Chapter Text
Vex is kissing him, and it feels better than he ever could have imagined. She's straddling his lap, the insides of her thighs pressed against the outside of his hips, her hands creeping under his shirt. Her mouth is on his, hot and deep and hungry, tongue sliding against the roof of his mouth. One of her hands begins to move down to press against his erection, and he's hard, unbelievably hard as she begins to unbutton and slip her hand inside -
Percy wakes with a gasp. He's in his own bed, in the dark, alone. And he's sweating. His room in Scanlan's mansion is stuffy and hot, with no windows to open. At some point during the night he'd kicked off his covers and now he's just in his underwear, bare-chested and – oh.
One hand is inside his boxers, and Percy realises how hard he is.
Details of the dream come rushing back and Percy suddenly feels guilty. He's been trying not to think of Vex in that way, but when he's asleep he can't stop his imagination running away from him. It feels wrong, somehow, to fantasize about her without her knowing. He should try to think about something else, go back to sleep and forget it ever happened.
Except…
Except his hand is still wrapped around himself, starting to move again of it's own accord, and it feels good. Really good. In a way, he reasons, he's already committed the sin. He's past the point of no return. And he's so hard it's almost painful. There's no way he can go back to sleep now.
Besides, it's not like Vex will ever find out...
Percy's never been good at controlling his impulses. He kicks off his boxers, settles himself more comfortably against the pillows, and gets to tinkering.
He touches himself slowly at first, so slowly, relishing each tiny spark of pleasure that ripples through him as he slides sensitive skin back and forth. His tip is already leaking, and as his thumb brushes across it his hand comes away slick. He soon begins to move more quickly up and down, his free hand stroking the base of his shaft and the soft vein beneath.
Percy whimpers. He'd never admit to it, would never let anyone hear him make such an undignified noise outside of this room, but here in the dark he doesn't mind losing control just a little.
What would Vex think if she could see me right now, he wonders vaguely, the corners of his mind already fuzzy. Would she be offended? Disgusted?
Maybe – his breath catches, his pace stutters – maybe she'd like it.
He can see her, in his mind's eye, closing the door behind her as she drags her eyes along his naked body. Taking him in, helpless and desperate in front of her.
Oh, Percival, look at you. You're in such a state. Here, let me help you with that.
Naked, she would lean over him, her breasts brushing against his scarred chest, her hair loose from its braid and tickling his face. He can almost feel her lips on his jaw, his throat, as she pushes away his hand and replaces it with her own.
Her hand would be smaller than his, delicate Fey ancestry belying hidden strength. Would her fingers be soft? Or calloused like his, rough from years of handling a bow? He likes to think so – that way it's easier to imagine her hand in his place, easier to take his own strokes and pretend it's her.
Percy relaxes into the fantasy and picks up the pace, as she would do, opening his mouth to her kiss. There's no preamble; the kiss is sloppy, wanting, all teeth and tongue.
He lets out a groan, and at that moment he hears a noise out in the rest of the house. He freezes, holding his breath, holding himself still. He waits a few agonisingly long moments.
Nothing. Just the house settling, probably. Do magic mansions settle?
Cautiously, Percy starts up again, keeping a slow pace that lasts only a few seconds before he needs more. Scanlan once told them the rooms were soundproof, didn't he? He'll just have to hope that's true.
His hand begins to move faster, and he starts to twist his wrist on every up-stroke in a way that has him clenching the sheets in his left hand. He lets himself moan once, quietly, and then again, his breath loud in his ears. In his mind Vex is moaning too, pushing her tongue into his mouth, biting his lip enough to hurt, and he can feel her wetness on his thigh as she presses against him and then moves to swing one leg over him.
I want you to fuck me, Percival.
“Gods, Vex, yes.”
She chuckles into his mouth, takes him in hand and guides him into her, sinking down slowly. He tightens his fist, imagining her walls pressing against him. In his mind his hands are on her hips, pulling her down, and she begins to rock against him, gasping against his mouth.
He reaches up to touch her, anywhere he can – her face, her stomach, her hips, her breasts. He rolls her hard nipples between his fingers. He brushes the hair back from her eyes. He imagines the battle scars he might find on her torso, runs his fingertips over them. He wants to worship every part of her.
As they find a rhythm he drops a hand to her clit and presses his thumb against her. She lets out a moan and begins to ride him hard as he thrusts his hips up to meet her.
He's thrusting in reality too, not noticing that his hips are almost hovering above the bed. His right hand moves desperately, frantically, and he's leaking pre-cum onto his fist, the other hand gripping sheets, pillows, his hair. It's like he's possessed – but by pleasure this time, not pain. By Vex, not his shadow. He has his eyes shut tight and the only thing he can see is her face before him, bathed in ecstasy.
He's getting close. Part of him wants to hold back, live in this moment as long as he can, but the pressure building in the base of his cock is almost painful and his breath is coming in short, sharp gasps. Vex is matching his shuddering movements as she rides him. He wants her to come too, wants to feel her walls constrict and bring him along with her, wants her to collapse on top of him so they can ride out the wave together.
His fingers draw erratic circles on her clit, pressing down hard; he's panting into the crook of her neck, pulling at his cock, pushing into her, and he can hardly tell what's real any more and what's fantasy.
“Oh Gods, Vex, I can't -”
Come for me Percy, come on -
“Vex, I'm so close -”
“Percy,” she cries out, he swears he hears her, and then she comes undone above him, one hand gripping his hair, forcing his head back. He feels her shudder and clench around him, feels her nails dig in, feels her push her face into his neck and bite down.
His cock twitches in his fist as the orgasm rips through him and Percy lets out a loud, guttural moan. Stars burst behind his eyelids as he comes, striping his chest and stomach with white ropes. In his mind, or maybe in reality, he groans Vex's name.
Vex. Oh, fuck, Vex.
It seems to take an age for his heart rate to settle, breathing to return to normal and cock to stop pulsing against his stomach. He grasps it despite the sensitivity, riding out the aftershocks, then lets go and lets his sticky hand flop over the edge of the bed. Percy is limp, more relaxed than he remembers being in a long time, and utterly exhausted.
Finally he forces himself to get up, cross to the basin in the corner and clean himself off, before he collapses back onto the bed and is asleep at once.