Chapter Text
Falling in love is often described as a whirlwind of emotions. It’s dangerous and foreboding, causing one’s mind to become muddled with overwhelming thoughts. It makes a person irrational. Things a person would never do suddenly become reality in the most unusual ways, all in the name of love. It takes you into its grasp surrounding one in searing heat. Burning their skin whenever the person they’ve been attached to touches them. Every word spoken echoes in their head as they try to sleep, taking over every thought and they end up restless staring at the ceiling until the sun breaks through the horizon.
Love is all consuming. Eating away at one’s mind and body until they’re just left bare boned alone in their room. It’s isolating and painful. Not a word of these feelings can ever reach the person they want. They’re constantly torn to shreds every time one sees them walk by. Nausea bubbles from one's stomach up to their throat as they speak. Their words are so comforting, safe, and warm. It’s terrifying really.
Life is not like this. Life is not warm and soft. Life is harsh, cruel and full of never ending doubts. Denial is the only safe way to proceed. Ignoring these rising feelings is the only way to set oneself free from the pain of being close to someone. Hiding the desperation behind countless marks of sarcasm and deflecting. Keep everything and everyone at arm’s length, and possibly even farther. Never let anyone see the longing, the desire, the need radiating from the hollow core of one’s soul.
So what is he supposed to do when he stumbles drunkenly into the home of one Veritas Ratio? Everything is a reminder of the one person he wishes he could forget and claim simultaneously. The fresh scent of sandalwood, parchment and old books surrounds him in stark contrast to the alcohol he’d consumed just barely twenty minutes ago. He falls onto the couch, it's soft and inviting reminding him of the many enjoyable conversations with its owner. It almost makes him sick.
But it’s an addiction, coming here every time he needs to decompress or be away from the watchful eyes of his co-workers. It draws him in, devours him, locking him in a cage of false hope. He’ll never get what he wants; he won’t allow it. The renowned Doctor Veritas Ratio deserves far better than him. He deserves someone who can actually care and love him without becoming a burden .
And what is Aventurine if not the biggest burden in anyone's life?
He’s tired and worn. His most recent mission wasn’t particularly difficult , but it did require him to pull out cards he’d rather keep to his chest.
It always made him feel gross and used afterwards. When he had first joined the IPC, it was easy to throw his body around to gain the upper hand. Back then, it didn’t matter. Then Ratio happened. Persistent, stubborn Ratio got into his pathetic little head and made him feel valued . Well, as valued as one whose only used for others gains could get. But now it’s in his head that Aventurine, solely a figure head in a large scheme, is inherently human too.
A human who is allowed to have feelings, expectations, hope . And along the lines of feelings, Aventurine got himself too attached to the only person who saw him as human. So when he had to seduce this ungrateful corporate president, he did so the only way he knew how. A classic honey trap, but Aventurine never had a stopping point. He always saw things to the end to ensure success. Now he must wallow in his woes of expensive wine and insecurities in the home of the person he had the dis pleasure of falling for.
Tonight however, felt particularly terrible. Aventurine came off the shuttle from the business deal that afternoon then spent the rest of the day at a local bar near Ratio’s home. Every time he moved on that wooden barstool he could feel the dull ache spike up his spine over and over. The consequences of his “meeting”.
Images of indigo hair and a strong body had flashed through his mind during all of it. Aventurine prayed to Gaiathra Triclops, or Qilopth it didn’t really matter who, he just wanted the vision of that disgusting man to be replaced with someone Aventurine actually wants to fuck. Unfortunately he's now unsatisfied, he wasn’t able to even achieve a proper release to that hasty hook up. Even at this moment his half hard dick was pressing against the tight fabric of his slacks.
Aventurine closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Ratio’s home again. He shoved his face into one of the couches pillows to muffle a pathetic moan. Rutting against the couch gave him a little relief. The pleasure the friction caused wasn’t strong enough to bury all the negativity his drunken haze had him trapped in. Feelings of his gross, dirty body defiling poor Ratio’s couch curled into his stomach, twisting along with the burning heat growing between his legs.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t.
However, fate has never been kind to him despite all his good fortune bestowed upon him by his Mother Goddess.
That itch of needy desperation consumed Aventurine as he pressed his hips to the velvety couch with another moan.
If Ratio was home right now, would he look at Aventurine with disgust? Most likely.
Would the good Doctor scowl and kick him out, taking the spare key he had so generously gifted Aventurine? He could only hope Ratio would be so merciful.
Perhaps Ratio would look at him like the filthy whore he is, but still take advantage of the situation. Ratio might
should
shred Aventurine’s clothes off, hold him down and take him with no regrets because he’d just be thrown away afterwards just like every other sexual encounter Aventurine had.
Aeons above he knows Ratio would never hurt him though, and that’s the worst part. Ratio is too kind, too gentle and too forgiving when it comes to Aventurine when all he wants is for Ratio to slap him across the face and cause him pain because that’s just familiar to him.
The growing dampness against his slacks forces him out of his daze so he can sit up properly on the couch. He’d rather not leave evidence of his wrongdoings so close to the front door. Shedding his coat, he drops it haphazardly on the floor; the overwhelming heat inside him was making him sick. At least that's what he told himself as he stood, taking wobbly steps through the living room, past the dining room and into the kitchen.
In the back of the pantry was a wine cooler where Ratio kept Aventurine’s favorites on hand. He’s not sure when this happened, it had come up shortly before Ratio had given him a spare key to his home. Shaky hands grabbed a random bottle, pulling it free from the shelf. Pulling the corkscrew from a drawer, Aventurine stabbed the cork with the spiral blade and twisted the handle until that satisfying pop hit his ears. The wine was opened, the corkscrew abandoned, and Aventurine took a drink straight from the bottle.
It was sweet, just how he liked it, with a light burning from the alcohol at the back of his throat. While letting the wine sink into his body, he sets off again; stumbling through the otherwise empty home of the person he desires the most.
By the time he realized where his drunk mind took him, he was surrounded by the scent of clay and stone. The door he had pushed open led straight to the studio where Ratio kept his beloved statues. He had always found it a bit silly that Ratio sculpts himself only, and had once even questioned the man on such a narcissistic hobby.
“ There is no better reference than yourself for those who indulge in the arts. This is a personal hobby of mine I don’t share with others. Consider the possibility I do not wish to use random people as a model for the sake of keeping it to myself. ”
Aventurine had briefly thought to ask the Doctor why he allowed him to see his hobby if it was meant to be kept secret. But any answer Ratio would have given may have opened up to more possibilities he didn’t want to fall into. And even more so when he asked if Ratio would ever consider using him as a model. The scholar had paused, thinking it over while letting his eyes roam over Aventurine’s body. A simple “ absolutely ” had made the Stoneheart shudder and melt into a puddle right then and there.
Moving to the closest of the statues, Aventurine reached out, running his trembling fingers along the marble jawline.
He should leave, but he doesn’t.
Another burning chug of wine dissipated any rational thoughts
not like he had any to begin with in his state
and he leaned into the stone carved into the most perfect man Aventurine had ever set eyes on.
This Ratio’s eyes were straight forward, not even casting a gaze down at the man draped over his stone shoulders. It’s probably for the better.
With a shuddering breath, Aventurine rose onto his toes to press a kiss along the statue's jawline. Remnants of his wine stained the white marble, the shape of his messy lips leaving evidence behind. Now wasn’t the time for shame though; not that Aventurine had any left to spare in this moment. He moved from the jaw to the statues lips, staining them with his impulsivity.
It felt good, claiming, sweet, pure Ratio like this. Defiling every inch of the man sent shivers down the blond’s spine. The statue was unmoving, still against him as his lips moved over its mouth. This stillness felt like a rejection, something Aventurine clearly deserved. But this Ratio also couldn’t escape from him. He took another sip of the wine, allowing it to spread messily across his lips. And like the sinner he was, Aventurine took claim to the statue's neck.
Every kiss, every drag of his tongue across cool marble, left a streak of reddish-pink. The real Ratio would surely scold him for damaging such an expensive piece.
Unlikely, Ratio would never sell these, no matter how pricey it was to stock marble
. Wine stained lips lowered to the sculpted collarbone, lightly grazing teeth against the stone as the sinner imagined what it would be like to feel real flesh beneath him. Being damned to the depths of hell for ruining such a thing of purity felt far too fitting.
Aventurine pulled himself flush to the statue's body. The curves of sculpted clothes dug into his stomach but he didn’t mind. With a sigh he looped his arms loosely around this Ratio’s neck admiring the wine stained blotches across its bust. Still this Ratio would never meet his eyes.
“Ratio.” The words echoed in the room. “Why did it have to be you?”
Of all the people to fall for, it would be Ratio. It had to be Ratio.
The only person that would be unapologetically considerate of his feelings. Why couldn’t this Doctor be as stoney as rumors said he was? Why did he have to be so, so caring under that stoic look of disappointment?
Was it wrong to fall for someone like that? Just because Ratio values Aventurine’s life doesn’t mean he values the Stoneheart’s life personally . But any attention is good attention in Aventurine’s eyes. Trembling fingers tapped along the back of the stained neck, this was getting too...weird.
He should leave.
He doesn’t leave
.
Instead the warm haze of alcohol sets in again, and he does something so stupid. He presses forward, grinding against the marble leg of his desired fantasies. It’s borderline painful against stone, but the friction causes him to moan and almost drop his wine. With a whine, his fingers tighten around the bottle and he ruts against the statue again. And again.
Again .
And he keeps going until he’s burning, panting in between moans that echo in the near empty room.
Suddenly the room was too hot, and this wasn’t enough. Aventurine stopped to stumble back from the statue, ignoring the residue left behind by the dampness forming on his pants.
There’s a table nearby that holds Ratio’s tools for sculpting, and Aventurine all but slams his wine bottle down. He’s rushing now, his clothes are too much. Too tight, too hot. Unbuttoning his shirt, he yanks it off and throws it to the ground. This oddly doesn’t feel as shameful as he thought it’d be. Maybe he’s finally gone completely insane.
Ratio’s studio was cool, and the absence of Aventurine’s shirt made things better. He ran a hand up his own torso, feeling burning skin beneath his fingers. When he got to his chest, he squeezed the muscle, shivering at the stimulation before running his fingers over his nipple. To steady himself, Aventurine held onto the edge of the table. He teased his own chest, pinching the bud in his fingers until it became red and puffy. Then, switching hands, he worked on the other side. Roll, pinch, squeeze, and repeat. Closing his eyes, he imagined Ratio there, replacing Aventurine’s hands with his much bigger ones.
Hands that could easily wrap around his waist, his wrists, his neck .
Aeons the things he would do to have Ratio’s hands around his neck.
Soon the stimulation had his toes curling in his shoes. Embarrassing really, to be reduced to a whimpering mess from just his nipples being played with. But it still wasn’t enough. It’s never enough when it comes to Ratio. Grabbing his wine again, he looked around the studio. There were many various statues of Ratio, some were even unfinished or abandoned due to a limb falling off. Some were, of course, unclothed leaving Aventurine to wonder if the anatomy was a one to one match to the sculptor's body.
However none of them were suited for the depravity running through his mind. Sure he could easily climb into the lap of one of the more scandalous statues, one with a very clearly large erection for him to sink onto. But that would be…expected, satisfying even. Unfortunately the only dick he wants inside him at the moment was Ratio’s, the real Ratio. The statue couldn’t give him what he wants, nor does he deserve that form of pleasure while prancing around his kind colleagues home like a bitch in heat.
Aventurine’s eyes fell onto one of the few statues that were sitting. Well, this one was more lounging, head resting against a sculpted chair back while reading a book. Walking over to this Ratio, Aventurine undid his belt, tossing that to the floor as well. Up close he even recognized the lounge chair as the one the Doctor had placed under his living room window. It was perfect really, nothing obstructed Aventurine from swinging his leg over the side so he could straddle the statue's lap.
Here this Ratio was exposed, and Aventurine ran a hand down the naked, sculpted chest. He’s a smart man, at least mathematically, so although he’s never groped the scholar’s chest before he could believe this was an accurate rendition. Stone, unmoving eyes were lidded in relaxation, lazily reading a wordless marble book. The statue’s free hand rested across those beautiful abs.
Would Ratio squirm under Aventurine’s hands as they ran across his muscles? Probably. The scholar wasn’t one for physical contact, so he must be sensitive. If only this stone was malleable he could imagine soft flesh molding to the shape of his hands. Ha, maybe this is what it must be like to be a sculptor. Too bad this masterpiece below him is complete, Aventurine would have loved to give his input.
Well, actually…the wine in his hand has been useful so far. With this he could paint his desires across the beautiful stone, creating a permanent wash of color to show his dedication to this perfect man. Coating his lips in the sweetened alcohol
and a swig for good measure
he made his move, kissing along the marble jawline. He grinded against the sculpted blanket that was
unfortunately
covering the statues lower half. The dip in the blanket formed a perfect groove for Aventurine’s clothed cock to slide against. He moaned, his head drooping to rest against the statue's shoulder instead.
This…he could work with this.
Mentally Aventurine apologized to his dear Ratio, for his next actions would become something beyond shameful. He kicked his shoes off, unbuttoned his pants, and moved so he could shimmy out of the rest of his clothes. The alcohol must really be coaxing his shame, he felt nothing beyond the heated arousal within him. Even as he regained his straddling position, this time completely nude, the cool stone only fueled his eagerness.
This would be the only way he’d ever be able to pleasure himself with Ratio after all.
His cock throbbed against the groove in the stone, it was perfectly in between this Ratio’s legs.
Albeit still covered with a marble blanket
. He could almost vividly picture the
real
Ratio, blushing beneath him as he rolled his hips against those strong thighs. Mimicking his thoughts, the first thrust of his cock sliding across the stone made him shudder. He did it again, and the stimulation made his body jolt forwards. The wine bottle in his hand slipped a little when he stabilized himself, and deep red liquid poured down between the statue’s pectorals.
Aventurine watched the trail of red, bleeding down from this Ratio’s heart, to where that perfectly sculpted hand was. It feathered out, slipping down both sides of the statue's arm; pooling in the crook of its elbow one way, and dripping down the exposed side from its fingers on the other. Aventurine, dazed by the sight leaned forwards, lapping up the wine from this bleeding heart. His tongue smeared the liquid across the expanse of the marble chest, between the dip of its pec’s, and back up to the perfectly formed collarbone.
The Stoneheart fully knew the wine would forever stain this masterpiece, but he was driven by delirious thoughts. His body moved on its own, his free hand holding onto a stone shoulder, his tongue still drinking up the spilled wine, and he was continuously rutting against that perfect crook in the sculpted blanket.
The amount of pleasure he was getting from this filthy act should be criminal. In a way it probably was; he was defiling someone else's property. There was no covering it up, the wine stains deep, and he’s leaving his mark through slick kisses on the stone. Not to mention the growing puddle of pre-cum smearing around below him.
He needed more. More from this moment. Getting off like this would be easy, he just needed his travel lube-
That was in his coat pocket. In the living room.
Groaning he slumped forward, this was an inconvenience of the greatest level. As he continued to rut weakly against the statue, he brought the wine to his lips and took another sip. The sweet flavor combined with the tingles of stimulation made his already dizzy head spin more. When he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, he paused. This was…a bad idea but tonight has been full of those. He sat up, and poured some of the wine onto his free hand’s fingers. Wine spilled through his fingers, wetting the area he was sitting in, but he didn’t mind. If anything it made the grind of his hips slicker.
Now with his coated fingers he reached behind him, barely teasing himself as he shoved two fingers into his hole. A loud moan ripped through him, the alcohol burned but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Aventurine was still a bit loose from the days earlier events, it made working himself open far easier. He shuddered, near collapsing on the statue. Some wine had pooled into the groove where he was grinding against. It was messy, but something about seeing his dick push through the wine and paint the statue red turned him on more.
Aventurine whined, forcing another finger into his hole, and speeding up his movements. The stretch felt good, and when he curled his fingers at that desired spot it made him see stars.
“
Veritas
.” He moaned Ratio’s given name like he
owned
it.
He never will
. “Veritas…
ah
…Veritas,
Veritas
…I
want
you so bad. I
need
you.”
His thrusts became more forceful, hitting his prostate dead on with each press of his fingers. Close, he was so close . The statue of Ratio beneath him was serene still, despite the blotches of reddish-pink blooming all over its form. Maybe if Aventurine pretended hard enough he could think of all these as marks he’d inflict on the real Ratio. Covering the man in bites and kisses, claiming Ratio as his .
The thought sent a twist of pleasure through his body, that familiar heat was pooling in his stomach. This felt good, so good as he grinded and fingered himself open like the sinner whore he was. His body was flushed red, tears were barely pricking the corner of his eyes. He was slipping into that warm, fuzzy headspace that he needed to be in. Every moan and thrust of his fingers he was driving closer to that desperate need of release.
A new thought crossed his mind, and his eyes fell onto the statue’s uninterested face. Heat surged through Aventurine's body as he imagined sitting there just like this on Ratio’s lap. He could sit there as the Doctor read a book, begging for any attention. Aventurine would be uselessly rutting against the man, pleading for even a glance. His own fingers working himself open, just like now, preparing for Ratio. He’s being good , so good …so why won’t Ratio look at him?
Is this not enough? Does he need to do more? Should he moan louder? Say Ratio’s name more? He could do that. He could do anything.
He’s so desperate
.
“Veritas…Veritas, please .” He whined, his body tensing as his fingers drove him closer to his release. “Just look at me. I need you to look at me.”
The statue of Ratio didn’t comply, ignoring him in well deserved rejection. It made the coil of heat inside Aventurine tighter; he could feel it burn his skin as he chased the pleasurable feeling in his humiliation.
In his drunk and aroused haze, a flash of red caught his eye. It was too high and too far for it to be the wine. Hooded eyes roamed towards the red light, his breath freezing as he watched a security camera lens focus in on him. The wine bottle slipped from his hand and shattered onto the tiled floor.
Oh no.
No . This can’t be happening to him right now.
Ratio was watching him .
Reality of the situation came flooding back. How dare he get lost in his own pleasure without even considering Ratio wouldn’t notice so soon? Those tears that had been kept at bay, spilled over in regret. He cried out, a cloud of guilt surrounded him.
“Sorry. Sorry, Ratio.
I’m so sorry
.” The Doctor is going to hate him even more now.
He won’t, he never will
. Aventurine sat up, forgetting the position he was in, and his fingers plunged deeper inside him due to the shift. The impact from the movement sent him over the edge in the most unsatisfying orgasm of his life. White spilled onto the statue in ropes, mixing into the spilled wine and tears now freely falling from Aventurine's face.
Falling forward Aventurine couldn’t help the pathetic sobs tearing through him. The crash from the emotional drop hit him instantly and he hated it.
He hates himself
.
That’s nothing new
.
It’s one thing to get off to your desires, but it's another to get
caught
. Aventurine couldn’t even move, his body felt like lead holding himself down in shame. Slowly, as the weight of his new reality cleared his mind, he slid off of the statue and onto the floor. Aventurine curled up against the edge of the marble blanket, hiding his face in his arms. Broken sobs filled the room until they faded into hiccups and he finally passed out from the draining exhaustion.