Work Text:
The crack and hiss of a bottle cap snaps Aether back to reality. He’s breathless, panting open-mouthed where his forehead rests against Dew’s knee, arms wrapped loosely around his calf, clinging. Electric heat spears through him all over again as his vision blurs into focus, and even though he’d drifted out into space for a moment, he knows he hasn’t stopped rutting against the boot pressed into his crotch. Dropping back into full awareness and returning to the sight of how he’s rocking insistently against the sole, rough even through his pants, has him whimpering softly, heat prickling through him and settling somewhere deep in his belly. He shifts the angle of his head, pressing his cheek against Dew’s thigh and dragging his gaze up to look at him.
He finds Dew with a beer pressed to his lips, eyes hooded and locked on him, leisurely stroking himself. Aether’s wrecked enough that he can’t seem to keep his mouth closed, and it opens further to let out a low groan at the sight, the borderline disdain on Dew’s face as he stares down at him. He’s suddenly distinctly aware of exactly how pathetic he must look, kneeling with his ass glued to his heels, clinging to Dew’s leg and humping his boot; he’s all too aware of how the fabric of his pants is rough on the side of his tongue where his face is mashed against his leg, but he can’t do anything about it. Dew lowers the bottle a little, tongue flicking out to swipe a drop from the rim, head tipping slightly to the side. It’s the same dark, considering look he’d given him after he’d kicked Aether to the floor for nearly spilling his previous drink trying to climb into his lap, when he’d shoved the sole of his boot into his crotch to keep him on the floor. Only now his gaze is heavier, more intense, a fire in his slitted eyes that burns across Aether’s skin and makes him whine and rock his hips more earnestly, chasing more.
Take your pants off, Dew says, voice low and dangerous in Aether’s head. Heat thrills through him, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants his bare cock on Dew’s boot. He’d been sure that when Dew had told him to hump his boot if he’s so desperate, that he’d be fated to come in his pants and be left with the mess just like last time; he’s trying to weigh that against the humiliation of openly humping his boot with nothing between his cock and the leather – but his thoughts are slow and syrupy and it’s already been several long seconds and he still hasn’t moved. Dew’s lip curls, baring sharp teeth as he leans down. It’s only a slight movement, but it’s every bit as effective as if he’d gotten right up in Aether’s face, a kick of hot adrenaline rushing through him.
Without warning, Dew’s boot pushes down hard on Aether’s crotch as he leans forward even more, seemingly oblivious to how it lights up every nerve in Aether’s body, rocketing him towards the edge and pulling a discordant moan from the back of his throat.
I said, Dew murmurs, quiet and deadly, Pants. Off.
Aether squeaks, the heat in his belly twisting tight as he scrambles back, out from under the unrelenting pressure, biting back a whine at the loss as he races to get his pants open but his hands are trembling and the zipper catches, shit shit Dew is just fucking staring at him but he finally manages it, shoving his pants halfway down his thighs with a burst of relieved satisfaction. He lets out a shaky breath and scoots forward, reaching for Dew's boot again, all reservations forgotten in favor of need. He needs the rough laces under his cock, the smooth leather at the toe under his balls, but it jerks out of reach just before he gets to it, leaving him grasping for thin air. Aether tips his head back to beg, and Dew is already leaned over him, beer dangling from his fingers as he rests his forearm on his thigh, deceivingly casual. He snarls harshly, teeth bared, and it only feeds his desire, makes Aether whine and reach for him, a gesture that goes ignored.
I told you to take your pants off, Dew says slowly, viciously, and Aether knows it's a front but it makes his stomach drop and his heart hammer faster. He keens out an apologetic whimper, tipping his head back to bare his throat, submissive. Dew doesn't seem to care. He sits up again, gaze flicking over Aether, who feels his displeasure like a warm weight in his chest, and says, Undress. Now.
Aether's frozen. Dew wants him completely laid bare in the middle of the common room, open for anyone to wander in and see how desperately he’ll be rutting on his boot. Mortification creeps hot down his neck, but it only stokes the fire in his belly and makes his cock twitch, betraying him. It’s one thing just to get his dick out, but this is something else entirely and the reality of how quickly all of this has escalated hits him like a truck; his original intention just a few minutes ago had just been to get a little handsy, to slide into Dew’s lap, turn their making out a little filthier. But he’d been overeager and Dew is running wild with it. It never ceases to amaze Aether how quickly Dew can get him dropped into that supple willingness, where his head’s all fuzzy and he’s more than happy to do anything he wants.
Aether. Dew’s voice cuts sharp through his thoughts. He blinks, attention snapping back to the present, where Dew’s gaze bores into him, pinning him in place and his words are low, spoken clearly and heavy with meaning. If I have to set down my fucking beer…
The threat hangs in the air. It’s vague, nebulous, but it sends adrenaline spearing through Aether anyway. He bursts into motion, leaping to his feet and kicking his pants the rest of the way off, fumbling at the clasps of his vest with hands shaking even worse than when he’d been fighting with his fly, the urgency burning in his veins twisting into frustration. He manages to get the top clasp undone and rips through the rest of them with a soft growl, metal clattering to the floor a moment before the shirt joins it with a soft thump . He pauses, breath coming fast and shallow, and looks back to Dew, seeking approval, needing to know he’s done well.
He’s met with disdain instead.
Dew is sprawled back on the cushions now, with a hand back on his cock, stroking casual and slow, his other elbow propped on the back of the couch and with the bottle resting against his lower lip. He just snorts at Aether and takes a sip, Well look at you. Wrecking your stage uniform.
Aether’s lips part, incredulous. You told me to–
Dew’s low growl interrupts him as he leans forward, eyes flashing. I told you to undress. If you wanna destroy your uniform and get your ass chewed out, that’s not my fucking problem. He leans back again, putting his foot out with a sharp grin, rocks it back and forth invitingly. Now back on your knees.
Aether’s cheeks burn hot at the contempt in Dew’s voice as he admonishes him, but he sinks back down to his knees, back to his rightful place on Dew’s boot, hovering for a second before he settles down and he makes himself take his time sliding his cock over the top of it, running the length of himself from the tip of the boot where the leather is smooth, over the crease at the toe, relishing in the feeling of it, and when he gets to the texture of the laces he lets out a shuddering groan, head dropping to Dew’s knee again. He drags himself back down, twitching, and does it all over again, claws sinking into Dew’s calf. He can feel his gaze burning into him, but he can’t lift his head under the weight of it. He wants to stretch this moment out for as long as he can, memorize the textures of Dew’s boot under his cock as he sets a slow, purposeful rhythm, but he can’t keep to it for long. He’s already panting open-mouthed, trembling, and when he hears Dew pick up the pace with which he strokes himself above, when he starts saying filthy things, his resolve crumbles. He lets his hips twitch forward, gasping, and gives in to the urge to rut animalistically against the leather and the laces, heat racing through him wildly.
His world narrows down to chasing pleasure and his blurry vision, watching his cock slide across the top of Dew's boot, smearing pre everywhere, shining on the leather. Distantly he can hear the pathetic, gasping moans he's making, and he doesn't even notice when Dew leans forward until his hand cups his cheek, warm and heavy, claws pricking into his skin. He firmly pulls Aether's head up, dragging him in for a filthy kiss. His mouth is hard on Aether's, who is so far gone he can hardly kiss back, but voluntary kisses from Dew are few and far between so he doesn't care. The rhythm of his thrusts goes a little erratic as he tries to focus, and remember how to make his mouth do something besides hang open. When he finally manages something that resembles kissing, his addled brain is just starting to put together what feels so strange about this; Dew is keeping his tongue to himself for once. Just as Aether's pressing his own to the seal of his lips, trying to pry them open, craving the slide of Dew’s tongue on his own, Dew pulls back. Aether whines, chasing him, but the grip on his jaw doesn't let him get anywhere. His thumb presses into the corner of Aether's mouth and he opens up automatically, struggling to focus his gaze on Dew, how his eyes are hooded so low they're nearly shut but he can still see how his pupils are blown impossibly wide.
Dew hovers just over Aether's mouth, teasing. He spits. Aether lets his tongue loll out to catch it, his face heating at how filthy it feels, but what he catches isn't just saliva, it's a mouthful of beer, bittersweet and tart, warm on Aether's tongue. He has to pull his tongue back in his mouth because he wasn't at all prepared for this, has to dip his chin down a little to swallow before he chokes. Dew's thumb swipes under the corner of his mouth, collecting liquid where it dribbles down towards his chin. He barely gives Aether the chance to finish swallowing before he's crashing into him again, lips parted and tongue hot in his mouth. Aether groans into it, needy, and Dew tastes just like the beer he'd just spit and the cigarette he’d had not too long ago and Aether can't get enough of him.
With all of his focus on Dew's mouth, Aether loses track of the rest of his body and his orgasm hits him hard and without warning, just a flash of heat in his belly and a spasming of his muscles before it overtakes him. He shudders through it, hips twitching and his cock pulsing against leather. His claws tighten on Dew's leg and he’s gasping into his mouth, jaw going slack. He sags against Dew when it's over, legs trembling, struggling to keep himself upright, but Dew holds him up by the jaw, pulling him closer between his thighs before the aftershocks even fade. His gaze is drawn to where Dew’s stroking himself with long, tight movements, dripping everywhere, shiny and slick with it and it's clear how close he is between that and how he twitches under his own touch. Aether leans forward, lets his mouth hang open and warm satisfaction unfurls in his chest as Dew gives him what he wants, resting the head of his cock against Aether's bottom lip. He lets his tongue hang out, resting against him and whining softly at the taste, and it only takes a few more strokes before Dew comes with a low groan right onto his tongue. Aether lets it pool there, messy, feeling properly depraved as he looks up at Dew, and it's only now that he notices he's flushed dark, all the way down his neck and disappearing under his collar. The idea that this has Dew even a little flustered is enough to send Aether's head spinning, and he only finally swallows when the aftershocks of Dew’s orgasm fade and he rests fingers under Aether’s chin to close his mouth.
He reaches up to cling to Dew’s waist, melting between his thighs and resting his cheek on his belly, awash in the afterglow, the heat in his cheeks at what he’s just done. A deep, rumbling purr erupts in his chest when Dew’s hand settles warm and gentle on his back between his shoulder blades, and he’s deeply pleased when he hears Dew’s own rusty purr start up, low and quiet at first until it’s loud against his ear, filling his head and he lets himself drift in it. Clarity comes to him slowly at first, and then rushes through him all at once.
Shit, I– your boot… Aether mumbles, sitting up a little to look at Dew, a pang of guilt jolting through him as he remembers how clean it had been before, polished to a bright shine. And now– Dew’s eyes crack open and his lip curls into a dangerous, mischievous little grin.
It’s fine. You can clean it up, he says, casual, and Aether breathes a sigh of relief. He starts to clamber to his feet on jello legs, intent on collecting the necessary supplies, but Dew sits up and pulls him back down onto the couch and drops his leg into his lap. Aether looks at the boot, at the mess he’d left. He looks at Dew.
Maybe he’s joking.
He’s not.
Go on, Dew encourages, an impish grin on his face now, teeth sharp behind his lips. His face flushes hot as he realizes what Dew wants him to do, that he’s serious about it, and in the space of his hesitation Dew just wiggles his foot and lifts it towards Aether’s face. Aether swallows hard and gently cradles the boot in his hands, bending down towards it and focusing on how he can feel the warmth of Dew’s skin through the leather on the back of his calf. He feels ridiculous stretching his tongue out, and even more so when he misses his mark at first, met with the slide of slick, unblemished leather under his tongue. He draws it back into his mouth and takes a moment to close his eyes, compose himself a little despite the sweethot humiliation that courses through him. Aether cracks his eyes open again, focused on the lowest part of the stripes of cum across the top of the boot, and lowers his face again, and this time the lightly sweet, floral scent of the mink oil he’d worked into the leather just a few hours ago drifts through his senses. When he flicks his tongue out, he doesn’t miss, starting just under the mess, a little disappointed to find that the leather doesn’t taste quite as sweet as it smells, but then his tongue is gathering up the saltiness of his own cum, an oddly pleasant combination on his tongue.
Dew’s touch startles him, fingers threading through his hair and sliding from the crown of his head down to the nape of his neck, firm but not pushing. Aether glances up at him, leaving the tip of his tongue connected to his boot and he shouldn’t be surprised to see Dew’s eyes half-lidded, dark and dangerous, lips parted slightly as he watches this unfold, but it sends heat skittering across Aether’s skin and settling at the base of his spine anyway. He drops his gaze again, Dew’s too intense to keep looking at him, and lets out a shuddering breath as he focuses back on the task at hand. Half the mess is easy enough, coming up easy off of smooth leather, a little waxy in his mouth but altogether not unpleasant. The rest of it, though, is in the laces, and really he should pull them free to be sure he gets them clean and any cum that might have gotten in the space behind the laces, but he’s pretty sure that’s not what Dew wants from him right now, that he just wants to see Aether with his mouth on his boot, so he adjusts the angle he’s holding it and tongues up onto the lowest part of the laces, swiping along the length of that first crossover between the bottom two eyelets, dipping the forked tip of his tongue up underneath the lace on both sides. There’s not much taste to the laces aside from his cum and the texture is a little rough, though softening quickly under his thorough ministrations, but it’s really not as bad as he’d thought it would be. He does have to take a few breaks to pull his tongue back into his mouth and wet it again as he methodically works his way up the laces, giving each strand the same attention, and every time he pauses, he glances up to Dew and finds him flushed darker every time, his gaze hungrier. Aether gets lost in the meticulousness of his task, but each time he looks at Dew, catches that look in his eye and becoming aware again of the heavy hand on the back of his head, it sends a fresh wave of burning heat flashing through him, reminding him of exactly what it is he’s doing.
By the time Aether brings his tongue back into his mouth for the final time and sits back a little, his back is aching from how he’s been hunched over and the places he’s been holding Dew’s booted foot in place are warm from body heat on both sides. He doesn’t look at Dew yet, instead bending back down to examine his work, running his fingers over the leather as he searches for any missed spots. Finding none, he finally straightens up all the way, rocking his head from side to side to stretch his neck and rolling his tongue around in his mouth, distracted by how strange it feels between the thin film of waxy oil from the leather and the cottony texture of the laces. Dew’s foot retreats from his lap and his hand slides down from its place in his hair to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until he’s fitted half on top and half beside Dew. Aether can’t help but notice that he’s hard again, but he doesn’t seem interested in doing anything about that, instead dragging Aether into a bruising kiss, tongue delving deep and Aether lets him lick the inside of his mouth clean, groaning softly.
It’s a while before Dew pulls back, some of that hunger a little faded but his eyes are still dark, gaze just as intense as he thumbs across Aether’s bottom lip, swiping away saliva.
Fuck, Aeth, he murmurs, voice thick, and Aether’s expecting Dew to jump him at any moment, to be shoved face-first into the couch while he works out this hunger, but he’s just…looking at him. It makes Aether feel like he’s cracked his ribcage open and is holding his beating heart out to Dew, waiting to see if he’ll let him have it back or eat it right out of his hands.
Dew does neither. Instead, he lets his palm rest against Aether’s cheek, thumb brushing over it once, twice, before he draws his hand back in favor of tucking himself back into his pants, a little awkwardly with how Aether is half draped across him. When Dew looks at him again, his expression has quieted and he tugs him down to lay against his chest, arm wrapped firmly around his ribs. Aether settles his head so he can press his ear to Dew’s chest, adjusting until he gets the angle just right to seal out the rest of the world, listening to the steady beat of his heart, a little quicker than usual but it has the same comforting effect it always does. He stays like that for a while, waiting until Dew’s heart slows before he tips his head back to look up at him. He must have caught him by surprise, because he sees a fleeting glimpse of an open tenderness in Dew’s features before he schools his expression into something more neutral and pleased with himself.
Aether keeps this to himself, instead saying, I’m gonna have to clean your boots properly later. Spit is not proper leather conditioner, you know.
Dew’s lip curls into what’s probably supposed to be a mean smirk but which doesn’t quite make it past fond and rolls his eyes. Yes, darling. Whatever. Aether might be imagining it, but even his usual biting sarcasm sounds a little halfhearted, so he gives Dew a pleased, eye-squinting smile and tucks his head back down against his chest.