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There are a lot of ways the venerable Doctor Ratio falls short of his lofty ideals and ambitions. Not special enough for The Genius Society, not smart enough for himself, and - when it comes to a certain menace from the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department - not strong enough.
Aventurine hums to himself as he sips his drink – Ratio’s drink, at Ratio’s table, in Ratio’s kitchen. He sits with his thigh crossed over his knee and his other leg every so often kicking a bag at his feet. Somehow, instead of ordering him out, Ratio is preoccupied with the suspiciously inconspicuous paper bag. It’s incongruous. Aventurine is a glittering thing that attracts attention, and Ratio shouldn’t have let him in because he brings nothing but confusion, trouble, the unwelcome demands of the IPC and-
Ratio should not have let him in. He has slammed doors in hundreds of people’s faces, and that’s probably just the count this week.
“This is good stuff, Doc,” Aventurine says thoughtfully, swirling his almost empty glass and not meeting his eyes.
Ratio raises an eyebrow and leans against the fridge, pointedly blocking it from wandering hands. “Did you come here just to critique my liquor selection?”
Aventurine laughs. Ratio hates his laugh. It’s a fake, calculated “teehee” that doesn’t suit him at all. “You know why I’m here."
And Ratio does, of course. There’s only one reason the two of them have to meet right now. “Has the plan changed?”
Aventurine looks at him, at last. “No… Not that you’d know if it did, I suppose.” And he laughs again, like it’s funny, like Penacony is a game.
Ratio’s lip curls. “Get out then.”
Aventurine snaps his fingers, pointing at him. “That’s why I’m here actually.” He throws back the last of his drink and gets to his feet with a hop that is not endearing. “Doctor, when we get to Penacony we’re going to be… partners.” He purrs the word, creeping closer. Ratio folds his arms tighter, shaking off goosebumps. “Friends, conspirators-”
“To the point.”
Aventurine holds up his hands, grinning, as he reaches striking distance. “Point – we’re going to need to trust each other.”
“It would be easier to trust,” Ratio points out, not for the first time, “if you would tell me your plan instead of expecting me to read your mind.”
“I can’t,” Aventurine says, oddly serious for a moment. Just a moment. Then that grin is back. Ratio never knows what he’s thinking. “Which is exactly why I need to know you’ll follow my lead.”
“I never promised such a thing.”
“Doctor.” Aventurine scolds, lips pursed. Ratio’s gaze does not linger on the way they shine. “You’re hurting my feelings here.”
“And you’re hurting my eyes with your ridiculous outfit, but we can’t always get what we want.”
This time Aventurine’s laugh is louder, from his stomach not the back of his throat, and Ratio marvels at the difference for a moment before Aventurine recovers himself. He shakes his head, and then the smile on his face sharpens into something more dangerous. “Do you want me to take it off?”
It cuts off Ratio’s waiting list of insults, pauses him entirely, and not just for reasons that send his eyes to shiny lips again. Aventurine doesn’t usually start this game until he’s concluded his business. Ratio is immediately on alert. Even more so when Aventurine – chin tilting up in victory at Ratio’s silence – turns around and returns to his brown paper bag.
“The reason I’m here tonight, Doctor, is to propose a team building exercise. One I think even you will enjoy.” He retrieves something from the bag and turns back to Ratio, both hands behind his back. “Wanna guess what I’ve got for you?”
Ratio pinches the bridge of his nose. “Cyanide.”
Aventurine laughs from his stomach again, bending slightly in the middle with it. But the laugh warbles off at the end and one of his hands reveals itself, clutching around…
Ratio’s head snaps up. He glowers at Aventurine. Aventurine grins back at him, looking half manic with one hand extended in offering, the other still behind his back.
“You…” Ratio’s face contorts. “You insolent, perverted degenerate.”
Aventurine shivers, looking very pleased. “Yeah that’s it Doctor, you already know the lines.”
Ratio bites down a growl. “You’re intolerable.”
“I’m very tolerable. Even more so once you’ve got me tied up.”
To Ratio’s horror, the mental imagery sends a wave of heat through him. Aventurine is a corrupting influence. A devil. This arrangement they have, and its effect on such a well-trained mind, is the ultimate proof. “You intend to trade sex for trust?”
“I intend to prove you can trust me.” Aventurine steps forward, shakes the rich, blue rope in his hands in offering again. “Isn’t that what all those fools say about sex? It’s about intimacy, it’s about power, it’s about blah blah blah blah,” he trails off mockingly, rolling his eyes. “You’re good at psychology right, you know all the things people think they get out of putting something in a hole. So, since I need you to trust me, and sex is the only place I’ve ever managed to get you in an agreeable mood…”
Aventurine is a riddle, truly. Ratio wishes he had his bust on him right now so he could retreat to solitude and think without Aventurine’s… distractions. (Shiny lips. Bewitching eyes. A brilliant mind calculating against him even at this moment.) He claims to not believe sex has anything to do with trust, and yet he still offers it as proof. Still plays a game he claims to see right through. His eyes are fixed on Ratio, a challenge in them- No. Not a challenge. It’s the look Aventurine gets when he’s taking a large gamble.
Aventurine licks his lips and Ratios hates himself. There is something here. Some answer to part of Aventurine’s riddle that he can’t grasp because his damned body is… He looks away, tries to act disinterested. “We’ve had sex before, and I don’t find myself anymore inclined to trust you after those encounters.” That’s a lie, but Aventurine won’t know that.
Aventurine is the only person in the universe – not counting of The Genius Society – who regularly looks at Ratio like he’s an idiot. It infuriates and, bizarrely, arouses him. “Well that’s what these are for,” he says in a sing-song voice, waving the ropes at Ratio. “Think about it for a moment Ratio. You can tie me up, have me at your mercy, use me as you wish. Won’t that prove you can trust me? That I can behave, and I’m on your side?” Aventurine leers. “Or, at least, doesn’t it sound fun? Doing whatever you want with me? You always say you want to shut me up doctor, and now you can.”
Use me as you wish. It’s Aventurine’s favourite line, and Ratio hates it. “You could simply act in a more trustworthy manner, instead of offering perverted sex games like currency.”
Aventurine says nothing. He just smiles, and that’s how Ratio knows he’s given away his damned interest somehow. Because he is interested, of course he is. He’s not strong enough. But he also doesn’t want to indulge Aventurine. Not his perversions, and not whatever warped notion of self and other has spurred this on. For a moment Ratio is torn in two: mind firmly opposed and on the verge of screaming, and body already listing toward Aventurine like a starship with one engine failing.
This is why he can’t trust him, why he can’t let his guard down. Aventurine splits him in two.
It bothers him that Aventurine thinks of himself like this. As if he isn’t the only person in the IPC Ratio can talk to without getting a headache from idiocy. But it bothers him more that he cares, and exposing that would be like stripping back skin to reveal bone and nerve. He should just say yes, take the good sex, and let Aventurine believe it’s this that will keep their interests aligned in Penacony, and not a far more dangerous thing like fondness. He should kick Aventurine out. He should write a paper on his psyche and find out exactly what happened in his past beyond the legalities.
Ratio thinks for several long minutes. The hand behind Aventurine’s back does not move. The leering look on his face is carved into him. There’s a wildness in his eyes, even more so than usual, like a cornered, feral street cat.
Ratio draws himself up to his full height when the lightbulb moment comes. “Surely you should be tying me up?”
Aventurine flounders visibly, blinking. Confidence and colour drain from his face. It’s so rare to catch him off-guard. Ratio, triumphant, wishes he had a camera. “I- What?”
“You want me to follow your lead in Penacony.” Ratio folds his arms, smirking now he’s got the answer to his dilemma. “Shouldn’t you be proving I can trust you in a leadership position?”
“You want me to…” Aventurine looks at the rope in his hands. “Tie you up?”
“Uncomfortable?” Ratio tuts. “Your bluffs are usually better calculated, Gambler.”
Aventurine stiffens, shakes his head. “No. No, Doctor.” He regards the ropes again. “It’s just some bondage. I just…”
For a moment Aventurine is quiet, and Ratio think he has pushed too far. But then Aventurine slowly looks up at him, pupils dilated and a leering mouth that might be genuine and might be another ploy. “I just didn’t think you were into that.”
“I didn’t prepare myself for nothing, so you’re still going to have to top.” Aventurine pauses shrugging off the last of his clothes to admire Ratio’s naked body. “…Metaphorically speaking, I suppose.” He laughs, an honest to aeons giggle.
As Aventurine tosses more clothes onto the mess on Ratio’s bedroom floor, Ratio pulls at the bindings on his wrists, scowling. They do not give. (They would if he really tried, if this was more than nipping at Aventurine’s fingers. And if they didn’t, all he has to say is ‘Numby’ and Aventurine will undo them.) Aventurine has tied his arms behind his back, positioning him sitting up against the pillows on his bed. If he leans back too far for too long his arms will go numb. Movement is awkward, but he hardly feels restrained in place. He could get up and walk out. “This is ineffective bondage,” Ratio points out.
Aventurine gives him a look through narrowed eyes that’s difficult to decipher. Some bizarre mix of mockery, pity, and contempt. He’s thinking hard, but Ratio has no clue about the subject.
“Well.” Aventurine trails a hand down Ratio’s bare stomach and back up again, tracing the curve of his chest. “I’m choosing the knots, and I think you look better like this. Like a little wrapped up present for me.” He smiles, flicking one of Ratio’s nipples. Ratio exhales heavily, gritting his teeth, and Aventurine laughs again. “Would you prefer to be tied to your bedposts, like an animal for me to dissect?”
“I would prefer not to do this at all,” Ratio counters as Aventurine spreads his legs.
“You’re the one who suggested it, dear Doctor,” Aventurine reminds him. “And you don’t seem to be so against the idea down here.”
Ratio has been hard since Aventurine first touched rope to skin, tying him up in a loaded silence. The room seemed to ache with the weight of… trust? Vulnerability? Words that have no meaning and more meaning around Aventurine. The ropes rubbed uncomfortably against Ratio’s skin as Aventurine moved them. They aren’t gentle. They’ll leave marks. Why would Aventurine buy these ropes – harsh, unkind - if he’d assumed they’d be for him?
He's jolted from contemplation by a slick hand on his cock. Aventurine grins up at him. “Come on now Doctor, you can’t drift off when you’re at my mercy like this.” His other hand is behind his back again, playing with himself, testing his work as he strokes Ratio quickly to full hardness.
Ratio grits his teeth. “Are you telling me not to trust you now?”
Aventurine just smiles, pushing him back into the pillows. “Maybe I should have gagged you with some of that rope.”
Ratio’s sick body, that Aventurine is twisting and moulding into some wicked slave to pleasure, wants that, to be gagged and trussed up worse than this. “It’s not too late,” he manages to say without betraying eagerness.
Aventurine hums thoughtfully for a moment as he shifts forward, until he’s sitting on Ratio’s legs, still stroking his cock lazily. “No. I think I like hearing you.” His mouth is sharp. “I wonder if you’ll make different noises like this?”
Ratio rolls his eyes. “You’ve ridden me before.”
But it does feel different. It does make Ratio question how they got to this point, to him asking Aventurine to tie him. He doesn’t trust Aventurine – can’t trust anyone from the IPC, not when the Guild is so reliant on them – but… if this isn’t trust, what is it? Because it’s something, the way his chest tightened when he first tried to move his wrists and couldn’t, the way Aventurine makes him feel unmoored like nobody else, and yet the weight of him on Ratio’s thighs is grounding.
Aventurine shifts, disturbing Ratio’s frazzled considerations. He hovers over him, adjusting Ratio’s cock.
Ratio balks. Yes, Aventurine is prepared, but it’s not ego that makes him say his girth is considerable, and normally he spends much longer prepping him. “Wait-”
But his arms can’t move. Aventurine has him tied up. Aventurine is in control. So Aventurine lines them up and drops.
Ratio throws his head back, biting his own tongue to stifle an embarrassing moan. His eyes slip closed as his cock is completely submerged in diabolical heat and pleasure. Squeezing, cloying, consuming. His arms strain against the rope, trying instinctively to catch Aventurine, even though they can’t go anywhere and Aventurine is firmly settled in his lap. The Gambler, giddy from the rush of another stupid risk no doubt, has his own head tilted back, exposing a vulnerable throat. He shudders, unable to move through the lightning bolt of pleasure-pain.
Ratio hisses, fighting back to consciousness. “You-” His hands clench into fists and he opens his eyes to glower. “Idiotic, greedy, whoreish-”
Aventurine groans, throaty and eager, and clenches. Ratio loses his words again, leaning back on his bound arms and biting his lip as Aventurine squeezes the strength from him.
They look at each other, both trying to catch their breath. Aventurine looms over him, unfamiliar. The look in his eyes as he pants for breath, as he takes in Ratio, bound beneath him and unable to lift him off, to grip his hips and leave finger bruises as he usually does in this position, is…
Aventurine’s eyes are hungry, and contemptuous, and mean. He licks his lips and raises himself up, only to drop back down. Short, staccato thrusts that keep Ratio’s cock deep inside him. “Whoreish? You’re the one tied up, Doctor.”
“You’re the one bouncing on my cock,” Ratio counters through gritted teeth as Aventurine clenches and grinds, massaging his cock. He fits like a glove. He always does. Ratio thinks about it while they’re apart, daydreaming in his office, his bedroom, his kitchen.
Aventurine must never know this.
The man above him leers. He quickens his pace, until he’s settled into a rhythm. Taking Ratio’s cock down to the base, then back to the tip, sliding up and down and wrenching pleasure from him. Ratio’s lip bleeds. It will swell up with a nasty bruise long after Aventurine is gone. If they meet again before Penacony, Aventurine will make fun of him for it like he didn’t cause it.
They don’t talk about these… episodes of theirs. It’s business, in a way.
But this feels nothing like business. This feels feral. Without Ratio setting the pace it’s up to Aventurine and his typical unhinged chaos. Their skin slaps together as Aventurine rides him brutally. The sounds grow wetter and obscener as Aventurine sweats from exertion and Ratio sweats from holding himself together, restraining his reactions and tensing himself upright to keep his arms from going numb.
It’s all so much more intense, knowing Aventurine can do whatever he wants. Ratio barely holds in the moans he normally keeps in with ease, as the ropes bite into him and Aventurine rides him like a toy. His legs squeeze tightly around Ratio’s, and he looses his moans eagerly, like he can’t wait to get them out.
Sometimes Ratio wonders if Aventurine’s moans are real, or if they’re part of the show.
It’s hard to think about that when Aventurine is bouncing on him, shaking sweaty hair from his shoulders and moaning like Ratio is the best he’s ever had. When his nails rake down Ratio’s chest and he scratches over hard, aching nipples. He uses Ratio, chasing pleasure that seems to overwhelm him. And when he looks down at him… it’s an indecipherable look.
“C’mon,” Aventurine pants eventually. “Ha… ha… come on, Doctor, stop holding back. Doesn’t it feel good?”
Ratio doesn’t answer, because if he opens his mouth he’s going to reveal exactly how good it feels, how much Aventurine corrupts him. He closes his eyes, but Aventurine scratches harder at his stomach and he opens them on a tight gasp.
Aventurine is frowning at him, even as he bounces on Ratio like he’ll die without the thrusting of his cock. “You look good in ropes you know,” he pants. “Regal. Like they were made for you. You wear them like an accessory.” His mouth twists, like he’s displeased about that. Ratio has only a second to catalogue that information before Aventurine begins to move faster, and then it’s all he can do to bite his lip.
Aventurine huffs. “You’re so-” He moans, eyelashes fluttering. “Ngh! So- dignified. All the time. Even- Even now. You’re not supposed to be-” Aventurine clenches his jaw, a determined look on his face.
Ratio is not prepared for Aventurine to somehow move faster, until the slap of skin is constant and overwhelming. He’s not prepared for the way Aventurine clenches around him, for the way he shoves him back into the pillows and traps his hands even more. He grits his teeth, he tries to get through this without embarrassing himself but it’s so- Aventurine is so- Ratio doesn’t want to be weak for him, to be weak for anyone. He doesn’t want to lose himself in him, to get distracted the way Aventurine distracts everyone else but it’s- his ass is so good and he’s so-
A strangled moan escapes him, and Ratio surrenders, accepts the loss. He lets his bottom lip go and moans freely, throatily. He can’t stop them now. One becomes a flood of embarrassing noises.
Aventurine laughs above him, like he’s won something. “That’s it.” He leans down, and the change in angle has them both moaning again. “Come, Doctor. Come for me.”
Ratio doesn’t even think he’s that close, but the ropes bite into him, Aventurine looms over him, riding him like a man possessed, and when Aventurine gives the command, Ratio comes.
He cries out – the most embarrassing noise he’s ever made – and Aventurine answers with a whoreish moan of his own at the feeling of Ratio’s cum splashing into him. Ratio’s hips thrust upwards without his permission, pathetically eager to bury his cock as deeply inside Aventurine’s body as possible. There’s no hiding anything, no making a secret of how much he loves their trysts. It’s too much, too good…
And then it’s over, and Ratio sinks into the pillows, into the awkward, uncomfortable angle his arms push him into. He pants for his breath, mind scrambling to put itself back together and-
“AH!”
Aventurine squeezes around him again, and Ratio’s noise is humiliating. His shoulders strain desperately, trying to catch his hips and hold him in place, but the bindings hold him tight. He can only struggle futilely and take pleasure, bear it, as Aventurine begins to ride him again.
“W-Wai- ngh! Wait!” Ratio cries out, struggling. “It’s- Avent- Gambler! I just-”
“And I didn’t,” Aventurine pants. “And you’re tied up, at my mercy, remember?”
“You- nggggh!” Ratio writhes as Aventurine grinds him in deep, circling his hips.
“Thaaaat’s it,” Aventurine encourages. “Feels good, right?”
Ratio can only pant, words are his weapon, but he’s unarmed as Aventurine tortures him. He grits his teeth, but every time Aventurine rises and drops down it forces out a desperate, airy cry.
Aventurine grins, looking truly manic now. “Feels too good, right?” Ratio nods, horrified to find himself whimpering, and Aventurine coos. That strange look in his eyes is beginning to look like something to fear. “You’re not supposed to whimper and complain Doctor. I’m in charge here, remember? That’s what you wanted.” Aventurine smiles pleasantly, like he isn't milking Ratio for all he has. "But if you really want me to stop, you know what to say."
Ratio does want it to stop, because it's humiliating. But Ratio also wants it to never stop, because it feels like pure ecstasty suffocating him and he doesn't even have to do anything. So he doesn't say a word. Instead he moans helplessly. His hips shift restlessly, thrusting up into that torturous pleasure, even as his torso cringes away. It feels so good and he doesn’t know what to do. This pleasure feels feral, like a piece of Aventurine has crawled into his brain. It scares him, how badly he wants something so wild. He makes a noise that would be a sob if it were from anyone other than Veritas Ratio.
Aventurine grins. “See, that’s more like it Doctor. That’s how you’re supposed to be, when you’re under someone like this.” Ratio is gone, his vision swimming and his body mindlessly chasing the thing that’s suffocating it. He can’t banter. Aventurine doesn’t seem to care. He just keeps riding him like a toy, like an object without need or feeling. “Where’s- ngh, where’s your dignity now? Huh? You’re not any- ohhhh, any different, any better than me.” He pants, his pace faltering. Ratio’s chest heaves. Aventurine’s legs squeeze around his thighs. He reaches for his cock and strokes himself furiously.
"Av-" Ratio struggles to get words out between desperate cries. "Aven-!" His tongue is thick in his mouth, and he can't tell if he's begging for it to stop or begging for more.
Aventurine's eyes blow wide and almost immediately - mercifully, painfully, because he clenches so hard that Ratio yells - he comes over Ratio’s stomach. He shudders through his release, hunched over and suddenly looking smaller. Ratio jerks beneath him, at the exact summit point between pleasure and pain, unable to pull back or dive off the cliff and get it over with.
Aventurine rolls off of him almost immediately. The noise Ratio makes - as he collapses back from the summit, away from the fall - is wetter than the noise of their separation, drool spilling from his mouth. His ears are ringing. They both lay there in silence for a while. Ratio panting into the air and Aventurine panting into the pillows. Sweat cools on their skin. Ratio’s muddled mind refuses to come back together.
Aventurine is the one that stirs first. Usually he lounges in the aftermath. Now he sighs heavily, and sits up. “C’mon.” Ratio is limp, buzzing with aftershocks. Aventurine’s slightest touch on his bare skin feels like a fist clenching on a raw nerve. He shifts Ratio forward and undoes the ropes, tossing them over the side of the bed. Slowly, he smooths out the numb muscles and brings them around to Ratio’s front.
The rope marks are deep and angry. Aventurine doesn’t say anything, but his brows pinch together. He looks at Ratio, eyes searching. “Are you okay Doc?" he asks, warily. "Didn't make your trust issues worse did I?"
Ratio is too tired to retaliate for the jab. He can only nod. "You-" Ratio's voice cracks painfully, raw from screaming, and he winces.
Aventurine smiles, an expression dangerously close to an honest emotion on his face. "I'm good." He rubs over Ratio's sore arms with experienced hands that know exactly where to press, where to soothe. There’s a lot they could say to each other. There always is. But they don’t. “I’m gonna go clean up. I’ll grab some things for you. You have a medicine bag right?”
Ratio stares at him. He wonders if Aventurine is going to toss the bag at him and leave, or sit and soothe his wounds. Oddly – maybe his mind is too fractured – he finds he trusts Aventurine to come back and take care of him. “Bathroom cabinet,” he finally manages to croak.
Aventurine nods and gets up on unsteady feet. He’s a riddle, and Ratio can’t untangle him at his best, let alone when he feels seconds from passing out from exhaustion. He stares ahead at a blank wall, mind empty for perhaps the first time in his life. It's peaceful. Quiet. It's... good, in a new way. Certainly not the end of the world.
Aventurine emerges from the bathroom quickly, almost suspiciously so but Ratio is too tired to care. He sits down with the bag, and the only thought Ratio can manage is a strange one.
The rope, lying on the floor, is the exact same shade of blue as his clothing.