Chapter Text
Sunday takes the initiative and calls Aventurine himself.
“Hello, Mr. Sunday,” the other man greets, a forced levity to his voice.
“Hello, Aventurine.”
“So, uh. I’m very sorry about sending the wrong attachment. Although now that I have you on the phone, we can go over the correct attachment to set up this meeting, yeah?”
“We could. As I said though - don’t be sorry. It was a good picture; pleasing to the eye.”
There’s a pause before Aventurine breaks it with a low chuckle.
“The most dashing man in Penacony, saying my dick is pleasing to his eye? My, Mr. Sunday. How scandalous.”
“I wouldn’t make false statements, Aventurine. You’re pleasing to the eye in general, so it’s no surprise your privates meet the expectation of matching as well.”
“How formal! Wait. Are you implying you had expectations of how my dick looked?”
“Well…,” Sunday trails off, slightly annoyed that he’s misstepped and revealed himself.
“That’s alright. I’ve had my own regarding you,” Aventurine steps in, taking the reins. “If your skin is soft underneath all that clothing. How you’d taste; how you’d sound.”
Sunday shivers as pleasure rolls down his spine. He feels his dick start to harden, uncomfortable and constricted in his pants despite knowing it shouldn’t be with how soft and silken they are.
“Is that right?” Sunday asks, leaning back in bed. He moves his free hand down and considers for a moment before slipping it under the band of his underwear, palming at himself. His wings flutter as he holds back a groan. “Go on.”
“What else is there to say, Mr. Sunday?”
“Don’t be coy.”
“My apologies,” Aventurine huskily laughed. “Why don’t you fill in the gaps, sir?”
Sunday felt the urge to roll his eyes, a look of exasperation sweeping over his face.
“It always falls to me,” he protests, no real heat in his voice.
“Are you touching yourself then, Aventurine?”
He hears the other man hum in assurance.
“Good boy.”
He thinks he hears a curse word shakily come through the line but presses forward.
“Such a good boy for me. I’d let you taste me - my lips on yours, my tongue in your mouth, even my cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Mhm,” Aventurine moans. Sunday feels his cock twitch at the sound in his hand as he slowly strokes it.
“I’d let you finger me; laid out on the bed, open for you and only you.” Even as he said it, he could imagine it — Aven’s fingers slick with lube, spreading him open. His pace begins to pick up with him rubbing his thumb over the slit of his cockhead, humming in a higher pitch at the slick feel.
“Would you let me eat you out, sir?” Aven asks huskily, wet noises from his end punctuating his words.
“Only if you continue to be a good boy for me.”
“Fuck-” Aventurine groans, cutting himself off.
“Let me hear your lovely voice, Aven. You’re so good for me.”
“Maybe I’d even ride you after you got me all loose and ready. Would you like that?”
“Of course, baby.” The way Aventurine responds makes him shiver, leaking more pre-cum as he tightens his fingers on his cock. “I think you’d love it. My cock deep inside you, your hole wet just for me.”
“I’d mark you up, show everyone that the dashing Mr. Sunday of the Oak Family was in my bed. All night long.”
Sunday can imagine it: Aven’s thick dick inside him, pressing in all the right places as he’d take control. Sunday thinks he would let the blond mark him — maybe even let him touch his actual wings, despite their rugged appearance.
Just the idea of Aven fucking deep into him and trailing his fingers through his feathers is enough to set him off.
He jerks his hips minutely, hand stuttering as he chases the high and cums. A high, breathy moan escapes him - something he’d be embarrassed about if he didn’t feel so wrung out and pleased.
He hears Aventurine curse, slick sounds coming through the phone as he tries to reach completion.
“Come,” Sunday says, harmonic tuning slipping into his voice. He hears Aventurine on the other end breathe punched out gasps then a loud moan as his orgasm descended upon him.
Heavy pants are the only thing that fills the room, as both of them recuperate.
“Holy shit,” Aventurine said, voice shaky. “I don’t think I’ve ever come like that before.”
There’s nothing exactly funny about it, but Sunday feels a laugh build up in his chest; maybe it’s just the way the whole thing began, or maybe it’s just the way the other sounded. It bursts out, loud, and devolves into the ugly snorts he usually keeps hidden. Aventurine joins him in the laughter as well, both of them setting each other off when they think they’ve finished.
“Holy shit,” the other says again as their laughs finally peter out.
“So, you enjoyed it?” Sunday asks, trying to be suave and completely missing the mark as his voice comes out soft and vulnerable.
“I did, baby. You were talking about how I sounded lovely? If only you could’ve heard yourself.”
He squirms at the endearment, unsure whether he likes it or not as he gains more clarity.
“… Thank you, Aventurine. I enjoyed it as well.”
“Hey now, no need to continue being so formal after all of this. I liked you calling me Aven, Mr. Sunday.”
“Then I’d say the same to you. You can just call me Sunday… Aven.”
There’s a second of silence, enough to have a thread of anxiety form, before Aventurine laughs.
“Sorry, I forget you can’t see me! I think I haven’t genuinely smiled this much and felt this good in a long time.”
“I don’t think I have either,” Sunday admits softly, a smile of his own appearing.
“For that meeting — may I actually take you on a date? We might have done this a bit backwards.”
Sunday snorts, covering the lower half of his face in a self-conscious action.
“I think… I’d like that, Aven.”