time of day. Yellow streams of light shone through the window panes, onto the desk. The ashes on the floor were scattered across the floor and their feet. The fire that once set Norton ablaze had still lingered soft inside him, rendering his legs weak where they stood between Orpheus's own. The wet of the sweat and cum across the canvas of Orpheus's chest glowed in the sun. As right as it looked to have his fingers inside Orpheus's mouth, pressing against his flicking tongue, they still had responsibilities, a whole day ahead of them.

Yet, miraculously, all Norton could do was gawk at the lips that wrapped around his fingers, licking them clean of Norton’s semen.

As if he had been practiced, as though his virginity had been feigned, Orpheus’s tongue swirled around the tips of the fingers, even daring to bob his head up once, to allow Norton’s fingers to slide further into the warmth of his throat.

Orpheus was a dangerous drug, and Norton could become one addicted motherfucker.

“Is this an invitation?”

And the crease in his brow returned, gently nipping at Norton’s fingertips. Orpheus removed his fingers with a thick swallow, settling his hands behind him on the desk to hold himself up.

“Perhaps, if you clean this mess.” His legs languidly wrapped around Norton’s thighs, trapping their clammy bodies together.

“And take me to the damn bed.”

Something changed in the past few minutes of their post-coital bliss. The frightened trembles of Orpheus were long gone. The desperate kicks of those slender legs had long since ceased, and were firm where they hung around Norton’s middle. Even though the novelist struggled to keep his eyes open, a roguish aura swam through the golden brown beauties. It lured Norton in, like a siren would its victim.

Not to mention, Orpheus was still hard.

The stirring in Norton's stomach began to return, too.

Norton reached for another cigarette as Orpheus sucked his thumb into his mouth.

“Fine.”