Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alarms blare in Elliot’s ears as soon as 1x found him. His breathing quickens and he tries to get up, but the deep cuts and sore muscles scream at him for rest. His legs gave out as soon as he stood up, falling harshly on his stomach. The dirt beneath him dusted up and clings to his sweat, clumping up.

A groan makes its way out of his throat as he ignores his aching muscles to crawl away from the killer.

1x watches in amusement at the pitiful attempt to escape. Laughter erupts, grainy and loud. “How I love seeing you survivors try to… survive.” Ticking then joins the alarm, signaling he’s about to throw a projectile.

Elliot squeezes his eyes shut, bracing for the glitches that cloud his vision and the poison that burns his body. Then, a gunshot pierces through all the noise. Unmistakable and, in a way, comforting. A deep, guttural scream escapes the killer. It left him paralyzed as they try to take the bullet out from their torso. Elliot took this as a chance to run away despite his body screaming at him to collapse. The adrenaline kept him going. His running speed increases and the piercing wind cools him down.

Finally, he found a spot he deemed safe and slid down the wall. Elliot’s head starts to spin from the blood loss and his breathing gets deeper, close to passing out.

“Elliot.” A whisper of his name grounds him enough to stay awake. “Elliot, here. Take this. You need this way more than me.”

Chance. His usual cocky tone boils down to a serious and concern one as they studied Elliot’s state.

A med kit enters Elliot’s view and with a trembling hand, he takes it. His movements were slow and sluggish and his vision was beginning to form stars. A whimper escapes as his hands start to disobey him. The gauze slips through his fingertips and he couldn’t think straight.

“Shh, you’re alright. Here let me help you.” Chance reassures the pizza boy. He picks up the gauze and scoots closer to the other. With a delicate hand, they lift Elliot’s arm to get better space to wrap him up. Tight enough to stop the bleeding, but enough that it doesn’t cut off his circulation. Chance then moves onto his other cuts. Each bandage that Chance puts on him, the better Elliot feels.

They finally covered the last major cut and he exhales as if he were holding their breath.

“How do you feel?” Chance softly asks.

It took a little longer for Elliot to respond than usual, but the question finally registers as blood returns. He no longer feels cold and his vision gets better with each passing second. “I feel great,” he still slurs slightly. “Thank you.” Elliot takes a deep breath to calm his heart rate. He leans his head back to the wall again and closes his eyes. The sharp pain subsides into a dull one.

Elliot opens his eyes in almost a panic. With his still aching muscles, he digs into his pizza carrier and takes out a slice. The melty cheese almost slides off the slice as it droops from the lack of support. “Please, take it,” he insists.

Chance shakes his head and stands back up. His cocky facade comes back. “Save it for someone who actually needs it.” Then he flips his coin, landing on heads. They celebrate in his head. Lady Luck is on their side today. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t blow up on me,” he mumbles out to himself as they inspect their gun.

Elliot stifles a laugh and shakes his head in a joking manner. “Give him your best shot,” he encourages. Chance nods and turns around, but not before Elliot softly grabs them by the hem of their suit, stopping him from leaving just yet. “And..” he starts off. “Thank you again for saving me. I know we would still come back alive no matter what. But, it definitely helps my sanity from dying over and over again.”

Chance can only stare at him through his sunglasses. They bring their hand up to their neck and rubs it in a soothing manner. The sparkle in Elliot’s eyes flustered him. He had that look of a kid looking at his hero. Chance had to force himself to look away and breathe silently to calm his speeding up heart. He looks back at the other, his hand still holding onto their suit. With the last bit of confidence he had, they pushed their sunglasses down and winked. “You know it, baby.”

Elliot’s eyes widen slightly and he finally lets go of Chance’s suit. The gambler immediately booked it to find the killer, leaving Elliot stunned.

The pet name echoes in his mind.

“Baby.”

Elliot grabs a fistful of grass and curls into himself. The way their voice got deeper and the slight purr. A smile creeps onto his face and he covers it with a hand. “Telamon, he’s just like that. What’s wrong with me,” he groans out. He takes a deep breath and props up a leg to hoist himself up. With a quick roll of his shoulder and tying the apron tighter, he runs back into the fight to heal whoever needs it.

Fortunately, the round ended with no one dying. There were times someone would be low on health and Elliot would accidentally throw the pizza a little too far. He couldn’t help but beat himself up for it as they all got up from the table, minus him. Screeching chairs and footsteps receding were blocked out as he kept thinking about his mistakes.

“Are you okay, Elliot?”

He jumps at the mention of his name and turns his head. Chance.

“Ah, yeah. I’m okay,” he said airily. Chance raises an eyebrow. Elliot goes back to spacing out and they sigh through their nose. It isn’t all that concerning for him to go quiet sometimes, they all do at some point, especially after a bad round. But this time it felt a little different. Everyone survived with some minor mishaps so Chance is left confused.

And Elliot dwells on the mistakes he’s done. Even while he was working at Builder Brother’s Pizza. If a customer so much as complaint about something, no matter how small, Elliot took the blame on himself and did everything in his power to fix it. In this hell he was dragged into, once he makes a mistake, it costs the whole team. He misses a pizza throw when someone’s on low health, they die. When he gets hit, all the sentinels come in to protect him resulting in a butterfly effect and either he dies or someone else. Elliot spirals in his head, but he didn’t know why. Back at the pizzeria he didn’t think like this. Was it the stress of having to survive everyday? Was it the amount of times he died or watching someone else die? Exhaustion?

“Y’know, you did pretty good last round.” Chance’s voice cuts through his thoughts. Elliot whips his head to look back at them.

“..What?” He questions, close to a whisper.

“Yeah. You did really well. When you threw the last pizza in the direction Guest was running towards. You made sure he can still run without losing the momentum while healing. I thought it was a smart move.” They explain.

“Oh,” was all Elliot could say. He hadn’t think about it in that way. The guilt of his mistake slowly starts to dissipate as Chance’s words reached his degrading brain. “Thank you.” He exhales like he can breathe again.

Chance then reaches into his pocket. Elliot follows his hand in curiosity. They then pull out a deck of cards and shakes it in place to show it off. “You know how to play poker?”

Elliot scoffs playfully and rolls his eyes. “You gamble your life everyday and it’s still not enough?”

“Well, I do love the thrill. But, this time no lives are at stake,” he reassures. With the confidence of his sunglasses hiding his eyes, they travel over the body of Elliot, studying. They smirk and continue the rules of the game, “Only our dignity.”

“What do you mean?”

“Strip poker.”

Elliot’s face gets warm at the suggestion. His index finger and thumb plays with a curl in his hair and shyly looks away. “Are the others joining us or..,” he goes quiet.

Chance would rather die than see Shedletsky’s naked body or the other way around. “Just us. I am not seeing Shedletsky naked.” They roll their head back and stuck his tongue out in disgust. Elliot giggles in response and nods, relaxing again.

They both then snuck their way out of the main cabin where everyone is. Elliot breathed in the fresh air of nighttime without the lingering stench of blood and murder. It was one of those rare moments where he felt he can let his guard down. They entered into one of the spare cabins. No one usually goes into any of them unless they wanted to be alone, which is rare. Everyone found comfort in being with someone.

“And since we have a whole day without any rounds, we can take our time. We can also stop at any point during the game if you’re really uncomfortable.” Chance assured as he begins to shuffle the deck on a small table. Elliot nods and watches the tricks the other was doing. They both pulled up chairs and sat down across each other.

“You said you owned a casino right?” Elliot recalls. Studying the way Chance shuffled the cards like there was an audience watching reminded him when they all introduced themselves (After the initial panic).

Chance raised his eyebrows and beams at the thought of his business. “Yeah. I really hope we can go back. I miss the noise of the machines and the celebratory screams of people winning. People booked games with me to see if they can beat the ultimate master,” they gloated. Elliot couldn’t help but roll his eyes playfully again.

“You actually came into my pizzeria at times,” Elliot admits.

“You worked at Builder Brother’s Pizza?!” Chance exclaims in shock. Elliot smiles wider and nods. “No way! Their pizzas were the best. No wonder I like yours,” he says flirtatiously with a wink. Elliot chuckles back and shakes his head in amusement. “How come I didn’t see you then?”

Chance begins to hand the cards to Elliot, facing them down. Elliot begins to pick them up and analyze the deck he got.

“I was in the back making the pizzas every time you came in. Every Friday at six in the afternoon, on the dot,” Elliot recites like a script.

Chance’s sunglasses slip down his nose as he stared at Elliot who seemed oblivious at his shock. They shut their mouth, fixed their sunglasses, and cleared their throat. He then makes his own deck of cards, faced down as well.

“Didn’t count you to be a stalker,” they tease.

Elliot begins to stutter, “I- no! You—! I mean, my coworkers at the front pointed it out! They just tell me everything! That’s all!”

“So you guys gossiped about me,” they pushed the teasing further.

Elliot groans and hides his face behind his deck like it became the most interesting thing in the room. “That’s not what I meant.”

Chance laughs and decides to subside the bullying for a moment. “Why are you telling me this now of all times though?”

“It’s good to see a familiar face that isn’t 007n7,” he grumbles out that last part and Chance laughs again.

“I’m glad you feel that way then. You can go first, by the way.” Chance offers and Elliot nods.

They took notice at the way Elliot’s face morphs into that of confusion. “Um..” he awkwardly says and laughs nervously. Chance raises an eyebrow.

“You do know how to play, right?”

Elliot sheepishly smiles at Chance and curls a finger into his hair. The gambler couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment. “And here I thought I was going to have a challenge,” they pout. “We can play something else then,” he says then sets down his set to rearrange the cards in front of them.

Separating the big stack into four smaller ones and taking a card from the two stacks parallel to each other to put in between those two, facing down. They put the other two stacks on each other’s side. One for Elliot and one for Chance.

“We’ll be playing speed. You know that one?” Elliot nods. “Okay, good. Every man for themselves then. This’ll be uncivilized so you gotta be quick because I definitely don’t want to see you naked.”

“The feeling’s mutual then,” Elliot retorts back.

Chance brings the back of their hand to his forehead like a damsel in distress. “Ah! I’m hurt! Who wouldn’t want to see my handsome and gorgeous body?” Elliot shrugs and Chance sulks. “Okay, well now I’m for sure not going easy on you.”

“Aw, you were? I’m flattered.”

They both pick up the cards in between. Chance counts down to three and they flip it. Immediately, Elliot puts a three of spades and Chance follows it with a four of hearts.

They didn’t take turns, if they can put down a card, they just did it without remorse. Elliot growls as he lost the round. Chance put down all his cards and yells out, “Speed!”

Elliot glares at them and with a sigh, he takes off his visor. He puts it to the side as Chance gathers up all the cards to shuffle them again. A smirk creeps up to his face and they don’t try to hide it. “Just the visor?”

“Unlike you, I don’t have much layers of clothing,” Elliot explains.

Chance hums. With a boost of confidence he says, “Easier for me then.”

Elliot couldn’t help but have a blush bloom onto his face. He looks away, avoiding the eyes (well, sunglasses) of the gambler. The seriousness of the situation finally sets in all way too late. Unfortunately, Elliot’s just as competitive as Guest is with Shedletsky whenever they have an arm wrestling match.

The next round results in Elliot winning. He couldn’t help but rub it in Chance’s face. The loser unties his tie and throws it onto the table.

“Just the tie?” Elliot mocks what the other said to him.

They shrug. “I’ll take my chances.”

Elliot wins again in the third round and he laughs in their face. “Seems like Lady Luck isn’t on your side!” Chance stays silent as they take off the fedora, setting aside on the table with the tie.

Chance wins. Elliot grumbles and he takes off the apron to throw it into the pile.

Chance wins again and Elliot almost wanted to accuse them of cheating. Reluctantly, he unbuttons his polo shirt and slips it off. He only had his black long sleeve shirt to cover his upper body. Goosebumps litter his arms as Chance continued to stay silent. The sunglasses hid their prying eyes. Despite that, Elliot felt like they were eating him up. He shivers as the tension in the air gets thicker and the room suddenly gets warmer.

Chance wins the third time. “You have to be cheating! There’s no way you win three in a row!”

Chance hums softly, seeming to be preoccupied. “Then, it just shows that Lady Luck is on my side after all.”

Elliot pauses his accusation and really listened to the other’s voice. There was a different feeling behind it, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it just yet. The loser swallows the excess saliva pooling in his mouth as he looks down at his belt. With a shaking hand, he meticulously unbuckles his belt. Then, slowly pulls it out from the loops of his pants.

Sensually, teasingly, and agonizingly slow.

Chance watches. They don’t blink in fear of missing something. His eyelids hooded and he bites his bottom lip. Their fingers twitch with every loop the belt leaves.

It was no innocent game of whose dignity is at stake. They both knew from the start where it was headed. Only now did it dawned on them that, yes, they have tension. Not animosity or awkwardness, but something thicker and tantalizing. Something just out of reach and maybe this was the final push they need.

The belt is finally out of his pants and dangling from Elliot’s hand. He drops the leather to the ground, making a clinking noise. Chance’s breathing gets deeper and Elliot smiles darkly. Almost as if he were challenging Chance to just take what he wants.

Oh, did Chance want to take. They want both of their clothes on the floor, forgotten as they embrace each other. He wants to hear Elliot’s sweet noises, already imagining how he would sound like. How pretty he would look with blotches of purple all over his neck and torso.

Another round starts and Chance is distracted. They kept eyeing Elliot’s pants where the belt used to be.

“Speed.” Elliot won.

Chance immediately starts to take off his jacket, wasting no time. His pants start to become bothersome, already regretting taking off the jacket.

“Speed.” Chance makes a comeback. They lean back into the chair and props an arm up on the spine to enjoy the show.

Elliot stands up and starts to unbutton his pants. Each pop of a button makes his heart skip a beat. Soon after, the noise of a zipper makes Chance’s hair on their arms raise. They followed every movement of Elliot’s fingers. His fingers finally hook onto the hem of his pants and slowly pushes them down. His boxers finally peaked out.

Pink.

Chance inhales sharply, his breath catches in his throat. A groan almost leaves him as Elliot continues to take them off, revealing the soft color underneath. He shimmied his way out of them. The sway of his hips captivated Chance and they fought the urge to just disregard the game and take what’s in front of them. Their prize is right there, practically half naked. It would be rude to just leave him alone.

The pants finally moved past Elliot’s growing bulge. He made a little noise at the slight stimulation and the cold that hits his sensitive area. He pauses the show and Chance finally looks up at his face. Elliot was so red and his lips slightly quiver. He was already looking at Chance through his lashes. Tears start to prick at his eyes and he covers up his growing heat.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean for.. this to pop like that.” Such a small voice.

“Keep going,” Chance blurts out. They then lean forward to get a better view. “Don’t stop.”

Elliot nodded and hesitantly moved his hands to continue removing his pants. Chance studies the way his thighs shook and the way Elliot had his eyes closed the whole time. Finally, the pants bunched up around his feet. Elliot steps out of them and shyly tries to cover himself up with his black shirt.

“Don’t hide from me.” His eyes widen and he looks away, nodding again. He let go of his shirt. Luckily, (Unfortunately for Chance) the shirt was long enough to cover him up. Elliot sat back down on the chair, stiff and a blushing mess. “Wanna end it here?” Chance offers, insinuating exactly what they both want. Elliot bites his lip.

“Please.” Was all it took.

Chance jumps across the table, Elliot doing the same and grabbed each other’s face. They were merely one inch apart. One lunge away from connecting. Elliot glanced at Chance’s lips and opened his to say something, but got cut off by them. The gambler smashed their lips together, teeth clashing and tongues dancing. Elliot moans and twists his head to get impossibly closer.

Without breaking apart, Chance walks around the table to finally embrace him. His arms wrap around his waist and pulls him closer to their body. This time, Elliot moaned louder. His hips buck on Chance, making their clothed erections rub. Chance groans and buck his hips back into Elliot.

Elliot broke the messy kiss, a string of saliva connected them until it fell and broke.

“Before we continue,” Chance pants out. He swallows saliva to ease his dry throat. “I want us to establish a safe word.”

Elliot freezes in shock before snorting. “What’re you trying to do?”

“Nothing too much. Just in case,” Chance brings a hand up and wraps Elliot’s loose curl of hair around his ear. It made his face look brighter and all Chance wants to do more than anything is to make him feel good. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Elliot’s eyes widen. He slowly, hesitantly, brings his head down to Chance’s shoulder. His heart beats so hard, almost as if it wants to break free and give itself to Chance. Like it wants to say, “Yes, I trust you.” Elliot hugs them tighter, thinking about what word to use.

“Pizza is easy to remember,” he finally says. The word might’ve been obvious and Chance chuckles at the thought.

“Pizza it is then,” Chance confirms and leans down to plant light feathered kisses on his neck. The other couldn’t help but laugh at how ticklish it felt. Chance rubs his back to ease his laughter, then licks a stripe. Elliot shudders and grips onto their shoulders.

“You tease too much,” Elliot whispers, softly nudging his head at the others to hint at his impatience.

“Just trying to ease your nerves.”

“What makes you think I’m nervous,” Elliot’s voice almost shakes. Chance took off his sunglasses and sets it on the table. They raised an eyebrow and frowned as if to say, “Seriously?” Elliot rolls his eyes and sighs out a, “Alright.”

Chance kisses his cheek, nose, forehead, ear, then travels down to his neck. They lightly suck on a spot until it turns red then nips at it. Elliot grunts at the nick, his hands lightly squeeze their shoulders. Deemed satisfactory, Chance moves on to another spot. Their hands then travel to Elliot’s stomach. Slowly, he inches down to the hem of his shirt and lifts it up just enough to slip his hand underneath. Elliot’s body flinches at the slightly cold hands.

“I love your reactions,” Chance spoke. “They’re so cute.” He then lets go of his neck and raises the shirt higher, exposing his chest. They softly rub up and down and Elliot whines. Chance’s thumbs land on his nipples. Using his index finger, he lightly pinches and softly rolls them between. Elliot gasps as his body instinctively tries to cave in. “Oh, you’re dirty. You like this, don’t you?”

A whimper couldn’t help but escape from Elliot. “Stop teasing, please,” he pleads.

It was music to Chance’s ears. They give a quick kiss on the lips as an apology and guides him to the bed. Elliot sits down on the edge and just admires the way Chance looks with the soft glow of candles and the fireplace. He wraps his arms around their waist and brings him closer into a hug, resting his head on their stomach. Chance brings a hand up and rakes it through his hair, combing out any knots and massaging his scalp. Despite how bothered they felt, they loved moments where nothing happens just as much. Elliot hums as Chance tugs on his hair and softly scratches his scalp.

Chance finally sits down next to Elliot, who was dazed from the affection, and puts a hand on his lap. They bring him into another kiss. Just as passionate and hungry as the first time. He snakes his left hand around the back of Elliot’s neck, locking him in place. Their right rubs at his thigh, getting closer to his clothed dick. Elliot instinctively squeezes his thighs together and shivers at the soft touch.

“Relax, for me,” Chance whispers. With an exhale, Elliot lets his legs relax, giving room to stroke the inside of his thighs. They give it a light squeeze and Elliot flinches, whining in response. Chance shushes him, bringing him into another kiss.

“Please, hurry. I can’t take it anymore,” Elliot pleads shakily. A whimper almost escapes him before Chance softly places their hand on his clothed erection, earning a moan. His hips buck into the touch. Chance pushes him down to fully lay down on the bed and lifts up his shirt using his free hand to look at his chest again, admiring his build and the way his chest stutters with each shaky breath. They start to slowly pump his dick, still through his boxers. Elliot moans louder and covers his mouth.

The friction felt so good.

“Let me hear you,” Chance asks in such a smooth voice. Seductive and kind. Elliot couldn’t help but obey his words and let the pleasure take over. He whines as Chance speeds up just a little, still taunting. The build up of his orgasm comes quickly. He grips the bedsheets with one hand and grabs onto Chance’s forearm with the other to ground himself.

Then, it leaves as fast as it came. Chance retracts his hand and Elliot almost panics. “Chance-! No.. Please…” The buildup dulls and he’s left twitching and bucking for any type of relief. Chance decided to be mean and just watched him writhe underneath them. Elliot’s face flushes and tears prick at his eyes. “I can’t. Please..” He whimpers out. He clenches his teeth in frustration and decided to take it into his own pace.

Chance saw the hand reaching to his dick and catches it before it even got close. They both struggle for power. Elliot tried to yank his hand away and push the other off, but they didn’t budge. Chance smirks as soon as Elliot begins to give up, panting. They take his other hand and bring them together to pin them above. Elliot struggles a bit more before finally giving in. His tears slowly fall and his breath shudders as he tries to control his breathing.

With Elliot’s chest still exposed, Chance lowers their head to his stomach and gives it a long lick upwards. Elliot softly moans and arches into their tongue. The soft muscle almost tickled—if it weren’t for the obvious wet patch in his boxers and his flushed face, he would’ve giggled.

God, he would do anything for release.

Every friction from his boxers has him in a daze. It’s small, but it’s getting the job done.

Chance had noticed the small bits of relief and decided to hook his fingers at the band of his boxers. Slowly, he peeled it down, revealing Elliot’s weeping dick. Red and angry and pleading.

Elliot shudders at the air hitting him. He lifted his hips so Chance can fully take it off. The slide of the soft cotton against his skin gives him goosebumps. An involuntary shudder wracks through him, covering his eyes using his now free arm.

Finally, the boxers were off and Elliot expected mercy.

“I don’t think you deserve it.”

What?

He removes his arm quickly and looks at the gambler, eyes glossy and wide. Chance couldn’t be that mean.

Silence filled the room. The crackle of the fireplace felt like it was mocking him. Suddenly, his chest felt heavy and his throat closes up. Chance moves, not to tend to Elliot, but to remove his shirt. Each pop of a button was like a countdown. His dick twitches, asking for attention—it goes ignored.

It itches him. Something deep within Elliot itches and he couldn’t scratch it.

He starts to get anxious.

It bubbles up and he tries his best to ignore it, continue this act for the other, but it was getting hard.

He felt ignored. Unwanted. Why didn’t he deserve to feel good? He did what he was supposed to do. Lay there and look pretty, right?

His throat dries up and he swallows.

Chance takes off their shirt then moves on to their pants. A sliver of hope as they undo their belt.

“I should leave you like this.”

No.

“Make you beg for it, like the slut you probably are.”

The words pang in Elliot’s chest as if it physically hurt to hear those words. He bites his lip. A pathetic attempt to stop the real tears.

Chance steps back to continue working on his pants

“Well?” Ugly. “Or are you too dumb to answer.” Unkind.

The blood that rushed to his dick starts to leave, slowly going limp. Chance hadn’t noticed yet, too focused on their pants. When they bunched to the floor, only then did they finally look at their work.

“Pizza.” It comes out before he could stop it. The tears finally fall and he brings his hands up to quickly wipe them away, simultaneously hiding his face—protecting himself from the degrading words he expected.

Chance stood, shocked and unmoving. Their legs lock up and their mind screams to scoop Elliot up to hide him from the world. Guilt creeps up his chest like bile, it burns and leaves a nasty taste.

“Elliot,” they call out. A broken sob answers back. Their heart drops and they swiftly move to sit by his head. With a gentle hand, Chance rakes it through Elliot’s hair just how he liked it. A contradictory of his previous words. Their mind spirals as he continues to comfort the other. He hushes and coos until the weeping subsides into even weaker noises.

Finally, Elliot looks at them with furrowed eyebrows and glossy eyes. He bites his quivering lip, stopping himself from making any more noises and to distract his mind from the words echoing in his head.

“Elliot,” Chance softly calls out again. They stop petting his head and bring their hands to cup at his face, wiping the tears with his thumbs. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Is what Elliot wanted to say. He didn’t trust himself to speak—afraid that if he did, it would just burden Chance even more. Because despite how much Elliot needed comfort, he always put others before him. That’s just who he is. It’s how he always will be.

And the Spectre took advantage of that by making sure he couldn’t fight back.

Elliot’s mind drifts into a fog-like state as Chance  plants featherlight kisses all over his face. The only thing grounding him is their breathing and the hand that rakes through his hair again.

Gentle. Kind.

Chance.

“Chance,” he slurs out, voice hoarse and pitched.

“I’m here,” they say almost desperately.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, on the verge of bursting out in tears for the second time. “I..I don’t know what happened,” he sniffs and takes a deep breath.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. There’s no need to be sorry,” Chance reassures. They plant more kisses, breath fanning delicately like a second shy kiss. “But, can you tell me what I did wrong?” He asks.

Elliot looks away again, finding the dancing fire to be more interesting. Shame crawls up his chest and he starts to feel nauseous. “I…” The words were caught in his throat and swallowing became difficult. It wasn’t the most ideal situation for his customer service skills to shine—especially during something so intimate. He couldn’t help but take the blame for it all.

Chance gently squeezes his thigh to encourage him. A silent, “I’m here.”

Elliot takes another breath to ease his nausea. He battles against his instincts to smile and nod like a robot with only one purpose.

“I..” Elliot starts off again, pitched and wobbly. “Your words,” he strains out. Almost as if it hurt to admit something affected him. “I just,” he pauses, trying to think about the best way to say it. “It got to my head.. Is all..”

Chances eyebrows furrow in realization.

There was a beat of silence. A strong crackle of the fireplace makes Elliot almost flinch. His breathing gets deeper. Elliot notices the cologne Chance wears. Where did he get it? It smells expensive, but in a way, comforting.

Finally, Chance sighs softly and plants another kiss above Elliot’s eyebrow. “Thank you for telling me. I won’t talk like that again.”

The lack of an apology might’ve thrown off any other person, but to Elliot it was the best outcome. Apologizing would’ve had him spiraling even further.

Chance’s hands begin to rub at his sides again, soothing and soft as if he was making up for the words. Elliot squirms at the light touch, letting out a huff of air. It almost tickled.

(This whole act had him on the verge of laughing at the light touches.)

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

Elliot pauses his movements. The words haven’t fully registered before they continued.

“You did so well telling me what’s wrong,” a chaste kiss to his temple. “So handsome,” a hand rubs at his chest, barely flicking a nipple and Elliot slightly flinches. Chance brings him into an embrace, his leg slots in between Elliot’s like it belonged there. Elliot inhales and the hairs on his arm raises. He curls his arms under Chance’s, hugging them back.

Tender touches and the grounding of a leg between his, Elliot’s mind drifts into a different headspace. The praises clouds his head, taking space and making themselves home.

Blood starts to slowly make its way back to his dick as their leg continues to press at him. Elliot bucks his hip into it and makes a pitched noise. Chance thrusts back into Elliot, earning a louder moan.

“More,” he demands. Chance plants a small kiss at the corner of his lips. Their hand trails down his stomach, past his navel and engulfs his dick with their hands. A wracked sob escapes Elliot at the touch. Chance’s slightly cold hands against Elliot’s warmth.

Elliot’s nails start to softly dig into his back at the touch. Chance moves his hand.

“Please. Chance. I need you,” he pants out breathlessly.

Chance softly shushes him. “Don’t worry,” he speeds up. “You’ll get what you want.”

Moans and the low squelching of Chance’s hand pumping his dick fill the room. Precum as a makeshift lube heightens the pleasure. Elliot’s back arches, gripping the sheets below as his moans pitched higher and louder.

Chance watches the pizza boy crumble beneath him—he didn’t care how loud Elliot was getting. The cabin was secluded enough that no one would hear him from the main one.

They knew he was getting close. Elliot gasps and Chance took it as a chance to collect his lips into another make out session. He moans into his mouth as Elliot takes charge of the kiss. Desperately and impossibly getting closer like he wants to swallow the other whole.

Elliot lets go and gasps again for air before whining. “I’m so close. Chance, Chance, Chance,” he chants.

They slow down to deep strokes, coaxing his climax. Elliot is right at the edge, just about ready to spill. His legs squirm, not knowing what to do.

Finally, the knot snaps and he cums all over his stomach and the hand that continues to pump him, getting it all out. Elliot’s mouth hangs open as he freezes up from the overwhelming tsunami of pleasure. The bedsheet clings to his skin. Chance rubs at his thigh using their clean hand, watching him come undone by just his hand alone. A soft smile creeps onto their face. Elliot’s flushed face, curls clinging to his forehead, his heaving chest littered with faint freckles—if you weren’t looking closely, you would miss it completely.

Elliot pants as his high slowly comes down.

Without saying a word, Elliot sits up to be at eye-level with Chance. His eyes then travel to the obvious bulge of the other. The outline of their dick makes his mouth water, imagining how it would feel on his tongue.

Quietly, they switch positions. Chance being the one laying down and Elliot coming face-to-face with the other’s erection. He peels back the boxers and it springs out, twitching for attention. A hand reaches out to grab the base of it, keeping it in place and he licks a long stripe upwards to the tip. Chance’s breath hitches at the sudden feeling.

“Wow, didn’t know you were that desperate,” they tease, voice strained as Elliot kisses the tip.

He moves his head to be directly above, wrapping his lips around and his tongue pressing against the head. Chance’s hands immediately move to hold into the sides of Elliot’s head, keeping themselves steady. “Telamon, Elliot. Where’d you learn to do that?” he asks rhetorically.

Elliot stays there for a minute before taking a deep breath. Chance was about to say something, but got cut off when Elliot shoves their whole dick into his mouth in one swift motion. He groans, hips almost bucking into the wet warmth. The prominent bulge of where Chance’s dick is at in Elliot’s neck makes his head spin. Elliot couldn’t help but feel underneath his own neck to tell where it ended.

Elliot immediately starts to bob his head, giving Chance no time to prepare himself. He let go of the base to rest his hand on their hips to make sure Chance doesn’t thrust upwards. The last thing Elliot wanted to do was gag.

“Yeah, just like that. Keep going,” they encourage.

Elliot closes his eyes, focusing on the heavy weight and taste on his tongue. A moan pushes out of him, vibrating throughout the other, making them moan too.

Before they got close to the edge, Chance grips onto his hair and delicately pushes him off. A whine rips out of Elliot’s throat in protest. The thin line of saliva mixed with precum connects them before it falls.

Chance’s heart stutters at the way Elliot looks. Glossy, swollen lips. Drool stains around his mouth and he swallows the excessive mixed saliva. The bob of his adam’s apple captivates him. Hooded, teary, eyes with blown pupils stare back at him.

“I need to be inside you,” Chance pants out, almost animalistic. Elliot slowly blinks back, still dazed.

Without warning, he begins to crawl on top of him, burying his face in their neck. A slow inhale, taking in the smell of cologne mixed with sweat and something entirely Chance.

“Elliot,” they call out mindlessly. He takes in the smell of the other as well. The subtle scent of shampoo in his hair mixed with flour from the pizza dough. Comforting and entirely Elliot. A hand rests behind his head, playing with each curl he felt.

With two fingers, Elliot put them at Chance’s lips. Confused, they look at the fingers then at him.

“Suck,” he demands, panting and impatient.

Chills run down Chance’s spine at the sudden change in power. He could get used to this. Without a second thought, Chance wrapped his lips around the digits. His tongue playing around with his fingers. Elliot watches closely, licking his lips at the sight.

Deemed coated, Elliot takes them out and reaches behind him. The pad of his finger presses against his hole and he jolts at the feeling. With a deep breath, he pushes past the ring of muscle and soft moans at the small intrusion. Sinking deeper until his finger was fully engulfed in his own warmth.

“Ah..” Another finger stretches him more.

“Shh, that’s it,” Chance coos, comforting Elliot. “You’ll feel so good once this is done.” He encourages more. Their hand slides down along his spine, soothing his discomfort.

Elliot then begins to slowly pump his fingers in and out. A groan escapes him. The pace was almost agonizing, not because it hurt, but it was just too slow. Despite that, they both knew to take it at that pace for now.

Instinctively, Elliot spreads his fingers a little to hurry the process. His body flinches and Chance kisses the stray tears that were silently falling.

A third finger is added, earning a pained grunt this time. “Chance,” he whimpers out, subconsciously seeking for comfort.

”You’re okay,” they reassure.

As soon as he thought he was ready, he takes them out.

A moan escapes the both of them when Elliot had finally grabbed Chance’s base and slowly sunk down onto their throbbing dick—the saliva served as lube.

A pained grunt escapes Elliot as he kept lowering himself. Chance kisses his temple and pets his hair as encouragement.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

“That’s it.”

“Making me feel so good.”

“You’re all I want and more, baby.”

Each praise had Elliot whimpering for each inch he pushed into himself.

And Chance? They can only admire the way Elliot reacted to each word that pours out. Drinking it in like he hasn’t had fresh water in days. Now, he’s drowning in it.

With a loud moan, Elliot swiftly sat all the way down. His back arches and his legs quiver.

Chance continues to rub his back in a soothing manner. Elliot breaths deeper, trying to ease his own slight discomfort.

“That’s it. That’s my good boy,” they almost purr out. Voice dipped low and hungry, like he’s holding himself back.

Elliot’s heart jumps and his legs squeeze at their sides.

Chance grunts, “Oh you liked that, didn’t you?” His hands then travel lower to grope at Elliot’s ass, slightly massaging it before urging him to lift up. Elliot almost whimpers at the cock that was buried deep inside slowly leaving. “Twitching around me,” they continue. They stop lifting Elliot up, leaving his tip in. Elliot pants, bracing himself for the overwhelming pleasure. “Wow, you really are beautiful.” A kiss on the cheek before they finally slam him back down—a contradictory from the shy kiss.

A moan turning into a groan pushes its way out of Elliot as the ruthless thrusting continues. Chance begins panting, mixing with the other’s loud noises.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Elliot chants. His eyes roll back and his nails dig at their shoulder as Chance takes over. Their hands still gripped onto his ass to steady him. Elliot then captures Chance into another kiss—sloppy and uncoordinated, but they didn’t care. The slapping of skin and the mixture of moans filled the room along with the smell of sex. “Keep going! Mmh! Don’t stop!” He moans louder.

Saliva piles up in Elliot’s mouth, a bit of drool escapes at the corner. His whole body shivers when Chance had finally hit the spot, stars fill his vision and he just about almost screams. “Right there!”

“I’m close,” Chance grits out, feeling the familiar climax inching closer.

It encouraged Elliot to start jumping. He sits up (reluctantly) and reaches behind him to rest his hands at their thighs for balance. Chance grunts at the shift in weight before really looking at the one above. The sight almost made him cum.

Elliot’s curls were completely messed up—with each bounce Elliot did, his hair follows. His mouth slacks open, a completely fucked out face, the soft light from the fireplace dances across his skin making him look impossibly softer. Each bump of muscle and fat were defined by the light. Hickies littered his skin like splattered paint on a canvas.

Chance’s eyes roll back as their grip on Elliot’s waist tightens in search for some grounding.

Turned out he did end up coming from the sight.

“Finally..mm..” Elliot whispers out in between a moan. The feeling of being filled made him cum for the second time. His dick twitches with each spurt that comes out, slightly overstimulated.

Elliot falls back with Chance’s dick still inside, panting and gross.

Chance shifts to sit up which resulted in popping out of him. Elliot grunts in response, still sensitive. They watched their spent ooze out of him, hypnotized by the way it piles up on the bedsheet. Elliot begins to squirm shyly from feeling a pair of eyes watching him and Chance chuckles.

They move to pick up Elliot by his upper body. He moans in protest, but the familiar warmth shut him up. Half of Elliot’s body now lays on Chance, careful to avoid their sensitive cock.

“You did so well,” he praises once more. Elliot’s eyes begin to droop from exhaustion and the soft words, lulling him into a quiet stillness. “You can go to sleep on the other bed. I’ll clean up from here, sweet thing.”

And with that, Elliot falls asleep, but not before feeling another kiss on his forehead.

Chapter Text

The past always comes back to haunt you.

As much as Two Time wanted to have faith in the Spawn, they couldn’t help but feel the grief. It was overwhelming when they sacrificed their own love on a bed of nightshades. All they can truly remember is the way the dagger felt in their hands, the squelching, his screams. After everything was over, all they saw was a deep red staining their hands, dripping onto the flowers. The rest was a blur as tears clouded their vision. Whispers of, “I’m sorry,” as they ran back to the cult in the dead of night.

Now, they use that very dagger to help their teammates. A cruel reminder of what they’ve done. The irony of it all made them almost laugh.

A smile now plagues their face at all times, not knowing how to express their grief. They might’ve went insane at some point, but they don’t notice. Ever since they were taken to this place they now see what the Spawn’s plans were.

Every time they were about to go to sleep, they sit on the floor and pray.

“Thank you Spawn for granting me a second life. Giving me the reward of being reborn. I’ve never once lost faith nor questioned you. Thank you for blessing me.”

Some rounds their faith was tested. They believed the Spawn brought them to this place. Every round was a trial of wit, trust, intelligence, and most of all, faith. It all came down to faith.

“Hey, hey. Pizza, pizza please,” their voice wobbly. They clutched their side as a particularly large gash oozes out blood. John Doe turned out to be extra aggressive today.

Elliot looks up from the generator and almost gasps at the sight. “Oh my- Two Time!” He exclaims. With fumbling hands, he reaches into his pizza carrier and takes out a slice.

Two Time swiftly takes it, scarfing it down. They didn’t have the chance to properly taste it before the gash starts to mend itself.

“May the Spawn bless you for your generosity,” they pray.

Elliot can only awkwardly smile and nod. “Yeah..! Um.. Good luck stabbing the killer!” He tried to encourage. It came out unsure and awkward. He curses himself in his mind before going back to work on the generator.

Two Time stands there for a moment too long. Sweat starts to form due to the pair of eyes watching his fingers fix the wiring. He almost slips up and electrocutes himself, flinching. Elliot finally looks up at them, they stare back at him dead in the eyes. He couldn’t help but look around nervously.

“Um.. What’s up? Do you need anything else?” He offers Two Time to explain themself. They shook their head as if it trying to shake off a bug or a thought that crossed their mind unexpectedly.

They look around, finding the wall farthest from them to be the most interesting thing they’ve seen. “No need to worry. You just,” they trail off before picking it back up again, “Reminded me of…something I lost long ago.”

Cryptic and ominous. Just like what Elliot expected. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that they’re holding in something deeper than reminiscence. Despite that, it wasn’t his place to keep pushing. Elliot nods in understanding and resumes his work on the generator. Two Time eventually left to find the killer, letting Elliot focus on the task.

In the end, they lost.

Everyone sits around, quiet and unmoving. They never quite got used to dying—it was expected, but never welcomed.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” Elliot tries to bring up the mood. He needed to do something before the thoughts took over on whatever he did wrong. A quiet ‘okay’ was heard before the cabin went back to its silence—save it for the crackling fireplace. All everyone wanted to do was keep each other company with just their presence, nothing more.

Two Time was an exception.

“Dearest Elliot,” they call out, stepping into the small kitchen—it was more of a space with a portable stove and a microwave oven—and sat on a chair they dragged with them. Elliot hums back at them as he ties his apron and pull out a knife. “May I ask for a request?”

Elliot’s eyes slightly widen in surprise. No one had really requested something before. He just cooks what the Spectre would summon in their pantries. Sometimes it would be random ingredients such as peanut butter and canned peaches or even a ready-to-eat meal. Pop it in the microwave for five minutes and dinner’s ready.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Can you make mozzarella fries?”

He raises an eyebrow. A seemingly random request. “Yeah! I can do that. You been craving it?” He jokes.

Two Time stills for a moment, their tail twitching before relaxing back into position. Their permanent smile doesn’t falter, but it still twitches as well. “..Yes,” they hesitate a beat too long. It made Elliot’s face scrunch in suspicion before nodding.

Elliot walks to the mini fridge, silently hoping there was a mozzarella block. Unfortunately, he only saw mild cheddar. A frown makes its way to his face—he felt as if he let down Two Time. “There’s only cheddar. Is that fine?” He looks back at them for validation.

“Oh,” they blurt out. Not a trace of disappointment was found in their tone and Elliot was surprised at the lack of emotion. Then again, it is Two Time. They don’t exactly express emotion like the loud ones (Chance and Shedletsky) or the silent ones (Guest and Taph). “I suppose that should be okay.”

Elliot lets out a small huff of relief and takes out the cheese from the mini fridge.

He decided to make pasta with some roasted cherry tomatoes—butter pasta because there wasn’t at least marinara sauce.

“May I help with the stirring?” Two Time asked.

Elliot slightly jumped, almost forgetting they had been watching him the whole time. He lets out one single laugh to ease his own tension and nods. “Go ahead. I’ll go tell everyone the food’s ready. Thanks, Timey.”

Two Time stills.

They look back at Elliot to see he already walked out without a second thought on the nickname. Their hand continues to stir the wooden spoon, but the mind races.

“Timey!”

A familiar voice rings in their head.

“I’m sorry,” they mumble out.

Elliot comes back with most of the survivors. Some had went to sleep, too exhausted to eat or just weren’t hungry. Everyone grabbed a plate and served themselves a generous amount—each saying thank you to Elliot before sitting to eat.

Two Time didn’t quite have the appetite to indulge. They couldn’t help but have the nickname reverberating in their head. It was haunting them, mocking.

Without meaning to, they ended up staring at Elliot the whole time at the dinner table. The pizza boy felt it, but ignored it—sweating and skittish to every sudden movement.

Their eyes then drift towards the mozzarella (mild cheddar) fries. Golden fried sticks lay on the plate in the middle, untouched. No one wanted to take one. It wasn’t mozzarella after all.

Pushing back the lack of appetite, they decided to take at least one. It would be rude to not eat it after asking for the favor.

The heat of the oil slightly burns their fingertips as they grabbed one. It scraped against the plate, a tell-tale sign that it was fried to perfection. They broke it in half, the melty cheese oozes out and the steam attacks their face. It acted more like molasses rather than stretchy cheese.

They pull one end farther out to see if it still has the properties to stretch. Surprisingly, it went pretty far for cheddar until it starts to droop and break.

After dinner, everyone said their goodnights, monotone from exhaustion.

Elliot, however, felt restless. His body itched to do something so he decided to wash all the dishes. In a way, it reminded him of home, cooking Mia and his father a quick dinner after a long day at work. His father always insisted on helping, Elliot refused every time. Excusing himself by saying, “You look over the whole pizzeria. It’s only fair.”

A sigh escapes him and his shoulder slump. A heavy feeling in his chest comes and goes like a pulsing discomfort.

The sink continues to flow water and the bubbles get washed away. Each clink of a plate makes him flinch back into reality.

“Elliot.”

“WAA!”

The plate slips from his hand and falls on the floor, splintering into shards of porcelain. His hands rest behind him, holding onto the sink as well as leaning onto it—as if he was pushed.

“Two Time! You.. I..,” he clears his throat, a filler to get his words together. “You have a habit of sneaking up on people,” he nervously laughs out.

Two Time only tilts their head like a confused dog. The tuffs in their hair act as ears and Elliot almost giggles at the sight—if not for how close Two Time stood.

“I’ve been calling your name for a while. Are you feeling well?” They grab his shoulders to hold him in place, their face inching closer as if to study him. The close proximity makes him sweat. Somehow, the room felt stuffier and small.

Elliot lets out a single laugh and looks to the side. Those eyes bore at him. Picking him apart to leave him vulnerable. Or that’s just how he feels.

“Is there anything else you would like for me to do?” They ask again. Behind them, their tail swishes side to side, expecting something.

Elliot swallows, “Uh.. You can..” He looks around for a moment before landing on the dishes that need to be dried. He had planned for them to air dry and put them away when he woke up, but might as well do it right now. “You can help dry the dishes..?”

Two Time smiles impossibly wider, nodding, then lets him go to get the rag and a dish to dry. Elliot exhales, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He looks back down to see shards of the plate he dropped. With a sigh, he walks out to get a broom and dust pan in the supply closet.

Chills run down his spine. An all too familiar feeling as of recently rises for the third time today. Elliot’s head slowly turns and the grip on the broom tightens.

“You left.”

Elliot swallows. His shoulders hunch, trying to make himself look smaller—as if he were appealing to a predator to not eat him.

“I just needed the broom. To pick up the…the plate I broke,” he slightly stuttered out.

“You would’ve still came back?” Their voice was a complete opposite of what their face showed. They almost sounded mad. Or hurt. Maybe even scared or worried.

“Yes. Yes I still would’ve came back,” he assures way too quickly for his own good.

The cultist stands there, staring, trying to pick apart a lie that doesn’t exist.

“Okay.” Is all they say before walking back to the kitchen. Elliot follows behind.

After they both cleaned up in silence, Elliot says his goodnight before retreating to his spot in the cabin. Two Time stood quiet for the nth time.

The morning after—technically, morning never comes but the survivors agreed to sleep and wake up at a certain time—had Elliot’s heart jumping. As soon as his eyes peeled open, the face of the cultist is the first thing he sees. He yelps and they hit their foreheads together. A pained whine escapes the pizza boy as he puts pressure on the point of contact.

“Two Time! What was that?” Tears stung his eyes as he looks back at them.

They weren’t fazed by the sharp pain and only continued to stare. Elliot can only raise his eyebrow.

He knew they were a strange one. They’ve always been like that since they met in this hell. Only recently have they became weirder and… stalkier.

“C’mon. Let’s get ready. The round’s about to start,” he hears Guest announce to the whole cabin.

A warmth in his stomach blooms as he continues to feel Two Time’s eyes behind him.

When the round started, they were all teleported farther away from each other.

Except for Elliot and Two Time.

An exhale escapes him as he begins to look around the map. Yorick’s Resting Place. The killer is C00lkidd.

“Great,” he mumbles out before turning back around, “Do you just want to stick together, Two Ti-“ No one was there. The one time they decided to leave him alone. He bites his lip and begins to walk to the mansion at the top of the hill. No one had gotten hurt yet so he wasn’t needed as of now.

Elliot spots a generator and immediately jogs towards it then gets on his knees. With nimble fingers, he starts to work on the wires.

Halfway through, a hand rests on his shoulder and Elliot screams, afraid the killer had found him. He immediately jumps on the generator in an attempt to crawl away.

“It’s me, Elliot. No need to shout. You will alert the killer.”

Panting, Elliot’s adrenaline filled head starts to clear as logic comes back. Two Time stands in front of him and not C00lkidd. A sigh of relief then he slumps on the generator.

“We need to find a way for you to announce your presence. Your footsteps are way too light for my wellbeing,” Elliot jokes.

“I apologize for frightening you.”

“No no! You’re good! I’m just glad it’s you and not the kid.”

Silence fills the space they share before Two Time speaks up again.

“I brought a med kit for you,” they said, bringing it into view—where did they store it?

“Oh,” was all Elliot could say, shocked at the thought that Two Time went out of their way to find one. His knees relax, spreading to make room for his hands to reach for the box. “Thank you,” he smiles softly.

Two Time stares back. Not at his eyes or face, but at his knees. A hand then rests on his knee and Elliot jolts at the touch. They begin to move their thumb, a soothing action, and Elliot couldn’t help but relax even further.

They then reach further up his thigh, their other hand joins in to give attention to the other leg.

Elliot’s breath hitches, but doesn’t make an attempt to stop it.

The hands continue to go up his thigh until it stop at his hips, resting, making itself known. A squeeze then a pull, urging him to shuffle towards Two Time.

And Elliot did just that. He scoots forward, a little too fast for his liking, as if he was expecting for this to happen.

Two Time looks at where their hands rest.

“May I ask for another request?” They ask, finally meeting his eyes.

“Yeah,” he answers almost breathlessly.

“Can you call me Timey again?”

Elliot blinks, confused, but he doesn’t question it—maybe they liked the nickname.

“Of course, Timey,” he complies.

Slowly, Elliot brings a hand up to rest it at their cheek. The cultist didn’t object, bringing his confidence up and bring the other hand up.

It was all intimate, too soft. Elliot holds his face and Two Time stays in place, their hands slowly traveling to his waist.

Deliberately, Two Time then wrap their arms around the pizza boy’s waist, bringing him closer into a hug. In return, Elliot wraps his arms around their neck. Two Time buries their face in the crook, resulting in a shudder racking down Elliot’s spine.

Two Time squeezes tighter, almost pushing the air out of the other, but he didn’t mind. A sigh escapes him, relaxed and partially dazed from the warmth they radiate.

In his clouded mind he saw a glimpse of their tail, slowly wagging.

“This is— really nice,” Elliot whispers.

Everyone survived. Whoops and cheers vibrates throughout the cabin. Shedletsky high-fives Builderman, Guest stands to the side with a fond smile, Taph’s wings flutter—overall everyone was happy.

Elliot tilts his head to glance at Two Time, the moment they had in the mansion replays in his head where soft words and touches were exchanged. Heat crawls up his neck and a wobbly smile stretches onto his face.

“Hey, Timey?”

Like a cat, they perk up at the nickname and make a straight line towards Elliot.

Two Time stood around the same height as Elliot—they could be taller if they didn’t hunch over so much.

“Yes, dearest Elliot?”

He pauses for a moment before speaking up again, “Thanks, again, for the med kit.” Then, he flashes a smile. The urge to bash his head against the nearest wall rises. The only thing he can say was thank you and not about the whole incident in the mansion. The way the weight of their hands sat comfortably at his sides, their face buried in the crook of his neck like they belonged there, their tail swishing, the small hum of the generator.

“Of course. I am only doing what the Spawn brought me here for,” they respond.

Right. All of it was for their beliefs and not because they wanted to.

Elliot’s smile barely twitches before going back to his usual, easy smile.

The celebration was short-lived as soon as the timer for the next round begins.

Ten minutes went by quickly. A blur then they were transported to a new map. The killer is Slasher. Everyone can only hope he wasn’t aggressive today.

Again, Elliot spawned with Two Time. The Spectre might like their dynamic a little too much it seems—a crazy cultist and a people pleaser pizza boy. What could go wrong?

Elliot looks around to find a generator. For a moment it was quiet, the only noise was the wind rusting between the trees—the map is Horror Hotel. He spots the generator by a divider and immediately gets to work.

A single pressure point is pressed at Elliot’s lower back along his spine. He jolts without making a sound, knowing it’s Two Time. Still, he continues to work on the wires albeit a little distracted.

Delicately, their finger traces up his spine. Goosebumps litter his skin at the light touch, the hair on his arm stand on end. The difference is that it isn’t from fear or discomfort. In fact, he likes it, probably. A warmth creeps up his neck and suddenly everything feels hot.

The more the finger travels, the more his back straightens, jolting back into a proper position.

“You hunch too much.”

Elliot stills his work. A stifle laugh couldn’t help but escape at the hypocrisy.

“Pfft! I could say the same about you,” he teases.

Two Time giggles. Elliot’s eyes widen at the sound. They usually only manically laugh when they get their oblation bar full for their second life or whenever they trick the killer. This time it was genuine—a crack in their character, beneath it is something softer.

Without warning, the rest of their palm lays flat on his back, soothing yet nerve wracking.

Every time, when it comes to Two Time, his emotions become a contradiction against each other. It almost scared him on how much the cultist really affects him.

At the corner of Elliot’s eye, he sees Slasher running straight towards him.

He tries to get up and run but it was too late. The machete had grabbed him by the shoulder, making him scream out in pain. Slasher yanked him back and continues to slash (hah) at him, leaving large gashes. A whimper of pain escapes him as the killer had kicked him into the ground in the end.

In an attempt to get up, he kicked his legs at the dirt to scoot further away.

The killer had shifted the blade in his hand, foreshadowing his finishing move—one last plunge into his heart.

Before he could kill Elliot, an arm was wrapped around his neck, yanking him back to lean onto Two Time. Elliot lays there, shocked and unmoving, still in agonizing pain, but he couldn’t help but pause and stare.

Two Time had the killer in a chokehold, the machete had been dropped and he scrambles to claw at the arm. Even though the killer has been known to be silent, even when getting stunned, choking noises escape from beneath the mask.

With their other hand, they wind their dagger up into the air and swiftly stab him where his lung is, purposely avoiding the heart—they wanted the killer to suffer.

They do this a couple more times to the point they started to giggle maniacally. The sound of flesh being stabbed multiple times, blood splattering onto the grass, almost made him nauseous.

Elliot slowly gets up, gripping onto their shoulder where the gash is to slow the bleeding.

“Two Time!” He calls out, strained.

The stabbing pauses, the dagger still dug into the killer’s chest. Two Time slowly looks at him then at the killer. They almost look shocked at their actions—judging by how still their body goes—and drops the killer.

Immediately, they walk over to Elliot who stood unevenly.

“Let’s go find you a med kit,” they say breathlessly, crouching down to wrap an arm behind his legs and the other supports his back. Before Elliot can question, they knock him off his feet, swooping him up into a carry, earning a yelp. Heat rises up his neck, creeping and intrusive.

“I can walk just fine!” He protests, voice pitched higher in embarrassment.

“You’re limping,” they counter.

Elliot opens his mouth again to retort back, but sees the killer slowly getting back up.

“Okay, now’s a good time to run,” he whispers hurriedly. Two Time nods and sprints as fast he could with the added weight. In the distance, they hear Guest’s scream, signaling he had charged at the killer.

Despite how scrawny the cultist looked, they were a lot stronger than they let on. Elliot took note to feed them pizza with extra pepperoni for protein.

The loss of blood made Elliot’s head spin, his vision getting darker by the second. Two Time had noticed how limp the other was getting, panic rises and they desperately try to find the dispenser Builderman had placed.

They turn the corner into the ball pit and spots the machine, a sigh of relief escapes them as they gently lay down Elliot into a sitting position. With a press of the button, the dispenser spurs to life and pink mist envelopes the both of them.

Each passing second, the deep cuts slowly mends itself, Elliot begins to look less pale and his breathing goes back to normal.

A deep breath then a sigh. “Thank you, Timey,” Elliot softly says.

The cultist’s face gets softer, it was subtle, but it was there.

“You have helped me countless times before. This is the least I could do,” they deflect the gratitude.

Elliot frowns just a little, letting it be known he didn’t like the sentence. “You not dying helps plenty. No need to return any favors.”

Two Time’s lips thin into a straight line, no longer carrying their usual wobbly smile. It was almost uncanny seeing it. Elliot shivers at the sudden change, put off by their piercing eyes with no smile lines.

“I would like to return the favor, Elliot,” serious and monotone, scary.

“Honestly! It’s okay!”

Two Time stays silent, staring. For a moment, they looked like a statue before finally moving his arms. They reach out to grab him by the hips. Instinctively, Elliot locked his knees together with a hitched breath. The hum of the dispenser gets tuned out, letting him focus on Two Time’s hands.

They pull him onto his lap, he straddles one thigh and his breathing stutters at the slight friction. Warmth creeps up onto his face and his mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out, he didn’t know what to say—he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Two Time’s shifts and the pressure against Elliot deepens.

Now, he’s against the wall, trapped by Two Time. If someone screamed for Elliot, he didn’t hear it. He can only pay attention to the dark eyes that bore at him.

“Two Time?” he calls out meekly almost as if he was afraid that one wrong move would set them off.

Azure.

“Elliot.”

“Y-Yes?”

“I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“The Spawn brought me here to make amends,” they clasped their hands together in a prayer, retracting the warmth Elliot got used to. “You were brought here to fulfill its duty as well. It chose you. Now it’s time for me to fulfill mine, too. Can you hear it calling you?”

Elliot furrows his eyebrows, confused and maybe defeated. “No. I don’t,” he responds a little too sharply.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want to be chosen?”

Elliot stays silent, his mouth straightens into a thin line of frustration. Every action Two Time made confused him. That time in the mansion replays in his head like a broken record. Soft touches and warmth like it was the easiest thing. Now they’re making excuses for their actions, disguising it as something it’s obviously not.

A sigh escapes him before it turns into a hitched breath.

Two Time moves their thigh, Elliot had forgotten about the position he was in. They brush against his sex almost too harshly, earning a wanton moan. Elliot immediately covered his mouth, heat quickly blooms on his face.

“Two Time,” He calls out, his other hand finding their shoulder to be a pillar of support. Their eyes meet again and it’s Two Time’s turn to be taken aback.

Elliot’s eyes were full of need, glossy and pleading.

They lean down into the crook of Elliot’s neck, inhaling sharply. The smell of blood, sweat, and marinara sauce fill their senses. A shiver wracks through them, remembering just how different Elliot smelled like back at the mansion. He wasn’t attacked by the killer yet, but here, he smells completely different. Desperation, fear, and something more intimate.

Something warm and wet makes contact with Elliot’s neck. A small whimper escapes his throat and the grip on their shoulders tighten.

Two Time’s thrusts his thighs upwards, earning another pitched noise from Elliot. He grinds back down, desperate for any type of relief from his growing bulge.

Without thinking, Two Time had opened their mouth, baring teeth, and nicked at Elliot’s neck with their canine. He grunts in response, but made no move to stop it.

If anything, he loved it.

The idea of being marked enticed him, the thrill of anyone seeing it made him grind down harder on their thigh.

“Timey,” he calls out breathlessly.

Two Time begins to suck at the spot, leaving a blotch of irritated skin. Slowly, they roll their hips into his clothed ass, grinding. The friction from the seams of his pants rubbed against Elliot’s bulge with each roll.

“I’m close. Don’t stop,” he pants out.

The small bites against his neck coaxed his climax, encouraging him to finish. Pain mixed with pleasure—he’s discovering new things about himself—makes him moan just a little louder, keeping in mind that they’re still in a round.

Shame builds up just a little. Their teammates are out there fighting for their lives, and they’re here, getting off on the possibility of getting caught.

“Azure..”

Elliot pauses his movements, the pleasure continues because Two Time hadn’t noticed his mistake. Still, his heart drops and a pit in his stomach forms.

“May you please call me Timey again?” They plead. Their movements become erratic, chasing their orgasm. Elliot is close as well. A knot forms, just about ready to snap.

“Mm.. Timey,” he moans out, pushing away his own feelings—he still doesn’t want to ruin the moment despite how much he’s hurting. A single tear slips out as he resumes his own humping.

With one last grind, Two Time unravels.

They didn’t make noise during his climax. The only way Elliot knew they came was from the shaking and the bite on his shoulder.

Elliot comes too, the bite was all he needed—to be claimed, even though he knew he wasn’t the one for them. He muffles his moans with his hand as his hips stutter with every rope that collects in his boxers, leaving a wet patch in his pants. He winces at the stickiness, the way his boxers clung to his now sensitive dick.

The round ends with half of their teammates dead.

“Elliot! Where were you!?” Shedletsky yells in frustration.

“We were calling for you, man,” he hears Chance. “You good?”

Elliot’s face was still red, his panting subsided to small huffs. Luckily, the feeling in his boxers left so he can act normal.

“…I’m fine. I’m… gonna go lay down for a moment,” he excuses himself, walking out of the cabin and into one of the spare ones. The breath of fresh air didn’t ease his racing mind.

Elliot felt ashamed. The dull pain of where Two Time bit reminds him that they don’t feel what he feels.

Now, he lays on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

Maybe that’s what they meant by “making amends”. Whoever Azure is, Two Time definitely has history with them. Elliot didn’t want to compete though, he thinks he’s way above that to be petty for something he can’t control. Plus, it’s a battle he knows he can’t win.

“Elliot.”

He flinches, looking behind him. The figure was blurry from tears that threaten to fall—when did he start crying?—but he knew who it was from the voice.

“Yes?” It came out shaky and weak, he mentally curses at himself. He sits up to properly look at them, hoping they don’t point it out.

They didn’t, he didn’t know whether to be hurt by it or relieved.

“Can you assist me with something?” They ask. Elliot noticed the way they seemed out of breath, desperation lingers in their words.

Their hand fidgets with the hem of their shirt. It was hard to see, but he notices the bulge they try to hide to save some face.

Elliot needed to say no, but god, it was hard to ignore the heat coiling in his stomach. He imagines what they feel like in his mouth, what would it take for them to finally make noise, to finally get dicked down.

He sniffs and quickly wipes away the stuck tears. How horny and desperate does he have to be in order to not think straight? The consequences didn’t matter right now. Being damned to eternal purgatory can really mess with people’s morals. It looks like it’s already messed up Two Time as well. Might as well indulge in it.

“Let me help.”

Now, he lays sprawled out on the bed naked. Two Time looms over him, eyes raking over his figure as if they like what they see.

Their breaths mingle into one. The fireplace warms up the room even further.

Two Time lowers their head to plant a wet kiss to his chest, tongue darting out to give it a lick. Goosebumps litter Elliot’s arms as their hands then hold onto his hips, now closer to his dick.

A small whine escapes him, a plea to keep going.

“Exquisite sounds come out of you, my dearest,” they begin out of nowhere. Elliot’s heart hammers in his chest at those words, a false hope. “You’re softer than silk and sweeter than honey,” they continue to praise.

Elliot almost starts to cry—he knew those words aren’t for him, but he pretends it is. An arm extends over his eyes, shielding himself from the humiliation of tears.

Two Time grabs his arm, peeling it away.

“Please don’t hide from me. Your eyes are the window to your soul, I want to see you.”

Sad, glossy eyes stare back at them. They kiss the stray tears that spill. It was salt to the wound, but it feels so good and he would gladly rub the salt himself.

They lean back to grab the hem of their pants, pushing it down. Their cock springs free.

Elliot gawks at the sight.

“…That’s not fitting in me,” he bluntly says.

It’s big to say the least. He swallows, still excited and now nervous.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you,” they reassure, giving a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. They can’t even give him a proper kiss.

They bring two fingers into their own mouth, coating the digits in their saliva. Elliot’s heart beats hard and fast at the sight. It’s really going to happen. He needs to say something, stop everything and never do this again before it’s too late. But, the way Two Time’s angry cock is leaking precum just from the sight of Elliot, almost makes him feel important and wanted.

A yelp of surprise escapes him as Two Time lifts his lower half, his back bending to an addicting ache.

His hole is now at closer to Two Time’s face. Elliot’s face burns even more. Embarrassment overrides everything else as they continue to stare, admiring. Elliot’s knees are almost touching his chest, leaving his cock also exposed, vulnerable.

“Heavenly.”

Before Elliot can say something, they dove right in.

Their tongue presses against his hole and he winces at the feeling—it felt weird and intrusive. A hand grips his cheek to spread him further. The tip of their tongue presses harder, as if asking for permission to enter.

Two Time stops for a moment to look at Elliot. They shift just a little so his lower back is supported by their chest. A hand then caresses Elliot’s stomach, grazing and groping each small roll his stomach makes. He gets shy from the touch, like he was the most precious thing Two Time ever saw. A vow of devotion of some kind.

A kiss to his thigh makes his breath hitch.

“Do try to relax, my dearest. This will be over soon.”

Elliot did as told and inhales, trying to ease his anxiety. The tension leaves just for a moment, Two Time took advantage and immediately went back in. Their tongue now pushes past the ring of muscle and Elliot squirms at the intrusion. He grips the bedsheets underneath and a whimper is pushed out. Drool leaks out from the corner of his mouth as he scrunches his face.

The tongue pushes in further, licking his walls, coating him in spit. Elliot moans louder.

“Mmh… Two Time,” he calls out.

They hum, the vibration that came with it, the tongue that thrusts inside of him, it all builds up.

“Ooh, Timey,” he whimpers out. They retract their tongue and Elliot’s hole flutters around nothing, already missing the wet muscle.

A finger then replaces it, filling him up once more. They sink until the first joint, then adds another finger. Now knuckle deep, Two Time starts to thrust his fingers sensually.

A curl of their fingers and Elliot yelps from the sudden pleasure.

“Beautiful.”

The third finger is added and Elliot has to close his eyes, too ashamed of how much he enjoys being cared for in such a soft way—he still believes it isn’t for him. Another tear slips and a wracked sob fills the room.

“That’s it. Let it all go. Let the pleasure consume you just like you consume my thoughts,” they encouraged.

“..Please don’t say things you don’t mean,” he pleads between sobs, finally admitting his thoughts.

“Oh, but I do mean these words,” they thrust their fingers a little harder to punctuate their statement. Elliot whimpers in response.

“No you don’t.”

“Perhaps it’s best I show you then.”

With that, they shift Elliot’s lower half to lay on their lap instead. His back cracks at the new position, relieved that his back isn’t strained anymore.

The relief was short-lived, feeling their cock against his hole made him tense up again. His spit-slick hole made him shudder.

They grab his ass, spreading him over their dick.

“Deep breathes.”

Elliot did as told again.

“That’s it.”

The swollen head slips in and Elliot lowly groans. He shivers as they sink even further in.

“Spawn, you feel so good. This is as close to heaven as I’ll get. Your existence is evidence of divinity, woven by tapestries of beauty and art,” they ramble on, still pushing in until they eventually bottom out.

Elliot continues to cry in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“So big,” Elliot whimpers out. Their dick presses against a bundle of nerves that has his head spinning as if he drank liquor.

Everything stills. Elliot tries to control his breathing, getting used to being filled up all the way. It touches a spot where no one has.

“..Keep going,” he strains out.

Two Time did as told. Slowly, they pull out, leaving the head in, then harshly thrusts back in.

The air gets knocked out of Elliot, throwing his head back in ecstasy. A loud moan vibrates throughout the cabin as they continue to abuse his ass.

“Oh, Two Time! Don’t stop!” Elliot screams.

Two Time leans forward to capture him into a proper kiss, muffling his screams of pleasure. Their tongues dance in synchrony as Elliot continues to moan into the kiss.

Creaking of the bed gets louder, the headboard thumps against the wall, and the room gets hotter. Elliot’s nails dig into the back of the cultist, his mind clouded with the dick fucking into him ruthlessly. He could feel everything, the way the head abuses a certain spot, making him drool like a bitch in heat.

“Fuckk,” he slurs out, no longer thinking straight nor does he hold back. “Yes! Fuck me!” He forgets about everything in the moment, the shame and hurt disappears into a blur of pure ecstasy and a burning desire to love.

Two Time continues with no intention of stopping anytime soon.

“Your noises are like a hymn. A melody that cannot be replicated,” they grunt out. A giggle escapes them as they start to get consumed by Elliot’s being. The way his hole grips onto them like he didn’t want to let go, the soft ridges of his insides that hugs every vein, coaxing their orgasm.

Two Time now thrusts with a new fever and Elliot just about screams. His eyes roll back as he goes limp.

Elliot had came all over his stomach, a sheen of sweat covers his skin and he just looks so beautiful.

“Yes, unravel just from me alone. You’re gripping me with vice,” they encouraged, tugging on Elliot’s weeping dick to get every spurt of cum out, earning an overstimulated whimper.

Two Time slows down his thrusts and Elliot almost panics at the change in pace. “No no.. Keep going, please god. Just don’t stop,” he pleads in a pitched tone.

The wobbly smile on the cultist’s face grows wider, showing teeth, quickly losing the little control they had left.

Despite the crazy smile they wear, their eyes soften at the sight of Elliot indulging in the pleasure. Nails dig into Elliot’s thighs, hard enough to leave indents, but not enough to draw blood. The added pain mixed in with the harsh fucking proves too much for Elliot, but he doesn’t protest. Overstimulated and yet still wanting more, greedy.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” he babbles on brainlessly. His mind too far gone to recognize his own words.

Two Time grunts, getting closer to their climax. Without thinking, they start sucking at Elliot’s collarbone, leaving more blotches of red and purple in its wake.

“Do you understand now?” They huff out, softly moaning in Elliot’s ear as their climax draws closer. “Do you understand my words? What I’m aching for you to know?”

In the haze of Elliot’s lust-filled mind, something else starts to fester. More closer to his pelvis area. Panic starts to rise—he couldn’t come for the second time in a row, can he?—and he tried to say something, but the only thing he can do is moan.

The feeling draws closer, becoming harder to control. Tears stung at his eyes.

With one final thrust, Two Time moans, releasing inside Elliot. Their tail twitches and quivers before wrapping around Elliot’s thigh.

The feeling of being filled was the last thread for Elliot to come undone completely. A light yellow liquid gushes out, tears flowing down at the same time. Humiliation sets in just as quickly, replacing the ecstasy he had felt.

A broken sob soon follows after and he hides his face behind hands. “I’m sorry..I’m s-so sorry. I couldn’t hold it in,” he quickly explains himself. The shame overrides the relief of letting himself go, he couldn’t bring himself to relax anymore.

Droplets of piss stain his stomach and the rest fall down onto the bedsheet, dirtying it even further.

Two Time quickly shushes him, easing his tears of shame. “No need to be sorry, my dearest. It just shows how much you enjoyed it,” they comforted.

Elliot sniffles and nods, the tears clung to his lashes. Two Time thought he looked so beautiful ruined.

With a wet kiss to Elliot’s lips, they slowly pull out and a gush of cum follows. It piles onto the bedsheets and Elliot shivers at the feeling of being empty. He feels cold now.

A satisfied moan and soft touches were exchanged. Elliot smiles contently, ignoring how nasty and sticky he felt.

“I think I understand now,” Elliot finally says, voice hoarse from screaming. He gives a quick shy peck on their cheek, no longer feeling hopeless.

They both lay in bed, catching their breaths. Elliot’s buzzing body and mind calms down into a calm stillness.

For a moment, he was comfortable until the feeling of everything catches up to him. The cum that continues to flow out of him, the sweat, dried saliva around his lips, and the piss. Shame sets in again, intruding into his rare moment of peace.

A groan of discomfort makes itself known and he squirms, subconsciously trying to get away from the disgusting feeling.

“Let’s go clean you up, my dearest,” they softly say, petting his head in a soothing manner.

Extra scene (I didn’t know whether to keep it in or delete it so here lol):

“Hey, Timey?” Elliot hesitates.

They perk up, their tail swishing in response. “Yes?”

Elliot bites his lip, he didn’t know whether it was an invasive question or not—he knew it wasn’t his place to know nor is it really his business, but it was eating away at him. “Can I..ask you a personal question?”

Two Time’s tail flicks and for a moment Elliot thinks he did something wrong.

“What is it?”

Elliot’s hands flex in response to his heightened anxiety. Instinctively, he plays with his curls, tugging, pulling it closer to his face, trying to hide.

“Who’s Azure?” He blurts out, biting his lip.

Two Time stills, the movement from their tail stops completely. Most notable of all, their permanent smile falls. They look away, staring off into the distance, unblinking—they’re shutting down.

Elliot’s heart drops at the display, he didn’t think it would affect them as bad as he thought.

Slowly, he crawls to Two Time to sit next to them instead. He hesitates before putting his head in their shoulder.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he reassures.

A few minutes pass by and the cultist finally returns the physical gesture, they lay their head on top of his.

“Thank you for understanding.”

Chapter Text

“Good work,” Mafioso praises, taking out a handkerchief to wipe some blood off his knuckles. Then neatly folds it back up and shoves it in his pocket.

“Call a clean-up crew. I want this place spotless,” he says with a grimace, pulling out a cigar and a lighter. Each flick from the lighter, sparks come out, but no flame. In frustration, he accidentally bites too hard on the cigar between his lips. A grumble escapes him as he continues to flick the lighter.

“On it, boss,” Consigliere swiftly says, pulling out a burner.

In defeat, Mafioso throws the lighter away along with the chewed up cigar. The bitter taste of tobacco lingers on his tongue.

“Ask the boys if they’re hungry, too.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Pizza.”

It’s all Consigliere needed to know. A small smirk tugs at his lips, studying his boss—holding back on commenting the way Mafioso’s ears turn red—and turns back around at the pool of blood.

The poor man before him refused to pay his debt. How unfortunate that his wife and kids won’t be seeing him tonight.

“And send his family some flowers in the mail.”

Consigliere stayed behind to monitor the clean-up crew, making sure they don’t miss a spot or a trail of evidence. Mafioso walked it to the pizzeria, his heart thumping harder as soon as the red building came into view.

Normal people would just suck up their anxiety, walk in, and get it over with.

Mafioso is far from normal—save it for being in the mafia.

He stands at the window, looking into the pizzeria. Seeing how busy it looks, couples on dates, messy children with pizza sauce anywhere but where it’s supposed to be, and… Elliot.

Elliot stood at the cashier, talking to a woman with her child, with that familiar smile plastered on his face. Oh, how bright he looks when he smiles. Although, it saddens him knowing that the smile isn’t reserved just for him.

He softens at the sight. The way Elliot just looks content doing what he does, talking to costumers like it was the easiest thing in the world. People passing by gave him weird looks—a six foot tall man looking into the pizzeria, who even looks like he belongs in a gang, may be concerning.

After Elliot is done finishing the woman’s order, Mafioso finally walks in. The bell of the pizzeria alerts Elliot of another costumer.

“Hi welcome- Oh! Do- Mafioso!” He beams, looking impossibly brighter. The urge to just scoop him up and hide him so no one else can see his smile was too much to bear.

“Hello, amore mio,” he purrs out, grabbing his hand to give it a chaste kiss on his knuckles. Red creeps up on Elliot’s face. Mafioso’s thumb then graze over his knuckles in a soothing gesture, careful to not add anymore pressure. His bold actions betray his beating heart and rising heat in his neck.

The sound of Elliot’s giggle rings in his ears. “Nice to see you, too,” he says softly, looking up at him with so much love in his eyes.

Mafioso’s facade almost cracks at that. Elliot knows what he’s doing—he’s always does it.

“…I would like to order three pepperoni,” he changes the subject, trying to distract himself from his overwhelming emotions.

Elliot noticed and holds back a laugh. “Would that be all, handsome?”

“Ye- Yes,” his voice cracks from the sudden praise, clearing his throat to cover it up. He fixes his fedora in instinct. Embarrassment rises and all he wants to do is go back to his villa, wait for Elliot to visit him, eat together, and maybe watch a movie (The Godfather is his favorite).

With a snort, Elliot punches in the order. “Want me to deliver it? Or will you eat here?”

“Come over,” Mafioso says a little too quickly, eager to be alone with him and shower him in spoils. Or a dinner date at a restaurant he’s been talking nonstop about.

Elliot smiles softly. “I’ll bring the pizzas at the end of my shift, sound good?”

Mafioso’s shoulder hunch in, physically disappointed he wouldn’t be able to hang out with him any time soon. It was still afternoon, Elliot doesn’t get off until the sun has well went to bed.

“Don’t sulk you big baby. My shift will be over before you know it,” he tried to cheer him up, holding in laughter at how someone so big and scary can pout like a child who didn’t get what he wanted. In a way, it was charming and sweet. It made Elliot feel wanted and he can only hope Mafioso felt the same.

“I’ll be waitin’,” Mafioso said, tone dejected yet hopeful.

With that, Mafioso pays for the pizzas. But before he leaves, he lingers around for a little longer, admiring Elliot from one of the booths in the pizzeria. The way he flowed so elegantly at the front, getting out of people’s way—really they should be the ones getting out of his way—so to not inconvenience anyone.

Mafioso sighs. He felt like he was in a cliché romcom where the teenager falls in love, except he’s a grown man who’s part of the mafia family and this is reality.

The sound of yelling brings him out of his thoughts. Elliot is the one dealing with it.

Mafioso saw the way his smile strains, trying to keep his customer service in check.

“Sir, you ordered sausage, correct?”

“Well- Yes! But does this look like the correct amount of sausage?”

Something stupid, of course. Mafioso clicks his tongue at the situation, but he didn’t make a move to stop it just yet. He knew Elliot was more than capable of handling an angry customer. If it escalates even further, only then will he step in.

Still, his leg couldn’t help but bounce at the scene.

“C’mon! You don’t see anything wrong with it? Let me see the manager!”

“I am the manager,” he says almost smugly, still trying to keep the customer service voice.

The man stutters before continuing, “So you should understand!”

“I’m understanding that you want your money back when the food is half eaten.”

Mafioso lowly chuckles at the sass in his voice. Elliot’s doing just fine. With newfound reassurance he walks out the pizzeria without another word—reluctantly.

He calls one of his men to pick him up. Truth is, he can walk back to his villa just fine, but he continues to stall his departure from Elliot’s view.

A voice in the back of his head yells, “Notice me!”

But Elliot was too focused on the angry customer to pay attention to the obvious figure standing at the window.

Elliot loved working hard, he knew this, but a part of him wished Elliot can indulge in Mafioso’s spoils.

Once, he treated Elliot to an expensive dinner—fancy food, pianist in the middle of the room playing music, low lighting, intimate environment—Elliot was uncomfortable the whole time. He sat in his chair playing with a loose curl of hair nervously. It was worse when Mafioso paid for everything.

After that, Mafioso started taking him to less fancy restaurants, the food and atmosphere was still a little out of his comfort zone, but at least he wasn’t sweating bullets.

Something that isn’t worth denying, Elliot is loaded. He didn’t have to work at his family’s pizzeria, or at all if he really wished. But Elliot’s humble and claimed he loves to work.

Mafioso huffs, remembering when he heard those words come out of him. He looks out the window of the car, brooding.

“You alright, Boss?” Soldier asks.

“I need a new lighter,” is all he says.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, the only noise being the radio talking about the rising of missing people recently—most are not because of his doing.

“I saw you flirting with that dude,” one of Elliot’s coworkers teased.

Elliot jumps at the sudden voice, he was spacing out after the problem with the customer complaint. The whole thing ruffled his feathers, but he didn’t let it stop him. In the end, the guy left, announcing that they lost a loyal customer—Elliot had never seen him before, therefore didn’t lose a regular.

His face gets hot and he rubs the back of his neck to soothe himself. “Yeah,” he sheepishly says, shy that his workers caught him being all affectionate with Mafioso.

“Oh, c’mon don’t be shy! So who is he? He looks like one of those gang leaders from the fifties. Kinda intimidating if you ask me,” they ramble on.

Elliot giggles. “Yeah, he does,” he sighs out.

They smile at Elliot’s dreamy face. That boy is in love, to say the least.

The rest of the day went by without any other incident. Everything was pretty anticlimactic and if Elliot’s going to be honest, he needed something exciting and new. Something that would get his blood pumping and heart racing.

He felt giddy whilst making the pizzas Mafioso had requested, trying his hardest to make them perfect.

As the pizzas were cooking in the oven, he felt the exhaustion of today finally settle in his bones. His legs felt wobbly and his hands slightly shook. When was the last time he ate something? Of course he took his lunch, but was it enough?

The ovens ding and he takes the pizzas out to put them in boxes. His hands continue to tremble as he assembles the pizza boxes, making it difficult to coordinate. Still, he needed to do this. And besides, he’s going to Mafioso.

The thought of Mafioso gave him the last bit of motivation to assemble the last pizza.

Finally, everything is done. The kitchen is clean, the ingredients are back in the walk-in fridge, no valuables are left behind, time to clock out.

He exits out the backdoor of the pizzeria to see his motorcycle waiting for him. Pride swells up in him remembering he had earned the money to get his own instead of using the one given by his job. It makes it easier to get home and deliver pizzas.

The fresh air of night hits his face and he breathes in. A light that needs to be changed flickers as a plea to be fixed. Elliot made a mental note to change it on his next shift.

He settles the pizzas at the back of the motorcycle in a carrier then swings a leg around to sit. The red helmet sits on the steer and he swiftly puts it on, pulling the visor down.

The engine sputters to life and he drives off to Mafioso’s villa. Excitement tingles his body and an uncontrollable smile creeps onto his face.

“I’m coming my big bunny,” he whispers, slightly cringing at his own words. He laughs as he picks up the speed, eager to see him.

A smooth ride with no traffic, today must be his lucky day. The universe is on his side and he couldn’t be happier—ignoring how heavy his arms felt and the grip on the steer felt weak.

As he kept driving, the more compact the trees became. Mafioso’s villa wasn’t completely surrounded by trees but if one were to look from afar, it would be hard to tell if there’s a house. It was secluded enough, perfect for Mafioso.

He finally slows down to a stop in front of the gate where the intercom is. He punches in the numbers he memorized by heart. It rings once before one of his men picks up.

“State your purpose.” It was Caporegime. His tone stern like usual.

“Pizza delivery,” Elliot says with a giggle.

“Oh! Hello Elliot! Nice to see you. Come on in,” his tone change to a softer one, more rejuvenated as if he took a nap in the middle of the few seconds they talked.

The intercom buzzes and the gate slowly opens. Elliot rolls right in, the gravel beneath crunching beneath his motorcycle before it turns into concrete.

He halts his bike next to a fancy black car that could only belong to Mafioso’s men.

Mafioso walks out the front door. He continues to wear the same clothes—a trench coat with a suit underneath, his signature fedora, and to top it all off with a fur boa wrapped around his shoulders. For some reason, he refuses to get comfortable just yet unless it’s with Elliot.

“You’re finally here,” Mafioso speaks as if he can finally breathe.

Elliot chuffs lightly. “Can’t have you and the boys going hungry. Next time I’ll cook you all something.”

“The boys won’t be here after they’re done eating. You can cook breakfast in the morning if you’d like.” Mafioso says with a tinge of excitement. He always has a poker face, if not for the charming smile that can fool anyone. It was fake and just for show. But, with Elliot, it’s all real.

“Sure,” Elliot responds a little softly making Mafioso pause for a second before walking closer to the pizzas that sit behind Elliot. Again, focusing his mind elsewhere to calm the surge of warmth in his chest.

“Let’s get these inside. The boys have been talking nonstop about pizza.”

Mafioso insisted on carrying all the pizzas despite Elliot’s protest. The mafia leader saw the way Elliot’s hand slightly tremble as he took off his helmet. Sweat glistens his face and the baby hairs cling to his forehead making him glow.

“Beautiful,” he whispers. Elliot being too busy turning off his bike and getting off to notice the compliment.

Mafioso holds the door open for Elliot, trailing behind him like a shadow.

All the men were sprawled out on the couch as if the villa was a second home to them—technically it is, but Mafioso denies that.

“Boys, eat,” Mafioso blurts out.

Elliot giggles at the care he had for them. Again, Mafioso denies he cared for them like actual family. They were still his subordinates, but after years of working under him, he grew fond of them. No other men could read him like an open book like these.

Or at least that’s what Elliot thinks.

In actuality, Mafioso just wants his men out as soon as possible so he can finally shower Elliot in spoils without them gawking eyes at the two.

Everyone scrambles out of the couch, Soldier falls on his face then immediately gets back up. A circle of red blooms on his forehead but he didn’t mind the dull ache.

Each pair takes a box to share, leaving Mafioso and Elliot to share one.

“Eat, caro. Take as many slices as you like,” Mafioso encourages, bringing a hand up to rake it through Elliot’s hair. Freshly trimmed and soft, he made sure of it.

No one dared to look at them, they knew not to.

“I’m not that hungry right now,” Elliot refused.

Mafioso frowned at that. He knew Elliot hadn’t ate yet so why is he starving himself?

“Do you not want pizza? I can get you something else if you prefer,” he tried to give more options, hoping it would satisfy the starving man.

Elliot only smiled up at him, they sat next to each other on the dining table while the others went back to the living room. Contractee glued to his laptop, typing away while the rest let the TV run, not paying any mind to it as they chat away.

“I’m just not hungry right now,” he reassures, giving a quick peck on the mafia boss’ cheek. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll go take a shower.”

With that, Elliot walks away to Mafioso’s bedroom where his private bathroom is. Mafioso continues to sit there, frozen and confused.

Elliot’s mind is hard to read sometimes. He uses that easy smile to fake whatever he’s feeling just like right now. Mafioso knows he’s tired. He knows that person took a lot of his energy. And he especially knows that Elliot needs some kind of pampering.

“Boys,” he calls out with a snap of his fingers to further get their attention.

In a few seconds, they’re all in the kitchen with him. “I have one last mission for you before you all go.”

—

Elliot walks out of the bedroom in clean clothes, his hair still damp, and smelling like roses. He walks into the living room to find everyone had left. The lights were off and everything was cleaned up as if no one was here. A look of confusion flashes across his face.

Then, he notices a soft light coming from the kitchen. He makes his way towards it, his footsteps padded from the rug before it turned into wood, then tile.

Taking a peak, he sees Mafioso standing in front of the table, looking at him as if he was expecting him to peak around the corner any second. In his hands is a bouquet of flowers filled with roses. Behind him are illuminated candles giving off the soft intimate light.

“What’s all this?” He asks with a shy laugh.

Mafioso didn’t answer. Instead, he walks up to Elliot with the bouquet and gently places it in his hands. Elliot looks down at it, pink dusting his cheeks at the gift. The fresh smell of roses hit his nose and he subconsciously inhales more.

“This is..” he gets cut off by a hand placed on his back soothingly. He’s guided to the table.

Mafioso pulls out a chair for Elliot, gesturing him to sit down. So Elliot did just that without protest. A giggle couldn’t help but escape him. Watching Mafioso being all romantic made him giddy and even a little shy.

The other sits across from him. Elliot continues to stare at him in awe. Mafioso did this for him. He felt like he was being courted all over again.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Would you like to hear about our special for tonight?” Soldier pops up with a notepad in hand as if they actually have a menu.

Elliot snorts. Who knew Mafioso could be adorable enough to make his men do this. It wasn’t even part of their contract or pay range. Maybe they’re having as much fun as Elliot is right now.

“Sure. What’s on the menu?”

“We have…pizza!”

Elliot waits for the other options, before figuring out that is all. Another laugh escapes him. The whole thing was too cute and silly for him to handle. The men acted like they were at a high-end restaurant.

“I’ll take pizza then.”

“Excellent choice.”

Faintly, in the background, Elliot can hear the others snickering at Soldier’s attempt at being fancy.

Elliot then puts the bouquet on his lap, and puts a hand under his chin—careful to not squish the flowers. “This is sweet of you to do,” he softly says, grateful. “It’s like I’m being romanced all over again.”

“Seems like I’m doing a good job then,” Mafioso smirks.

Elliot hums, nodding. This is a whole lot better than the restaurants Mafioso would take him too. Don’t get him wrong, he’s grateful for the experience, but being in a stuffy suit and having trouble pronouncing most of the menu items is a little humiliating. Still, he would do it a thousand times for Mafioso.

They both sit in a comfortable silence. Mafioso reaches out to hold his hand, grazing his thumb over Elliot’s knuckles.

Don Sonnellino, a gang leader, feared by most, being soft and gentle for a pizza boy. His hands, stained with blood and dirty money now holds Elliot’s like a prized possession. More important than unpaid debts and the mafia family.

And Elliot isn’t afraid of him. He trusts him wholeheartedly. It was hard to earn it and Mafioso takes pride in that.

Jazz music begins to play in the background and Elliot feels like he can finally, fully let go. A moan of exhaustion escapes him.

“What’s on your mind, tesoro?” He asks. It was more of a demand to hear his problems rather than a question. Deep down he knew something was eating away at Elliot.

“I don’t know, Don. I’m just tired but I still feel restless.”

The use of his actual name made Mafioso’s breath hitch. It was so sudden and he loved it. His heart beats harder and his chest swells with an overwhelming amount of emotions. He continues to listen.

“You saw what happened today. It just messed up my whole groove. It isn’t even that big, I’ve dealt with worse, but,” he sighs, “I don’t know. It’s not that big a deal. Sorry.”

Mafioso frowns at the apology. He slightly squeezes his hand lovingly as a soothing gesture.

“If it affects you this much then it is important,” he pauses to kiss his hand again. “Don’t apologize for having emotions.“

Elliot almost tears up at the words. Mafioso isn’t the best when it comes to words, but actions are another thing. His tender touch was all the proof he needed. The day had settled into his bones and all he wanted to do was be in Mafioso’s warmth, to have him hold him through the cold night.

“Thank you,” his voice cracks slightly.

Another beat of silence fills the dining area. Jazz continues to play. For a moment, Elliot had completely forgot the other men were here.

“Gentlemen, I’ve brought your pizza and a bit of the bubbly for celebration.” Soldier pops up with the pizza. Consigliere stands beside him with champagne in hand, Caporegime brings the tall glasses, Contractee brings in plates.

In short, they all crowd him, blocking his view from Mafioso.

Elliot sat confused as they set everything up in front of him. Consigliere pops the champagne, making everyone whoop out of instinct. Elliot laughs before the sentence finally registered in his brain.

“Celebration for what?”

They all look at each other with a knowing smirk and step back in a line.

Elliot’s eyes widen at the display.

Mafioso on his knee, without his fedora, with a velvet box in hand, displaying a ring he can only describe as beautiful.

He stops breathing for a moment, everything else blurs and the only one in the room that matters is the man in front of him.

“Elliot Builder,” he starts off. “From the moment-“

“Yes.”

Mafioso stills. His heart beats impossibly harder and his shaking hand doesn’t calm. A chuckle gets pushed out of him. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I don’t care what you have to say, Don. Yes,” Elliot says, voice wobbly, ready to burst out in tears. A hand covers his mouth and he leans in, passing the ring, embracing Mafioso into a tight hug. The smell of his cologne, smoky and woody, fills his nose. A smell he associates with comfort and protection.

They stayed in that position until Elliot’s stomach rumbles.

Mafioso chuckles and tries to pry off Elliot so he can feed him.

“Cuore mio, you need to eat. Let me feed you,” he tried to reason.

A sniffle responds to him. Instinctively, he rubs a hand up and down the spine of Elliot’s back. With further reasoning, Elliot finally lets go. His nose is red and his eyes are puffy, tears of happiness streak down his cheeks.

With a wet laugh, Elliot wipes his tears away. “I can’t believe I’m going to marry a mafia leader.”

“I believe it. You like living life on edge.”

Elliot smiles fondly, “You give me the excitement my life needs.”

“And you give my life the peace it needs. You compliment me.”

Elliot kisses his cheek and Mafioso does the same.

A cough interrupts them and they pause their moment to look at the men who continues to stand in a line, awkward—happy for them, nonetheless.

“You may go now. Good work, boys. Expect some gifts in the mail.”

They all cheered, highfiving each other and gathering their stuff to head out the door. In a single-file line they all walked out, but not before saying their congratulations.

The front door closes with a click and Mafioso gets up to lock it completely.

“What’re you gonna give them?” Elliot asks, curious what the gifts were. He looks back down at his left hand to see the ring Mafioso had discreetly put on his ring finger. A new wave of emotions overwhelm him.

Fear, excitement, happy, anxious, and most of all love.

“Our wedding invitations,” Mafioso says flatly. Elliot laughs at that, still in disbelief that he’s now engaged.

“Why not give them a vacation? I can tell they’ve been working hard,” he tried encouraging.

Mafioso clicks his tongue and says, “They can have the vacation when we go on our honeymoon. They’ll be our bodyguards.”

Oh god, it all feels surreal to Elliot. Calling Mafioso his fiancé felt so foreign, but so good and possessive. A part of him loved the possessive part. Mafioso is his and he’s Mafioso’s. A smile creeps up on his face and he tries his hardest to suppress a squeal.

Fiancé. Fiancé. Fiancé.

The word won’t leave his head.

“Enough about my men. Let’s eat dinner.”

They walk back to the table, everything already prepared and set up. As they both sit down, Elliot raises a tall glass filled halfway with champagne.

“To us,” he declares.

Mafioso smiles back, also raising his glass.

“To us.”

They clink and drink.

The whole dinner was filled with chatter and laughter. Elliot has never felt more happier in his life—other than becoming manager at his dad’s pizzeria.

“You can go into the room, piccolo. I’ll clean up here,” Mafioso says, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

Elliot almost whines at that, the champagne making him more confident. “Come to bed with me. The cleanup can wait. Please,” he begged. He wraps his arms around Mafioso from behind, burying his face in his back.

A sense of victory rushes through Mafioso. Elliot had finally relaxed.

“Don’t leave your future husband alone in bed.”

Never, in his whole life, did Mafioso fold so quickly until now. He drops everything and swoops Elliot off his feet to carry him into the room. Elliot knew what he did and he can only giggle in response at the power he held.

“You really know how to get a man swooning, don’tcha?” He whispers into Elliot’s ear. A shivers wracks through him, the pink that dusted his cheeks from the champagne had darkened.

“I just know what affects you,” Elliot teases, hugging Mafioso back by the neck. He gives wet kisses along his jaw, his stubble gives him light soothing scratches against his lips. “I’m still pretty sad you shaved your facial hair. It makes you look more handsome. At least like this I can see your face more clearly,” he rambles on.

Mafioso stays quiet, taking in all the praises that spill from Elliot’s mouth like it was the easiest thing in the world. It almost made him shy.

“Perhaps I should grow it out in time for our wedding,” he says.

Elliot dreamily sighs at that, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “Yeah, you should.”

He gently sets Elliot on the bed before going to his wardrobe to change into something more comfortable. Behind him, Elliot whistles. With a random shirt in hand, he slightly cocks his head around to see Elliot on his stomach with a hand under his chin, enjoying the show.

“Keep going,” he demands.

Mafioso chuckles. “Maybe I should join you shirtless, no?”

Elliot’s eyes brighten at that, his smile widens and nods a little too quickly. “Yes please!” He eagerly says.

Quiet, heavy footsteps draw closer to Elliot and he shifts to sit on his knees. He extends his arms out, making way for Mafioso to fall right into them. And he did just that.

A relieved groan escapes him as he finally relaxes against him. They both fall back onto the bed with a surprised grunt.

Elliot sighs at the warmth the other radiated, subconsciously rubbing soothing circles on his back, leaving tingles in its wake. Mafioso shifts to wrap his arms around Elliot’s waist and sits up, picking him up in the process. A surprised yelp gets pushed out of him as he rests on Mafioso’s lap instead.

They face each other, filled with nothing but love. Elliot cups his face, his thumbs graze over Mafioso’s lips, admiring.

Finally, they closed the distance. Their lips softly collided and Elliot moans in relief as if the kiss took away all his pain.

Tongues dance against each other, the kiss becoming more desperate the more they taste each other.

“Don,” Elliot calls out in between their kisses. Mafioso’s hands roam under his shirt, drawing closer to his sensitive spots. He travels to his back with featherlight touches. Elliot shivers, goosebumps rise on his arms. Each touch made his body instinctively flinch towards Mafioso.

They let go, a thin string of saliva connects them before it falls. Both pant.

Wet muscle touches his neck and he shivers once more. It moves up until his jawline, earning a light whimper out of him. Elliot squeezes his shoulders as a way to plea.

Mafioso then wraps his lips around a spot, suckling and biting until it turns a dark red, doing the same thing over and over in different places. Down to his collarbone, chest, a nipple, his stomach, past his navel, his v-line.

In the end, Elliot lays flat on the bed whining and panting for every love bite. He squirms, rolling his stomach up into his mouth for more.

The mafia leader had taken off Elliot’s shirt and pants, leaving him in only his boxers.

He straightens up to take in the view. Elliot’s eyes were hazed over with affection. Drunk with the attention his body so desperately needed. The outline of Elliot’s dick peaks through his boxers as he gets harder by the second. Mafioso’s as well. His pants slowly start to get uncomfortable, but not yet. Mafioso wanted to bathe Elliot in his love.

Elliot whines, trying to get his soft touches back. Mafioso coos in response.

“Shh,” he softly shushes. His hand grazes over his stomach all the way down to his clothed dick. Elliot whimpers in response at the stimulation. Mafioso didn’t add any pressure, just the ghost of his hand, teasing.

The sight of Elliot squirming gets him more excited. How would he look like crying in pure pleasure? How would he sound like moaning on his dick. Mafioso swallows the excess saliva, now getting a little nervous, but he doesn’t show it. His excitement overwhelms his anxiety.

Surprisingly, they’ve never done anything until now. The most they’ve done is make out sessions. Maybe they should’ve waited until their honeymoon or even after the wedding.

But, Elliot’s here, ripe for the picking, begging to be touched in places he hasn’t yet.

“Don, please,” Elliot whimpers out. Tears stung his eyes at the lack of touch. His mind drifting elsewhere, no longer thinking straight.

Immediately, Mafioso hooked his fingers at Elliot’s boxers and swiftly pulled them down. His weeping cock springs free. Mafioso licks his lips at the sight. Elliot is now fully naked, exposed. Vulnerable. Beautiful.

Without warning he dips his head to give a long lick from his base to the tip. Elliot softly moans, grabbing Mafioso’s hair for stability. His dick twitches for more attention.

Before Mafioso continues, he reached to his side where the small drawer is. He pulls it open and mindlessly digs for something.

He feels a bottle and immediately grabs it. Elliot gets even more excited at the sight.

Mafioso reaches his hand out to rake it through Elliot’s hair, trying to ease any nerves he had.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, worried he might go too far.

“I will. I trust you,” Elliot responds without hesitation. Mafioso blinks softly and leans down for another kiss.

They break away and Mafioso scoots back to be at eye level with Elliot’s cock again. He pops open the cap and squeezes lube onto two fingers, coating it generously. Softly, he presses the pad of his thumb against Elliot’s hole, jolting in response.

“Take a deep breath,” Mafioso warns.

Elliot did just that and Mafioso pushes past the ring of muscle to his first knuckle. Elliot whimpers from the small intrusion.

As he sinks deeper in, at the same time he engulfs Elliot’s dick into his mouth. It wracks a loud moan from Elliot. He grips onto Mafioso’s hair again, tugging from the overwhelming stimulation.

“Ngh..Don,” he grunts out.

Mafioso relaxes his throat to not gag and slowly starts to bob his head. Slow and sensual. At the same time he pumps his finger in and out.

Instinctively, Elliot had bucked his hips resulting in a choked moan out of Mafioso.

Mafioso pauses his blow job for a moment. His heart jumps at the thought of the action. The thought of being used made the heat in his gut get hotter. A low groan comes from his throat as he bobs his head again, this time a little faster.

Elliot’s thighs hug his head, quivering as his climax draws closer.

Another finger is added and Elliot thrusts up again. Mafioso’s eyebrows furrow, focusing and loving the way Elliot’s cock roughly hits the back of his throat.

His fingers piston into Elliot faster and more precise, trying to find the spot that’ll make the other scream.

With the curl of his fingers, Elliot’s eyes roll back and another harsh thrust. The nerves were found.

“There. Right there!” Elliot screams. His thighs beginning to crush Mafioso’s head, putting him into a headlock and making it harder to fuck his own mouth.

Mafioso thought all of this was so hot. Discovering something new about himself while hearing Elliot moan just from his mouth and fingers, blind to what he truly does to him. One day he’ll let Elliot use him however he wanted. Whether he was the one bending over or Elliot. It didn’t matter as long as it’s him.

The final finger is added. It went in smoothly from how slicked and open Elliot now is.

Finally, Elliot’s thighs quiver around his head and he releases inside Mafioso’s mouth. It was all too much, a choked sound comes from him. The cum shoots down his throat, but he doesn’t let go just yet until he was milked of it all.

“Fuck!” Elliot moans, strained.

Mafioso hums as he swallows it all, satisfied with the taste and the feeling of it going down his throat.

After the last spurt of cum, Elliot’s thighs ease up, letting his head go and Mafioso lets go with a lewd pop. He lightly pants, trying to get fresh air.

And Elliot just looks wrecked. His chest heaves and his neck glistens with sweat. The hairs on his forehead stick to his skin, framing his face.

They continue to catch their breathes until Elliot finally speaks up, “That was…amazing. You did so well.”

The praise did things to him.

And Elliot sees that. In his hazed mind, he pictures a cotton tail wagging on Mafioso. He slightly giggles and starts to

Mafioso sits up, his fingers slowly coming out of Elliot in the process.

Elliot’s eyes travel all over Mafioso’s body, the way his pecs sat so prettily, the slight outline of his six pack, the way his arms flex. He can get hard again just from the sight.

He looks further down and pauses. A wet patch is formed where Mafioso’s crotch is. In disbelief he looks back up at Mafioso to see red rising up his neck and ears.

“Did you… Just from giving me..?” He asks still shocked.

Mafioso stays silent and looks down, almost ashamed. But he loved it. The degradation—even thought it isn’t—excites him and he begins to get hard again. He nods, not really trusting his voice to be normal.

A wobbly smile creeps onto Elliot’s face. He needs that man inside him.

As if Mafioso read his mind, he begins to pull his pants and boxers down, just enough for his dick to spring free. Red, angry, and sticky with cum.

Elliot salivates at it, imagining the taste and shape of it in his throat. Where would it end?

Without another word, Mafioso grabs Elliot to pick him up. A yelp pushes out of him as he gets turned around onto his stomach. He grabs his hips and forces his ass to stick up. His hole now exposed to Mafioso. Heat crawls up to his face again and he buries his head further into the pillow out of embarrassment.

Mafioso just stares, admiring at how his hole flinches around nothing, begging to be filled.

Elliot slightly wiggles, a silent plea to hurry up.

Finally Mafioso puts his tip against Elliot, not entering just yet. He teases first, gliding it in between his ass. Slick noises and the small whines from Elliot fill the room.

“Don. Please…,” his voice pitched and wet. “I need you.”

Mafioso smirks at the pleading, treating it like music to his ears. “Keep beggin’. You sound beautiful, tesoro.”

Tears stung at Elliot’s eyes, frustrated at the teasing. He’s just about had enough. So without warning, he reaches behind him to grab the base of Mafioso’s dick to guide it in his hole—slipping in easily from how slicked up he is from his own cum. Mafioso grunts in response, his head now finally engulfed in Elliot’s warmth.

Elliot moans out a ‘finally’ and pushes back further to take more of him. Mafioso rests his hands at Elliot’s waist, steadying himself. The curvature of Elliot’s back and freckles that litter his skin is all he sees. He’s all he wants to see for the rest of his life.

Slightly overstimulated and still needing more. His own greed sickens him, but it’s one he’ll gladly indulge in forever.

With one harsh thrust, earning a loud moan from below, Mafioso is now fully sheathed in.

“So full,” he whimpers out.

Elliot grips the sheets. The sight of the ring on his finger brought out an animalistic nature in Mafioso. He wraps his arms around his waist and yanks him to lay against him, back to chest. Arms hooked behind Elliot’s knees and swoop them up, spreading his legs and exposing him forward.

The new position made Elliot’s eyes widen. The dick buried inside him now hits a spot that made him see stars. Drool leaks from the corner of his mouth.

Mafioso moves to sit at the edge of the bed for a more comfortable position.

During this, Elliot looks down. His eyes widen even further at the sight. There, in his stomach, is an unmistakable bulge, where he can only conclude where Mafioso ends. In curiosity he presses down on it, earning low moans from both parties.

Elliot gets lifted, resulting in the bulge disappearing before being dropped back down to the base. The bulge comes back harshly and Elliot moans loudly.

Mafioso does it again. And Elliot’s hypnotized by the bulge in his stomach. The mafia leader notices and smirks knowingly.

“Look at ya. Takin’ all of me,” he grunts out. He thrusts upwards into Elliot as he drops back down. Skin slapping and the squelch of the lube makes it hard to concentrate on Mafioso’s words.

“Hng..! D-Don, shit,” Elliot tries to talk, but the dick drilling in him made it impossible.

So stretched. So full. He throws his head back, resting on the others shoulder. The moans get louder as Mafioso goes faster, chasing his orgasm.

Each thrust pushes a short moan out of him. His own cock, now hard again, bounces uselessly in the air.

He tilts his head to the side to stare at the man fucking into him. Small moans pour out of him—so quiet you could almost miss it.

A hand reaches up to caress the side of his head. Mafioso perks up at the touch and looks back at him.

Sweet, hard working Elliot, crying and cock drunk, broken down by pure ecstasy and lust. And the only on who can do that is Mafioso, the only who can see him in such a state, the only one forever.

His climax comes closer, making his thrusts sloppier just to chase it.

Elliot moans louder.

“Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes! I’m almost there. F-Fuck I love your cock. I love you… I love you so much— ngh! Don!”

The belly bulge pops up faster once Mafioso fucks into him more heatedly.

“From—ah fuck. From the moment I met you, ciccino, It’s been nothing but colorful. You’re sweet and kind and the most hard working—mm—person I know. Conte te, ogni giorno è una nuova avventura anima mia. I want to wake up next to you everyday. I want to be your person, the one you go to when things get hard. I want to carry your burdens with you. So,” he pauses, trying to catch his breath, “Let me ask you properly. Will you marry me?”

With one final thrust, Mafioso collects Elliot’s lips into a sloppy kiss as he buries deep inside, painting Elliot’s walls white. They both moan into the kiss, Elliot releasing for the second time.

His dick continues to twitch inside, spirting out cum, filling him up until he’s full. Elliot pulls back from the kiss, lick the other’s tongue before fully breaking free. A thick string of saliva connects them before it falls.

They sit in silence, still in the same position, trying to catch their breaths.

Elliot then whines, uncomfortable with the position he’s still in. As his high went down, the ache start to set in quickly. “It hurts,” he whimpers out.

Mafioso coos at him, softly shushing him as he lifts him up so he can pop out. His release quickly oozes out, dripping onto the floor and making embarrassing splatters.

Quickly yet gently, Mafioso lays him down to help stretch his stiff legs.

He lets Elliot lay there for a moment to come back to his right mind. His hand rubs soothing circles on his stomach. A silent apology for the soreness that’ll come the next morning.

A few more minutes of silence later, Elliot finally speaks up, “Yes, I will marry you.” His voice hoarse from screaming.

Mafioso smiles softly at his words, happy he got to properly propose. “You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he says, his own voice slightly hoarse as well.

Elliot lets out one single giggle before he coughs from his itchy throat.

“I’ll get you a glass then I’ll clean you up,” he softly says, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Elliot only hums in response, too tired to speak. His eyelids droop in exhaustion and bliss.

“I love you.”

Chapter Text

“Get out!”

“Whatt? I just want some pizza, sweetheart. Is that so bad?”

Elliot massages his temple, a vein threatens to pop.

007n7 waltzed into the pizzeria knowing fully well he’s still banned. No amount of pet names or flirting can lift it.

“C’mon. You know you love me,” he purrs out, using his C00lGUI to float over the counter. A finger circles at Elliot’s chest teasingly.

Elliot’s eyes twitches, taking a deep breath to calm down. There’s no reason to explode over something he can control. “Yes, I do. But you’re still banned. I can’t serve you!”

007n7 puts a hand under his chin, sighing lovingly and admiring the way Elliot’s face reddens in frustration.

“I swear, letting you use the c00lGUI again was the worst decision I let you make,” he grumbles out. “Now you could burn down the pizzeria again..” He whispers. It was so small that 007n7 almost missed it. He frowns, remembering what he did to Elliot’s pizzeria all those years ago.

He floats down and cancels the c00lGUI out of existence for a moment. “I promise I won’t do it again. I love you too much to hurt you,” his voice soft, trying to calm down Elliot’s nerves. “But, thank you for trusting me. I know it was difficult to make that decision.” He grabs Elliot’s hands, rubbing over his knuckles with his thumb.

Elliot’s face almost shifts into a saddened one, but then immediately smiles to cover it up. The hands that hold his squeeze in reassurance.

“I’m surprised the admins didn’t take it away,” Elliot chuckles out.

007n7 can only roll his eyes at the mention of those admins. Builderman had been on his ass, making sure his activities were monitored every second so he didn’t get banned (again). The most 007n7 had done was summon a clone to help do his chores.

And don’t get him started on Telamon. That cloaked chicken finds every excuse to put him on trial. Every time, 007n7 walks away free, but that didn’t stop him.

“Trust me, they keep trying,” he grumbles out, crossing his arms as he floats again. “Anyways… Enough about them. How is my sweet Elliot doing, hm?” He says with a smug face, back to the persona he had in his younger days.

Recently, it resurfaced like it was banging on walls to be set free. Elliot had noticed a year into their relationship when he would subconsciously summon the c00lGUI for something small—one of them being to open a small portal to reach his hand in and get something he forgot at the house.

007n7 tried real hard to hide it, too. But Elliot pays attention to everything, analyzing like watching paint dry—painfully slow, but the outcome is inevitable.

“Just go. I don’t want to kick my boyfriend out of my own pizzeria,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. The line behind 007n7 gets bigger. People are getting antsy from not getting their orders taken.

“Fine,” 007n7 grumbles out, pouting like a child who got scolded and was told to sit in the corner.

He summons the tablet and presses buttons, inputing the code to teleport. The loading bar pops up, indicating it was in the process of being executed. “But, I really do want pizza. I’ve been craving yours for a while. Please?” He whines out, clasping his hands together and giving the world’s worst puppy eyes.

Elliot couldn’t help but giggle at the display. “Yes, I’ll bring you pizza when my shift is over,” he gives in.

007n7 cheers and immediately pops out of existence.

A customer walks up to the cashier and he begins to take their order like clockwork.

Beside him a black portal with a red outline appears and two hands reach out to grab Elliot’s face. He yelps in surprise before being silenced by lips against his. It was short and sweet.

“Almost forgot. Love you!” 007n7 quickly says before disappearing again.

Red blooms on Elliot’s face for the PDA 007n7 had done in front of his customers. Blinking out of his shock, he tilts his visor down to try to hide his embarrassment before continuing to take orders.

Despite how frustrated he felt, a smile couldn’t help but creep onto his face.

Throughout the day, Elliot had felt like he was being watched. But whenever he turns around, no one’s there. He becomes skittish to every little sound—the clicking of the old ovens, the creaking floor, the dripping faucet, the hum of the conveyor belt that takes the pizzas for boxing—and it’s starting to irritate him just a little.

Even worse, some stuff is conveniently placed for him. He’s thirsty? An unopened water bottle is at the counter. Feeling a little hungry? A protein bar is there for him to snack on. Missing something? He turns back around and it’s right there.

So he knows someone’s there. Could be a coworker who’s just looking out for him, but they’re all too busy to really pay attention to him.

Then, he looks at a spot. A corner in the boxing station looks a little weird. Like he was imagining something and it’s slowly coming to life. Transparent and easy to spot if you have a good eye.

He squints harder, slowly walking towards it. A hand reaches out to touch whatever it is before a voice calls out for him.

“Elliot.”

He jumps so hard, he might’ve pulled a muscle. It was his dad—the true owner of the pizzeria.

“What’re you doing?” He asks.

Elliot looks at him then looks back at the corner. The apparition is gone, the corner no longer looks weird.

“Um..nothing. Sorry, dad I’ll get back to work,” he apologizes, continuing the pizza boxing.

His dad frowns, studying the way Elliot moved a little sluggishly—plus the way it seemed he was seeing something that wasn’t there—it alarmed his dad that Elliot is possibly experiencing a burnout.

“You can end early today, if you’d like. It’s almost time for you to clock out either way,” he tried to convince Elliot.

Elliot looks back at him, mid cut into a pizza and pauses. Did his dad think he wasn’t capable of working today? He bites his lip to stop himself from asking why.

Shut up, just take a break. Take the day and tomorrow off. Asking questions would only continue his spiraling.

He sucks in a breath and nods, disappointed in himself for being human. But he knew better to question his dad. Somehow, he always knows Elliot’s limits more than Elliot.

“Alright. I’ll deliver these pizzas then go home,” he hesitantly says, voice small and monotone. His dad’s eyebrows furrow, suspicious of his wording but nods anyway, satisfied that his son is finally taking a break.

“Come back when you’re well rested.”

In other words, he’s not doing a good job. Elliot’s minds decides to twist his words. It isn’t something his dad would ever say, but Elliot thinks it anyway.

What is going on with him today?

He stuffs as many pizzas as he could in the carrier and hops on the vespa, driving away to deliver the first pizza.

The deliveries were smooth so that’s a plus for Elliot. He sighs in relief as he finishes the second to last delivery. One more to go and he can finally go home. Possibly have 007n7 over to help recharge—hoping he wasn’t in the teasing mood.

He pulls out the note full of addresses to find where the last pizza belongs to. His eyes land on a familiar address.

It was definitely a mistake. It had to be. How did 007n7 order a pizza?

He continues to sit in his vespa, unmoving, staring at the address as if staring hard enough would make it disappear. Confused, he starts up the vespa again without putting it in the GPS—he knows by heart where to go—and drives off.

The questions still rings in his head.

Did he hack again? The admins are definitely not going to let that slide. Especially for something as pitiful as ordering pizza. A headache starts to form and the grip on his steering tightens. 007n7 can be a little dumb sometimes. But he’s his dumbass.

All he needs to do is give him a stern talking to. Scold him. Scare him into stopping whatever he’s doing—something the admins can’t do, for some reason.

Part of him thought the reason they don’t scare him as much as they should is because they don’t want to scare other robloxians. Word gets out that they terrified a (ex)hacker? It’s over. The reign of terror will take over! Oh no, this is the downfall of Robloxia!

Elliot laughs at how overdramatic his imagination is.

Or maybe that won’t happen. Still, it’s a possibility—he supposes.

007n7’s house comes into view. A smile couldn’t help but form on his face. He was happy to see him, but also annoyed (and even impressed) that he could order something without being blocked by the blacklist.

He slowly rolls the vespa to the front and puts it in park. A sigh escapes him, glaring daggers at the door, hoping 007n7 can feel it.

The (ex)hacker really loved playing with his patience. He can only have so much before eventually blowing up on him.

It’s already happened once.

007n7 did something he didn’t mean to, resulting in Elliot getting genuinely upset. An honest mistake, really.

Honestly, Elliot doesn’t even remember the action, he just remembers how he felt. Angry tears couldn’t help but fall. He didn’t talk to 007n7 for weeks.

And 007n7 tried everything he could to talk to him only to be met with a cruel silence. Eventually, Elliot came back from work with 007n7 on his doorstep, looking pitiful—like a dog who got abandoned. And Elliot apparently likes dogs. So he took him in and they talked it out.

Elliot giggles at the memory. The sad look on 007n7 fit him, but he also didn’t like seeing him like that at the same time.

Now, he’s all smug because of that damn c00lGUI. 007n7 has those moments where he’s all meek half of the time and the other half is cocky. It’s truly a gamble on which side will come out more.

Today it seemed the (ex)hacker side is fronting.

He knocks on the door with the hot pizza and a lemon-lime soda, his eyebrows already furrowed, but he tries his best to keep his smile.

The door creaks open.

“Yeees?” The familiar voice calls out teasingly. Almost like he knew Elliot would be delivering it to him. Shocker.

Elliot restrains a huff before speaking up, “I told you I would bring it at the end of my shift.”

007n7 looks at him with an innocent face, a soft smile plastered. Getting off on annoying Elliot—his favorite activity as of recently. “Whatever could you mean, sweet stuff?” He flirts, trying to appeal to him.

A soft blush forms on Elliot’s face. Him and his stupid pet names. Telamon, this man will be the death of him. If not by old age then by popping an important artery.

“And how did you even order?! Did you hack again? You know the admins will see that!” He says, the anger beginning to color his voice, though there’s worry hidden behind it, disguised as disappointment.

007n7 snickers at his face, taking the pizza and drink away to put aside. He commands a portal and puts the stuff through it before averting his attention back to Elliot.

He pulls Elliot into a hug, squeezing his arms to keep them at his side, trapping him. His head lays on Elliot’s shoulder, a sigh escapes him. “I called instead of ordering online. Surprisingly, my number isn’t blocked,” he explains.

Elliot stops his squirming and lets out a soft, “Oh.”

007n7 shifted to turn his head to look at Elliot, not picking up his head just yet.

“Okay, well. I’ll make sure you—“ 007n7 fully licks his cheek. A shiver runs through Elliot and he starts squirming again. “You’re disgusting! Let me go!”

The (ex)hacker lets him go, laughing. He floats up to get away from Elliot’s attempt to grab him. With one hand, Elliot wipes the saliva off his cheek and the other grabs onto 007n7’s tail, making him yelp.

“Wha- Hey! Don’t grab me from there!” He retorts back, grabbing onto the base to tug it back.

It was more of a hologram of a tail, a piece of coding that acted like a real one. 007n7 just likes the way it makes him look—cool like a loser. The horns too. Just another piece of coding. He could just cancel it out, but for some reason he isn’t. Maybe he just wants to play with Elliot a little longer.

Elliot decided to let him go, giving up because the other isn’t budging. “Fine. Whatever. That was still gross,” he grumbles out.

A smirk creeps onto 007n7’s face, trying his hardest not to snicker. “It’s not like a different bodily fluid of mine was on your face two weeks ago,” his voice dips, biting his lip and wiggling his eyebrows.

Red flushes on Elliot, wide eyed and jaw dropped—and excited, but he doesn’t show it.

“You’re so crude!!” He yells, embarrassed. He smacks 007n7 on the leg, still too high to hit him properly.

“I even recorded it,” he adds on.

“No you didn’t,” Elliot says in disbelief.

“Oh, but I did! You looked so hot,” he says dreamily. Truthfully, he didn’t record it. He knew Elliot wouldn’t like that, but teasing him is funnier.

Elliot stays quiet, embarrassed. But another feeling rises. It wasn’t excitement or anger. He felt exposed, like a line had been crossed and he didn’t like it.

“Please delete it,” he pleads, his voice small.

007n7 taps his chin while looking up as if he was thinking about it. “Mm..nah. I’m going to keep it and look at it when I miss you,” he says with another snicker.

Elliot bites his lip. He starts to play with a curl, anxious. Not knowing if 007n7 was telling the truth or it was just another one of his jokes. “Seven, please,” he tries again.

“Nah,” he responds quickly.

The pizza boy looks away, feeling a little betrayed and very much exposed. What if 007n7 was trying to show someone something in his camera and the video accidentally pops up? What if he got hacked and they stole the video?—along with other sensitive information, but that wasn’t important right now.

If this was a joke, 007n7 is taking it a little far.

“You know I don’t like that. I talked to you about it,” his voice low.

007n7’s smile begins to falter as he finally studies the way Elliot looks. Glossy eyes full of hurt and a shaky voice. He might’ve took the joke too far.

So he floats down to the ground and brings him into another hug, this time not restraining him.

“I’m just playing around. I went a little too far, I’m sorry.”

Elliot hugs back, sniffing. “So you didn’t record me?”

“No.”

A hand then grabs at 007n7’s hair, tugging his head back. He yelps as he was thrown back, letting go of Elliot to grab at his hands.

“Elliot! I’m sorry, okay?” He apologizes, a hint of laughter threatens to spill out.

“That wasn’t funny,” Elliot mumbles, his voice wet as relief took over.

“I’ll make it up to you! Promise!”

“Let me record you then.”

007n7 pauses his struggle, looking back down at Elliot, wide eyed, still processing the words. A nervous smile stretches across his face. “What do you mean?”

“Let me make a mess all over your face and I’ll record it,” he says without missing a beat. Although, he is a little embarrassed saying it. Is this how 007n7 feels sometimes? How does he do it?

“Woah! Didn’t know you had it in you to be all bold,” he says with a purr. A finger begins to circle at Elliot’s chest sensually. The tension between them gets thicker. “Not that I’m complaining.”

As much as Elliot wanted to do it right now, he had to go back to clock out. With a sigh, he drops the act and slouches. “I have to go back though. Need to clock out early. Orders from my dad because he thinks I need a break,” he almost grumbles out, trying to keep his attitude in check.

007n7 chuckles, retracting his hand to lean it on the doorway—and totally not showing off his body that Elliot loved so much. “I’ll be waiting then,” he teasingly says, seeing the way Elliot’s eyes rake over his body.

The way his shirt rides up just a little, showing his plump belly, the happy trail, his arms, the annoying smirk that shows off his teeth.

Elliot blinks, looking away. “Yes. I’ll be back,” he says, coughing into his hand to cover up the voice crack.

So he turns around and walks back to his vespa without another word. As he gets on, he looks back at 007n7 who’s still standing at the doorway. He smiles softly and waves, Elliot does the same.

It would’ve been a cute moment.

If not for 007n7 turning around to stick his butt out, pulling his pants down and sticking out his tongue to mess with Elliot.

“Get back inside!”

007n7 bursts out laughing and finally closes the door with a slam.

Elliot drags his hands down his face, half annoyed, half amused from the other’s antics.

So he goes back to the pizzeria, tells his dad he’s done for the day, and finally clocks out.

Back at home he changes out of his uniform in the bathroom—he didn’t want to smell like pizza when going to 007n7’s house. The familiar feeling of being watched comes back again. With his shirt in hand, he looks behind him, scanning for any movement.

No one’s there. A shiver wracks through him. He continues to stand there frozen, waiting for it to go away.

It doesn’t, but he has to continue changing.

Quickly he takes off his uniform pants with his boxers and quickly gets in the shower, closing the curtains with urgency. He twists the knobs and cold water shoots out, making him yelp before it gets warmer.

The hot water washed away the day and he sighs, tense muscles finally relaxing.

But the impending feeling of being watched still gnaws at him. So for a way to comfort himself, he starts humming a song he heard on the speaker in the pizzeria. Something random and grounding.

He peaks out of the curtains, making sure no one’s there for the nth time.

When did he get so paranoid?

His eyes travel to his pile of clothes on the floor, too lazy to throw them in the hamper for now.

The water continues to run and the suds of shampoo in his hair start to go away the longer he stares.

Hesitantly, he goes back to cleaning himself, washing off all the shampoo and soap. The smell of eucalyptus and mint calms his nerves just a little, a small distraction.

He wrings the extra water out of his hair before grabbing a towel and carefully steps out. The cool air hits his skin and he slightly shivers. Water drips down his skin like multiple fingers dragging itself down his body—in the back of his mind he thinks one of the droplets is an actual finger raking across his skin—he giggles at the thought.

“I can feel you touching me,” he says to himself, joking around to ease his anxiety.

“Damnit! I really thought—“

Elliot screams. He swings his hand heavily to knock down the voice behind him. The first one connects, knocking 007n7’s glasses off. He continues to blindly throw swings.

“Shit-! Elliot!” The man yells. He catches Elliot’s punches to try and stop him. Unsurprisingly, Elliot’s pretty strong and can throw heavy punches. Carrying all those pizzas at a time isn’t exactly a light workout.

“Elliot it’s me!” He yells once again, hoping Elliot would listen.

The punches slow down until eventually they stop. Elliot pants, trying to catch his breath.

Of course the person in front of him is 007n7–because who else would it be.

Elliot continues to stare at him, his adrenaline filled mind calms down. He could’ve been mad at him, scream, anything to show he didn’t like that. But, he doesn’t. Instead a wet laugh escapes him and he sinks to the floor, his legs becoming jelly and his hands shaky.

“You are so dumb,” he sighs out.

“I know,” is all 007n7 says.

Although, he’s a little distracted. The way Elliot’s skin glistens with water, the towel wrapped around his waist loosens up—still covering him up, but enough to leave to the imagination—and his curly hair that stubbornly clings to his skin.

Beautiful, is all 007n7 could describe him as. Perfect in every way.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” he laughs out, relieved.

And 007n7 is confused. Why isn’t Elliot yelling at him, scolding at the very least. Tell him why he shouldn’t stalk him. Instead, he’s met with a smile and a flushed face—he didn’t know whether it was from the shower or…

Something clicks.

“No way,” he quietly says. Elliot perks up. “Don’t tell me you…”

He quickly looks down. There’s an unmistakable bump in Elliot’s towel where the only logical thing he can think of is there.

“You’re such a freak,” he laughs out airily with no true malice behind it. A smirk stretches across his face.

Elliot is mortified. Ashamed at the fact he somehow likes being watched by 007n7 in his day to day life—the thought of it excites him more than it should. The eyes that stare down at him with a mixture of shock and a rising lust. Instinctively, he tries to cover his growing bulge from those prying eyes, trying to save himself from further embarrassment.

“No,” 007n7 almost whispers out. He gets down on his knees and grabs Elliot’s hands, slowly peeling them away. “Don’t hide that from me.”

Elliot can only bite his bottom lip as he moved his hands, complying.

007n7 shuffles closer to him. His knee slots between Elliot’s, getting closer to his erection. Elliot’s heart beats hard, he’s never been this excited in a while. The tension was so thick he felt he couldn’t breathe.

They don’t move another muscle, just staring at each other, finding out some things about themselves.

“Were you the one…at the pizzeria?” Elliot asks.

“Yeah,” 007n7 answers breathy, trying to calm his beating heart. Elliot looks so cute all
flustered and wide-eyed. His eyes are already big enough, sparkly and full of joy.

“Why?”

“…I don’t know. I guess I just…wanted to see you..?” He explains, unconvinced by his own words. He didn’t even know why he was stalking Elliot. Maybe he really did miss him and thought stalking was the only way to get his attention. The possibility of being caught also enticed him, so he continued without much thought behind it.

The coded tail behind him flickers, responding to his emotions.

“So,” Elliot starts off again. “Will you take responsibility?” He scoots a little closer to the knee that’s nestled between his legs comfortably, insinuating what he wants.

007n7’s mind goes haywire. The way Elliot’s being so bold like he owned the day. It does things to him he didn’t think he would be into. All he wants is to be buried in Elliot’s warmth, please him, make him scream in ways he hasn’t before. So many ideas run through him, but one sticks out the most. He gets excited.

Without warning, Elliot’s knee rubs against his growing erection. A grunt escapes him and he glares down at him. Elliot smirks up at him.

“You’re being such a brat today,” he growls out, though the fire behind it isn’t as big as he wanted it to be.

“I’m just matching your energy. Guess that makes you a brat too,” he retorts.

The degrade sent shivers down 007n7’s spine as Elliot presses harder into his crotch. His head lands on the crook of Elliot’s neck, trying to control his breathing and the moan that threatens to escape.

Elliot’s towel slowly parts from where it’s tied, making his legs visible. His dick so close to being exposed. 007n7 swallows.

007n7 then grinds into the other’s knee. The little control he had left was slipping.

Elliot watches. He listens to the little moans 007n7 spills out, trying his hardest to hide them. Gaining the upper hand was exhilarating. But he knows that eventually he’ll lose that control to 007n7. This is one of those rare moments where the (ex)hacker willingly gives it to Elliot.

“Brat knows who’s in charge,” Elliot teases.

007n7 pulls back and glares at him, his humping getting a little more erratic, chasing his orgasm. “And brat doesn’t know when to shut up. You’ll be the one pressed—ah—against the bed, screaming and begging for more like you were made to—shit—do,” he retorts back.

A whine almost escapes Elliot, but he tries his hardest to keep it in. He’s trying really hard to keep the act up, but by the admins it’s slipping from his grasp like it’s coated with oil.

So, he stays silent, letting 007n7 do his thing. Letting him watch the wet patch in his pants grow from the precum. The jeans start chafing his knee, giving him an addicting burn.

“Silent now, huh? That’s what I thought,” he wants to throw in a degrading word, but he knew Elliot wouldn’t like it—learning from the first time he started to cry real tears.

007n7’s orgasm comes closer, a sheen of sweat coats his forehead and his glasses fog up from the steam of everything.

Then, he gets a small glimpse of Elliot’s dick, weeping and dripping and begging to be touched. He doesn’t yet. He craves for Elliot to beg while a stream of tears fall down as he licks them away, tasting the saltiness on his tongue (freak).

Unfortunately, Elliot’s also stubborn. He doesn’t want to beg. He’ll gladly wait until 007n7 gets frustrated and then fuck him into the bed without care, letting out all his pent up anger. Something to keep it exciting. Until then, he’ll keep tapping on the cracked glass until it eventually shatters.

“Well aren’t you a stubborn one,” he grunts out. “C’mon. Beg for me to touch you, I know you want to,” he moans a little. “Almost there—huff.”

Elliot then collects him into a heated kiss. Their tongues swipe against each other, earning a moan from both of them.

“You talk too much,” he whispers in between the kiss.

007n7’s knees hurt from the bathroom tiles, but the pleasure overwhelmed the pain. Greedy and stubborn.

They part and 007n7 properly sits up to grab onto Elliot’s knee, keeping it stable in his grasp. He continues to hump, pretending the restricting jeans is actually Elliot’s hole gripping onto him.

“I need to be inside you, Elliot,” he whimpers out, losing patience and control—the college persona also starts to disappear.

Elliot smirks, shivers run down his spine as he watches how desperate 007n7 becomes. The glass is about to shatter.

“Earn it,” is all he says.

“You really are a brat.”

Elliot giggles and jerks his knee into his crotch, making him moan a little louder. His thrusts get sloppier, so close but he just can’t finish yet. He feels like he’s being edged. Tears stung his eyes from frustration and his jaw clenches, trying to focus on the pleasure.

Elliot had noticed it was beginning to look painful so he adds salt to the wound, “Look at you. You can’t even cum. You got performance anxiety? Do you even want to be inside me?”

Before he could continue his degrading, 007n7 had snatched his towel away, putting his dick on display, fully exposing him. Elliot yelps in surprise as he tries to cover himself, red flushes his face.

“I want to see you,” he whines out. “Please, ngh.”

Slowly, Elliot peels his hands back. 007n7 moans, “Thank you.”

If Elliot could, he would have came on the spot from the sight. The way 007n7’s eyebrows furrow, the caught tears in the corners of his eyes, his mouth spilling moans—overall he looked pathetic.

Like always, 007n7 turns into this. Obedient and whining like a dog who wants the treat.

And Elliot is the treat.

007n7 shivers. The grinding becomes better now that he can see all of Elliot. He stares at the cock dripping with precum, just begging to be touched.

Finally, he comes undone. With a loud moan, the wet patch in his jeans gets bigger with each rope shot out. Strings of whimpers soon follow which each jerk of his hips, settling into overstimulation. The constricting jeans mixed with the stickiness of his own cum felt euphoric. He pants as his high comes down.

Through blurry eyes, he sees Elliot biting his lip, watching the way 007n7 unraveled just from his knee.

A wracked sigh escapes Elliot as he then gets up, picking up his towel in the process to wrap it around his hips again. He then helps 007n7 up, his legs cracking in the process as the pressure on his knee is relieved.

“If you’re tired we can stop here. I can take care of myself,” Elliot says softly, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

007n7 chuckles, grabbing his waist to pull him against his body. “No, we’re not done yet. I have an idea we could try,” he says, bending down to give his neck some light kisses, making Elliot giggle.

“Oh? What is it?”

“It’s a surprise. Do you remember our safeword?”

Elliot’s eyes widen, his already flushed face turns into a deepened color. He quickly looks up at 007n7, shocked. They hadn’t used their safeword in a long time—there was no reason to.

“Pizza. You freak, what’re you planning?” He laughs out, excited and maybe even a little nervous.

“You’ll see,” he answers back, ending it with a kiss to his temple.

With that, he walks out the bathroom and closes the door behind him so Elliot can do what he needs to do to finish his shower routine.

And Elliot was distracted the whole time he continued. Thinking of different ideas that could possibly need the safeword. Each one was more exciting than the last.

Was it edging? Some pain inflicting?—honestly, Elliot wouldn’t mind as much, but he did have a quite low pain tolerance—A vibrator strapped to his dick until he can’t take it anymore? The possibilities were endless and he gets excited once more. He looks down at his dick, contemplating whether to relieve himself, but he decided against it, not wanting to ruin the fun.

Elliot finally finished combing his hair out. He puts the comb down and stares at his reflection. Dark circles underneath his eyes, freckles dance across his skin—face, shoulders, neck, chest—the way his hair frames his face. He almost frowns at himself. He looked awful, unpresentable, tired.

An even worse thought crossed his mind.

He didn’t know what 007n7 saw in him.

A blink. Then another (When did he get so self-deprecating?).

He shakes his head as an act to shake off the bad thoughts. Bury it, ignore it.

007n7 is out there, waiting for him in the bedroom. If he didn’t love him he wouldn’t do that. Right.

He opens the bathroom door and steps out into the cooler air of his house. It was quiet and eerie, like 007n7 isn’t even here and the whole thing in the bathroom didn’t happen. He makes his way into the bedroom.

Elliot’s eyes widen. There were two 007n7s. One was obviously a clone as it didn’t even acknowledge the pizza boy walk in. It stood there unmoving.

007n7 did notice him though. Of course he does. A nervous smile plastered on his face as his eyes dart back and forth between him and the clone. Elliot walks closer, also a little nervous—the clone gave him an uncanny valley, it’s an exact replica of 007n7, but the eyes were soulless.

Elliot continues to stare at it, trying to put the pieces together.

Another minute passes and it finally clicks.

His head whips around to look at 007n7, red in the face.

“No way,” he whispers out.

007n7 laughs nervously in response, rubbing the back of his neck. “We don’t have to. I just thought it would be a..um…a new experience. Keep it exciting…y’know?” He says, looking down. A little ashamed at the fact he’d been thinking about this, but Elliot didn’t need to know that.

He had been working on the coding for weeks. Inputting everything Elliot likes and dislikes into the clone. He had put it to the test today, but it didn’t do anything—Elliot was nowhere in sight so it stood still.

“Do you have a kill code for it?” Elliot asks nervously. A valid question.

“Yes! Nothing to worry about. If it ever acts up or you say the word, I’ll stop it. I promise,” he quickly reassures. The c00lGUI pops up next to Elliot. The red glow compliments his already red face. “It’ll be right next to you the whole time if you ever want to stop. Just press the button and the clone will stop if you can’t talk.”

Elliot scans over the c00lGUI, taking it in. Then he looks back at 007n7 with a soft smile. “I trust you. I don’t need to worry,” he says.

007n7 nods. He urges Elliot to come closer and he obeys. The c00lGUI follows him, just like how he promised. He wraps his arms around Elliot, picking him up so he can wrap his legs around his waist to keep himself from falling. Elliot giggles.

“Wow, so strong Seven,” he teases.

With a roll of his eyes, 007n7 falls back onto the bed with Elliot on his lap now. Elliot’s legs hug the sides of 007n7’s thighs. The towel parts and falls to the floor, leaving him full naked.

They collect each other into a kiss, their tongues dancing disgustingly. Elliot moans into the kiss, fully relaxing against him as the day melts away. The thoughts he once had in the bathroom are now gone. Focusing only on the heat and muscle in his mouth.

A yelp then escapes him as he feels another tongue behind him. He looks back and sees the clone on its knees, its tongue swiping against his hole.

“Oh my—hng!” He gets cut off by the tongue prodding at him, trying to push past the ring of muscle. The hands grab at his ass, spreading them even further for more room, a thumb gets closer to his hole. He back arches at the sudden pleasure.

The real 007n7 coos at him, soothingly rubbing his back as the clone continues to eat him out.

A thumb sinks into him and he moans louder. 007n7 kisses his neck, leaving small bites and hickeys in his wake. Painting his yellow skin with blotches of red that’ll soon turn purple.

Elliot grinds back into the clone, wanting the tongue and finger to go deeper. It suddenly takes the thumb out and immediately plunges in a finger, now doing deeper in him.

“Seven! Mm…” He tries his hardest to talk, but every sudden movement interrupts his train of thought. It’s hard to think now.

The real 007n7 explores his body, his hand lightly goes over Elliot’s cock, giving him a sample of what’s to come. Elliot can only thrust into his hand, chasing for more friction.

Another finger is added and it curls into him, immediately finding the special nerves. Elliot’s nails dig into 007n7’s shoulders as a way of grounding as the clone continues to abuse the spot. It already knew where it was, freaky. Another moan is pushed out of him as the fingers now pump in and out relentlessly like a machine. Constant and with rhythm.

Elliot starts to quiver, tears stung his eyes at each spike of pleasure.

It was all so fast and overwhelming. And Elliot loved it. 007n7’s hands continue to roam over his body like he was worshipping it. His left hand glides along the curvature of his back and the right gets closer to wrapping around his dick.

The third finger is added and it begins to scissor while still pumping into him, stretching him even further.

A fourth one is now added and Elliot’s eyes widen, whimpering.

“Four?!” He yelps out.

007n7 chuckles. “You still haven’t figured it out yet?”

“I thought it was just going to…I don’t know..suck me?”

007n7 looks up, thinking. “That does sound like a good idea,” he starts off and finally (finally!), he wraps his hand around Elliot’s cock, earning a wanton moan. “I like mine more, though.”

“What, did you—hng—give it a bigger one?” He slurs out breathlessly. The clone doesn’t stop at all, making it harder for him to talk. His dick now engulfed in 007n7’s hand makes it worse, but he doesn’t move just yet. He stays there, making himself known.

“No,” he answers, smirking. He slowly starts to stroke him. Elliot whimpers as his senses get overwhelmed. The lewd squelching behind him and now the fapping in front of him is all he hears. It’s all he feels.

“It’s just time to teach my brat a lesson.” He jerks him harder to give him no time to respond. Elliot gasps at the new speed and 007n7 catches him into another kiss. Messy and uncoordinated, only their instincts. “That’s right. It’s my turn,” he whispers in Elliot’s ear.

Elliot can only shiver, giving into 007n7’s touch and the words that crawl into his mind, making itself home.

And the clone is relentless. He can only imagine what the coding is for it do everything perfectly, just the way Elliot likes it.

He grinds back into the fingers that continue to stretch him open, still hitting that spot he loved so much. Each grind pushes another moan out of him, simultaneously fucking into 007n7’s fist.

“I need more,” he whimpers out, dropping his head onto the other’s shoulder, panting and completely out of it to think properly. “Please, Seven—hah,” he pleads further.

“That’s it. Keep begging,” he smirks. His own dick started to hurt from the pants he had changed into. Sweatpants are a lot more breathable, but it isn’t much better when you have an Elliot on your lap begging to get fucked.

Finally, the clone pulls the fingers back, leaving him empty. His hole clenches around nothing, begging to be filled with something bigger.

The real 007n7 doesn’t stop though. He continues to pump his hand around Elliot’s cock. It twitches in his hand, a sign he’s close.

Shuffling was heard behind Elliot, but he doesn’t look back. He focuses on the one in front of him.

They shift into a different position. 007n7 now lays flat on his back with Elliot towering over him, his ass in the air.

Then something pokes his entrance. Hands grab onto his waist, keeping him steady. He finally looks back and the clone is completely naked, showing off the same body 007n7 has—of course it has the same body, it’s the exact replica down to the size and shape of his dick.

A hand then grabs onto Elliot’s chin, forcing him to look back at 007n7.

“Look at me. Only look at me,” he says with a gruff. Possessive and needy.

In the back of Elliot’s mind, he thinks 007n7 is jealous of his own clone. A silly thing. Elliot would’ve laughed if not for the dick being shoved halfway into him without warning.

Elliot’s moans loud. He saw stars, tears stung his eyes, and already he looks fucked out. It was the final push he needed to release all over 007n7’s hand and stomach.

007n7 just stares, eyes full of lust and need. Tugging on his weeping cock to get every little bead out.

The clone sinks further into him, bottoming out. It waits until Elliot gives the green light. He whimpers in response and pushes back into the dick.

It then starts thrusting in a rhythmic pattern, robotic, inhuman, but fuck did it feel good.

Each slap pushes a moan out of Elliot. It pistons like a machine—because it is one, but Elliot doesn’t acknowledge it just yet.

“F-Fuck! Yes! Hah! Hng…shit,” mindless string of words and moans as he’s fucked into overstimulation.

At the same time, 007n7 slowly takes off his pants. Not once did he take his eyes off Elliot. He wants to see every expression, every movement, pay attention to every single noise he makes into his ear. Drool spills over the corner of Elliot’s mouth as his eyes roll back, looking cock drunk. Each thrust makes Elliot bounce forward beautifully.

His cock bounces out of the constraints of his pants and boxers, finally free, red and angry and throbbing to be in Elliot.

They shift again, the clone follows obediently, still buried inside the pizza boy.

“Take a deep breath,” 007n7 warns as he guides his dick to Elliot’s hole. It prods, trying to fit in with his clone. A pained whimper escapes Elliot, but made no protest nor did he try to stop it. 007n7 coos, trying calm him down. “Shh, just relax, sweetheart. You’re doing so good,” he praises. Elliot tries to control his breathing, taking in sharp breathes to push past the pain—the reward of doing so encourages him—“That’s it’s. Good boy.”

Elliot moans at the praises. A mixture of emotions swirl in him. He feels so full, so stretched. An addicting pain overwhelms his senses. His dick hardens again.

007n7 grunts, finally bottoming out. “So tight,” he strains.

He doesn’t move unless Elliot says so.

Light kisses litter Elliot’s skin to ground him back. Through his daze-filled mind he blinks, finally looking at 007n7. His jaw slacks open and tears streak down his cheeks—he wasn’t in unbearable pain, he just felt so good and words would just betray him if he tried to speak.

Elliot leans down to give kisses to 007n7’s neck. Licking, smelling, anything to get closer to him. To claim him just as he is doing to Elliot.

Slowly, Elliot starts to thrust himself back, taking more of both 007n7s. The clone starts thrusting again, the same pace and rhythm just as before and Elliot moans, pitched.

007n7 moans at the friction of his own dick rubbing against himself inside Elliot.

All 007n7 could think of is Elliot. Always him. What would please him, what would make him scream, what would make him come.

He begins to thrust, too. Every time the clone buries itself in, 007n7 pulls out to only leave his tip in. Whenever 007n7 harshly thrusts back in, the clone pulls out and vice versa.

The strategy leaves Elliot continuously full, constantly hitting his prostate without rest.

Elliot sees stars, he goes cross-eyed, tears flow out, pleasurable groans and pitched moans spill from between his parted lips. Overall he looks and sounds heavenly.

“F-Fuck me harder!” He screams.

007n7 smirks, now thrusting with a new fever. “What did I tell you? You’re the one moaning and screaming. Look at you now. Can’t even think,” he rambles on. Elliot whimpers at his words. He already knew the outcome, but didn’t know it would be like this. “Can’t even talk,” he adds on. Even he’s having trouble talking. Moans spill out of him, too.

Elliot begins to push himself back in time with the real 007n7’s thrusts, figuring out the pattern. Short moans get pushed out of him with every harsh slap.

With a clean hand, 007n7 rakes it through Elliot’s hair, kissing his tears before licking them away. A salty taste lands on his tongue and he shivers—the taste of Elliot’s overwhelming pleasure in the form of tears.

It brought out an animalistic nature in him as he gets closer to his climax.

Quickly, he grabbed Elliot by wrapping his arms around his torso and switched their positions. Elliot now pushed into the bed. The clone was pulled out, leaving all of Elliot to 007n7.

He brings Elliot’s legs to rest them on his shoulders. The new position lets 007n7 see all of Elliot, the soft lighting making him glow, his curly hair framing his face perfectly, the dark circles a reward for his continuous hard work, the freckles—god, the freckles.

“Beautiful,” he whispers out, leaning forward until Elliot’s knees are pushed right against his own chest and his calves almost hug right beside his head. “So flexible.” Elliot whines, getting a little shy at the position.

“S-Seven,” he calls out, voice hoarse and in desperate need of water.

“I’m here,” he reassures as he sinks back into Elliot, earning a soft moan.

Elliot now being very loose, it’s all easier. His cock easily glides in and out of him without much restraint.

With a harsh thrust, he goes back to his act. The air gets knocked out of Elliot and a broken moan fills the room.

“Yes! Hah—more!” Elliot moans out. He wants to wrap his arms around 007n7, pull him closer, touch him, but the position makes it harder to do so. So he whines, not knowing what to do.

007n7 continues to fuck him, concentrating on the form knot for his release. He shifts once more, now bouncing on Elliot’s ass. The harsh slapping, the creaking bed, moans, and grunts fill the room. It’s palpable. Elliot can only beg for more like a greedy little thing.

“Hey,” 007n7 huffs out. Elliot doesn’t respond, he couldn’t. “Do you think if we tried—ah shit—hard enough, you’ll carry?” Elliot gasps at his words, biting his lips from yelling out something he would possibly regret.

Elliot tried real hard, he did. But he mumbles something indecipherable.

007n7 leans in closer, pushing the other’s legs further. How flexible is this man? Elliot’s toes curl at how deeper 007n7 impossibly buries within him.

“Hm? What was that?” He teases, knowing full well Elliot is having a hard time thinking. Acting like a little shit.

“Yes—mmh—make me carry your kids. I want it,” he says in between broken moans. It was quiet, but 007n7 heard him. He pauses his ruthless thrusts, taking in the words and Elliot whines in response.

“What was that?” He asks with a crazy smile. He loves Elliot so much. So much it was borderline obsession.

“Seven, just fuck me. Don’t let me thin—Fuck!” Elliot was interrupted by the dick drilling him once more.

“That’s right. We’ll make the impossible happen,” 007n7 huffs out, moaning into Elliot’s ear. His release draws near, so close to snapping, so close to filling Elliot up.

Elliot’s eyes roll back and his legs quiver, moaning louder. He had came all over his stomach, untouched. The glass shattered, but it wasn’t 007n7.

“And here you thought you would have all the control,” he teases, staring at Elliot’s fucked out face. His orgasm face was so beautiful, so raw.

Getting fucked into overstimulation, he cries out, “S-Seven…” pitched and wet.

“Just a little more,” he grunts out. His eyes shut close, concentrating on his fast approaching climax. “Admins, I love you, Elliot. I love you so much.”

With one final thrust and a bite to Elliot’s shoulder, he buries himself deep inside and releases his load. A shiver wracks through the both of them and a loud moan from 007n7 fills the room.

“S-Shit,” he cursed with a grunt, making sure Elliot took all of it and nothing spills out.

Small strings of noises fall out of Elliot’s lips, still in his high.

They both pant. 007n7 collects Elliot into a slow kiss, nothing rushed, just sweet and soft. Elliot doesn’t move yet, his whole body felt boneless and his mind floats on cloud nine. It was by far the best sex he’s had with the (ex)hacker.

007n7 begins to soften inside Elliot, a sign he’s done and slowly pulls out, making sure the cum still stays inside. He leans back to see Elliot’s gaping hole. A chuckle couldn’t help but escape his chest. “Nice,” he says while stretching the other’s stiff legs.

Then, he collapses next to Elliot, pulling him close, ready to just bathe in each other’s presence before having to clean up.

But, they had forgotten about the clone.

Elliot’s eyes widen again at the bed dipping. His legs were collected in its hold, spreading them once more. A scared whimper comes from his throat without meaning to.

“Seven,” he gasps out. The clone’s dick prods at his sore entrance again, the tip goes in with ease and he winces.

007n7 can only stare, licking his lips at the sight.

“Pizza!” Elliot cries out.

On instinct, 007n7 reaches over for the c00lGUI and terminates the clone. It went limp before slowly disappearing.

Quick, shy kisses littered Elliot’s skin.

“Did I go too rough on you?” 007n7 had to ask, making sure Elliot’s okay. Last thing he wanted was for him to have a bad experience. Or worse, finding out he hated all of it but couldn’t speak properly.

It took a minute for the words to register in Elliot’s mind, still coming down from his post-orgasm clarity.

He shakes his head, still finding coherent words to form. “No, I loved it,” he slurs out, finally looking up at 007n7. For a second he stares and then snickers.

“W-What?”

“Your glasses are all messed up, here,” he softly says. He reaches for the glasses to take them off and shut them close to put on the nightstand. “There. You look more comfortable now.” He scoots closer to him and sighs lovingly, taking in the musky scent of everything.

The cum begins to ooze out and he squirms. “I need to shower again,” he grumbles.

007n7 chuckles and rubs along Elliot’s spine as a way to ease his discomfort. “Let’s just stay here for a moment then I’ll clean you. I still have leftover pizza if you want any,” he offers, his voice back to his usual soft tone.

Elliot hums, thinking.

“I want to eat a home cooked meal, made by you,” he says with a sigh.

007n7 smiles softly. He leans down to give a kiss on his temple. “Of course.”