Chapter Text
"Come on. He’s a glad lad, no?" Daeron had asked that early into the night. Aerion’s own soft hands almost flew right across the other’s face. It’d served him right.
Apparently, setting up your younger brother for a blind date with some unknown guy to get yourself out of a ticket is just a thing that people do. Because of course, Daeron would driven home drunk, out of his mind far, and maybe he’d swerved and swayed a little, maybe he’d scratched something, Aerion just hoped it was a big tree and not some random car of a random police officer, who was honorable enough to give him a pass over a third-degree, if Aerion agreed to go on a date with him.
What a fucking joke.
"How did that come to be, anyway?" His other brother asked. The same question that had been on Aerion’s mind, nagging a little to be voiced out loud, but if any voices had come out of his mouth at all, Aerion thinks it’d be a scream.
Daeron slurred, "why, I- I told him that… er, I told him I was in a hurry because it’s my brother’s birthday,"
Aerion messaging his temple slowly.
"Then I showed him a picture of you," he gestured toward where Aerion had sat. Aemon turned, "And he said, that’s a pretty nice looking brother of yours, and I was like- yeah, you know what? Yeah, my brother is very pretty!" Daeron chirped. And Aerion thought he’d heard muffled giggles behind him somewhere. Fucking Egg.
And what did he mean by 'nice looking?' What are these vulgar uses of words? Insulting to the core.
Aerion gritted out, after a long while of keeping his mouth shut. "And I am going out with him because?"
Daeron huffed, "Because… I told him that you are single," do not finish the sentence, "and ready to mingle. Finally."
Aerion lunged, fast. Both hands clamped tight around Daeron’s neck, who seemed unfazed for the most part. Egg squealed behind him, Aemon shouted.
Daeron, for once, afraid for his life enough to throw his hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. Though it did nothing to extinguish Aerion’s erratic breath and his anger. Aemon lightly pulled his wrists, it was then that he decided to let go.
"One time, I promise." Daeron said and it was unbelievable.
He shook off his brother’s hand, "Your promises meant shit, Daeron. Fuck you."
He would’ve liked to spit on the bastard, now, had he known what atrocious night he would soon encounter.
Before he left, he’d gotten a look from Egg’s face by the door. The boy was looking down on his socked feet, weirdly timid. Aerion didn’t ask why.
He went to the meeting place, anyway.
Before he’d stepped foot into the bar, a text stopped him.
Do not willy-nilly anywhere late. Your cousin and his family are coming to visit. Better be here before I am.
His eyes almost didn’t come back down from all the rolling he had done, given the dysfunctional dynamic of a family that he had surrounded himself with, it’d made a force of habit out of him. Aerion had learned from the best, anyway.
He typed back with unnecessary force,
whatever
Aerion refused to acknowledge the silent but sturdy tug he had felt in his mind, of the memories that were threatened to make itself known, the past craps. He chanted under his breath, the familiar two sentence mantra he had uttered over and over again, in times like these especially, just to ground himself a little.
I dare you. I fucking dare you. I fucking dare you. I fucking dare you.
Feeling just a tad of composure coming back to himself, Aerion strode into the cool air and the odor of a mixing perfume in the bar. He hadn’t known what the ‘date’ of his was even supposed to look like. Whether he came in full gear or not, Aerion wasn’t particularly interested. He found himself a cushion comfortable enough, and a private spot to excuse himself of this unpleasant place, instead. Though, he wouldn’t call it hiding.
He decided then, that he’d wasted his time for only another five minutes, then he’d leave. Because Daeron can actually go and die in jail, Aerion had swore that he’d never bent to his brothers’ whims anymore.
He rested his head against the back of the soft seat, stared at the dark ceiling.
“Hey,” raspy and gravelly voice loud above him, suddenly very near. Aerion almost couldn’t contain the light jump in his heart, how it’d picked up a pace just a tiny bit.
“You… the drunk guy’s brother?”
Capitalized on the whole phrase, how unusually irksome it was to be addressed like that. Seeing how his supposed date looked like the typical sexually oppressed, middle-age man who would treat this encounter as a secret he’d liked to bury as soon as he’s done with the business. Religious guilt or no, Aerion hated them all for it. And as for after this, he wouldn’t want to be associated with Daeron any longer.
He didn’t answer, given the guy a stinky stare.
“I think you are. Must be. Damn me, I didn’t ask for a name before.” The guy laughed to himself, unaware of the internal curses Aerion sent his way.
He hugged his arms around his torso, deciding to shut the guy’s mouth up, hopefully for good. Chin raised high, violet-tinged eyes indifferent. He muttered low,
“You are dangerously mistaken, mister.”
The guy stopped babbling his babblers for a solid three seconds before he burst out a high-sounding wheeze. Warm rising to Aerion’s face, unbearably seething. He oughta slap the humor out of this guy.
“You’re a funny lad!” As if the uncontrollable guffaw was not hinting enough, “I think tonight is gunna be entertaining for us.”
The implication sent a wave of disgust through Aerion’s entire body. He physically reacts a little, unable to remain poised. “You better get out of my face.”
The guy echoed immediately after, while taking a small step towards Aerion, “or what? What are ‘ya gonna do, huh, darlin’?”
Aerion unconsciously scooted backward, realizing the act would spur the guy’s unhinged tendencies to get even closer.
It’s never been an option for him. It’s never flight. If what his father had taught him did come into play sometime, it was that night.
Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.
You’ve got claws, Aerion. His father used to say, when he was a little teenager, always strived for a battle. Burning Daeron’s favorite jumper when he was eleven, just to get a pure raging look in his eyes, for once. Throwing Aemon’s bag full of expensive books in the lake near home, because his little brother was ever so calm. Back when it was just the three of them. The four of them. The five of them.
Aerion had thought of the tattoo on his back, of dark scarlet lines, of the large, curved wings of a dragon, inscribed on both sides of his shoulder blade. Thin, black branches acted as bones, sharp at the tip. The one he had gotten the day his mother passed, right after the funeral. Because to feel the sting jab of a needle needed to hurt more than a grief of loss.
How it’d changed him.
His eyes burned, but not at the thought of her, or anyone.
His nails were not especially long, but it would have done its job to gashed the guy’s face, nevertheless. He was ready to make the lunge when suddenly, a light throat-clearing sound made itself known of its owner.
Behind the guy, another guy interrupted Aerion's soon-to-be crime scene.
Aerion couldn’t make much with the godawful lighting of this low-class bar, but the shining glow of the man’s watch momentarily blinded his eyes. He had a dark, deep navy suit, tie hung low but not improper, the texture of his lighter shade of under shirt was so crisp it impressed Aerion a bit. He tried to look up to see the man’s face, but the equally godawful monkey of a person had occupied his vision.
“Hey,” the guy said, obvious in his awkward stances.
Aerion breathed out, waiting to see what would come of it next.
The man spoke up, voice soft and tender in all the wrong places, Aerion thought he felt a pair of eyes staring at him, “Evening,”
“Ah- Evening to you as well.”
Then, it was silent.
No one dared speak first. Aerion, for one, didn’t plan to, still waiting for the situation to unfurl, strangely patient.
The guy broke the still air with his own huff, “Yeah… yeah- so, er, I just- I’m just gonna sit here,” he pointed his disgusting finger to the spot beside Aerion.
He lifts up his brow, ready to protest, when the stranger, third-wheeler, interrupts with a smile-hinted remark, tone still soft, almost kind, “No, you are not.”
The guy’s droopy smirk slowly disappears from his stupid face. That much was satisfying.
The man gestured with a hand briefly toward Aerion, asking, “Do you know him?”
Aerion almost immediately shouted, fuck no!
He said, low still, “No.”
“Do you want to get out of here?”
The question didn’t stunned him as he thought it would have. Had Aerion been sane and right in his mind, and not just drunk from the stink of the cheap perfumes mixing in every breath he had taken, he would’ve said otherwise.
But he didn’t. Aerion took the hand brought in front of him, too eager for his own ego, and said, “Yes, I do.”
They weren’t out far, not at all.
He hadn’t noticed the big stairs at the side of the entrance that’d lead them up to a roof. It was better than the first floor, with much, much air to take, for Aerion to collect himself properly. The man hadn’t taken his hand away from Aerion’s until they found a quiet corner by the railing to settle themselves.
“Pardon my manners,” the man angled his body Aerion’s way, but not entirely facing him. “If I misinterpret your reactions, but the gentleman was bothering you, is he not?”
The lighting outside, however, was no better. It was late into the night after all. So Aerion could, very poorly still, make out the man’s face just a little.
He was… tall. That was possibly the easiest thing to be observed. Aerion had to craned his neck back to be able to find the man’s eyes, and it was also strikingly… unique. He’d thought that maybe it was the damned light that made him mistaken the pair of orbs to be two different colours. He didn’t voice his interest out loud. Though, the man had most definitely caught the short breaths, and deciphered the secret code anyway.
He chuckled, and it was still that voice.
“No. I- I do. Got bothered, I meant.” Aerion stuttered, quickly masked it with a shy accent and composed stature.
“Ah,” the man bobbed his head up and down, “I was correct, then.”
Aerion agreed, “Yes, you were.”
The quietness that followed after didn’t suffocate him much as it should. He looked over the scene in front of him. Nights come, and still the tall houses awake, almost at all times. It’d never succumbed to the darkness of the sky, on this side of town. People don't walk the street when it’s late, but every time a soul stroll past, they can always feel the stare. Aerion and his family lived just three streets and two biggest buildings away, hiding the perfect sized mansion behind a hill, fitting for at least ten members to occupy. They had moved in here before Egg was born, circa sixteen years ago. It belonged to his mother’s side of the family.
After her pass, the house had become more of worthless bricks and walls.
Enough of the reminiscing.
The man seemed to pick up a scent of discomfort from him, so he kindly interrupted Aerion’s almost spiralling thoughts,
“You look very familiar.” A weird way to interrupt. Aerion couldn’t help but smirk a little at his sudden comment. The Not-so-creepy, one-you-would-see-in-a-thriller-movie, comment.
“Strange. Because I can’t see you at all.” Aerion wittily answers back.
The man made a low sound in his throat, one close to amusement.
“You see plenty of me.”
He put both his hands out, Aerion toed away half a step to get a good and long look at the man.
He was tall, certainly, and devastatingly handsome, like a noble prince. He was dressed like one, too. All expensive textures, Aerion had the eye for them, always. His posture is as straight as a board, but not stiff, if anything he looked pretty relaxed and at ease, like the world itself is beneath him. He wore thick rings on both his ring fingers. Aerion didn’t ask if he was married.
(What they had done after that pretty much explained itself.)
He unconsciously ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. His mouth stayed part for a little. The man’s piercing gaze seemed to have zeroed in on the act. Aerion, again, unconsciously swallows a dry spit in his throat. The man teared his eyes away.
“It’s late.” Aerion’s voice came out in a raspy tone, unintentionally. It made the man attentively nod anyway.
“Yes,” he took an abnormally long pause, “it is.”
Aerion swallowed, throat dry again, suddenly remembered something important.
His cousin. Fuck.
“Ah, I should- I should go, now.”
The man didn’t move an inch away from the spot he was standing. Aerion desperately wanted to tug his sleeve for attention.
The matter with his cousin and family was not important at all. Aerion would be bullshitting. He hadn’t met any other relatives in more than a decade. He couldn’t even recall their names and age. It’d be a bold lie if he said that he cared. The one thing that still managed to make his shoulders twitch lightly was the near-threatened words of his father, who, Aerion would guess, is already home, welcoming his nephew right about now.
Aerion should’ve done the exact thing his father had asked him to do.
Should Aerion have done the exact thing his father had asked him to do?
Before he could ponder any longer, the man made his move, slowly but surely, walking up near Aerion, just a length of hand away.
Aerion’s knees almost buckled at the whisper,
“Did I misinterpret this, too?”
Straight nose brushed lightly against his temple, along his cropped-short hair. Aerion sighed all his breath out, he angled his neck to the side for the man to access whatever space he wished. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones, which, no doubt, was reddening due to the warmth rising up from the end of his being. He scrunched his brows upward, hands awkwardly empty, he grabbed the front of the man’s shirt.
The man smelled of rich cologne, herbal mixed with some earthy undertone, not too thick and suffocating, just the perfect amount to feel natural. Aerion nosed back at his exposed throat, a thin line of dark hair trailing up to its hive. He dared kitten-licked a short stripe, just to be bold, and to convey the answer back.
Broad hands caressed his sides, from his waist to under his sternum, up and down like a pattern. Aerion slowly melted into the gentle touch, but his insides felt like it was brutally burned by an excruciating flame. He could withstand it, fire, rage and fury, those were made familiar to him long ago. But not this, no. Flame of passion and desire were proved to be impossible to quench, it’d destroyed a man, and it had burned Aerion so agonizingly.
He gritted his teeth, voice near whimper,
“Take me away, please. Do it right. Do it right.”
The man’s sudden tight grip around his narrow waist had Aerion fully pressed up against his front, gasping and shaking like a leaf. He breathes loud, not a laugh but contains little humor in them.
“I will.” The man said it like a promise, and said it again, as if he’d heard Aerion’s internal prayer for reassurance, “I will.”
Where they had ended up was a mystery that Aerion was trying to solve to this day. Everything happened in a flash of time, entirely too fast, and intensely slow. He only remembered the hard marble floor that killed his knees, the rough texture of a rug, the slippery bathroom tiles, and the soft but sturdy bed that he could only guess would be the last place they had sex on.
Aerion swept one leg across the man’s lap, facing away so that he could plant his hands on the empty space in front of him, to support himself of the shivering weight and feeling he couldn’t shake off if he tried. Calloused palm brushing his bottom, Aerion sighed contently, until a finger probe at his pucker, fluttering hole, still leaking after their last run. His head hung low, tiredly.
But still, it didn’t feel like enough.
“Come on, get it up now, you,” he rasped, rocking his hip backward to try and get a friction of the man’s spent cock. A hand stilled his movement, Aerion couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“Some of us are not twenty-five anymore,” the man’s response got another good huff out of Aerion.
What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
“Give me a show, then.”
Aerion perked up at the suggestion. He giggled before putting his empty hands to use.
“Pervert.”
He stroked his already hard and leaking cock slowly, the searing heat made him voice out his moan, the head, especially, is very much sensitive after God knows how many times he had come that night.
The man had told him to put on a show, but the action that was happening then was not accessible through his line of vision as Aerion had his back facing him. Still, he could tell by the short intake of breaths that the man was enjoying every second of this performance. The squelching sound his hand made upon meeting his warm and wet prick in a steady rhythm was every bit of a lewd fantasy.
Aerion didn’t turn his neck to check if the man was getting it up or not, as he intended on finishing his last drop of the night before exhaustion finally got its hands on him. Instead, he reached out blindly, his middle and ring finger right across the man’s face, scratching his bearded chin hard. Aerion sighed his moan again and breathed out, almost forcefully,
“Wet. Need it wet. Right now.”
Luckily, the man had been sensible enough to know what Aerion was trying to convey, he licked a long stripe along Aerion’s presenting fingers, coating it with thick saliva, Aerion smiled dopily.
He patted and prodded at his aching hole for a fraction, just the right amount to feel a jolt in his cock. He could feel it building from the throbbed he felt in his hand. Then, Aerion inserted two soaked fingers inside himself without prompt, its digits are not long or thick enough to satisfy him, but it will make do.
“Fuck,” he dragged out the F in Fuck with his teeth biting harshly on his lower lip. Aerion bowed his head forward instinctively, like he was trying to hide away.
He pumped his fingers in and out, and in and out, over and over, still, it didn’t satiate the needs he felt every second wasted, he had wanted to cried out to the man to fuck his brain asleep but the impending sense of something close to the finish line, but not quite the successful result was slowly eating him alive.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Aerion chanted, while rocking back again on his fingers. The man grasped his working wrist firmly, Aerion shuddered.
“Will you let me?” He asked gently in that tender-tinged tone of his, which had started to become Aerion’s favorite.
Aerion is all but sunk into the thick length he had so wished for. A high, keening noise was vigorously punched out of him, making him breathless. Both of his hands felt useless as it went back to its position by the empty space between the man’s legs, supporting his weight. The heat untiringly pounding up, poking at his tight nerves, repeatedly, Aerion’s mouth was hung open the entire time, tongue drooling messily, speech forgotten, reduced into nothing but a stupid, slave of his own desire.
The man had grabbed both Aerion’s elbows then, pulling his arms backward as much as his flexibility’d allowed, Aerion’s back arched into a bow posture, string tight, ready to fire the arrow. His hip being forced to push down against the hard slap of skins. He had felt it again, the deep, searing pain in his lower abdomen, threatened to burst out of his body. Aerion prayed for a cooling air to personify itself and saved him from the hot flame all over his frame. It didn’t.
The man’s gruesome pace began to quicken into an erratic one, Aerion had bitten his lips hard, his come shot out in an almost straight line before gravity pulled it down, along with him and his wrung out physique, rendered him into a broken doll-like state.
Overstimulation is not necessarily painful, but certainly annoying, he was glad when the final thrust into his hole, deep and surely would’ve left a trailing numbness, was finally able to quench the last remaining thirst inside of him.
Aerion hissed softly when the man pulled out too fast, leaving a white, warm semen tracking down the inside of his thighs. He sits firmly on his lap, now, unable to move.
“Fuck, that was…” Aerion collapsed backward, head resting on the man’s strong shoulder. The faint morning light seeped in through a tiny crack of a wide drapes. What time was it, Aerion didn’t care.
The man, instead of indulging him in a chat, foresaw the predictable head lolled and steady breathing. Aerion didn’t pass out just yet, but he might be dreaming, he wouldn’t know.
His pale hair was brushed away from his forehead by a rough palm, as if checking for a fever. Once satisfied, the man had gotten up.
Aerion remembered only flashes after that. He remembered the blanket being covered upon his lower half, a glass of water by the side of the bed, his clothing folded neatly not far.
He remembered the man’s last words spoken to him after that.
“Rest well.”
I wanted to see you again. Aerion had thought unknowingly, and painfully unaware that his wish would be granted in the most twisted way.