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Sett's bedroom is an absolute disaster of a mess, but Aphelios knows that’s nothing out of the ordinary.
The walls are an almost comical hodgepodge of idol posters and old photographs taped to the wall, and a large mirror on the far wall is just about covered in sticky notes, on which are written affirmations — Sett loves pumping himself up — and workout routines. There are a few cracks in the drywall where roughhousing episodes got too out of hand, though Sett claims that it's nothing a layer of paint or two won't fix.
The floor is half-covered with clothes of all different styles. Some of the pieces Aphelios can pick out from memory: a formal jacket from a photoshoot, a sky blue tank top from an early draft of a music video, a pair of sneakers Sett always wears unless someone literally forces him into something different. But there are plenty of things Aphelios doesn’t recognize, and though his eyes trace over them, they don’t spark anything inside of him aside from a slight level of distaste.
Even the bed screams Sett. The fluffy covers are a loud red that almost hurts Aphelios’s eyes to look at, and it’s so covered in plushies that Aphelios wonders how the hell he sleeps in it. He can’t imagine the big guy being callous enough to toss them to the floor, especially given how Sett’s entire face lights up whenever he gets his hands on a new one for his collection. The way Sett’s ears perk and his fanged teeth protrude is etched into Aphelios’s memory. It brings a smile to his face.
He’s fond of Sett, but the big guy lives like a pig.
There’s a small, dedicated corner of the room where Sett works out, and it’s the only thing remotely resembling order. Sett’s weights and other equipment are so clean that it almost seems reverent, and Aphelios knows not to touch anything. Last time Kayn tried, he almost lost a hand.
Aphelios doesn’t even frequent Sett’s bedroom, not necessarily. He’s more comfortable in his own room, where everything is clean and structured and perfectly placed. He’s lived without many material possessions for most of his life, and it shows.
He’s not fond of being in other peoples’ spaces, or…talking to people in general. He’s struggled to talk for most of his life, for that matter. He's always preferred being by himself, or in the company of his sister, who speaks for him whenever he's feeling particularly antisocial.
Being in Sett's room, seated at his obscenely messy desk, is something he’s still adjusting to.
Aphelios heaves a sigh that only partially irritates his throat and moves an empty cup out of his peripheral vision; no matter how many times he gets onto Sett about abducting their dishes, the big oaf never seems to understand. He swallows his annoyance and refocuses on the notepad in his lap, tapping the back end of his pen against his front teeth. It's an annoying habit that Kayn and Ezreal never stop complaining about, but they aren't here. No one is. It's just Aphelios sitting cross-legged in Sett's desk chair, swiveling to the best of his own physical tics.
He drums his fingers against the armrest, he clicks his tongue, he stretches his arms upward and stares out the window. It doesn't come to him, the inspiration that he craves. The notepad only has a line or two, and Aphelios isn't even particularly happy with that.
He sighs and leans back, idly fiddling with the hood of his pullover sweater. He knows, better than anyone, that sometimes inspiration is difficult to come by. Some days just aren't meant for productivity.
Aphelios puts the notepad down on the desk and stands, stretching upward and sending tingles through his half-asleep legs. His toes curl into the carpet and he has to stifle a yawn. Judging by the sun filtering in through the blinds, it's still afternoon. There's plenty of time to get things done later. He sweeps the room with his eyes again, and his gaze settles on a small, adorably round choncc plushie that sits as the centerpiece on Sett's bed. Aphelios smiles as he plucks it from the others, turning it over in his hands. He remembers the day it first arrived in a carefully wrapped box, a gift from Sett's beloved mother. Aphelios had never seen Sett quite so excited. He'd lifted the plushie like it was a holy artifact, and the sheer glee on his face mirrored the soft little creature's expression.
That had been the first moment Aphelios's heart stirred.
He’d met Sett in passing, and through mutual musical acquaintances, but nothing had prepared him for moving in with the big guy. Sett’s an expert at projecting a facade, a layer of masculinity and machismo that he wears like a second skin. It’s a security blanket, a way of keeping the world out, and that’s something Aphelios has always understood. It’s difficult to interact with the world when everyone’s expectations are outside what you can usually give.
The band are some of the only people to know the real Sett, beyond the costumes and the makeup. The real Sett, who calls his mother every day to tell her what's new with the band. The real Sett, who kicks in Aphelios's door in the middle of the night to show him a cat picture one of their fans tagged them in. The real Sett, who's as stunningly sensitive as he is handsome.
Aphelios's cheeks go a little pink.
He's never been one to be particularly interested in romance, and he's never had a crush before. He's always dismissed it as adolescent nonsense. Joining the band had hardly changed his perspective, not with the excruciating way Kayn and Ezreal look at each other sometimes. Sett's physical attributes weren't enough to earn Aphelios's attention on their own; it was his heart that caught Aphelios's eye, and his smile, and the kindness with which he speaks.
The rest of the world loves Sett for his bad boy image. Aphelios's attraction couldn't be more different.
The doorknob turns, and Aphelios flinches when the door is heavily pushed in. Making an obnoxious exit is as iconic to Sett as his biceps are.
The first thing Aphelios lays eyes on is the pair of fluffy ears on top of Sett's head, mercifully released from that horrible beanie he insists on wearing around. They twitch in recognition, tilting toward Aphelios with the utmost attention.
The second thing Aphelios recognizes is Sett's arms. Having experienced the sensation of having one around his shoulders, Aphelios feels he can properly and fairly express the opinion that Sett is a massive man. The size difference between them is staggering. Aphelios is fairly certain Sett could lift him with one hand. He's wearing a black tank top that hugs his muscles sinfully, and Aphelios suddenly finds it difficult to think.
The third thing Aphelios notices is Sett's canines, bared in a wicked grin. To anyone else, it might look intimidating, but Aphelios can read Sett like a book. There's a variety of different smiles the big guy wears, and Aphelios recognizes each one. The twinkle in Sett's eye betrays his excitement about something.
Aphelios doesn't get a chance to notice a fourth thing.
Sett closes the gap between them in what feels like a split second and pulls Aphelios into a spine-cracking hug. Sometimes he wonders whether or not Sett knows his own strength, and as much as he appreciates the free chiropractic adjustments, it's not always pleasant to be treated like a stuffed animal by the world's largest rapper. Sett's affection lifts Aphelios off the ground and squeezes the breath from his lungs in the form of a weak wheeze. He kicks his legs feebly, yearning for the floor, and after a few torturous moments Sett puts him down again.
“Sorry, Phel,” Sett laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Got a little carried away. Ya know how I can be.”
Aphelios’s fingers move deftly, the way they always do. He prefers using sign language to using his voice, and he’s been lucky enough to live around people who can understand it. Alune had picked it up easily in their childhood, and the rest of the band understands enough of the basics for Aphelios to communicate. But Sett had gone above and beyond, learning the little nuances that made Aphelios’s signing unique. He understands everything, even how to interpret Aphelios’s tone of voice in a given situation. It’s been a lifesaver more times than Aphelios can count — the other band members don’t particularly understand Aphelios’s sarcastic tendencies.
He finishes his question, and Sett blinks. “What am I so excited about? Phel, you serious? We just put out our first song as a band, that's what I'm excited about! I mean, have ya seen the comments and stuff? People LOVE us. They want more! We're gonna have to write new songs, film more promos, ooh! We're gonna need more stylists, and—"
He stops abruptly when Aphelios raises a hand. Sometimes it's like dealing with an excited puppy, except the puppy is a foot taller and built like a sport utility vehicle.
Aphelios sighs, shaking his head. "I understand. It is an exciting time for us, but do not get ahead of yourself."
Sett furrows his eyebrows. "I guess you got a point. I'll try and slow down." He accompanies his reply with signing, sticking out his tongue in concentration. His ears twitch as he stumbles a little, the equivalent of a verbal stutter. Aphelios has to stifle a laugh and remind Sett that he’s mute, not deaf. "Oh. Right. Anyways…what're you still doing in my room? Not that I'm complainin', I'm just surprised."
Aphelios pauses, then shrugs. He casts his eyes across the chaos of the room, across everything that is so unmistakably Sett . "I came to see if I could find inspiration for our next song." It's not a lie. "I apologize for staying so long. I will go back to my room.”
Sett raises his hands as though the very question offends him. "Whoa, who said that? I don't care if you're in my space…I never care about that, Phel. My home is your home, and my room is your room." Aphelios wrinkles his nose, and Sett folds his arms like a pouting child. "Oh, c'mon. It's not THAT messy!"
The choncc plushie had fallen from Aphelios's hands and tumbled to a rest at the foot of the bed, and Sett scoops it up with a smile. Carefully, he places it back atop the others in what Aphelios can only assume is some kind of purposeful arrangement. "Guess ya were interested, huh? I thought my plushies were 'annoying'?"
Aphelios rolls his eyes in response, signing his words with as much venom he can muster. “I did not say that they were annoying. I said that YOU are annoying.”
Sett reacts with so much mock offense that Aphelios briefly wonders if it’s real. “Phel, how could you say that? I thought we were best buddies!” He swoops in again and attempts to swallow Aphelios in another hug, but Aphelios is quicker. He snatches an offensively-purple dragon plushie off the bed and swings it by the tail, smacking Sett clean on the forehead. The big guy stumbles back, breaking down into cackling laughter, and Aphelios presses the attack. Each strike batters Sett back until he collapses onto his own bed, excess plushies spilling onto the floor like they’re fleeing a sinking ship, and Sett holds up his arms in defeat. “Alright, alright, I give!”
Aphelios withdraws, but it’s all a ruse. Sett grins viciously and grapples him around the midsection, yanking him down into another crushing embrace. "Gotcha," Sett murmurs, his voice an animalistic purr in Aphelios's ear.
It isn't the first time they've been physically close, far from it. Sett is an affectionate person, everyone knows that. They can't go anywhere without Sett putting an arm around Aphelios, and they've dozed off on the sofa plenty of times with Aphelios's head resting against Sett's surprisingly comfortable bicep. They've spent hours in close proximity while working on band projects. But Aphelios can't say he's ever been in Sett's bed and wrapped in Sett's arms, and the novelty of the experience is quickly overshadowed by the salacious thoughts that force their way to the forefront of Aphelios's mind.
He's straddling Sett's thigh, and the beefy boy beneath him looks almost angelic in the half-light that hits him from the window, even as he's eclipsed by Aphelios. His smile glints, and there's something different about the look in his eyes that makes Aphelios avert his gaze.
If he stares too long, he might start hoping.
The urgency with which he squirms away seems to convey his nerves to Sett, who releases him quickly. Aphelios recoils like he's been burned, and quickly heads back to the desk, facing the window rather than Sett. His hoodie suddenly feels too warm, but he's certainly not going to take it off in Sett's presence; he settles for uncomfortably pulling at the neckline with his index finger.
"Hey," Sett says, his tone softer than before. Aphelios can practically see the expression on his face without even turning around, those sweet eyes full of concern and those lips quirked in a frown. "I…uh, I didn't mean to scare ya, Phel, I just thought we were messin' around, is all…"
Aphelios whirls around immediately, signing so hastily that he nearly fudges entire words. "You did not scare me. Please do not think that. "
Sett tilts his head like a curious cat. His ears twitch, standing totally at attention. "Then…what's the problem? If you're comfortable telling me."
How is Aphelios supposed to explain himself? Is he supposed to tell Sett how hard his pulse begins to pound whenever Sett gets too close, or the way his very veins buzz when he watches Sett perform? Is he meant to confess to all the nights he'd spent in his perfectly clean bedroom, wishing that Sett would make a mess of it? Sett is his opposite, chaotic and confident and openly loving in all the best ways, someone who wears his heart on his sleeve and fears nothing. Sett lives every day to the fullest, and Aphelios so often feels trapped within himself. He's dreamt of Sett freeing him from his shell, but what kind of burden is that to place on someone you consider a best friend?
He doesn't want to answer the question properly. He wants to grab the front of Sett's tank top — if he can even pull the impossibly tight thing away from Sett's skin — and yank him into a kiss that would explain more than words ever could. He wants to be held, to be loved, to be touched by someone in a way he'd never thought possible.
But Aphelios doesn't do any of that. And with his heart shriveling painfully in his chest, he begins to sign slowly and deliberately. "There is no problem. I am just a little stressed about things. You did nothing wrong."
Sett's frown deepens. He reaches out with both hands and holds Aphelios by the shoulders. The contact makes Aphelios's heart skip a beat. "I gotcha," Sett murmurs. "Is there anything I can do to help ya with your stress? I mean, we can talk, or we can call some of the guys, or—"
The pressure inside is too much. Aphelios reaches up and grabs Sett by the head, his fingers curling against the nape of Sett's neck, and pulls him down into a near-suffocating kiss.
His cheeks burn, and he squeezes his eyes shut to avoid seeing Sett's reaction; feeling the tension in his friend's body is difficult enough. Sett’s muscles are stiff with his surprise, and in the suddenness of the moment, he nearly bites Aphelios’s lip. His jaw is clenched, and his stubble grates across the pads of Aphelios’s thumbs. It’s obvious that Sett has no idea what to do with his hands, and as far as Aphelios can tell without vision, they’re just hovering aimlessly in the air.
All in all, it’s an absolutely terrible kiss. That doesn’t stop Aphelios’s heart from pounding.
There’s a moment of pause, and Aphelios recognizes his moment to escape. It would be easy to pull away, to apologize, to flee the room with flushed cheeks and desperation etched in his eyes. Aphelios has long been a nervous person beneath his aloof exterior. Running and suppressing his feelings is what he’s always done best, keeping everything choked down for the sake of keeping things simple. It’s easy to stay silent and keep everyone at a distance. It’s much harder to take a chance.
But Sett shifts against him, and for once, Aphelios doesn’t run.
He tilts his head to lean into the kiss from a new angle. The sunlight falls across his face in thin stripes, illuminating iridescent images through the filter of his eyelashes, and once he feels Sett tentatively touch his waist, Aphelios knows there’s no going back. He breaks the kiss only for a moment, long enough to breathe in the familiar spice of Sett’s scent. The faint cologne he uses is viciously sweet against Aphelios's nose, accented by whatever always makes Sett smell vaguely spicy. It goes to Aphelios's head and floods his senses, and when Sett grips his hips with a little more purpose, Aphelios can't help the strained noise he makes in response. He arches up into the contact on instinct and wills Sett to hold him tighter, pull him closer, because no amount of touch could ever possibly be enough.
Aphelios's head spins, and he seizes the miniature breaks between each locking of lips to suck in ragged gulps of air. Sett exhales at the same time, and damp breath washes through the crevices of Aphelios's neck. He cranes his head, wishing beyond wishes that Sett would sink those pointed teeth into his skin, mark Aphelios as his own, give him something to show off to the world—
And as quickly as it began, it ends.
Sett withdraws, leaving Aphelios with a sense of loss that he didn't know he was capable of feeling. He opens his eyes for the first time since the kiss started. Sett's face is flushed and ruddy in a way that Aphelios has never seen before. His bottom lip is redder than usual, and he lacks his typical bravado in his body language. His eyes focus on anything other than Aphelios's face. "So…uh…yeah. That…er…that happened…"
He looks like a bashful kitten. Aphelios has to hold back a giggle.
“I don’t know if that was…if we should have…uh…” Sett can’t help himself. He stammers and stutters as though willing himself to be anywhere else. He takes a calming breath, trying to work out his nerves. “...I don’t know if, uh, the guys would…approve of…y’know. This.” He gestures uncertainly between the two of them with a single index finger. “Whatever ‘this’ is,” Sett adds hastily. “Not talking about us bein’ friends or…or anything like that…”
Sett’s so utterly adorable that Aphelios begins to forget his own anxieties. He laughs quietly, signing to let Sett know that he’s not laughing at him. “I did not think you would care what anyone else thought.”
Sett groans in response, sinking down onto the bed. It creaks and groans under his weight in protest. He idly scratches his wrist, still unable to meet Aphelios’s eyes. “I don’t care. Or…I wouldn’t normally care, I guess. But this is different, ya know? I mean, it’s YOU, and it’s ME, and it’s US, and…” He heaves a sigh, struggling with his words and evidently sensing the confused expression on Aphelios’s face. “...there’s just a lot goin’ on with the band right now, Phel, and I dunno how they would feel about us addin’ more onto it. Like, we got new songs to write, appearances to make, promos and music videos to shoot. It ain’t a small thing to add this on top. How would YOU feel if ya found out that two of the other guys were makin’ out and shit?”
The other guys? The ones constantly staring at each other like animals? Aphelios considers the question for a moment, signing his answer carefully. “I would not think much about it, as long as they were happy.” He moves closer, standing in front of Sett with the faint sunlight against his back. At this angle, and with Sett seated, Aphelios is just a little bit taller. It’s something silly, but it makes him feel surprisingly powerful. “And I believe they would say the same thing about us.”
“I guess.” The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Sett, not entirely. He rubs his thumb into the heel of his other hand, and his ears twitch with tension. They stand so alert that Aphelios has half a mind to look around for apex predators. “But, uh…and I’m just curious, so don’t think nothin’ of it, but…”
Sett finally looks up, and his eyes steal the breath straight from Aphelios’s lungs. The big guy is equal parts hoping, desperate, and utterly terrified. “Phel, what are we?”
It’s an impossible question, and Aphelios’s hands freeze. Visions and dreams and possibilities dance through his head like a storybook, images of duets sung in front of cheering fans and stolen kisses in backstage dressing rooms. He thinks of Sett’s arms wrapped around him from behind and sweet affirmations murmured into the softness of his neck, shared hotel beds and slim fingers laced between thick ones. He imagines the reactions the other guys would have, Kayn’s uproarious laughter and Ezreal’s teasing questions, Ksante’s knowing smile and Yone’s silent nod of approval. He imagines Alune and that completely insufferable look in her eyes whenever a suspicion of hers is confirmed.
He thinks of Sett’s mother reading her son’s letters. He thinks of his bed covered in plushies, because it isn’t just his bed anymore.
Aphelios has to stop himself before his heart outpaces his mind.
He isn’t afraid, but he’s naturally cautious. He isn’t like Sett, who can throw himself recklessly into any situation and fully believe he’ll come out unscathed. He envies Sett’s ability to act before thinking. Whatever they are, Aphelios doesn’t quite know. Not yet.
He goes through his signs slowly and deliberately, choosing his words carefully. He can feel Sett's impatient eyes on his fingers. "I do not know yet. Maybe it is best that we figure it out slowly."
The silence that follows is so thick that Aphelios can hear Sett swallow. He watches the big man’s face carefully, fearing what he’ll see; he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle Sett’s disappointment. But after a moment of thought, Sett seems to find his resolve, and nods in acceptance. “I guess that’s fair, Phel. But, uh…I know one thing, and it’s got nothing to do with the band or anything.”
He reaches out, slowly, gently, not at all like himself. He’s hesitant, but when he wraps his arms around Aphelios’s waist, they slot together almost perfectly. His thumb rubs a slow circle into the small of Aphelios’s back. “I don’t want ya to leave yet,” he says, and Aphelios melts into him.
He balances his hands on Sett’s shoulders, and Sett tilts his chin to meet Aphelios in another kiss. It’s unsure and slow and tentative, but it feels right, and Aphelios allows himself to give in. There’s uncertainty, but there’s no longer caution or fear; he pushes away what little doubt remains, and commits to what he wants. And what he wants in the moment, and in all the moments to come, is Sett.
The kiss deepens again, and Aphelios is stricken by the now-familiar curves and textures of Sett’s lips. He’s spent plenty of time staring at Sett in the past, but it’s different to touch him, to feel him and know that Sett is doing the same, to feel the burn of Sett’s gaze and the strength of his hands. He tilts his head and opens his mouth, and Sett accepts the intrusion of Aphelios's tongue without complaint. Sett grips him tighter through the fabric of his shirt, and Aphelios's fingers curl into the meat of Sett's shoulders.
When one acts, the other responds.
Aphelios pushes his weight forward when they pause for air, and Sett falls flat on his back against the bed. Plushies spill over the sides as Sett grabs at the hem of Aphelios's shirt with shaky hands. "Fuck, Phel, I can't tell ya how many times I've thought about this." The words spill from Sett messily, like he can't help himself. "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen, I swear. I just want ya all to myself."
Aphelios is grateful for Sett's success in removing his shirt; when it rises past Aphelios's face, it briefly hides the pink spreading across his cheeks.
The shirt joins the plushies on the ground, and Sett's breath audibly catches in his throat. "Holy shit," he says, tracing his fingertips across Aphelios's toned frame and fair skin. "You're like…you're like art, Phel." An increasingly flustered Aphelios reminds Sett that they've seen each other shirtless on many occasions, but Sett shakes his head. "No. Not like this, up close, where I can get a proper look at ya." He runs his hands across the ruts of Aphelios's hips and the faint outline of his abs. Aphelios's eyelids flutter in response.
God, how good it feels to be touched.
Goosebumps follow in the wake of Sett’s fingers, leaving trails of shivers as he admires his trophy. Aphelios’s breathing grows heavier, sighing and near-panting. He holds onto Sett’s wrists lightly, not to restrain him, but simply to maintain some semblance of control. When Sett touches him at the waist again, the tips of his thumbs sneak beneath the waistband of Aphelios’s underwear, and he can’t hold back a gasp. “Ah!”
Sett’s snicker forces Aphelios to hold back from smacking him upside the head.
The big guy withdraws just enough for Aphelios to seize the bottom of his tank top, and once Sett nods in approval, Aphelios pulls it up and off. He flings it aside without ceremony, and Sett offers an arrogant grin, his cheeks dusted with pink. His canines twinkle in the faint light, offering the promise of something beyond what Aphelios could have ever hoped for. “Do ya like what ya see, Phel?”
He wiggles his eyebrows cheesily, but Aphelios isn’t really looking at his face. He can’t tear his eyes away from the sculpted muscles of Sett’s arms and torso, fully bared and all for Aphelios to take. His fingers twitch with repressed hunger. He can’t help but imagine sliding his hands down the front of Sett’s chest and dragging his fingers through the trenches of Sett’s abs, forcing him to writhe in delight the way Aphelios already had. He imagines licking hot, wet stripes across Sett’s skin, taking his time all the way down to Sett’s…
Aphelios snaps out of his daydream when a pair of shorts hits him directly in the face.
“My eyes are up here,” Sett reminds him, cocking a finger and wiggling it teasingly. That cocky smile of his widens, and he runs his tongue across his teeth in a way that Aphelios can only describe as filthy.
Sett spreads his thick thighs, displaying the bulging outline of what lies inside his black briefs, and it’s all Aphelios can do to stop himself from pouncing like a wild animal. This wasn’t the way things had gone in his dreams; he’s usually the one laying back on the bed and waiting for the other to make a move, smiling like a lust-fueled beast. He’s usually the one desperate for touch, but even his wildest fantasies can’t compete with Sett’s apparently voracious appetite.
Whatever doubt or nerves that Sett had are apparently gone, lost in a whirlwind of carnal desire. His ears stand as erect as his dick and twitch whenever Aphelios makes a noise. The air grows thick with warmth and need, and Sett briefly lowers his eyes. “So, uh…I know this is kinda unexpected, but I was hoping you could…ya know.”
Before Aphelios can ask his question, Sett turns over and arches his back, presenting himself like a cat in heat. He spreads his legs further and hooks a thumb into the back of his underwear, pulling it down just enough to expose the tops of his butt cheeks. “I want you,” he says, his voice low and sultry and tinged with feral desperation. “So, c’mon…whaddya say?”
Aphelios doesn’t need to be asked twice.
He goes after Sett’s underwear with claw-like fingers, yanking them impatiently down to the big man’s mid-thighs. The feeling of open air against Sett’s backside makes him visibly quiver, pressing his face down into the pillows. His entire body tenses with coiled energy, and his toes curl. “Shit, Phel, you really don’t mess around…” His voice, high and breathy, is hard to hear with the fabric of a pillowcase half-clenched between his teeth. “Just…do whatever…”
Sett reaches back to pull one of his butt cheeks away from the other, and Aphelios has to marvel at what he sees. He’s dreamt of Sett’s front side, not the back. There’s no fantasy reference for Sett’s perfectly pink hole and the low-hanging balls that dangle between his legs. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, Aphelios pushes ahead, pressing a thumb firmly against Sett’s taint and dragging a sinful whine out of him. He turns his fingers upward and cups Sett’s other cheek, baring even more of Sett’s unused entrance.
Aphelios decides he wants a taste.
Sett’s reaction is immediate; the second Aphelios’s tongue touches him, he nearly screams as though he’s been struck by lightning. He tightly grips the blankets with one fist and furiously pounds the bed with another, sending more plushies over the edge. The garbled sound that leaves him only slightly resembles English. Aphelios tilts his head and goes in deeper, sliding the flat of his tongue against Sett’s taint and earning another delicious cry. Sett nearly chokes on a snarl, his breath catching. Aphelios doesn’t need to see him directly to know his eyes are as wide as saucers. “PHEL!”
It’s a cry of ecstasy and need, of pleasure promised and freely taken. Aphelios rocks his weight forward, his teeth scraping against the flesh of Sett’s butt cheeks, and Sett rolls against the pillows in response. His cock, neglected and flushed an angry red, drips a single wet bead onto the sheets below; Aphelios briefly wonders whether or not they’ll have time to properly do laundry.
“More,” Sett pleads. Aphelios can say with confidence that he’s never seen his friend in such a state, not that he’d ever complain. “Phel, fuck, more, please. I…”
Aphelios experiences a moment of amused wistfulness, wishing he could speak enough to tease Sett about his loss of eloquence. He settles for pressing a hand against the small of Sett’s back and slowly signing one letter at a time. Sett goes still as he deciphers the message as it is given. “Slut.”
“You have no idea,” Sett replies, whining and growling all at the same time. “The shit you do to me, Phel. Fuck!”
The wording makes Aphelios pause. He signs a question against Sett's skin again, and when the big guy hesitates, Aphelios prompts him by slipping his tongue inside Sett's thoroughly-slick hole. Sett releases a noise that can only be described as a wail in response. He clutches at his own head, grinding his fingertips against his scalp and trembling with delight. "Goddamn it! I-I've thought about this a lot, okay?! You, and me, and…and this, and…how the fuck am I supposed to react to you wearin' those tight pants all the time and showin' off that thing between your legs?!"
This time, Aphelios can't stifle a laugh.
"What," Sett whines, sounding more and more like a petulant brat with each passing second. "What are you laughing for?! This is your fault in the first place! I—"
He's cut off when Aphelios lands a hard smack across his backside, and a very undignified squeal flees Sett's mouth before he can stifle it. He moves to cover his face with his hands, utterly embarrassed and completely adorable. Aphelios rewards him by digging in with newfound earnesty. Sett cries out again, bucking his hips in response, but Aphelios doesn't let him get away; he curls his fingers into the meat of Sett's ass cheeks and spreads them possessively. If Sett had dreamed about this, Aphelios will give him everything he desires.
He pulls back for a moment and places the tip of his tongue against the back of Sett's balls, delighting in the way they tighten. With careful precision and his trademark efficiency, Aphelios moves upward, licking a slow path across the entirety of Sett's hole. He traces the rim, letting the tips of his thumbs gently pull it apart, and plunges his tongue inside one final time.
It's enough to make Sett choke on a sob.
Aphelios pulls back, glancing over toward Sett's face just long enough to see drool pooling beneath his cheek.
That seems like a good sign.
Aphelios shuffles himself, shedding his pants and underwear with mounting impatience. It feels strange to be on the other side of the bed, kneading his fingers into someone's else's backside, but it's a position he's beginning to relish with every passing moment. Every too-sharp movement earns a whimper or whine from Sett, and that's all the fuel that Aphelios needs. He shifts his hips, bringing himself up to fit snugly between Sett's cheeks, and the big guy just about melts. The tension visibly leaves his body, and he presses himself backwards, unable to wait any longer.
Aphelios is on the same page.
He slips the tip in first, earning a husky groan from Sett as he holds onto the blankets like a lifeline. His other hand reaches out and touches the wall, an attempt to ground himself even as his body burns with desire. He clenches his ass, whether consciously or not, and the sudden tightness nearly makes Aphelios bite down hard on his lower lip. His knuckles go white as he holds onto Sett's hips, trying to ride out the mild discomfort of the big guy's vice-like asshole. With his pulse pounding, he shifts a hand between Sett's legs.
The slightest touch on Sett's dick is enough to make him howl and spasm. The bed creaks violently, and for a moment, Aphelios fears it might break. Sett buries his face into the pillows, his entire body vibrating, and Aphelios gives his cock a single smooth stroke. It jolts on reflex and spills another stream of clear pre-cum into Aphelios's palm. The intensity of Sett’s trembling is almost enough to make Aphelios worry, but it’s hard to generate concern when Sett is still clamping down on his dick hard enough to make him dizzy.
Aphelios pulls back just to give himself some space and a bit of a breather, and Sett groans as though something has been ripped out of his very soul. He twists his body, arching his spine even further, giving himself over completely. The nonsensical sounds pouring from him into the pillows is almost musical. Aphelios drinks in every second of it.
When he begins to push himself back in, he can feel Sett’s breathing stutter with every inch that slides inside. His hands move without aim or purpose; he’s clearly struggling to keep himself grounded. Sett hisses through gritted teeth, struggling to take all of Aphelios, and Aphelios has to fight the urge to close his eyes and focus. Sett is too beautiful like this, struggling to maintain any semblance of composure.
Aphelios’s body jerks, nearly overstimulated, and Sett lets out a kitten-like mewl that makes Aphelios’s groin surge with heat. It’s a sound he’d enjoy putting in a song sometime.
The moment Aphelios bottoms out, and his hips land flush with the back of Sett's thighs, there's a sigh of relief from the big guy. "Okay," Sett manages to gasp. He has to repeat himself when his voice cracks and breaks. "C'mon, Phel. You can move, I can…I can take it."
It's an obvious lie, fueled by bravado and machismo, and Aphelios doesn't buy it. He pulls back out in one long, smooth motion, and Sett bites down on his fist hard enough for pinpricks of blood to well up beneath his canines. He looks over his shoulder in confusion and surprise, and Aphelios shakes his head. As deliciously lewd as Sett looks, with his ass up and Aphelios's precum trailing down the back of his balls, it doesn't feel right. Something needs to change.
"Flip over," Aphelios signs, and Sett hesitantly obeys. He kicks his briefs off the rest of the way and spreads his legs apart, letting Aphelios see every inch of him. There's no way to hide. His cheeks flush with enough color that Aphelios worries about him going lightheaded, and Sett claps his hands over his face to avoid Aphelios's eyes. "What are ya lookin' at me like that for?!"
Sett is still as nude as he'd been moments ago, but somehow it isn't as filthy. Even with the sheen of sweat shining on his skin and his thighs spread wide for Aphelios to re-enter him, Sett doesn't look like an overeager whore anymore. To Aphelios, he's adorable — and while that's an amusing description for a giant wall of muscle, it's perfectly apt.
A switch flips in Aphelios's head.
He leans forward, gently prying away Sett's big fingers. Before Sett can reestablish his arrogance, Aphelios presses their lips together again.
The kisses before had been explorative and tentative, laced with worry and uncertainty, this kiss is anything but; Aphelios presses himself down with gentle authority, cupping the back of Sett's neck and making him whimper again. Sett lifts a leg to give Aphelios easier access to all of him, and the smaller man takes the opportunity gratefully. He slips back inside, and when Sett begins to stammer and squirm, Aphelios places a hand on his chest, right over Sett's heart. He signs his words carefully, one at a time as he pushes in bit by bit. "You are so good. So good. "
He bottoms out again, and Sett lays his head back in exhaustion. He looks almost angelic, red hair splayed out like a crimson halo. He closes his eyes, and Aphelios signs one last word. "Pretty. "
Sett's face blooms with color all over again. "D…don't say shit like that with your dick in my ass," he mutters. "Just…ah, just go, Phel. Please…c'mon…"
He hooks a hand behind his knee and pulls back his thigh, and Aphelios rewards him with what he wants. He pulls back until only his tip remains inside, and plunges back in fluidly. It’s almost experimental; he isn’t sure how hard to thrust or what rhythm to follow, but Sett’s soft intake of air lets him know that at least it wasn’t painful. He gives Sett a moment to adjust, and the seconds pass in silence, with Aphelios’s warm hand still resting on Sett’s chest. When Sett gives an almost imperceptible nod, Aphelios repeats the movement a little more quickly. The wet smack of skin-on-skin catches him off guard, and combined with the tight, hot vice of Sett's insides, lightning fires up Aphelios's spine. He pushes one hand against the back of Sett's lifted leg, curling his fingers into the muscle and using it for leverage.
Sett responds to the growing pace with increasingly loud whimpers and groans. He harmonizes with Aphelios's sharp breaths, a duet that echoes through the room. The plastic, beady eyes of the plushies watch intently as Aphelios hammers himself home again and again.
His nails leave crescent marks against Sett's skin, not that Sett seems to notice the pain. Aphelios isn't nearly as physically powerful as Sett, but the movement of his hips is enough to rock Sett's body again and again. The frame of the bed creaks in protest, and the mattress squeaks indignantly. Sett's body accepts Aphelios, sucks him in and holds him tight, and Aphelios doesn't try and fight it. The heat from the beast beneath him ignites a fire in Aphelios's belly, a level of lust and drive he'd never expected to have inside himself.
The moments begin to blur. Every movement from Aphelios is like lightning that streams between the two of them, threatening to overload their very bones. Aphelios breaks his concentration just long enough to see Sett staring at him through half-lidded eyes, his face partially hidden behind one hand. He's panting, his cheeks are flushed, and his tongue hangs from his mouth like a panting dog.
He's perfect.
Aphelios leans over Sett's body to kiss him, and Sett accepts it greedily, beckoning Aphelios's tongue with his own. He murmurs things that Aphelios can't decipher in their mutual haze, but he understands the gist of it: Sett is close, and judging by the increasing speed of his own pulse, Aphelios isn't far behind.
Sett's impressive cock bobs uselessly against his body, smearing clear pre-cum all across his lower abdomen. It's as stiff as a board, and Aphelios knows that the second he touches it, Sett's going to explode like a bomb. Aphelios considers dragging it out, to torture Sett and make him earn it, but that level of sadism is foreign to him; besides, it's hard to consider such things when Sett is still looking at him with eyes full of adoration.
Sett beats him to the punch anyhow. He reaches down to touch himself, and Aphelios's hand meets his at the base of Sett's dick. Sett gasps, as expected, and he throbs beneath Aphelios's gentle touch. A particularly rough thrust causes another clear bead to weep from Sett's tip. Aphelios has him exactly where he wants him.
He shifts his hand up Sett's shaft and presses the pad of his thumb against the underside of the head, a move he'd only heard Kayn mention in one of his many unpleasant and unprompted sexual stories. It's a gamble, but it works — Sett cries out in shock, writhing against the bed and clawing at the sheets. The dam breaks on cue, and Sett fires a series of milky ropes that coat his belly and chest in an utterly sinful visual. It's enough to turn the fire in Aphelios's stomach into something greater. He grits his teeth and slams inside one final time, feeling Sett seize around him, as though his body is eager to claim the prize it has earned.
Aphelios's orgasm is blinding, and so disorienting that he barely hears the wail of Sett's orgasm. Colors dance in his vision as pleasure floods his senses. His nerves spark, and it's all Aphelios can do to keep himself from falling over. Ecstasy flows through his body, followed by the disbelief of a realized fantasy, followed by utter exhaustion. He pulls out and collapses forward onto Sett, barely able to register, let alone care about the mess being smeared between them.
Sett's arms automatically go to wrap around Aphelios protectively, and Aphelios accepts the contact with a grateful little grunt. His limbs feel like they're filled with lead. He can hear Sett's heart beating beneath his head, its beating gradually slowing into a peaceful, steady rhythm. Aphelios almost figures Sett had fallen asleep, until a tiny kiss is planted on the crown of his head, and Sett's chest rumbles with soft satisfaction. "God damn, Phel. I didn't know ya had that in ya."
Aphelios raises up just enough to use both of his hands. "Well, now there is plenty of me in you as well. And all over the sheets."
"Gross," Sett complains. Aphelios knows that if any plushies remained on the bed, Sett would hit him with one. "C'mon, let's go get cleaned up. I'm supposed to call the guys on Discord soon."
But Aphelios doesn't budge. Even in their filthy state, he's comfortable in Sett's arms. "It can wait a few minutes. I am enjoying this."
Sett pauses, but nods, and another kiss lands on Aphelios's head. "Alright, Phel. We'll do it your way."
They might not know what they are quite yet, but Aphelios can't hold back a smile; Sett is already used to things going Aphelios's way.
Aphelios can work with that.