Archive of Our Own

Work Text

My soul, be not disturbed

By planetary war;

Remain securely orbed

In this contracted star.

Fear not, pathetic flame;

Your sustenance is doubt:

Glassed in translucent dream

They cannot stuff you out.

Wear water, or a mask

Of unapparent cloud;

Be brave and never ask

A more defunctive shroud.

The universal points

Are shrunk into a flower;

Between in delicate joints

Chaos keeps no power.

The pure integral form,

Austere and silver-dark,

Is balanced on the storm

In its predestined arc.

Small as a sphere of rain

It slides along the groove

Whose path is furrowed plain

Among the suns that move.

The shapes of April buds

Outlive the phantom year:

Upon the void at odds

The dewdrop falls severe.

Five-petalled flame, be cold:

Be firm, dissolving star:

Accept the stricter mould

That makes you singular.
— Address to My Soul, by Elinor Wylie (1928)Orion collapses into his leather desk chair with a weary sigh.Even a scalding shower wasn't enough to soothe his body from the beating he'd just received from Orbo—who was in rare form today, and had taken the stressed and aching Orion by surprise with his enthusiastic begging for a bout.So overwhelming was his ensuing loss that Orion was wiping the security footage from the system the moment he returned to his office—but not before downloading a copy for himself, so he could try and glimpse the moment Orbo had gained the upper hand.To his chagrin, there was no definitive moment for him to focus on—no clear way in which he'd fumbled, no obvious opening he'd left unguarded—Orbo had just been faster, and Orion had been lagging behind today. His hands had been bothering him of late—just a little wrist pain and knuckle inflammation that he had been determined to power through. That determination to ignore his own suffering had left him ill-prepared for the invitation Orbo had extended, in typical spontaneous fashion, at the tail-end of Orion's lunch hour.Orion had always found it difficult to ignore Orbo's challenges.He ought to have been better prepared, but in point of fact, they hadn't had a bout in eons. And right up until the moment Orbo asked, Orion had been convinced such childish things were far behind him, and well beneath him.But Orbo had asked him with such casual ease that their last bout may as well have been only yesterday, and the novel prospect had awoken Orion from the furor of an endless work fugue, had excited him like little else had in centuries. And since Orion was in the habit of doing what he wanted, he had accepted the invitation without a second thought."Think I'd do just about anything to get out of this damned office for a change," Orion had grumbled. "When abouts were you thinking?"Orbo had given Orion an assessing smile. "How 'bout right now?"Orion barked out a laugh. "Lunch is almost over, wise-ass. I don't live at your beck and call."Orbo half-shrugged. "You're the boss, ain'tcha?" he pointed out. "Just say somethin' came up. Couldn't be avoided. Out for a meeting. Shame, that."Orion shook his head with a snort. "That won't fly here, mate. I run a tighter ship than you. People actually use our gym, for one thing."Orbo lifted his brows and blew out a breath. "Do they? Love to know how you managed that...""Discipline," Orion supplied, though Orbo was unlikely to take pointers from him."Right, right... Well, I'm sure you'll think of something," Orbo had said, and had sauntered leisurely from the room—as if Orion's imminent attendance in the gym was already a sure thing.The note Orion ended up leaving on the door in his signature black stationary and golden ink had read: 'Resolving an inter-departmental dispute in the gym. Interrupt at your own risk. —O'Orion rewound the security footage to try and catch a glimpse of Orbo scheming before he arrived. But the man only waved cheerfully at the bewildered office staff wrapping up their lunch workouts, and moved to the training area to stretch. Maybe Orion ought to have done the same, instead of—In the security footage, Orion burst through the door to the gym and strode stormily down the aisle between the fitness machines—more thoroughly equipped than the one at Orbo's office by half, by the white dwarf's own admission. Orbo turned to face him with a cheery smile and a wave, as Orion only grinned with grim promise, and the office workers fumbled the last reps of their workout routines and scrambled for the exit, lest they be caught in the shockwave of their boss's murderous intent."You sure know how to make an entrance," Orbo blithely remarked. Orion undid the golden buttons of his wine red suit jacket and whipped it off his shoulders with quick, efficient movements. His lurid red glow intensified with mounting excitement. "That's what a superior should do," he said in the air of pointed reminder—but Orbo only shrugged."Been a while," he said, his first acknowledgment that it had been. "You still like playing for keeps?""You want to make a wager," Orion surmised with a satisfied hum. "What did you have in mind?"Orbo shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, turning his gaze toward the ceiling in exaggerated thought. "Oh, I dunno... How 'bout the usual stakes?"A spark of slumbering desire reawakened in Orion's gut with a vengeance, fueling his lurid red glow with undisguised excitement. He grinned and said, "You're on, fatty." Orbo took the insult in stride as he always did, with his game grin and infuriating ease, and they took their places at the opposite ends of the mats. Orion remembers thinking, as they summoned their weapons in mirror flashes of Doppler red and blue, that blowing Orbo's back out after a rousing fight may be just the thing to shake him out of his work-fugued slump.But then, he had lost.Which meant Orbo would be the one fucking him. For whatever reason, the man didn't take his due right then and there on the scorched gym mats, as he might have once done in their god-auditing glory days. Orion was begrudgingly a little grateful for this, even mired as he was in spite and righteous indignation after being bested. It wouldn't do for his employees to see him brought so low, should any of them be so unwise or hapless as to enter the gym during the act. Perhaps it was yet another concession—or more likely, a power play—for Orbo to delay collecting his prize until they'd 'hit the showers', and reconvened in Orion's office.Despite the fury he felt at losing, the exercise had done him some good—and even as he'd snatched the note he'd left on his office door and crushed it in his fist, his veins still rushed with residual thrill, and the sharp smart of purpling bruises all over his body served to distract him from the more mundane discomforts that had been plaguing him for the past week.When he closed the footage and went back to work, he even got a few things done—emails sent, projects approved, reports skimmed and sent back for edits—so at the very least, venting his aggression had reinvigorated his work ethic a little.But as the clock ticked on, and Orbo— predictably —delayed his arrival, Orion's veins cooled, and he began to grow antsy.What was taking that goddamn layabout so long? As much as Orion hated losing to Orbo, he could always endure the consequences with something like grace because the rush of combat made him eager for the contact in whatever form it came, no matter who had won the prize of dominance. The sting of penetration was not unlike the sting of developing bruises, and Orion's veins singing with violence made it easy to achieve and keep an erection. The fact that he'd already be working up a sweat meant he didn't mind the mess as much, either, since he'd already be taking a shower.But he'd already showered. And the more Orbo made him wait —long enough for his heart rate to even out, for his nerves to calm, and for the beautiful clarity of sharp new pain to sink like substrate into his bones, and linger with the same kind of persistent, unpleasant ache he had agreed to the bout specifically to distract himself from—the prospect of submitting to that ridiculous man soured, grew increasingly unappealing, and only served to add to Orion's mounting work-related stress.When Orbo finally arrives nearly forty-five minutes after they parted ways with an awkward handshake, it is as Orion has been staring at the blinking cursor of a work document for untold minutes, tapping his golden rings irately against the polished surface of his cherrywood desk.Orion forcibly stills his fidgeting hand and lifts an unimpressed brow. "Took you fucking long enough," he snaps.Orbo laughs as he shuts the door behind him and deftly turns the lock, still drying his hair with one of the coarse white towels that aren't meant to leave the gym. "Sorry, mate. Been a while since I took human form... Forgot how good a hot shower could feel." True to his words, Orbo looks refreshed and invigorated: his dark skin glows with a healthy flush, and his ridiculous lavender hair is fluffy with flyaways as he gathers it loosely into a rubber band at the base of his skull. He removes his purple glasses where they hang from his undershirt, polishing them with the hem of the ridiculous seafoam green tropical number that hangs unbuttoned over his shoulders. "Guess I lost track of time."Orion scoffs. The reminder that Orbo doesn't even maintain his current form on a regular basis, and ought to be unpracticed in fighting with it, only makes his defeat even more humiliating. "Why am I not surprised?"Orbo hums. "Bet you got some work done while you waited, though.""Yes," Orion enunciates slowly, "and now I must make even more time for you, since you decided to delay." Orbo quirks an apologetic smile. "Well, we don't have the luxury of privacy any more," he points out, enumerating alternatives with an airy wave of his sunglasses. "Figured you wouldn't want a visit to the company lodgings under your name or mine, in the middle of the day... And I know how you are about leaving the office during work hours."Though Orion had seen the sense in waiting when Orbo first suggested it, and was mostly just complaining to be difficult, he hadn't realized Orbo had thought this through so carefully."And you just couldn't resist the thought of bending me over my own desk," Orion concludes."No better place for it, is there?" Orbo reasons, but his smile is sly. "And you being such a neat freak—well..." He sweeps his glasses through the air and perches them on his nose with a flourish as he steps around Orion's desk. Orion's hackles raise as Orbo walks behind him, but he refuses to reveal his unease by following the man's movements with his eyes.Orbo's hands come suddenly to rest on Orion's shoulders, warm and heavy, and when he leans down to whisper in the red giant's ear, it comes with a waft of warm, soapy humidity—like Orbo is still carrying that hot shower on the surface of his heated skin."I figured you wouldn't wanna stink up your office any more than we had to."It takes all Orion's fortitude to suppress a shudder. "Just get on with it," he snaps, opening a work email in affectation of disinterest.Orbo hums and leans back, releasing Orion from the mesmerizing haze of his warm, clean scent—but not, importantly, releasing his shoulders from his grasp. Orion types perfunctorily as he braces himself for the forceful shove, the dispensation of professionalism for carnal conquest. He is equal parts eager and anxious to have Orbo's hands on him again. A single decisive bout was not enough, he realizes, after millennia without—and though he resents himself for that weakness, he resigns himself to being swept up in that magnetism, and the searing, reciprocal heat of two stars coming back into perilously close binary orbit.Orbo's hands tighten on his shoulders. Orion forces himself to breathe slowly.Then Orbo's thumbs dig into his back, on either side of his spine. The tight muscles spasm, and Orion frowns and falters."What the hell are you doing?" he grumblingly demands."Gettin' you in the mood!" Orbo replies with cheery ease."I don't need to be in the mood," Orion mockingly sneers. "You won. I lost. Quit rubbing it in and take your bloody prize so I can get back to work."Orbo hums in leisurely thought. "Been a while, though," he says again, pointlessly. "And you're not all that riled up any more—""And whose fault is that?""I mean, your arse is probably tight as a vise," Orbo chuckles. "I don't want to lose anything vital..."Orion rolls his eyes and roughly shrugs, trying to shake Orbo off—but he only readjusts his grip, making use of the slight loosening of Orion's shoulders to dig his thumbs even harder into the tight, uncompromising furrow of his tense trapezius. Orion grunts as the pressure creates two bright points of pain—then sighs unthinkingly, as Orbo eases back and gives the muscles a brief reprieve, into which they resettle a little looser than they started."Fine," he snaps, but his tone is only half as sharp as he'd like it to be. "Do whatever you want. To the victor go the spoils, and all..." It rankles, but this is how they've always done things. Orbo won—so Orbo gets to do whatever he wants to him.And if he wants to give Orion a bloody back massage before bending him over his desk, he can fucking do that, too.Orbo makes a satisfied sound. "Don't mind if I do..."Orbo releases his shoulders, and Orion thinks that maybe now, Orbo will—but Orbo only brushes Orion's heavy braids aside, pushing them over his shoulder and exposing his starched collar. He braces a hand on Orion's shoulder, and wraps his palm around the back of Orion's neck—then squeezes and strokes the tight bed of musculature in rhythmic movement. Orion's eyes flutter shut behind his dark, angular shades, and he shudders on a sigh.The massage is more refreshing than the scalding shower he'd taken after their bout—he'd been thorough as ever in his hygiene, but twice as efficient, thinking he'd just as soon get this over and done with. So he hadn't even truly enjoyed it, in the scant way he allowed himself to enjoy anything when he was in one of his workaholic fugues. And he certainly hadn't lingered and languished in the heat with hedonistic savor, as Orbo clearly had. But it's almost like Orbo is capable of imparting that bone-deep ease and comfort he carries in every inch of himself to Orion by touch alone. His touch soothes aches, chases away weariness, enlivens Orion's skin with eager contact. Orbo's touch creeps along telltale knots twisted into musculature, mapping out Orion's tension and alleviating it in the same moment, thumbs and fingers climbing under his jaw and behind his ears to rub gentle circles into the softest parts of his skull. Orbo tilts Orion's head gently from side to side, teasing looseness from tendons and sinew. Orion deliberately relaxes to permit the movement.Then Orbo leans in close to suck a filthy kiss into Orion's jaw. Orion inhales sharply, and thinks, now— Orbo kisses Orion's temple with shameless affection, then nestles his nose into his tidy, oiled braids. He scents Orion with a deep, shameless sniff, and groans deep in his chest with undisguised relish."You changed your cologne," Orbo whispers, massaging Orion's shoulders like he wants to reward him for it.Orion lets out a scoff, one too bewildered to carry any heat. "It's been eons," he irately reminds the other man. "Of course I changed my fucking cologne."Orbo barely acknowledges this—only hums as he continues to massage Orion's shoulders with devastating diligence, and continues to nuzzle his scalp like a cat investigating an unusual scent."Love the way you smell, mate..." Orbo sighs.Orion sucks his teeth scornfully, though his shoulders are melting helplessly beneath Orbo's massage. "And you smell like whatever garbage you ate last," he bites back, determined to remain hostile. "Anyway—I don't fucking wear it for you, bitch."Orbo giggles into his hair. "I know," he says lightly, and takes another savoring whiff, humming with leisurely pleasure. "But these..."Orbo lifts the hand furthest from his ridiculous, amorous head to stroke Orion's hair—tracing the furrows of visible scalp between each row of woven hair, following their paths to tangle his fingers in gentle play between the waterfall of tidy braids, tinkling with beads.Orbo lifts one braid into Orion's field of vision. A silver bead is held captive between his thumb and forefinger, rotating it idly to catch the light. "These you do wear for me... Don't you, mate?"Orion sucks his teeth with sharp disapproval—though whether it's directed at Orbo or himself, Orion can't quite decide. If he had known their respective offices would come back into orbit—if he had had any advance notice that Orbo might come barreling back into his life, after the Theta office had dropped off the map with no warning, and no explanation, leaving only wild speculation as to the cause—that it had grown too distant to reach by reason of unaccountable cosmic anomaly, or else had been utterly obliterated by the same—Orion would have taken those damnable silver beads out of his hair, before Orbo had a chance to see them.Because every embellishment to Orion's form that he had made over the years was deliberate—a way of fashioning himself into an exemplar of diligence, the better to inspire his subordinates with rigorous work ethic by leading by example. A mortal form required more upkeep, and wearing it with pride and professionalism was a power move—a tacit claim of expertise in every finely-groomed detail of his person.Most of the jewelry Orion wore was gold, which suited his preference for reds. But every once in a while, when he was feeling maudlin and nostalgic, he permitted the rare glimmer of silver to enter his wardrobe—because it reminded him of Orbo.When news of the other cosmic office's return had spread, Orion had too much else on his mind to worry overmuch about his appearance, beyond the upkeep he always gave it. Wearing silver beads to lift his mood had become such an ingrained habit that he had begun to do it without any thought given to its original inspiration, having laid his grief and longing to rest long ago. So even as he'd helped plan and prepare the cross-office reunion—feeling his heartbeat quicken when he saw the name Orbo in the email chain of fellow higher-ups coordinating the event—he still hadn't given a single thought to what his attire might reveal.It had only struck him when he and Orbo stood before each other, at the first cross-office workshop in several long millennia. Everyone had been in mortal form—for ease of navigating the venue, and as a precaution against alarming the world's denizens who had been tasked with catering the event—and while Orbo had been wearing a similarly-damning gold hoop earring, and a golden stud in one side of his nose, his complete lack of fashion sense could have easily accounted for that.What could not be so easily dismissed were the silver beads woven into Orion's braids, when everything about his appearance was so staunchly, infamously purposeful, and he had always, always worn gold.Removing the beads after that stilted reunion would have constituted an admission of what they represented—and so Orion had kept them, though he had fretted over them, hoping Orbo would be too characteristically oblivious to notice, and simmering all the while that he had foolishly shown his hand with such thoughtless sentimentality. "Someone's got a big head," Orion mutters, batting Orbo's hand away to get him to drop the braid. "Not everything is about you, asshole.""Aw, I thought you liked my big head," Orbo teases, tweaking Orion's ear so he hisses and jerks away. "But if it's too big for your tight arse, I can always make it smaller...""Don't you fucking baby me, Orbo," Orion snaps over his shoulder, growing irate. "I don't need you to get me in the mood, or make your micro-penis even tinier on my account. But in case you forgot, I do still have work to do, so if you could get on with it and get lost, I'd be much obliged."Orbo sighs with dreamy disappointment. "Alright, alright... Up you get." Finally, Orion thinks with a huff, rising to stand and shrugging off Orbo's touch—and is taken by surprise when Orbo kicks his wheeled desk chair out of the way and roughly grabs him by the hips, shoving him into the edge of the desk and pressing the crotch of his tacky khakis into the seat of Orion's dark corduroy slacks."Stars," Orbo sighs with feeling into the back of Orion's neck—an oath he must have picked up from somewhere else, Orion reasons. There's little reason to swear by the stars when they both are stars. Orbo gropes Orion's sides, kneading his fat with a groan of unrepressed desire. "Missed holdin' you... Did you put on weight?"Orion braces his palms on the desk and tells himself this is Orbo's due, so he must endure it. But that doesn't mean he won't give back as good as he gets, if Orbo is going to mock his figure. "If I did put on weight, then it's muscle, not fat," he snaps. "I don't eat as much as you.""Shame," Orbo murmurs against his ear, leaning forward so Orion has to bend even more exaggeratedly over the surface of his desk. Orbo rolls his hips so there's no mistaking his interest, his erection gliding against the curve of Orion's ass, pressing a gentle furrow into the cleft between his cheeks. "Can't say I'd mind seeing that... Feeding you up, seeing you get round and soft..." He wraps his arms further around Orion's waist, so his palms can rest upon the gentle curve of his stomach, dragging and clawing with blunt nails into the softness there in bewildering, butterfly-inducing attention. "Yeah, now you mention it... I think you did used to have a bigger gut... Oh, you must be hungry, mate..."In point of fact, Orion is feeling a little peckish—but he'd implode before admitting as much to Orbo. "I know it must be hard for you to remember, since you're such a pig," he snarls, "but we don't actually need to eat.""Yeah," Orbo allows, "but it feels good, doesn't it? And when you're in human form as long as you tend to be, your needs are a little bit more..." He trails off, like he's distracted by something—then buries his nose in Orion's shoulder and brazenly sniffs him again. And again. Like he can't get enough of his scent. "God. I'd almost swear you'd been in human form this whole time..."Orion thinks back. Save for a few memorable tantrums, and the rare sojourn to a world without atmosphere, and the odd meeting which mandated cosmic form as a matter of course, Orion had mostly remained in human form. Discarding it at his convenience would have defeated the purpose of proving he could endure its limitations and maintain it."Mostly have," he says."I can smell it on you," Orbo groans, his voice thick with throaty desire. "Clean sweat, warm skin, body heat, a heartbeat, dandruff... Christ, mate. It drives me up the bloody wall..." He gnaws the shoulder of Orion's suit jacket in a comically harmless bite, pressing his hips forward with more enthusiastic need than every prior roll of his hips conveyed—and pressing Orion's own need uncomfortably into the hard edge of his desk, eliciting a hiss."Are you gonna fuck me or not?" Orion demands."In a minute," Orbo whines, like he's complaining of being asked to climb out of the cosmos's coziest bed. "Just..."Orbo's hands climb Orion's stomach in firm caress as they reacquaint themselves with his form. Orion studiously controls his breathing to conceal how badly he's needed this—and when he sees where Orbo's hands are headed, he straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest, in a reaction that could conceivably be passed off as arching his back in desire. His suit is exquisitely tailored, and conceals his body's most unforgivable shades of softness—but that visual illusion doesn't hold up beneath the far more honest experience of questing, searching, desirous touch. "Oh," Orbo breathes, equal parts revelatory and relieved. "These haven't gotten any smaller, though..."Despite Orion's efforts to conceal the softness of his chest, all he's really succeeded in doing is pushing it out—and effectively presenting it for Orbo's inspection. Those damnable hands burrow past the flawless silhouette of Orion's suit and find his prizes unerringly, singling them out and fondling them with tireless enthusiasm."Fuckin' love your tits, mate," Orbo praises, rocking his hips urgently like this latest discovery has driven him mad with lust."Don't call them that," Orion grits out, flushing with humiliation at the attention. Not that his traitorous cock seems to have gotten the memo—twitching with interest against the hard edge of the desk every time Orbo drives him into it. "And quit fuckin' with 'em. If you jizz just from this and I have to wait around for you to get it up again, I'm gonna fucking castrate you.""Good point," Orbo huffs. "... Well, didn't you want this over and done with...?""Orbo," Orion says through a grit-tooth grin, "If you go and rile me up just to come as soon as you're in me, I will also castrate you."Orbo laughs breathily. "If you wanted a memento of our time together that badly, mate, all you had to do was ask." But Orbo responds to the urgency Orion demands—roughly unbuckling first Orion's belt, and then his own, and between the two of them their waistbands are shucked down just far enough to let their cocks spring free."God," Orbo groans, hooking his chin over Orion's shoulder to admire his half-erect cock, reaching around to give it a few rough strokes, just the way he likes. Orion throws his head back against Orbo's shoulder with a grunt, thrusting shallowly into the tight enclosure of his fist. "I thought for sure you'd be pounding me with this vulgar thing tonight... I'm glad I won, though." He nuzzles against Orion's neck, making the man's red bead-spangled glasses chain tinkle faintly with the movement. He bites Orion's earlobe and whispers, full of heat, "You're so good for me when you're like this..."Orion shudders, and swallows the shameful sound Orbo's praise threatens to let loose. "I refuse to owe you anything," he reasons. "And I don't go back on my wagers.""I know, darlin'," Orbo assures him. "Always so stringent about the rules. So upright... Well. Save for when I'm bending you over somethin', I guess."Orion growls, but whatever insult he'd been cooking up evaporates when he hears the vulgar sound of Orbo spitting into his hand. Lukewarm saliva is smeared over the head of Orion's cock, and he rumbles in pleasure, working his hips so his cock nestles into Orbo's grasp. He likes it rough—rougher even than this—but he won't say no to a little extra slick to ease the way for pleasure.Orbo spits into his hand again and renews the coat of saliva so it can spill down Orion's cock. He jacks it at a sedate pace, and releases it before Orion can really find a rhythm. He leans close to Orion's ear and murmurs, "Take care of yourself for me, would you?"Orion takes his own cock in hand, slippery and tacky with the layer of Orbo's saliva coating it. Then Orion's pants are tugged further down, exposing the curve of his ass to the cool air of his office. He hears Orbo spit again.This time, Orbo applies saliva to the cleft of Orion's ass, the seam of which it trickles down obscenely, cooling the skin even further. Orbo spreads his ass apart and shoves the trail of saliva back toward his hole, smearing it around the tight, puckered entrance. Thick, pudgy fingers press questingly against the impermeable, quivering muscle."You weren't kidding about castrating me," Orbo mutters. "Christ alive... Don't you ever play with yourself back here?" He spits a fourth time, spreading so much saliva over Orion's hole that it drips down to his balls. Orbo presses and strokes, but still finds no give. "You're tight as a bloody virgin!" "I have better things to do than literally sit on my thumbs all day," Orion huffs. "Stop pussying around and just stick it in." Orbo makes a dubious sound, and Orion rolls his eyes, feeling a groan of frustration building up in his chest. He won't be coerced into begging Orbo to take his due. If he insists on wasting any more of their time, Orion will simply send the man back to his own office. He has better things to do than console Orbo's useless compunctions.Then Orbo says, "Yeah, alright," and presses his cockhead firmly against the wrinkled pucker of Orion's asshole.Orion gasps, ragged and surprised, as Orbo's head breaches his tight sphincter with a sharp protest of nerve endings, and then—and then keeps going, pressing in with uncompromising force and filling Orion up, filling him to the brim, tight and painful and so breathtakingly nostalgic it almost makes him weep with relief, past the exquisite, stinging, too-quickly-imparted pressure of deep penetration that makes him feel on the verge of tears for very different reasons.Orbo wraps his arms around Orion, splaying his hands with covetous relish over his tense and quivering abdomen. He nestles in closer with the leverage provided by that embrace—and finds another scant inch of depth to plumb inside his irascible counterpart, which he claims with an enterprising roll of his hips.Orion hiccups on a frozen breath. It's exquisite, nostalgic agony. And it's almost too much—they've never done this outside the bloodthirsty fugue of combat training before, and Orion is only realizing now that the cruelty he'd demanded of Orbo in those moments may have only been tolerable thanks to the adrenaline high. Because now he feels every painstaking inch with intolerable clarity, and Orbo's just waiting inside him—and so there is no breakneck pace to answer with hungry thrusts of his own, no breathless madness of  battle-fueled, violent lust to drive him toward unselfconscious completion. Orion's hand squeezes his cock to try and create a counterpoint of pain for him to focus on, and his nails dig into the surface of his desk."You alright, mate?" Orbo asks against his ear, insufferably doting. Orion takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and releases it in much the same fashion, having found precious little composure through the exercise. "Peachy," he says in a clipped tone.Orbo hums, mouthing tenderly at Orion's earlobe. "Need anything?"Orion huffs. "A fucking drink, maybe," he says hoarsely.Orbo laughs against his throat. "Nah, I don't want you going anywhere," he says. "You've gotta stay right here with me... Alright, darlin'?"Orion turns his head away from Orbo's saccharine, bullshit-spouting mouth. Orbo rewards the exposure of more skin at his throat with a wet and filthy kiss."Jack yourself off," Orbo instructs, and Orion grits his teeth against the order—but knowing full well it will improve his discomfort, he roughly complies. Orbo hooks his chin over Orion's shoulder again to watch him work. "That's it," he says encouragingly, and Orion's skin crawls with goosebumps beneath his suit at the reawakening of his thirst for Orbo's praise. "Just like that... God, you're gorgeous. You have got to let me have a taste of you after this, mate..."That soothes Orion somewhat—the thought of shoving his cock down Orbo's throat, telling him that if he likes eating so much, why doesn't he try choking on this? Making the man gag, making spit stream down his chin and tears prick at his eyes as he looks up at Orion with misguided trust and pathetic, cumbrained lust.His hips begin to thrust into his fist mostly of their own accord, and Orbo mostly follows the movement, his thrusts measured not in inches lost and gained, but more in whether his cock pulls outward in vain against the greedy vise of Orion's sphincter, or pushes further inside to make Orion's spine throb at the godsend of relentless pressure.Orion hears a plastic-sounding 'click' behind him, and the obscene squelch of a bottle squirting."Are you serious?" Orion breathlessly demands. "I don't need that.""Speak for yourself," Orbo huffs. "Pulling out of you's gonna be like bloody Excalibur at this rate—and pardon my saying so, but I don't much fancy the idea of fucking a stone."Orion leans on the desk and jacks himself with perfunctory rhythm. "Whatever."Orbo spreads the cool lubricant over the place where his cock disappears inside Orion's ass—his hand doesn't quite reach all the way around it, and Orion is reminded of how great an intrusion he's weathering. The addition of lube makes it easier for Orbo to thrust—but just when Orion is getting used to it, Orbo pulls out almost completely."Oh, come on!" Orion snarls. "Would you quit fucking around and—"Orbo thrusts inside again, slippery and quick with the benefit of the lube, and Orion cuts himself off with a snarling groan at the return of the intrusion he feels no less unprepared for the second time around. Orbo bottoms out inside Orion in the span between one breath and the next, and doesn't fuck about this time—retreating a scant inch and thrusting deep again, and again, the force of each thrust making Orion's spine twinge and his lungs feel taut and tight, like Orbo is fucking those instead.Orbo braces a hand on Orion's shoulder to guide him back into each thrust, but mostly unmakes Orion with the strength of his pistoning hips alone. Forcing Orion to meet him halfway just serves to make their joining more intense, more forceful.Orion is beyond complaint by then, focused as he is on breathing through the pleasure-pain sensation. His bruises sing, and his arm aches with weariness, and Orbo fucks him right like he hasn't been in eons with dutiful, diligent, hard and deep thrusts that make his nerve endings spasm with pleasurable confusion."God, mate, you feel so fucking hot inside," Orbo pants as he thrusts. "Feel like you could burn me right up... Talk about atmospheric reentry!" Orbo giggles madly at his own joke, and Orion sends a withering look over his shoulder. He tightens his pelvic floor in rebuke for Orbo's stupidity."Yeowch!" Orbo gasps, losing his strength enough to stumble, making a thrilling mess of his next thrust, unexpected enough that it makes Orion's cock twinge. Orbo wraps his arms around Orion and clings to him with exquisite desperation, like he's begging for forgiveness. "Alright, alright! Message received! Good grief..." He groans, burying his face between Orion's shoulder blades and thrusting with obedient diligence, and even achieving a novel new angle with his new position.Orbo pants and moans freely into the space between Orion's shoulder blades, but Orion does not permit himself so much freedom. Everything he does is an exercise in control, and it is bad enough that he must let Orbo take him—he will not give Orbo the satisfaction of letting him know he enjoys it.And with the benefit of the lube he'd so staunchly refused, Orion does begin to find a measure of pleasure in the exercise. Even Orbo's groping hands can be tolerated, if he chooses to interpret their clawing desperation as a mere expression of Orbo's own pathetic loss of control, rather than an inexplicable desire for the parts of Orion he's less than proud of. So long as—Orbo grabs his chest with both hands, rough and needy, and Orion snarls with ravenous discomfort.
"Orbo—"
"Oh, come off it," Orbo huffs, kneading them apart in a way that makes their persistent ache bloom across his chest like poisonous flowers. "I know you like this...""I don't," Orion hisses, seizing Orbo's elbows to try and impart the urgency of his malcontent. But all his protests of not liking a single thing Orbo does amounts to a certain heedlessness on the other man's part, and he continues to roughly fondle Orion's tender breasts, giving rise to a buzz of irritation in the base of his skull like a swarm of locusts. "Not today." "Aw, c'mon..." Orbo cajoles—and the tenuous thread of Orion's patience snaps. "Orbo!" Orion grits his teeth against the indignity of the only thing the man will listen to. "You're hurting me."Orbo eases off, and Orion breathes a sigh of relief—but Orbo also slows his thrusts, which leaves Orion so frustrated that his irritation doesn't quite evaporate. It simmers instead—just beneath the surface of his heated flesh."Oh," Orbo says, suddenly contrite with sympathy. "I'm sorry, luv... Did you bruise 'em, earlier? During our bout?"Orion is mortified with relief at Orbo's assumption. "... Guess so.""Poor thing," Orbo croons, which is irritating—but Orion finds further relief as Orbo gentles his fondling, only cradling Orion's heavy breasts in his ready palms, and stroking them with his fingertips alone—not unlike the massage Orbo had given his shoulders and neck earlier. "Let me make it better."Overthrown by the rhythm of Orbo's thrusts, and unwilling to illuminate the true nature of the issue to his counterpart, Orion can only hold on as Orbo deftly undoes the topmost button of his blazer, and pulls the resulting opening wide to gently fondle Orion's breasts through the fabric of his pressed white shirt."Better?" Orbo considerately inquires.Orion shivers to have his breasts so tenderly attended—and in the face of actual, unwanted discomfort, he is forced to abandon all pretense of not enjoying any part of this—though he stops short of an unadulterated 'yes' and simply says, "It's fine." Orbo hums attentively, nestling his nose against Orion's throat again to whisper, "Where does it hurt, luv?""Just... keep doing that," Orion says. "I'll tell you if it hurts."Unfortunately, Orbo gives him no further cause to demand that he stop, because he is, as in all things, attentive, considerate, and gentle—whenever he is permitted to be. Ordinarily Orion finds the man's gentleness intolerable, and so has long since demanded he dispense with it entirely during these trysts—even if it often happens that Orbo simply cannot seem to help himself... But now, at least, Orion is grateful for it.And then he is less than grateful for it, when Orbo reaches beneath his wrinkled tie to unbutton his shirt."Orbo," Orion grumbles—but his veins are awash with thrill and pleasure, the adrenal bloom of bruises invigorating him alongside the slow climb of arousal, of Orbo's diligent fucking. Though Orion has ceased to stroke his own cock in favor of maintaining positive control over Orbo's crafty, conniving arms, it bobs with anticipatory desire, and drools milky fluid in betrayal of his striving for control.As such, his attempt to threaten Orbo with reprisal comes out sounding more like a needy moan, begging for more."Easy does it, luv," Orbo coos, as he plucks open the buttons from Orion's throat to his waist—or as close to it as he can reach, with his blazer in the way. "Let me take care of you."Orion's soft, dark tits spill out of his shirt and into Orbo's waiting hands, his silky tie whispering between them like a kiss. Orion flushes, mortified by the vulgar sight—but the physical experience is entirely relieving, to have them free of the strain and compression of tight confinement. And even though it's humiliating to let the other man touch him like this, that touch feels blessedly cool against the hot flesh that's been tucked and forced flat against his chest all day, accumulating heat and building irritation through the hormonal vagaries of stress from overwork. Orbo massages their undersides, pushing them together and apart in wide, gentle, soothing circles. Orion relaxes helplessly into Orbo's hold, surrendering to his doting touch and his diligent fucking as a low, weary moan crawls free of his throat."That's it," Orbo murmurs, smearing a damp kiss against Orion's sweat-soaked throat. "You can be so sweet for me, can't you, darling?"Orion leans his head back to rest on Orbo's shoulder, allowing the pleasure to overtake the pain in a steady ebb dictated by the pace at which Orbo fucks him—and by the gentle massage of soft palms, stirring loose the tight irritation of his breasts.When Orbo at last releases them, lets them hang heavy and loose, Orion sighs, as relieved as he is mournful that the man will be leaving them alone for now. The weight of them unsupported begins to strain against the inner sinew—but for now, it's tolerable. Then Orbo spits, spattering the side of Orion's neck and making his nose curl with offense. "The hell're you—?"With wetted fingers, Orbo tweaks his nipples, and Orion gasps and thrashes in his arms, tightening his trembling grip on Orbo's elbows. "Orbo—!" "Oh-ho- ho," Orbo chuckles mischievously. "You've still got these...?" He tugs and tweaks the silver barbell studs that run through Orion's flushed nipples, and Orion's knees tremble—forcing him to drop one of the hands attempting to stay Orbo's attentions and brace it on the desk for balance instead. "Orbo," Orion groans, reaching for threat and finding only need."But it's not about me, hm?" Orbo says. "Didn't you get these piercings for me in the first place, mate?"The barbells provide Orbo far too much leverage to twist and torment Orion's nipples, and he cries out with needful agony as he arches his back at the stimulation—which only serves to push his tits even more generously into Orbo's merciless hold, spilling over his fingers with the full weight and heft of them."All for me," Orbo whispers, husky as he breathes hard against Orion's throat. His thrusts grow harder, deeper, driving needy sounds shamefully from the darkest pits of Orion's trembling black heart. "Oh, that's fuckin' lovely, mate..."Orbo flicks a nail quickly against the pebbled flesh of Orion's pert nipple, and his areola wrinkle commensurately into tight grooves of desire. Orbo squeezes the fat of his tits again—but only half as rough as he was when he first laid hands on them earlier. This time, Orion is ready for it— needy for it, ashamed as he is to say, and so he grits his teeth and goads, "Come the fuck on, mate! Harder than that!""What—" Orbo begins to ask, no doubt seeking clarification on what, exactly, he ought to be doing harder—but Orion answers without words, lifting his hand and pressing Orbo's harder into his tit."Now!" Orion snarls, and his assertive demand is rewarded. Orbo squeezes both his tits hard enough to make him choke, and Orion's jaw falls slack as he pants with wanton need, pushing back into Orbo's thrusts, trembling beneath the cruel attention Orbo lavishes so generously upon his breasts.Orion comes without a single hand on his cock—just Orbo's fat hog flattening his prostate, and Orbo's soft hands savaging his tits with lust-fueled stupid abandon. Orbo's unselfconscious pleasure has him stuttering with rhythmic moans, his voice going higher and higher, like he's about to sneeze—and then he finishes inside Orion with a final, trembling thrust, shaking like a leaf as he clings to Orion's tits like a lifeline.Orion's vision narrows, white and black aura twinkling across his eyes as he takes Orbo deep and feels him finish inside. That hot gush feels as bright and forceful as a solar flare, and Orion groans as he basks in the sheer heat of it. All of him feels lit up from within, and in that moment he realizes that all this time he had been waiting for something, and that it was this. Orion lets his eyes drift shut to bask in that suspended moment, surrendering to the soothing, tidal force of afterglow.At first, Orion thinks the throes of orgasm have made him drool on his tits, because they feel damp. He glances down at his disheveled state, and is mortified to find milky white—on the desk, yes, in an unmistakable path that can be traced back to his cock that reaches almost the desk's opposite edge, which at least is a sign of virility he can take pride in—but also smeared over his fat fucking tits, and Orbo's fat, trembling fingers.So he's fucking lactating, which he might have expected from the soreness and aching in his breasts—but which is also the last fucking thing he needs right about now.He is fortunate in Orbo's long refractory period, which is longer even than his: his counterpart's weight rests heavily on Orion's hips and back in an enervated doze, near-dead on his feet as he breathes deep and murmurs in a kind of sleep. Though Orion is weary too, he retrieves his handkerchief as discreetly as he can from his chest pocket, and dabs the shameful mess away from his chest and both their hands. He'll never live it down if Orbo catches wind of this. He's had a hard enough time keeping it under wraps with Goldie, ever since that stupid bug dragged Orion into his home in a fugue state during his rut, and his incomprehensible insect instincts somehow clocked that breasts were for feeding offspring, despite those being a characteristic of mammalian beings, and started feeling particularly amorous about Orion's—enough to stimulate his goddamn pituitary glands to put Orion in this fucked-off situation, every time he ran up against the limits of work burnout and his hormones ran rampant with stress. Some of the sparkling fluid has also spattered on the surface of his desk, he realizes—and it's not quite the same white as semen, because why the fuck would the cosmos be kind to him, when it's clearly so determined to screw him over specifically, by granting him even this plausible deniability? Because the milk that comes out of his tits is not just white, but pearlescent, with flecks of sparkling gold—like his blood, go figure, no doubt owing to his nuclear soul and starry disposition. It's also particularly nutritious—if the healthy gleam of Goldie's shell post-rut is anything to go by, when the greedy thing has supped Orion dry in the thick of his delirious breeding haze. Orion counts himself lucky that Goldie doesn't actually remember those encounters, and satisfies himself with never knowing the precise nutritive benefits of his fucking tit milk.He doesn't think he has time to clean the entire surface of the desk before Orbo returns to his senses, though, is the thing—and singling out the flecks of pearlescent white milk from milky white cum is beyond him, at the moment—not unless he wants to remove his glasses and put his nose right up to the desk, which he fucking doesn't— and so he leaves it, and figures Orbo probably won't notice, and shoves his handkerchief back into his breast pocket.When Orbo begins to rouse, Orion is satisfied that he's cleaned up the worst of the damning evidence. Orbo nuzzles his neck, smelling his musk and sighing with dreamy satisfaction."Hey, hot stuff," Orbo murmurs with sleepy affection. "That was fucking incredible... Gods... I love the way you smell when you've worked up a sweat...""Yeah," Orion huffs, feeling hot beads of sweat slither uncomfortably beneath his clothes. "And now I need another shower. So, thanks for that."Orbo hums, smearing his nose into the soft spot heavy with scent beneath Orion's ear. "We could shower together," he idly suggests.Orion huffs. "Haven't you wasted enough time here?" he asks, and finds himself wondering how Orbo's own office must be faring in the absence of their leader. Though as soon as he thinks that, he reasons that it's probably the same as always—a careless supervisor like Orbo is not liable to enforce any more order with his presence, and so the place is probably as lawless as ever, whether he's there or not.Orion, however, does not have the same luxury—even if he's probably going to have to figure out how to drain his chest in private after this, and probably isn't going to get much work done for the rest of the day anyway.But Orbo doesn't need to know that."Nah," Orbo chuckles, "not near enough." But even as he says this, he lets his arms fall to Orion's hips and eases back, pulling his waning erection free. The movement, slow and attentive as it is, still elicits a sharp hiss from Orion at the drag of friction against his inner walls, all of him sensitized in the aftermath of powerful orgasm. Then Orbo pulls Orion after him, giving him no opportunity to ensure they aren't sullying his suit— and he uses his leverage to turn Orion around so he's sitting back against the desk, and Orbo is leaning over him, smearing their flaccid cocks together, heedless of the mess.Orbo holds Orion's gaze over the purple glasses that have slid down his sweat-damp nose, a gleam of relentless affection in his violet eyes."Hey," Orbo says sweetly, in comically belated greeting. "Missed you, mate."Orion exhales sharply, too weary to scoff, and averts his eyes—though his sharp shades shield him well enough that he doesn't have to. "Sure," he mutters.Orion's brow furrows over a sad smile. "Aw, don't be like that..." He leans in for a kiss, and Orion turns his head away—but Orbo recovers with game enthusiasm, sucking on his ear instead. "Will it make you feel better if I suck you off, darlin'?"Orion's cock throbs painfully with inadvisable enthusiasm. "No," he lies. "I'll feel better when you leave, so I can clean up your fucking mess."Orbo leans back to look Orion over, rubbing his short-shorn, pale goatee in thought. "Yeah, I guess you're not up for it now," Orbo says, like he's only half-listening. "I do still want a taste of you, though..."And then, too quick and mischievous for Orion to do anything to stop him, Orbo swoops down to suck Orion's nipple into his mouth, and Orion throws his head back with a ragged gasp. While his cock has reached the limits of pleasure it's capable of giving him before his refractory period is up, his nipples are far from reaching their limits—even with the tender abuse Orbo had given them while he was busy fucking him—and so he shudders with feeling, going boneless and weak as Orbo's teeth click on the stud, and his tongue quickly flicks the brown bud, and his hand reaches up to stroke and knead the swollen, sensitive, fatty tissue. Orion brokenly moans in disgraceful abandon, his hands clenching against the edge of the desk to withstand the tender, sucking, filthy attention Orbo bestows.Then Orbo chokes, and he pulls back in alarm, touching his tongue with a bewildered look. Orion is still catching his breath from the sudden and unexpected attention, and thus too breathless to offer any rebuke, or timely explanation, or excuse, as Orbo looks him over and lines the pieces up, and—"Holy shit," Orbo laughs, looking half-crazed with his discovery. "You are not fucking lactating."Orion flushes, his lurid red inner flame burning away his pleasure to replace it with hot humiliation. "Yeah—I'm not. So if you'd kindly fuck off," he snarls, shoving his palm in Orbo's face and knocking his glasses askew."Hey, hey! I'm not makin' fun of you!" Orbo laughs, batting Orion's hand away."Don't fuck with me, Orbo," Orion snaps. "It's bad enough I have to fuckin' deal with this shit right now. I don't need your smart mouth making it worse, you fat piece of shit." Weary as Orion is—from work burnout, from losing their bout, from his firmament-shattering orgasm—Orbo has no issue grabbing his wrist and holding it captive, and pinning it to the desk to keep it well out of the way."No, you don't," Orbo softly agrees. "How 'bout I use my smart mouth to make it better, hm...?"And he leans in again, cupping Orion's tit in his palm and holding his gaze as he seals his mouth over the gleaming silver barbell piercings, and sucks. Orion chokes at the exquisite relief of having his tender, heavy tit drained. Orbo's lips are petal-soft against his dry and aching areola, his tongue wet and warm as he flicks and teases the pert nipple. He sucks softly, moans softly as Orion's milk pulls free of his breast, and Orbo's eyes flutter like he's tasting something delectable. Orion's breaths come hard and fast as he watches Orbo drink from his breast, so surreal it makes his head spin. It looks  patently ridiculous, but it feels fucking incredible, and as a consummate hedonist who is also a consummate professional, Orion can't decide what to even do with that. He lifts a trembling hand, has half a mind to shove Orbo off him even still—And then Orbo slides off his tit, sucking so hard it makes Orion see stars before his nipple pops free of those lips with an obscene, prolonged slurping sound. And before he can decide if he's going to shove Orbo away after all, the man is licking golden milk from his lips with a shudder of pleasure, and descending upon his other tit with fresh, eager attention.And Orbo's mouth is so warm, and wet, and he sucks so goddamn hard that a high, reedy sound crawls free of Orion's throat, and a gush of milk spews onto Orbo's eager tongue and spills over his lips.Orbo's mouth falls open, and he gulps his mouthful with a wet and vulgar sound from his working throat—then he ducks his head down with urgent thirst, hastening to catch the pearlescent rivulets spilling over the soft, doughy, dark flesh of Orion's quivering tit."Fuck," Orion gasps, clutching the back of Orbo's head in the throes of urgent need, tangling and twisting his fingers tight in Orbo's hair as he sucks and nibbles the puckered wrinkles of his wide areola. His rapid, trembling breaths make his tits quiver uncontrollably, which makes him flush with commensurate shame—but Orbo only seems thrilled by it, sucking and licking with even more wanton abandon, like Orion's discomposure excites him, like Orion's milk is ambrosial nectar from the gods. Orion whines as Orbo torments him with a sharp nip, and despite his shame he arches his back, pushing his chest forward to offer Orbo even more flesh to suck. "Fuck, fuck, fffuck! Mate...!"Orbo moans and smacks his lips as he pulls off his tit again with clear reluctance. "'Rion, Christ.... D'you have any idea how fuckin' sweet you taste?" he asks in hushed wonder. Orion can only stare down at him, heaving and gasping as he trembles in anticipation of whatever tender agony Orbo will inflict upon him next.Orbo grins, and goes back in for a quick, harsh suck from each pert and puffy nipple—eliciting a breathless, punched-out sound from Orion with each peck of plucking suction—before he straightens up, and leans in, and grips Orion's chin to plant a filthy, seeping, milky kiss right on his quivering lips.Orion is too far gone into realms of pleasure to rebuff the kiss, and too taken aback by half to do anything but let Orbo push his tongue between his lips with a gift of milk upon it. What follows is a gush of sweet, thick fluid that makes his taste buds tingle, and when he swallows it on reflex to ensure he doesn't choke, it washes down his throat as soothing as tea, and as stirring as strong alcohol.Orion groans, surprised at the intensity and nuance of that flavor—and without entirely realizing what he's doing, he sucks Orbo's tongue into his mouth in search of more, digging his nails into Orbo's scalp and tilting his head back to force his mouth open in a pained gasp. Orion delves his tongue hungrily into Orbo's mouth, desperately searching for another taste of that sweet nectar.Orion's moment of heated lust subsides when the last trace of sweetness is plundered from Orbo's whimpering mouth. Sensation returns, breaking through the tunnel vision induced by his momentarily single-minded thirst. Orbo is tugging and tweaking his nipples again, and Orion's jaw falls slack as he sinks into that gently prodding, ticklish, pricking pleasure, a litany of soft, breathless sounds tumbling sweetly from his kiss-wet lips.Orion looks down at the two soft mounds of pliable flesh hanging pendulously from his chest, cradled with care and diligence in Orbo's grasp, and decides that, perhaps, they aren't such irredeemably loathsome things—if they can make him feel even half this good, in even Orbo's clumsy hands.As Orbo persistently stimulates his tits, kneading their fat and flicking the barbells, milk issues forth and dribbles over in wasteful abundance, leaving a glittering trail down his dark skin and soiling his shirt and suit jacket."You're making a mess," Orion huffs, his voice a barely-there whisper, a husky and token protest."I'll help you clean it up," Orbo promises, his gaze soft and sparkling, mesmerized by the sight of Orion softened by throes of pleasure, lips swollen with their kiss, permitting Orbo to milk his swollen tits. "... Tsch." Orion yanks Orbo's hair, taking a moment to relish the betrayed little look of beseeching pain in the man's puppy dog eyes, before dragging Orbo in close enough to his tit to reach it with his tongue, if he were to stick it out. "Quit fucking wasting it, then," he suggests, "and we won't have to clean it up, will we?"Orbo's eyes light up, and his grin turns crooked with delight. "Whatever you say, boss," he says, purposefully making Orion shiver at the title—and he opens his mouth wide, tongue tilted like a ramp to receive Orion's offering.Orion doesn't make him wait long. He leverages Orbo's skull by pulling his hair, lifts his tit, and guides it into Orbo's waiting mouth. Orbo's eyes light up with interest at this new arrangement—but Orion doesn't give him any more opportunities to run his smart mouth."These bitches have been bothering me all fucking week," he complains. "You wanna help so bad? Fine." Experimentally, but sure enough of what he's doing—because he's seen Goldie do it, at least, and that was when he was out of his mind with rut, so how hard could it be?—Orion squeezes his tit and pushes the milk out toward the nipple, and says, "Take a fuckin' sip, then."Orbo warbles enthusiastically around Orion's nipple, and he sucks as he's bidden, drinking long and deep and coming to rest his hands with an affectionate squeeze atop Orion's thighs—since Orion is finally taking charge of his breasts, and Orbo's manual intervention is no longer needed to guide them into his mouth.Orion savors the sensation of Orbo supping needfully at his tit: pleasurable, depressurizing—something heavy he's been carrying, that he's relieved to hand off to someone else who wants it. He strokes his tit toward Orbo's mouth again, and marvels at the way he can feel the fluid push from his nipple in an even more urgent gush. Orbo moans in gratitude, and sucks harder in eagerness—and Orion's toes curl with pleasure at that relentless attention.Orbo would probably say he was relieved to finally be getting this weight off his chest.Orion snorts, and at Orbo's inquisitive hum, he decides—fuck it."I was just thinking," Orion says, loosening his tight grip in Orbo's hair to softly scratch his scalp, "that I oughta thank you."Orbo blinks curiously, and Orion throws him a sharp grin."For helping me get this weight off my chest," he says.Orbo snorts—then chokes painfully on hysterical laughter as milk comes out of his nose, and he lifts a hand to cover his spewing, coughing face. "Augh, fuck! Orion...!" He laughs and groans, looking like he doesn't know what to do with the mess on his face, and torn between dealing with that and staring up at Orion in amazement for telling a joke straight out of Orbo's repertoire.Orion hums mysteriously, reaching into his breast pocket for his soiled golden pocket square. "Did the baby make a mess?" he asks in soft, rhetorical mockery. He shakes the handkerchief loose from the faint adhesion of dried milk with a single, sharp snap. Orbo's smile falters behind his hand, his gaze darting between the handkerchief and his counterpart. He swallows audibly. Orion draws him in by the hair and crawls the silk handkerchief slowly across his jaw, scrubbing milk out of his lavender goatee. He folds the fabric over and smears it across Orbo's mouth, slow and firm, then swipes it through the man's snotty milk mustache. He folds the fabric again, then dabs the corners against a few spots of lingering dampness.Orbo holds his gaze over his glasses, his breathing shallow and his pupils blown wide.Orion tucks his thoroughly soiled handkerchief back in his pocket and pats Orbo's cheek, enjoying the moment of control. "There. Better now, right?" he asks. As Orbo nods faintly, Orion's grin widens, and he decides to milk Orbo's gratitude a little more. "And what do you say...?" Orbo clears his throat with some difficulty, and says, "... Thank you, mummy?"Orion's veins go cold with rage. He seizes Orbo's throat and furiously demands, "What the FUCK did you just call me, you piece of shit?""I'm sorry!" Orbo wheezes. "I thought you were doin' a bit!""A fucking what?" Orion growls."A kind of, well—y'know," Orbo stammers. "A bit of... role-play?"Orion stares at the choking white dwarf in furious, mystified incomprehension."Um, y'know... When you called me baby...?" Orbo nervously reminds him.Orion could throttle this fucking idiot. "That doesn't make me your fucking mommy, Orbo, what the FUCK." "I was caught up in the moment!""If anything, I'd be daddy," Orion argues—but rather than the protests and excuses he expects, Orbo goes suddenly still in his grasp. Orion narrows his eyes at the other man, who holds his gaze over his knocked-askew glasses.Orbo breathes hard, his pulse fluttering against Orion's palm, as he drags his teeth slowly over his bottom lip in a show of endurance against desire. "... Yeah? I mean, I could go for that..."Orion groans in disgust, releasing Orbo's throat with a shove. Orbo coughs, and massages his throat, but is soon distracted from his discomfort with a bolt of inspiration. "Oh! You should fuck me on your desk," Orbo wisely suggests, "while I—" He licks his lip and darts a furtive look down at Orion's chest, like he's fielding concerns his counterpart will kill him just for looking. His fears aren't unfounded. Orion is strongly considering it. "While I suck on your tits."Orion seizes Orbo's shirt in a fist, and he spins them around so their positions are flipped."That's the first good idea you've had all day," Orion tells him.Orbo relaxes a little, his smile tentative. "Hey, that's not the first good idea I've had today... Give me a little credit, mate."Orion hums. "No," he says simply, and presses his palm into Orbo's own soft chest until he inches back obediently and climbs atop the desk. It's a sturdy thing, capable of withstanding even Orion's frequent abuse; it doesn't even creak.When Orbo's back hits the surface of the desk, his shoulders jolt. "Orion," he laughs incredulously, "did you just smear the back of my shirt in your spunk?"Orion grins unrepentantly, planting his palms firmly on the desk on either side of Orbo's hips to loom over the man. The desk does creak, then. "Maybe."Orbo's eyes flutter, and he groans and grabs Orion's tie, pulling him down—which Orion permits—to claim a heated kiss. "You're fucking filthy," Orbo breathes against his lips, his voice thick with desire.Orion bites Orbo's lip, and delights in Orbo's pained little whimper that results. "Only when you're around, it seems.""I'll take that as a compliment," Orbo breathlessly assures him. "Now, come on—I've been thinkin' 'bout that tool of yours since breakfast.""Whore," Orion shoots back, but he steps back to shuck off and step out of his pants, feeling strangely, asymmetrically exposed in only his shirts, shoes, socks and underwear. While he wrests out of his jacket to hang it over his chair, Orbo lifts his hips and kicks his khakis and shoes to the floor, revealing mismatched socks: one patterned in bright stars, and the other patterned with little dachsunds in knit sweaters. Orion scoffs, kicking Orbo's discarded clothes aside. Then says, "You're never in mortal form, but you had breakfast today?"Orbo winks. "Had to be in tip-top shape if I was gonna call you out," he reasons. For all that Orion often denigrates Orbo as the more impulsive of the two of them, he can sometimes demonstrate quite a bit of forethought. "Wanna hear about it?""No," Orion says, because if Orbo starts it's just going to make him hungry, and he's already had his appetite piqued with all this exercise, and then exacerbated by tasting himself on Orbo's tongue. "Fair enough," says Orbo, and he lifts his hand in Orion's periphery. When Orion looks, he sees it's a mostly-empty, travel-sized bottle of lube.Orion snorts unkindly. "Pussy."Orbo pouts. "Oh, c'mon. It's a waste of time pretending we don't need it, isn't it?" Orion takes the bottle between his thumb and forefinger with a judgmental look. It is comically small in his enormous hands. "There's barely anything left in here. Unprepared, much?" Orbo huffs. "It was full when I got here, but I needed it for your tight arse, didn't I?" he needlessly reminds him. "Not exactly discreet if I bring it in larger quantities... And I'd rather not have the auditing department asking just what was so urgent I had to summon it across dimensions on such short notice..."Orion snorts, imagining how that might look on the bounty board. And—the perceived integrity of their respective universes is not an insignificant deciding factor, in continuing to permit these daytime visits. So the fewer interdimensional incursions they're fielding at this early stage of regaining contact, the more kindly the higher-ups will look upon continuing to permit these occasional— unsupervised —social calls."Point taken," Orion begrudgingly concedes. Maybe he ought to keep more lube around the office..."Oh, hold up mate," Orbo says, "I'm about to have my second good idea today."Orion hangs his jacket over his chair and looks down at what remains of his disheveled shirt. He decides to try and preserve his tie from the worst of their mess and loosens it carefully. "Oh yeah? What's that?"Orbo grins. "We could use... y'know."Orion lifts a brow and slips his tie off from his shoulder. "If you're about to say," he says, "what I think you're about to say, I'm gonna shove this fucking tie in your mouth."Orbo coughs, wearing a look that says he wouldn't exactly be opposed to the idea. "Then uh, how 'bout you shove something else in here instead?"Orion's eye gleams, taking Orbo's meaning immediately. "Gladly." He drops his tie in his chair, and as he unbuttons his shirt Orbo sits up and wrestles out of his. At Orion's quizically raised brow, Orbo smears his shirts on the table like a rag and shoves them on the floor with a rakish grin.Orion sneers. "You're disgusting," he says."Only for you, dove," Orbo purrs. He looks down at Orion's cock with naked appreciation, licking his lips unsubtly. "Maybe if I shove my cock down your throat you'll stop spouting such stupid bullshit," Orion muses, drawing closer and lifting one knee to the desk to crawl atop Orbo."Only one way to find out," Orbo breathlessly goads. Orion climbs astride him, and as his legs come into view, Orbo's eyes light up. "Oh! Those sock garters are adorable!" Orion shoves Orbo down by the shoulder and snarls, "Cram it," propping one knee up to gain the leverage to cram his cock forcefully into the other man's mouth."Mmf—!" Orbo moans, muffled by Orion's damp, uncompromising girth that only grows fuller as he thrusts shallowly into the trembling cage of Orbo's teeth, revels in the humid heat of his twitching tongue. Orbo tries to lick, to suck—but Orion has a grander prize in mind than the feeble affections of Orbo's tongue. Orion grabs him by the hair and wrenches his head back, thrusting deeper—until his cockhead bumps against the back of Orbo's throat.The soft tissue convulses with distress, trembling with gag reflex. Orion's grin is cruel and satisfied as he leers down at Orbo's expression of endurance. "Looks like somebody's out of practice, my dove." Orbo's throat vibrates with a reedy whimper. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the relentless, inexorable pressure of Orion's cock bearing down on the entrance to his throat—yet his gaze only softens with meek devotion.Orion snorts at the pathetic display. "Swallow it," he commands.Orbo's throat strains with continual effort, but he can't seem to manage it. Orion thrusts again, and again—but Orbo's gag reflex jolts against the intrusion every time. Orbo even cranes his head up, in a noble attempt to defeat his body's natural rejection of the intrusion. Orion tuts. "Can't do it, huh?"Orbo whines around the cock in his mouth, panting heavily through his nose with the exertion.Orion reaches for Orbo's jaw with a firm caress. "That's alright," he croons. "I'll take care of it."Orion curves his hand beneath Orbo's chin to rest his thumb and forefinger on the hinges of his jaw—then tightens his grip with a cruel grin, digging his fingers like a brutal massage into the hinges of Orbo's jaw until the blunt interference of teeth recedes, and with a whine like a creaking door, Orbo's mouth opens wide. It wouldn't open his throat any further—but it may serve as a handy distraction, a more pressing pain for the nervous system to focus on, that it might forget to gag at all amid the painful onslaught.Orion grips his cock—fully flushed and unyieldingly firm from watching the man beneath him wince and whimper—and pushes it past the meager resistance of Orbo's throat. The sharp, painful chorus of choking and gagging is music to Orion's ears. He thrusts shallowly at first, just to work up the moisture he needs to delve even further inside. Orbo's throat squeezes tight as a ring, gliding with decadent softness over the head of Orion's cock. Then he pulls back, retreating into the warm cavity of Orbo's trembling mouth, heedless of Orbo's coughs and gasps as he presses his cock against the firm ridges of Orbo's palate. Orion groans with hedonistic savor as he grinds his cockhead against the wet and rigid roof of Orbo's mouth.It is as Orbo is catching his breath from coughing that Orion can't hold back the heated sentiment, "God, I missed your whore mouth... Only you can take my cock so well."Unable to close his mouth beneath the oppression of Orion's fingers  prying open his jaw, Orbo can't suck to show his pleasure at the praise—but he can whimper sweet as sin, and he can press his tongue up against Orion's frenulum, the stunned organ finally trembling into activity after being crushed beneath a much larger one for so many long, breathless moments. Though Orion could be staking his claim with brutal friction across the full swath of Orbo's tender, greedy throat, he sates himself by basking in the attention Orbo lavishes instead. He shudders and sighs, nudging Orbo's palate insistently, and when he eases his grip on Orbo's jaw to reward him, he is similarly rewarded with the closure of Orbo's mouth around his cock, the restoration ofthat  secret heat, and the all-encompassing vibration of Orbo's darling moans.Orbo touches Orion's leg, but not, as Orion expects, to tap out—instead, he caresses Orion's calves and thighs, stroking his flanks upward to fill his palms with the curves of Orion's ass cheeks. When Orbo kneads the fat of them, Orion growls in warning. He hasn't given Orbo permission, and they've moved past the point of Orbo taking his dues for their bout, for which Orion would otherwise be obliged to tolerate any emasculating touch. He flushes to feel Orbo's semen trickle out of his asshole, and is about to do something violent to correct the behavior—but then Orbo surprises him by pushing him deeper into his mouth. "Wow," Orion laughs huskily. "You really are gagging for it."Orbo whines and sucks tight on Orion's cock, like he's being deprived, nudging Orion insistently closer with trembling hands. Orion obliges Orbo's desperation by ceding to that guiding touch, watching with curious marvel as the other man makes Orion's body into a tool for his own self-abuse. Orion's cock gets stuck again, and Orbo's brow furrows as he pulls Orion closer, trying to force the issue in increments. Orion helps him along by rolling his hips, popping past the narrow closure of Orbo's throat as the other man yips and tightens his grip in startlement, tears immediately spilling over his eyes as he chokes with tender submission around Orion's thick cock.Seeing as his hips and Orbo's hands have that situation handled, Orion occupies himself by idly playing with his tits. Milk spills over in swift abundance, dripping onto Orbo's own soft tits with warm little plips! that set Orbo's chest to trembling. Or maybe that's just the oxygen deprivation."You'd better hurry up with that," Orion tells him, pulling pearly beads of milk free of his tits with each tug and twist. "I'm getting a little worked up here... I guess I just can't help myself." Orion bites his lip as he teases himself, gently massaging milk from his breasts in an uneven stream that drips and pools between them. "If you don't hurry up, there might not be any left for you."This appears to be all the motivation Orbo needs. He drops one hand from Orion's ass to brace his weight against the table, lifting himself and swallowing around Orion's cock to feed it further down his tight, quivering throat. Orion groans, his hips jerking into that rich heat. He watches in stunned amazement as Orbo takes him deeper, pushes his trembling shoulders upward and Orion's hips inward, his throat convulsing with the muffled vibrations of his desperate muted sounds. "Fuck," Orion hisses, his throat straining to hold back some sounds of his own in the face of Orbo's uncompromising determination to earn his meal. "Mate... You're fucking crazy."Orbo's throat is too full to answer verbally—but his grip on Orion's ass tightens with ardent desire, conveying his enthusiasm for the insult well enough. Orion laughs breathlessly as Orbo nudges him further down his throat. His laughter makes his chest shake, and as Orbo climbs Orion's cock like a rope with the grip of his relentless throat, he comes close enough to catch a few warm droplets of milk on his cheek.Orbo's nails dig into Orion's ass as his throat tightens needfully around his cock. It takes Orion a moment to figure out why—and when he does, he laughs again."I should've guessed that food would be a good motivator for you," Orion mocks. "Should've slathered my dick in chocolate syrup for you a long time ago." He has some difficulty aiming, and makes a bit of a mess on Orbo's chest—but amid the stream of milk he squeezes from his tit, some of it does land on his cock as he intends. Orbo trembles beneath him. "Drink up, bitch."Then he begins thrusting in earnest, slow and long and deep. On the downstroke, he squirts milk on his cock, and on the upstroke Orbo's eyes flutter shut as he sucks for his goddamn life, moaning and drooling ceaselessly over his chin and chest."Fuckin' nasty," Orion whispers. "Filthy little whore. You love my cock, don't you?" Orbo can only press Orion further down his throat in answer, and Orion throws his head back with a ragged moan."Thirsty bitch," he gasps, and the heat and suction and unabashed desire of his counterpart is almost enough to undo him.Orion gives Orbo's hair a harsh yank, and that's all the direction Orbo needs to let himself fall back onto the desk and relinquish his milk-coated prize. Orion's cock slides smoothly out of that quivering throat, and when it finally slips free, Orbo coughs violently, throwing his elbow over his mouth and turning his head aside so he doesn't choke. Orion drinks in the sounds of Orbo's breathless pain, pride and arousal mingling as he strokes his cock with leisurely ease and lords over Orbo's pitiful trembling."Orion," Orbo croaks, and fizzing satisfaction lights up Orion's brain at how hoarse, how wrecked and desperate and needy he sounds. "Please—"Orion rumbles with pleasure. It's been ages since he heard Orbo beg so sweetly. "What can I do for ya, mate?" he asks, feeling indulgent.Orbo coughs violently. "Need a drink," he wheezes.Orion glances at his sideboard across the room with a thoughtful hum. There's water in there—but then, he'd have to be an idiot not to recognize the solution even closer at hand."Alright," Orion says, crawling his knees down along either side of Orbo's body until he straddles his waist, his balls nestling comfortably in a soft bed of Orbo's stomach fat. Orbo's cough racks his body with ticklish tremors as Orion looms over him, grabbing Orbo's wrist to move his trembling hand aside and offer up his breast to drink.When Orbo squints through his tears to see what Orion is offering, he latches onto the offered breast and sucks so hard it makes Orion suddenly light-headed. He has to release Orbo's captive wrist to brace himself on the desk's surface. Orbo takes advantage of his newfound freedom of movement to squeeze and stroke Orion's tit himself, and Orion lets go to brace his other hand on the desk as his elbows tremble dangerously.He's put in mind of their old gym routine: watching Orbo chug a plastic water bottle all in one go, before crushing it in a fist. Orion shudders with desire, thumping down to his elbows as he curls his torso over Orbo, shading him from the office lights as he quenches his thirst with Orion's throbbing tit, gulping on it greedily.Orbo pulls off with a quenched and breathless gasp when the stream of milk stems to a trickle. He turns his head aside for Orion's other tit, grabbing its pendulous, quicksand softness and mouthing the nipple hungrily until it rests on his thirsty tongue, and he sucks that one just as hard, with a loud, licentious kiss. Orion is struck dumb and helpless by the slither of milk leaving his body, his mouth falling slack with want as the pleasant relief of that loss grows legs and tiptoes down his spine.Orbo's throat works loudly, vulgar gulps making his throat bob and his esophagus softly convulse, creating a corollary convulsion in his stomach as his entire body bends to the task of sating itself on Orion's tit.When Orbo pulls off at last, they both gasp."You're... fuckin' unbelievable," Orion huffs, "you know that?"Orbo takes longer to catch his breath, licking his lips and blinking blearily as he swallows again and again, chasing lingering sweetness with each swallow—and Orion, mesmerized by his unquenchable thirst, swoops down for an impulsive kiss. By now he's initiated as many kisses in this one session as they've shared in their entire history, but the addition of sweetness makes the experience of tasting himself on Orbo's tongue more palatable than revolting—and the revolting sentiment inherent in the gesture is ameliorated, too, when it makes Orbo gasp and squirm so deliciously, makes him strive so desperately to reclaim what Orion is stealing, makes him even more breathless than he already was, with the kind of whimpering, enfeebling desire that makes Orion feel so powerful.  "Thank you, boss," Orbo gasps when he pulls away, and Orion is struck with a fiery bolt of desire deep in his gut. He dives in for another kiss, both of them moaning as they smear tongues and lips with teeth, sucking and pulling with clumsy, breathless desire and open mouths. Orion savors the last traces of sweetness on Orbo's tongue—and then the metallic, glittering sparkle of Orbo's silvery blood, when lips split open beneath merciless teeth. He wonders, deliriously, if Orbo's milk would taste like that, too—shot through with veins of silver..."I'm gonna fuck you so crazy," Orion swears, clambering off the table and rubbing their cocks together. Orbo is already half-hard again."Yeah," Orbo pants in senseless encouragement, feebly rolling his hips into Orion's enormous grasp. "Fuck, mate, you're hot as hell like this."Orion almost glances down at himself: he's smeared with fluids and unforgivably disheveled, absent all the finery that glitters with his indomitable pride—save for his glasses and the beads in his hair—so he's not entirely sure he cuts an especially imposing figure...But instead of casting doubt on Orbo's delirious praise, he only grins and winks. "You know it, mate.""So come fuck this, hot stuff," Orbo invites—and Orion resettles his feet on the ground, lifting Orbo's legs aside to do just that. His stupid little socks grip the desk with curled toes, his legs admirably only shaking a little as Orion leaves them there. He lifts Orbo's balls out of the way and lines himself up, nestling his thoroughly-wetted cockhead snugly against the pucker of Orbo's asshole. He tests its give with a little push, and is pleasantly surprised to find the musculature agreeable to the intrusion."Oh, Orbo," Orion coyly croons. "You really thought you were going to lose, didn't you...?" He can't believe the other man came prepared. What a precious little slut he has on his desk..."Was hoping you'd fuck me," Orbo brazenly admits, and a strain comes into his voice as he whines, "God, Orion, when I tell you I need it...!" His asshole flutters, then opens, too impatient to wait for Orion to fuck him in his own sweet time."Tighten up for me, then," Orion commands, slapping Orbo's ass to induce the tightness he prefers. Orbo gasps, and flutteringly obliges. "It's no fun if you're too loose.""Christ, you're freaky," Orbo says with a grin of sweet savor, lifting his legs up by the knees and tightening up even further, obliging as always. "You want me to act like I don't want it, too?"Orion rumbles with satisfaction to hear that Orbo still knows how to cater to him. "Not today," he decides, and forces through the resistance Orbo has so accommodatingly made for him. Orbo yelps at the first intrusion—and then Orion plunges all the way to the hilt inside that wet, glorious heat, and Orbo lets out a tremulous scream that wavers with every inch.Orion is so delirious with nostalgia at the sight of Orbo's surrender, at the sensation of being inside Orbo again that he nearly blacks out, grunting deep in his chest and catching himself on the desk with the wondrous, overwhelming pleasure of their cosmic conjugal reunion.He almost doesn't notice anything amiss, having been so long without.But Orbo is loose— looser even than Orion had teased him for, looser than could reasonably be attributed to simple preparation.It's the kind of looseness only gained from force—and habit. Orbo trembles dramatically beneath him, his head thrown back in an ecstatic cry of, "God, Orion—!"  But judging by how loose Orbo is, Orion cynically supposes he could be anyone with a fat cock, for all Orbo cared.Incandescent rage ignites Orion's core, heat and lurid light unfurling like solar flares from the surface of his skin. Orbo's jaw falls judderingly slack, and he whimpers high and strained, "Oh, god—just like that...!"Orion lifts his palm from the desk—leaving behind a smoldering handprint and carrying away a stream of smoke. He'll have to have the damn thing sanded again, he thinks with dismal irritation.Orion rears his hand back and slaps Orbo soundly across the face with a searing CRACK! Orbo yelps as his head whips aside with the force of the bare-handed strike. He lifts a hand to work his jaw as he gapes with clear-eyed, wounded question up at Orion's sneering face."O-Orion?" Orbo asks, his brow twitching in an uncertain furrow. Orion doesn't normally hit that hard when they're having sex.Orion laughs with all the buoyancy of an iron ball rolling down a stair. He inhales, wet and sharp, through the dark gaps of a cruel grin. "You loose fucking whore," Orion viciously accuses. "Who else is fucking you like this, huh?""What—?" Orbo begins, but Orion pulls his hips back and slams his cock in again to the hilt with such furious force that it derails whatever Orbo was going to say. His eyelids flutter, and his head falls back to the desk again with a stuttering moan."Are they as big as me?" Orion demands, imparting another merciless thrust that makes Orbo warble, makes the desk tremble fearfully beneath them. "Do they fuck you right, you greedy little slut?" As Orbo tries to call his name in a petition for mercy, Orion gives him no quarter—fucks him hard and fast so every 'Orion' comes out as little more than a staccato, "Oh, oh, oh—!" And Orion's black, spiteful heart relishes each utterance with the satisfaction of an insult returned.But it is not near enough to satisfy his thirst for vengeance."All this fucking gold you wear," Orion grunts in scoffing derision, toying with the golden hoop in Orbo's ear. "It's not for me, is it?" The metal reddens, bright and superheated, and Orbo winces and screams through gritted teeth—before Orion rips it through the lobe and tosses it across the office, smoldering in a useless heap somewhere on the freshly-scorched carpet. "Orion!" Orbo gasps, tears of pain spilling out of his watery, violet eyes.Orion leans in, breath as hot as a bellows-fire, and whispers with cruel grit, "You just want everyone to know what a faggot you are, don't you?""Orion, for fuck's sake—""You're such a fat pansy fuck," he snarls. "Bet you'll swallow anyone's cock, if it's big enough to stuff you like the pig you are. Are your other lays as good as me? Or—""Orion, please!" Orbo gasps, his arms flailing in feeble resistance against Orion's indomitable bulk. Orion's grin turns jagged, ready to crush whatever resistance Orbo will mount—but Orbo meekly flinches from the heat at each moment of fleeting contact, too soft to even harness his own starlight for violence. And when his hands fumble to grab onto Orion's wrists, and Orion readies himself to have his balance thrown off, Orbo doesn't even try to push him away. He only holds on, gritting his teeth as he closes his hands around Orion's wrists. It's not a gentle hold, by any means—but neither does it make any move to gain the upperhand. Like Orbo only wants something to ground himself enough to weather the pain.Steam rises from that point of contact, undoubtedly painful—but Orbo holds firm anyway, gasping and spilling over with tears that drip onto the desk and sizzle in the ambient heat. He glares weakly at Orion. "I haven't been fucking anybody else, you great, big jealous bitch!"Orion chuckles humorlessly. "You expect me to believe that?" he asks, rolling his hips and savoring the tremor of Orbo's inner walls, the way Orbo's composure falters. "You're looser than a whore on pay-day, mate." Orbo lets out a watery laugh. "I thought you'd like that, you sanctimonious, hypocritical cunt!" He gasps at the end of another cruel thrust, and says, "I'll fuckin' tell you, just—cool it, alright?"Orion sneers, unconvinced—but he eases off the heat anyway. Orbo gusts out a sigh of painful relief, releasing Orion's wrists and shaking his hands out with a hiss.Orion demands, "Why the fuck do you think I want to hear about how you've been fucking every fat cock in the cosmos that looked your way since I've been gone?" On the one hand, knowing would help Orion make an informed decision about how much punishment Orbo has earned for his infidelity. On the other hand, if he has to hear numbers he stands a very real chance of just fucking killing Orbo in a jilted rage. After throwing up, maybe."I haven't been—" Orbo laughs, smearing a hand across his face. His glasses go so far askew they slide up his hair and clatter to the floor. "Ugh, this is so embarrassing..." "Talk faster," Orion growls."After our universes fell out of sync," Orbo begins, and Orion's face falls into something monumentally unimpressed. If he's about to cite loneliness as his reason for slutting around..."I got some... toys," Orbo mutters, his face red for more than the heat between them.Orion stares, waiting for the moment the other men come into the picture. But Orbo is peeking through his fingers at Orion with a flushed face and an anxious gaze, like he's awaiting Orion's verdict. Like he's already said everything there is to say."Toys," Orion repeats, uncomprehending."Yes," Orbo gusts out in mortified admission, averting his gaze as his red hue travels all the way to both ears—particularly the one bleeding an even darker hue. "Just... a bunch of great, big fucking dildos, alright?!"Orion only stares, and Orbo moans—but less aroused, and more long and low and mortified.Covering his face with both hands, Orbo meekly concludes, "... They made me think of you."Orion lets this sink in. A possibility so incompatible with his worldview thus far takes a few moments to settle. That Orbo, blithe and casual and careless at the office reunion, had been dwelling on Orion all this time,  sits strangely in his stomach—and it feels like a revelation that comes belatedly. Orion can now admit he was expecting a more dramatic response from his sentimental counterpart to mark the happy occasion: a cry of elation, a breathless bear hug—even in contravention of the strictures against excessive touching the offices had enforced, to guard against the possibility of catastrophic anomalies at such early stages of reintegration. But even if they couldn't touch beyond the warm, charged exchange of a shaking of hands, Orion had still expected more... enthusiasm. A rapid-fire, tumbling-over gush of words, incoherent in content but perfectly comprehensible in sentiment. A sign that he had been missed. Any indication that Orbo still carried a torch for him, from which their former spark might be rekindled.Orbo had even said it just a few minutes ago. That he had missed him. But it had come too late—because in the uncertainty that followed their lukewarm reunion, Orion realizes he had been guarded against the sentiment. His own flame, eager and bright, had dimmed in the face of Orbo's seemingly only casual interest in getting reacquainted."That's a bold claim," Orion eventually says, numbing himself with an illusion of distance, "considering your interest at the fucking office party could most charitably be described as polite." Orbo lowers his hands to peek over them when Orion begins to speak, then throws the man a withering look. "What would you have preferred? That I bring them to the party and introduce you? I mean, I'd have done it if you asked," he says flippantly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Orion temporarily loses the thread of the conversation as he contemplates that hilarious and ribald possibility, "which you could've done over email—but I didn't see you taking the initiative to reach out when we were in the same email chain either, mate." Orion blinks, because he hadn't thought Orbo even noticed he was in that email chain. He assumed that was why Orbo didn't reach out. "Yeah, I fuckin' noticed," Orbo says, in response to Orion's stunned expression. He sniffs, and even sounds a little hurt when he mumbles, "I notice a lot more than you give me credit for."The heat banks from Orion's blood. As sweat begins to bead on his skin again, he feels distinctly chilled in the cool office air."You just," Orion says, brow faintly furrowed as he puzzles over the man splayed out upon his desk, enduring all his abuse thus far with a game grin and ready enthusiasm. "... Didn't seem that excited to see me. At the party."Orbo's look of accusation collapses. "Oh, 'Rion... 'm sorry, darling. I was just..." He laughs, dragging a hand across his mouth with a rueful look. "I was so bloody nervous, and you looked—just, fuckin' incredible. Like a million bucks. Like a constellation in crimson." Orbo closes his eyes, like he's savoring the memory. "You looked like—a glittering ruby, rubbing elbows with a bunch of cosmic clods. And there I was, my usual slobbish self..."But I could have blustered past all of that," Orbo says, in the tone of one who desperately wishes he had, "if I was sure you wouldn't hate me for it.""The fuck are you on about?" Orion demands—but the question is hoarse, quiet as pillow talk."Mate," Orbo laughs, "I obsessed over your memory for millenia." Orion shudders with feeling, at the enormity of that sentiment. "Sure, I knew what we had was special... I never doubted that. But the you in my head was so different from the new you... You were just—so fucking cool. I'd have sworn you could kill me with a look.""I can," Orion informs him.Orbo rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know mate, and it's very fucking sexy, alright? But that didn't fuckin' help me feel any less nervous about bein' all— demonstrative," he says, and this last word comes out in a low tone of faint, uncharacteristic mockery. Almost like he's quoting someone.Almost like he's quoting Orion. Orion doesn't remember their exact exchanges on the subject of public intimacy, but he distinctly remembers not being a fan. A lot changed in their millennia apart, though, and while he still wouldn't let anyone else survive the attempt—He thinks he might tolerate all that shit now. If it was Orbo."I knew you hated all that shit. So I was trying to play it cool... But then I saw your fuckin' hair beads, and I choked so hard I completely blew it." Orbo drags a hand down his face with a shuddering sigh. "Tried to play it cool, and ended up coming off like I was giving you the cold shoulder."Orion didn't think Orbo blew it that badly. It was something of an anticlimax, sure, and things have been proceeding at a stilted pace ever since, but—they got back here, didn't they? Orbo is being awfully hard on himself, just because Orion read their reunion as one characterized by detachment—and thus made a few other uncharitable assumptions along the way that resulted in his recent outburst.Orion reaches for Orbo's hair, and Orbo stiffens guardedly, before deliberately relaxing in anticipation of whatever Orion intends to do to him—though looking no less persecuted or guarded for his compliance."... Just because I hate it," Orion mutters, "doesn’t mean I want you to stop." Orbo blinks, lifting his eyes to trace back the conversational thread to try and recall what Orion is talking about. Orion takes advantage of that inattention to lean down and suck a searing kiss upon the bleeding lobe of Orbo's wounded ear.Orbo keens high in his throat like a wounded animal, grabbing tight hold of Orion—but not to fight it. Just to hold firm. When Orion releases his ear, red with cauterizing, he kisses the sizzling skin—and then the soft, unblemished skin of his cheek, bestowing gentle pecks that pull from Orbo a litany of stunned little gasps."Orion...?" Orbo asks, his voice small and uncertain in Orion's ear."You have your way of doing things," Orion murmurs into his skin, nuzzling his nose into Orbo's tear-streaked cheek. "And I have mine. We're fuckin' opposites, mate. It's stupid to expect us to care about the same shit, or do the same things.""Yeah?" Orbo asks with breathless hope. He snakes his arms around Orion to hold him in a needful embrace, trembling like a man who's marveling that he still has the privilege. "... I'm still fuckin' here, aren't I?" Orion grumbles. Orbo's breath hitches, and his arms tighten around Orion as he lets loose a great, heaving sob. "God, I missed you so fucking much," Orbo says, his voice watery and wavering. "I was so fuckin' scared I'd never see you again..."Orion's arousal, which had been waning amid the heavy conversation, rises to the occasion immediately as soon as Orbo begins to cry. He supposes some things never truly change. "I know," Orion tells him, grateful for his own glasses still perched on his nose to hide whatever his red eyes might look like, stinging in sympathy at the sight of Orbo's tears. "It's okay. I'm not going anywhere, mate."Orbo buries his face in Orion's neck, dampening hot skin with tears. "I was so fuckin' lost without you," he says, hiccuping on a sob. "I looked goddamn everywhere— but no matter where I looked, I just couldn't fucking find you..."Orion remembers those days—traveling to the most remote edges of the universe as he burnt his feelings in battle, taking on endless bounties, hunting crossovers with a vengeance on the off chance they'd be some kind of lead to bring him back to Orbo. Nothing ever came of it, though—and every time Orion found himself in a remote corner of space with his bounty safely pocketed, he'd stop over on an empty moon, or an asteroid belt, or a derelict field of space debris, and he'd scream out into the void with bright, roaring fury, sending off solar flares like smoke signals.But Orbo never answered."I'm right here," Orion whispers, smearing a kiss against Orbo's temple. He rolls his hips, and Orbo whines, squirming fitfully on Orion's cock—but he only holds on tighter. "It helped," Orbo admits, "to have something to fuck myself on when I didn't have you... But it wasn't the same." He laughs with self-effacing derision, as if to chide his past self for ever thinking anything could compare. "Not by half. Not without the smell of you, or the way it feels when you're holding me down..."It strikes Orion that even now, Orbo is talking about their trysts in the present tense—though this is their first in untold millennia. How painful was the parting for Orbo, that his denial was so deep he couldn't even talk about the way they used to be like it was actually in the past? Would that come too close to acknowledging the distance?"And I know," Orbo sniffles, "I know a bunch of toys are no replacement for my mate. Of course I know that. Hard not to..." He shudders and rocks his hips into the rhythm Orion imposes, digging his nails needfully into Orion's back as his voice goes tight and strained, conveying bereft, heartbroken, unmet need with the quiet admission, "They were so fuckin' cold, Orion..."Orion's breath hitches on that image, for some reason: Orbo, masturbating at home alone with his collection of dildos, fucking himself on them, unsatisfied, and crying out for Orion, because they were cold— unlike him. Warm, smoldering, searing, irreplaceable Orion. "I know," Orbo mumbles, "you're probably gonna say I'm a fat, pathetic bitch—"Orion cuts short Orbo's self-effacing litany with a deep thrust that makes him yelp. "Yeah," Orion murmurs, burying his fingers in Orbo's hair and pressing his lips in hot, affectionate smears into the side of his face, "but you're my fat, pathetic bitch."Orbo hiccups on a watery giggle as Orion showers him with smoldering kisses that steam his tears away with a hiss. "Orion, that—" he huffs, his shoulder twitching up. "That tickles...""Good," says Orion, nonsensically. "Cannot fucking believe you... Dildos," he scoffs. "What color were they?"Orbo snorts unflatteringly into Orion's throat. "You fuckin' arrogant... Red, obviously."Orion growls flirtatiously, nuzzling his nose into Orbo's throat, sucking and biting the soft skin in an attentive desire path. "And they weren't as warm as me, huh?""No," Orbo sniffles. "Nothing is..." And he sinks into Orion's heat with needy relish, whimpering with exquisite relief at every warm, lazy thrust. When he's composed himself, Orbo tentatively says, "Say..."Orion doesn't stop rolling his hips—but he does pull back enough to lean down, and gently scrape his teeth over Orbo's bottom lip. "Mhm?"Orbo shudders, and looks shy as he works up the nerve to say, "Would you... warm me up?"Orion grins and nips Orbo's ear, eliciting a sweet moan. "Of course, sweetheart." And in answer to Orbo's need, his body throbs with heat, throwing off those drifts of solar wind, making the air around them swim with atmospheric heat distortions—and the man beneath him moan long and low in sweet relief."Oh, fuck," Orbo sighs with relish, arching into Orion with his entire body—sounding for all intents like he'd just slipped into the decadent embrace of a hot bath. "That's it, mate... That's all I wanted.""A little starlight?" Orion teases, gratified that it's as easy as ever to make Orbo crazy. He's further gratified to know that Orbo is only this easy for him. That they're the only two bastards in the cosmos who fit together like this.Orbo titters hysterically, burying his face in Orion's throat and bestowing a few sharp, cheeky kisses of his own. "Just you," he breathes. "It's always—only ever been you."Orion doesn't have any more words, after that—and neither does Orbo, reduced to sniffling and quiet weeping as Orion fucks him with gentle, inexorable heat—until he comes on his cock with a sob, digging his nails into Orion's back and holding onto his shoulder with his teeth, like he's just as scared as Orion is of ever letting go of him again.Orion's crystal goes off with a tinny chirp, melodious enough not to agitate him—though he doesn't think anything could at this point, sated as he is.He pulls open the desk drawer with one hand and retrieves his crystal, setting it carefully on the desk. He glides a hand over it, answering the call on speaker."Hey, Goldie.""Orion?" that airy voice comes over the waves accompanied by the faint, tinny echo of the connection. "I went to your office to drop off a bounty, but the door was locked.""Mm," Orion hums, glancing up at the door in question. He rolls his hips, and Orbo twitches beneath him, inhaling softly. "I'm a little busy in here.""Wait—you're still in there?" Goldie asks with vague appall."Mhm," Orion says, biting his lip as he watches pleasure play out on Orbo's face.Goldie tuts judgmentally over the connection. "I know you tend to work overtime, but—wait," he pulls up short. Orion can practically see his eyes narrow, his antennae twitching. "Orion, are you... drunk?" "Maybe." He certainly feels it. He lets loose another wave of smoldering heat, and Orbo shudders, biting his own lip to stay quiet. Seems like he still has enough brain cells left to take notice of Orion's call.He'll have to work a little harder if he wants to fuck Orbo brainless, then."Got a little wrapped up, catching up with an old friend.""An old... friend," Goldie says carefully, skepticism clear in his tone. Orion is too blitzed with endorphins to give a shit that Goldie is clearly implying he doesn't think Orion has any of those. "And should I be concerned about this... 'old friend' of yours?""Hmmm," Orion says, tossing a sly look at Orbo over the edge of his glasses, which are finally sliding down his nose with the accumulating layers of sweat. "Do you wanna tell him, or should I?"He starts to pull out, and Orbo's hands slip on Orion's shoulders, like he fears he'll plummet into a great void without the support of Orion's cock pressing into his spine like a load-bearing iron beam."Orion," he whimpers aloud, "Don't stop, for the love of God, please, please, come back—" And he throws a leg around Orion's hip, feebly pulling him back, no strength at all in his trembling muscles. The fabric of his stupid star-spangled sock presses into Orion's ass. It's surprisingly soft.Orion obliges him with a mean thrust that makes Orbo wail, and now that the word is out, he makes no secret of his pleasure, moaning loudly with each thrust as Orion reclaims his former rhythm.Goldie's voice comes out gobsmacked. "You're fucking Orbo?" "Yeah," Orion says. "Gonna be a while, so—""Orion," Goldie scolds. "It's midnight." Orion slows, and Orbo whines with feeble loss. "Is it?" he muses. He glances at the clock on the far wall. So it is. "Huh. Time flies... Guess I'll take this back to mine.""... Yes," Goldie says with bewildered difficulty. "I suppose you'd better do.""I won't be into work tomorrow."Goldie's voice is dry. "I gathered that.""Great," says Orion. "See you later, Goldie."He ends the call without waiting for an answer, and Orbo groans. "My back is killing me...""Join the club," Orion says. "Lucky for you, my bed is big enough for both of us."Orbo tugs on Orion's shoulders, and Orion obliges him by leaning down so the other man can nuzzle into his throat."Lead the way, mate," Orbo says with a smile, and Orion huffs. Like Orbo is capable of walking anywhere right now."Hold onto me, then," he murmurs—and in a flash of red, they're gone.