Work Text:
“Do you have to put up with those chairs every day?” Aventurine plucked out his clothing pinched into the crevices of his body. “I’d go crazy doing this every time I stood up. So inconvenient.”
“You’d get used to it,” said Ratio, walking evenly by his side but not turning to make eye contact during conversation. “Though refraining from wearing ill-fitting designer clothes might also help.”
“It’s not the clothes, Doctor,” replied Aventurine with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s what’s underneath. My new boyfriend got me lingerie to wear to our date tonight. That’s what’s ill-fitting.” He tugged underneath his trousers again, where Ratio could only fathom the construction of the revealing garb underneath.
“‘New boyfriend,’” repeated Ratio, “as opposed to the old one? Or the one before that?”
Aventurine scowled, turning his head aside bitterly. Ratio wasn’t even wrong—hence his lack of a retort.
“It was a joke,” added Ratio, a clarification he found himself using more and more often.
The pair sat together on a squeaky couch in an Intelligentsia Guild Headquarters lounge, a drear post-meeting atmosphere clouding them both. The specifics of it were insignificant—Ratio overall less ruffled, familiarized further with the old, static chairs and fluorescent lights dangling above, though visibly not enjoying himself.
“Was it a joke?” asked Aventurine. “Who’s laughing here?”
Ratio shrugged. “How great of a partner can your ‘new boyfriend’ be if he doesn’t even know your size? Your measurements?”
Aventurine scoffed. “You say that like you can just, I don’t know, eyeball me and guess my size.”
“Sure I could,” said Ratio, “it’s only a matter of accurate calculation. If your new boyfriend has poor sense of scale, as many men do, he’ll over or underestimate just about everything you hand his way. Fortunately, it’s a problem the more mathematically-aligned of us do not suffer.”
“Yeah, as if.” Aventurine fidgeted on the cushion where he sat, restless even on a sofa. “Ugh, honestly, it’s not even a cute fit. I’d offer to show you, but like…you don’t want to see that.”
“That’s-”
“It’s a vile neon pink, not even easy on the eyes. That hot magenta nonsense only works on latex, and no, it’s not that either.” Aventurine stuck out his tongue. “A lacey two-piece nonsense simultaneously too big for my chest and too small for my ass. I feel like I’m wearing chainmail under my suit, the way it’s biting at my skin.”
Ratio sighed and stood up, checking his watch for the time before turning back to Aventurine.
“I’m leaving now,” he said bluntly, “seeing as I am no longer required here. Have fun later with your new fixation—what’s his name, again?”
“My new boyfriend?” Aventurine forced a big smile, sputtering out frustrated huffs between words. “His name- Aeons, is that really what matters most to you about a man? Not his looks, or- Or his salary? Or, like, the stupidest sport he talks about the most? It’s judo, by the way, so that might as well be my pet name for him. My boyfriend, Judo.”
“Judo sounds enthralling.” Ratio’s words dripped with sarcasm, as always. “Enjoy yourselves.”
“We will,” affirmed Aventurine, emphasizing his grin. “We’re gonna have so much fun. And he’ll learn something tonight about how I’m actually sized underneath these clothes.”
Ratio didn’t waste breath responding. He kept walking forward and away, Aventurine’s irksome statements only somewhat bothering him.
Surely Aventurine had to know there were better uses of his time than nights thrown out with men so uninteresting he couldn’t recall their names. Was sex with strangers actually satisfying to him, or was it merely the most pleasurable of easy-to-access distractions? No less, he was settling for ones evidently too blind to see Aventurine required different sizes for tops and bottoms—even Ratio didn’t have to be told that to notice. It wasn’t as if Aventurine made much effort to mask his shape; plus his suits seemed tailored to do the exact opposite at times, clothes so slimming and tight they’d put straitjackets to shame.
How humiliating would it be for Aventurine’s coworker to surpass his partner in terms of accurate gift-giving? Ratio pursed his lips at the thought. It was an enticing power play, if nothing else, though a gift of lingerie was far beyond ‘crossing the line’—more like shooting past it on a rocketship. However, Aventurine brought it up first, and Ratio felt comfortable enough to deduce he would be the last person to decline a thoughtful, expensive present, sultry as it may be.
Ratio then decided to humiliate Aventurine’s new and inevitably ex boyfriend behind his back. Just a simple, entertaining scheme to induce some critical thinking in his little blond head, and then things would go back to normal.
He didn’t have time to think over when it would be most appropriate to hand the gift over, as the opportunity came far quicker than he anticipated. As soon as later that night, Aventurine showed up to Ratio’s place unannounced, hands folded behind him and a woozy idle stance.
“Evening, Doctor,” said Aventurine, taking a step forward. “May I come in?”
“What happened to your date?” asked Ratio, placing himself in the doorway, guarding the interior of his house from Aventurine. “Didn’t you have a thing with Judo tonight?”
“Who?” Aventurine raised an eyebrow, then kept on talking. “Um, my date stood me up. Well, he claimed he got caught in traffic and wanted to turn around. I suppose making it all the way to our date location would be a waste of time…”
“Sounds like a keeper,” said Ratio, then widening the door to allow Aventurine in. His clothing, though changed from his green and gold work suit, still wrinkled in the worst of places—he was certainly wearing the alleged hideous lingerie beneath. “A mark of pure laziness. Even the most unfavorable of plans should be followed through, if their time has come to pass. Plans are a vow of their own.”
“Everyone’s always prioritizing their own schedules these days,” bemoaned Aventurine. “If our date impedes on his evening, it’s a waste of time, and he’s better off rotting at home, or whatever the hell these guys do in their spare time.” He kicked off his leather shoes, quickly making himself comfortable. “Sick of feeling like I’m second fiddle to the men I’m literally supposed to be in an equal relationship with.”
“It’s immaturity, simple as,” said Ratio, closing the door behind them both. “And unfortunately, it does not degrade with age, but poor experience.”
“See, this is why I have you around. You totally get where I’m coming from.”
“Sometimes,” clarified Ratio, the edge of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I want to show you something.”
“Really?” Aventurine folded his arms. “Were you expecting me?”
“You could say that,” said Ratio, leading Aventurine to his living room, where a gift bag sat upright on Ratio’s coffee table. The icy green packaging implied its designated recipient.
“What did you get…?” Aventurine pinched his lips, for once not completely enthralled with the notion of receiving a gift.
Ratio retrieved the bag and handed it to Aventurine. “See for yourself.”
Aventurine peered inside, eyes quickly going wide and jaw dropping. He closed the bag, then peeked inside, then closed it again. “Ratio! What the hell is this?!”
“A solution?” The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Evidence, perhaps? I’m merely backing up my statements from earlier with proof. Go ahead, try it on.”
“Oh, hell no!” Aventurine waved a hand in the air in dismissal, yet wore an open, elated smile. “I don’t think my man would be happy with that one, nuh-uh.”
“Your man who can’t deduce your size? Your man who was too lazy to sit in a little traffic to make your date?” Ratio clicked his tongue and swiped the bag back from Aventurine. “I’ve changed my mind, then. No present for you.”
“Wh- Hey!” Aventurine reached out and pinched the other end of the gift bag, pouting up at Ratio. “Just because I declined doesn’t mean you get to take it back!”
“Um, yes it does,” replied Ratio, tugging at the topside. Aventurine didn’t relent, placing them both at an impasse, latched onto either end of the bag like dogs warring over a bone.
“Ugh, fine! But just for a minute!” Aventurine weaseled a hand into the bag and snatched out his gift—a wadded crumple of Ratio’s lingerie selection—and took it with him to the bathroom. Ratio sat in his living room alone, waiting in silence for the rustling of clothes to cease and the bathroom door to open once again.
And when it did, Aventurine emerged in what Ratio could only describe as ‘the perfect fit.’
He wore, from shoulder to thigh, cherry red leather bondage straps, clasped tight around a gold loop in the center of his chest and buckling down to his waist where a garter belt began. Beneath the draping of the garters and straps was a pair of silk underwear—a generous descriptor considering the lack of fabric in both the front and back. Thin strings held the piece together, though Ratio surmised that, for the purposes of lingerie it was no priority for panties to be functional.
The straps hugged Aventurine’s body tight, just as a harness should. The leather ran skin-tight against his slender chest, but he could still take deep breaths. The gold buckles clasped securely around his thighs, fat spilling over in an eccentric display of abundance. And the stockings: opaque black, latched to the garters with only minor strain. Exposed in his semi-nude state, Aventurine’s figure was unmistakably pear-shaped, a fact his sham of a partner was either too dull or too careless to take note of. He obviously required differing sizes for the top and bottom, and should someone be bold enough to brave buying him a one piece, this fact must be taken into account.
“Wow,” was the only thing Aventurine said.
“Suits you,” added Ratio, conspicuously crossing one leg over the other. “It works because of the buckles. You can adjust as you see fit. I’d let Judo know about this fact, if you’re going to keep seeing him.”
Aventurine stopped admiring himself and glanced toward Ratio with a devious grin. “You sound a little envious, Doctor. Is this your way of telling me you wish you were buying me fancy underwear instead?”
“Of course not,” sputtered Ratio, “I’m demonstrating to you how simple it should be for one of your temporary playthings to get your size right. It’s plain disrespect to care so little about whether or not the things you purchase for your partner will be of use to them. And if I can do it, not even as your partner but as a colleague who, until this moment, had never seen you so scantily-clad, then I think whatever man believes he wants to spend the rest of his life with you can put in an equal amount of effort. At least.”
“Is that so?” Aventurine raised an eyebrow. “You sure this isn’t just some convoluted excuse to see me dressed like this? All you had to do was ask, Doctor…”
“I didn’t require anything of you,” said Ratio defensively. “From one man to another, I’m only elucidating your worth to you. There’s few traits more unattractive than low self-esteem, especially when you try so hard to mask it.”
Aventurine stiffened, but had no comeback. He clasped his hands together over his lap, aimlessly twisting around in place.
“What?” Ratio stood up and approached the dolled-up Aventurine. “Do you have something to say?”
“Hell, Doctor,” squeaked Aventurine, “you’re making it hard for me to think faithful thoughts.”
“When are you ever?” Ratio ran a finger across one of the harnesses looped over Aventurine’s shoulder, slipping one in the tight space between leather and skin. He retracted it as quickly as he approached. “Awfully kind of me to buy you clothes for someone else to do you in, isn’t it?”
“It’s like you said, though…” Aventurine twirled the edge of his hair, pressing against Ratio’s body, hands uniquely kept to himself. “I shouldn’t be wasting my time with men that can’t eye me right anyway. Your proposal rings loud and clear, Doctor.”
Ratio froze, the unignorable throbbing between his legs somewhat sated taut to the soft warmness of Aventurine’s stomach. Exchanging one problem for another, Ratio’s erection simmered at the cost of Aventurine confirming his hardness.
“I was not propositioning you for sex by doing this,” Ratio swallowed tersely, brow furrowing. “I was- I was merely making a point, Aventurine. Don’t misconstrue my actions.”
“No, you took a gamble is what you did—and I’m telling you, it’s paid off,” smiled Aventurine, finally settling his hands on Ratio’s comparably clothed chest. “Make me forget about why I came here.”
“Aventurine,” started Ratio, opening his mouth only for no words to fall out. He’d just be fooling himself playing along with his own charade, continuing to dance around the ache in mind all day, the incessant wonder of what Aventurine looked like underneath his garish suits. Something unknown drew an endless procession of men toward Aventurine; Ratio was never one to deny himself the pursuit of knowledge.
“Doctor,” cooed Aventurine once more, finding Ratio’s shirt collar and popping open the top button. “We’re off the clock. Surely you can indulge yourself for one night?”
“It’s far from indulgence,” Ratio continued to protest, hands behind his back and blinking his flustered gaze away. “It’s what you wish for, not me.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” said Aventurine, sliding his palm down and over Ratio’s throbbing erection, swelled hard between their bodies. “I know expensive lingerie when I wear it. You were confident in your guessing skills—for good reason. Now come claim your reward, before it’s too late.”
He massaged his hand against Ratio’s clothed crotch, the heated bulge beneath aching to be set free. Aventurine slyly unbuttoned and loosened Ratio’s fly, setting his cock loose before the doctor even had the notion to react.
“I’ll bet this is the first time you ever did this for someone, isn’t it?” Aventurine batted his prismatic eyes up toward Ratio, a thin, perverted grin plastered to his lips. “Buying someone clothes and fucking them in it, I mean. It’s far from my first rodeo, but…” He guided them both to Ratio’s couch; the latter of which did not resist. Aventurine sat him down and mounted his lap, hovering in a wide straddle over his arousal. “I think these might be my new favorite clothes ever gifted to me.”
Ratio settled his hands over Aventurine’s thighs. Truly, his words were going in one ear and out the other; Ratio was far more transfixed with the visual aspect of their foreplay. He had taken into account how Aventurine would appear in the bright red leather, and how radiant he’d appear for his partner of choice. Ratio simply hadn’t the foresight to imagine it would be him—he was taken off-guard by his own strong reaction, but Aventurine played it cool, like he’d mastered handling sudden erections from nearly-celibate coworkers, or like he wanted things to play out this way all along.
Ratio had never been so hard in his life. He wiped away a small trail of drool escaping the corner of his mouth.
“Come now, use your words, big boy,” teased Aventurine with a cocked head. “Tell me you don’t want this right now.”
“I’ll do it,” immediately blurted Ratio, “I only- I need protection, and I don’t have any here.”
“Well, isn’t it your lucky day?” Aventurine reached behind Ratio’s ear, running his pointer over the soft cartilage before producing a foil-wrapped condom out of thin air like he would a magic card trick.
Ratio eyed the silvery square, dangled before him like a carrot on a stick. He snatched it up after some taunting from Aventurine, tearing the wrapper while the gambler lowered his open trousers and maneuvered his briefs out of the way. Ratio placed the wet condom over his cockhead, sliding it down his shaft. He seethed as the rubber snapped tight around his girth.
“This- This is not the right size for me.”
“It’s all I have, so you make do or go raw.”
“Well, I’m certainly not doing that,” reaffirmed Ratio, attempting to squeeze some pleasure from the pain circulating his dick. “To hell with your poorly-endowed mates.”
Aventurine snickered, rubbing his palm over Ratio’s cock and the small condom adorning it. He guided Ratio to his pussy, a slicked wet spread across his inner thighs. He pushed him inside, cockhead popping in with only minor resistance. Aventurine sighed greatly as he lowered himself down—now two tight rings clenched around Ratio’s girth.
The strain of the rubber between their bodies was evident. Ratio wasn’t holding onto hope.
“Fuck, you’re huge,” said Aventurine, jaw slack as he settled himself down as far as he could go. His eyelids fluttered as his cunt met the base of Ratio’s cock, coughing out a sigh as his filled insides undoubtedly contorted into new, strange shapes.
The warmth of his cunt was evident through the condom—combined with its inferior size against Ratio’s thick cock, Aventurine’s hole seared a burning heat every time he rolled his hips. He steadied himself, hands flat to Ratio’s chest and knees bent as he began riding enthusiastically on top.
“Shit,” cussed Ratio, the curse slipping from his mouth as easily as he slid inside Aventurine. His nails dug into Aventurine’s sides, gripping onto his body for dear life. Ratio threw his head back against the couch, jerking his hips from below in search of harder pressure. The condom strained and squeaked under the friction, and by the time it snapped and broke, Ratio was swimming too deep in a pool of lust to care.
The instant their fucking turned raw, Aventurine moaned. He’d been gasping and panting before, sounding more like an athlete working out than a sex fiend, but without the condom parting them anymore, he shifted quickly to emitting ecstatic squeals.
“Bad boy,” said Aventurine, his palm crossing Ratio’s cheek. “So desperate. I know you can feel me, you aren’t stopping?”
“Keep riding before I change my mind,” huffed Ratio, smacking Aventurine’s ass in encouragement.
He was simply too tight to quit. Ratio understood then how an otherwise unremarkable IPC corporate pawn managed to sate his own nymphomania with some endless procession of men—one taste of his warm and welcoming cunt guaranteed returning clientele back and begging for seconds. Zero chance Ratio would give up such a rare opportunity, already in over half a foot too deep.
Aventurine bit his lip and slowed his hips, but obeyed Ratio’s order. “Yes, sir,” he purred, rolling his entire body with every slide. He pressed his lips to Ratio’s ear, whispered words puffing out like hot steam: “Thank you again for the lovely clothes, Doctor. You have no idea what you did to me when I realized what you bought.”
“I had- I had no ulterior motive in mind when I did,” declared Ratio, a frazzled stutter nearly interrupting himself. “Perhaps my notions of socially acceptable gifts are outdated.”
“You think?” Aventurine snickered, kissing along Ratio’s jaw down to his neck and over his clavicle. “But I look hot, don’t I? Don’t I look just as fuckable as you imagined? Surely Veritas Ratio accounted for aesthetics and taste when picking this out, surely.”
“Surely,” repeated Ratio, then pushing Aventurine off and onto his back. He hit the cushions, a pair of broad shoulders and a picturesque face blocking his gaze from the ceiling.
Aventurine fell with grace. It was routine and muscle memory at this point, acclimated to contorting himself into bizarre positions just for his partners to cum that much harder. Ratio would be a fool not to take advantage of the fact.
He removed the torn condom, cock freed from its shrunken, rubbery confine, and slotted himself quickly back inside Aventurine.
“Better remember to pull out,” warned Aventurine, wrapping his legs around Ratio’s waist and posing his arms above his head. “IPC health insurance doesn’t cover taking care of mistakenly conceived mundanites.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” said Ratio, fixing himself flush to Aventurine and thrusting completely inside. “The last thing either of us need are more gamblers running about.”
His cockhead unconsciously twitched at the thought. Aventurine felt it—and smirked.
“Why do you assume they’d take after me?” asked Aventurine, reaching upward and slowly unbuttoning Ratio’s shirt. His eyes scoured every inch of the pale, flawless skin hidden underneath his nice clothes. “You don’t think we’d pop out a couple baby geniuses? Big-brained mathletes doing times tables by the age of five?”
“Shut it,” said Ratio, gritting his teeth. Aventurine’s warmth was a poor distraction from the new fantasies circulating inside his head: pumping him full of semen until he got pregnant; discovering which of them their spawn would take after more. The visions flashed in Ratio’s mind over and over, and for a moment, Aventurine was in the same red leather lingerie, only with a rounder stomach and hungrier stare.
Ratio came hard. It was sudden and unexpected for the both of them, but he came without warning or hesitation. His cum flooded Aventurine’s womb, and despite the warning, he was none the angrier for where Ratio finished. He pulled him in close, keeping their bodies intertwined, and nestled his nose into the crook of Ratio’s neck.
“Liar,” chastised Aventurine, pressing another gentle kiss to Ratio’s ear. “You couldn’t help it.”
“I’m sorry,” said Ratio, though the apology was really toward himself. “You’re tight.”
“I know.”
“Did you-”
“No. May I?”
Ratio blinked and nodded. He began to slide out, but Aventurine locked his ankles around him.
“Nuh-uh. Get hard again. I’m finishing on you like you did me.”
Being ordered and bossed around—Ratio knew he should have been more bothered. He should have protested or made some snarky remark, but the neediness and desperation oozing from Aventurine’s presentation was too enticing to refuse. And for whatever reason, it turned him on.
“Say please,” said Ratio.
Aventurine stared, pouted, whined, and rolled his eyes before conceding. “Please, Doctor. Please let me get off on your cock. You’re so thick and big, I just can’t help-”
“That’s quite enough.” Ratio held up a hand. He remained inside Aventurine, bloating with arousal once more as his refractory period passed and Aventurine blathered dirty talk. “Get off, then. Show me how you want to do it.”
“Yes, sir,” smiled Aventurine, unhooking his ankles and ushering all his weight into Ratio, toppling them both flipside. Aventurine sat on top now, straddling the doctor, hands propped against his abs. He radiated lustful hunger, a real animal in heat. “I’ll ride you good, Doctor. After all, I’m so excessively grateful for your thoughtful gift.”
Ratio kept his lips sealed. No sardonic remark would set the moment, and no quip in store would do anything but potentially tick Aventurine off. He allowed himself pleasurable repose laid on his back, blond fetish wetting his dick with eager strokes. Aventurine rode with enthusiasm, hips bouncing and grinding aggressively.
Is this how he chased his own climaxes? Ratio wondered whether Aventurine was born high-maintenance, or if years of experience demanded his nerves be beaten and buzzed to achieve orgasm at all.
His philosophizing fogged with the rest of his thoughts, overstimulated but tingling head-to-toe in ecstasy. It didn’t matter, really. He was finding a way to get himself off hands-free, and what could matter more than that?
Ratio allowed his eyes respite and chased sensations with his hands, grabbing at Aventurine’s thighs and hips and waist and chest. It deterred the Sigonian none, moans only heightening with Ratio’s added touch. Soft skin squished under smooth leather; there was an unspoken admiration in how well pieces slotted together. Ratio into Aventurine, and Aventurine into that cherry red harness.
He would never allow Aventurine the honor of knowing how correct he was in his guess: of course Ratio never bought lingerie for anyone else before. The accumulation of knowledge remained a higher priority pursuit than checking off taboo boxes on a juvenile ‘Prime Purity Test’ spreading across campus. The generosity felt good, though—perhaps only after observing the fruits of his sharp-eyed labor with his own hands and cock. Maybe he’d do it again someday. But only for the Sigonian.
Before Aventurine announced his impending climax, his walls tensed around Ratio, ride slowing to gentle thumps and moans pitching up an octave. Ratio held their bodies together, grip tight on Aventurine’s hips, pulling him down, pulling him close.
Ratio peeled his back from the couch, sticky with sweat, and holding Aventurine in his lap, deepened his reach and kneaded his flesh against Aventurine’s clit.
He came quickly, too. With a flourish of his arms around Ratio’s neck, Aventurine wailed and settled as far down on Ratio’s cock as his petite body would allow. “Fuck!” He screamed, pressing his lips to Ratio’s neck, shoulders, and then biting into him, drawing a yelp from his victim.
“Hey!” Ratio swatted at Aventurine, grappling his arms and forcing him physically still—an easy feat for anyone if they actually tried. Aventurine shot upright, expression still dazed with ecstasy, orgasm not yet ridden out. In his fury, Ratio thrusted into Aventurine thrice, hard pumps choking Aventurine from below.
“Uh- Wait- Fff-”
He tightened again, cumming or overstimulated (Ratio didn’t care which), and with the outpour of breathless moans came a stream of wetness, spilling down Ratio’s length and onto his—Aeons, no—exorbitant blue velvet couch.
He was made the fool this time. Ratio chastised himself, Sailing closer to the sun is never worth it, is it?
Aventurine slumped against Ratio, collapsed onto his warm chest, mumbling words inaudible and unimportant. Ratio leaned back onto the couch, saving the schematics for its laundering bill for later. In the meantime, he cradled Aventurine in his arms, still wearing his work clothes, unpresentable and disheveled as they were.
He went back to fascinating himself with Aventurine, dozing off further and further every second. Ratio toyed with his sleek hair, grabbed more at his skin, but couldn’t tear his eyes or hands from the leather harness. It was a mark of pride at this point. A perfect fit.
Maybe every man who slept with Aventurine came out feeling the same way. As if destiny itself called for another union, again and again. Maybe that’s what kept them coming back, begging for more.
Or maybe Ratio just wanted an easy excuse for it to happen all over again—goodnight, Gambler…same time next week?