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“I’ve been cursed.”
"Oh?" Elias cocked an eyebrow and swept his eyes over Peter, who didn't look particularly cursed. A little dishevelled and flushed, but that could easily be attributed to the fact he was panting like he'd run all the way here. “Cursed with what, exactly?”
“I’m getting to that,” said Peter between ragged breaths. “Do you have a few minutes to spare? And privacy?”
Elias leaned back in his office chair and glanced at his clock. It was just after noon. “I can spare thirty minutes, perhaps forty if the situation is particularly dire. Now, what is this curse, and-” The corners of his mouth curled in pleasure. “Why have you come to me for help with it?” It was so rare Peter came to him for anything, much less for a favour. He couldn’t help being smug about it.
“I’m getting to that,” said Peter again. As he spoke, he turned to lock Elias’ door, which Elias watched with some amusement. “If I could come to anyone else, I would. But it has to be you.”
“I hope you're not about to try to kill me,” said Elias. ‘Try’ being the operative word, because he was one of the few people who could escape the Lonely if thrown in there. He knew how it worked. He understood how to feel his way out. And physically, it wouldn't be difficult for him to overpower Peter. The man spent all his time sitting in his cabin doing – as far as Elias knew – absolutely nothing, and it showed on his physique. He was a slip of a man who'd probably have trouble wrestling out of a paper bag.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Peter, waving a hand. “I would have thrown you into the Lonely by now if that were the case. No. It’s, uh, well...”
Elias was growing progressively more intrigued. He leaned forward in his chair, the leather creaking. “Go on, Peter. You only have thirty minutes.”
“Fine,” said Peter. He ran a hand up into his unusually dishevelled hair. “I’m just... I’m working up to it. I need a few seconds."
“It’s been several minutes.”
Peter glanced up at the clock, then back down at Elias. “Sex,” he said finally, choking out the word.
Elias almost burst out laughing. “I beg your pardon?”
“Sex. I need to have sex with you.”
“I see,” said Elias, now grinning from ear to ear. “So, you’ve gotten yourself cursed, and the only way to break this curse is... to have sex with me? Is that right?”
Peter looked very much like he wanted to sink into the earth until he suffocated and relieved himself of this terrible humiliation. “Yes.”
“And what happens if you don’t?”
“I start ripping my clothes off in the street, apparently,” Peter gritted out. “I’ve tried to find other solutions. This is the only way.”
“And how exactly did you end up in his predicament.” Peter looked especially reluctant to answer this, so Elias added, “I will oblige your request, but only if you answer my questions.”
There was a long, tense silence before Peter was able to drudge up an answer. “I lost a bet trying to acquire a Leitner. They thought it would be funny to test the Leitner on the acolyte of a different patron by doing this to me. I suppose I must have said something to upset them.”
Elias burst into laughter and leaned over his desk, his face falling into a hand. By the time he’d recovered enough to look up, Peter’s entire face was red, right up to his ears, and he was glaring furiously out the window.
“It doesn't especially surprise me that you managed to insult them,” said Elias with a smile. “Do you know what entity the Leitner was aligned with?”
“The Spiral,” said Peter brusquely. “It can only make people do things they normally wouldn’t do, of course.”
“Of course.” Elias stepped out of his chair and nudged it aside, then gestured to his desk. “Bend over, then.”
Peter’s head jerked around to face Elias. “Bend over?”
“And undo your trousers,” added Elias, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Go on, Peter. I’m generously agreeing to help you with your predicament.”
“Why don’t you bend over your desk instead?” asked Peter, but there was little enthusiasm behind Peter’s words. Elias imagined the idea of being such an active participant in intimacy appealed to him even less than Elias simply fucking him.
“Because you’re asking me for help, so I get to dictate how that help is given.” Elias nodded to his desk. “Bend over the desk. I won’t ask again.”
He watched Peter take a few deep, steadying breaths before coming to stand behind Elias’ desk. With shaking hands, he unbuckled his belt, pushed his trousers and briefs down around his thighs, and bent over Elias’ desk, just like that. Elias took a moment to appraise him before moving. He was rather gaunt beneath that coat of his, with small legs and knobby knees, but what weight he did have seemed to have accumulated on his thighs and ass, which Elias appreciated.
Elias took his time with undoing his own trousers, making sure to draw out the moment so he could watch Peter’s reactions. Peter tensed when he heard Elias’ belt buckle click loose and took a sharp breath when Elias’ zipper came down. When Elias stepped up until behind him, close enough for Elias’ still-clothed cock to brush the cleft of his ass, he shivered and moved his hands to grip onto the edge of Elias’ desk. It was marvellous how reactive he was.
“Have you had any children?” he asked.
“No,” said Peter.
“So, this is your first.”
Peter didn’t respond, but Elias didn’t need Peter to confirm that for him. He’d known the Lukas family for well over a century and he was aware due to past attempts to proposition Mordechai that they only had sex for procreation, like any good cult based in asceticism. Anything else risked too much intimacy. And that made this experience a curious one, in much the same way observing Jack Barnabas’ slow demise in the Lonely had been. La petite mort, he thought to himself as he drew out his cock and pressed it against Peter’s pale backside.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to make this easier on you except hand cream,” said Elias as he bent over Peter, seizing Peter’s hip in one hand and reaching into his drawers with the other. This vessel tended to get dry palms, and that was something of a blessing for once. “If that isn’t sufficient, well... I suppose you’ll have to close your eyes and think of England.”
Peter must not have been familiar with that phrase, because he tilted his face into view just enough to give Elias a bewildered look.
Elias didn’t elaborate. He got his fingers around the hand cream, gave it five quick pumps to fill his palm, and proceeded to smear the thick, opaque cream over his cock and Peter’s furled entrance. A strange, brittle little sound left Peter’s throat at his first touch to such an intimate place and Elias felt his cock stir. He wasn’t even going to need to stroke himself to get hard. Just the sight and the sound and the feel of Peter Lukas bent over his desk, waiting to be impaled on his cock, was enough to leave Elias hot with arousal.
“Brace yourself,” he said, then slid one thin finger smoothly into Peter. Peter gasped and jerked against his desk, his hips grating on the wood. His insides were cool and silky and inviting. He clenched around Elias’ finger and trembled, and it wasn’t until Elias began to stroke the small of his back and murmur encouragement that he began to loosen. He hadn’t expected Peter to respond so well to gentle touch and gentle words, but apparently he needed them in this context, which was quite interesting for a Lonely avatar.
“There we go,” Elias murmured as he crooked and twisted his finger, making sure Peter was slick enough to drip. Five pumps of cream was a little excessive, but this was Peter’s first time, and he didn’t want to injure the man, nor himself. He would take things slow until he was sure Peter could tolerate more. “That’s not so bad, is it?”
Peter didn’t respond beyond panting against his desk, leaving a damp patch on one of Elias’ forms. Elias made a mental note to re-print it later before he slid another finger into Peter, right up to the knuckle. The man’s entire body shuddered and arched off the desk, then crumpled over as Elias began to gently pump the fingers inside him. He was careful to stroke Peter’s prostate with each forward thrust. By the way Peter was responding, practically writhing atop his desk, the man likely hadn’t experienced this sort of stimulation before.
“Elias,” Peter groaned, and god, he hadn’t even gotten his cock into the man yet and he was already making such pretty sounds.
It was a trial not to simply plunge his cock into Peter after hearing Peter groan like that, but Elias decided to bring Peter to the brink of orgasm before he did anything more involved. He fucked his fingers into Peter and watched Peter closely until Peter’s skin was alight with colour and sweat dotted his hairline, gathering thick enough for a few drops to scatter as Peter squirmed on Elias’ fingers. Only at the apex of Peter's pleasure did Elias withdraw his hand. Peter whimpered and jutted his hips in response, and it was a delicious testament to Elias' skill. Elias had been alive for a long time, and he knew well how to navigate another man's body; he knew how to make them come apart.
“Feeling any better?” he asked quietly. He was sure Peter didn’t mean to reach back and grope desperately at his hip in answer, but the man did, and Elias delighted in it. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
As much as he would have liked to thrust himself as deep into Peter as he could in one go, he knew that would only cause the man pain. And while inflicting pain was its own pleasure, that wasn’t what Elias was going for at the moment. He aligned the head of his cock with Peter’s stretched and glistening hole and he nudged it in slowly, carefully, making sure to watch Peter for any indications of discomfort. Every time he saw tension gather on Peter’s face, creating a divot between his eyebrows and lines on either side of his mouth, Elias paused, took a few deep breaths, and waited until Peter’s face had smoothed over before starting up again. It was physically painful to hold himself back, but he knew the payoff for his patience would be worth it. He knew this memory would burrow its way into Peter’s mind and never let go. If he was particularly lucky, he might even be able to convince Peter to do this again, though the knowledge that Peter would never forget the feel of him was satisfying in and of itself.
He closed his hands around Peter’s hips to keep the man still while he pressed in one fraction of an inch after another, watching Peter’s pink rim stretch obscenely around him. He was quite beautiful like this, stretched out on Elias’ desk, writhing, flushed, his hair a mess and eyes squeezed shut. His company was certainly more palatable when he had a cock in him. When he’d finally buried himself in to the hilt, he groaned and bent over Peter, pressing his forehead to Peter’s quivering shoulder.
“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, his breath fluttering the curls at Peter’s nape. “How does it feel?”
“It’s f-fine,” Peter stuttered out, his voice breathy and trembling, and it was such a disingenuous response that it almost made Elias laugh.
“And this?” He gently rocked his hips, angling his cock to brush over Peter’s prostate, and Peter gasped and grappled with the edge of his desk. He involuntarily tightened around Elias as well, and Elias had to bite down on his bottom lip to restrain a gasp of his own.
“Oh,” was all Peter managed to get out. Elias couldn’t stop himself from laughing this time.
“I’ll take that as positive feedback,” he purred, then set a peace he was sure would have Peter unravelling under him in no time. Frankly, Peter already looked on the verge of falling to pieces, his entire body quivering and his breaths panting. He was wonderfully reactive. Elias had never fucked a man quite so sensitive to this kind of stimulation; part of being a Lonely avatar, perhaps? It was a delectable thought, that Peter's body was primed for stimulation, that The One Alone had inadvertently turned his most promising acolyte into a perfect little receptacle for cock.
He lifted one hand away from Peter’s hips to sweep his fingers into Peter’s thick, curly black hair, gently guiding Peter’s head until his cheek was pressed against the cool wood of Elias’ desk and he could see Peter’s glassy eyes and flushed skin. His eyelashes were wet, shining under the overhead light, and his pink lips were parted and glossy. What a beautiful sight he was. Such a beautiful boy, all hard, broken angles that had been put back together by his god like a stained-glass window and shattered again beneath Elias. He pulled all the way out before thrusting back in and watched with relish as Peter gasped and shook and rolled his eyes back.
“I bet you could come on just my cock,” Elias murmured, and Peter glanced back at him before another, carefully aligned roll of his cock over Peter’s sweet spot had his eyes rolling into his skull again. “Let's test that, shall we?”
With Peter squeezing so tight around him, his insides wet and throbbing, Elias was on the precipice of finishing himself. But unlike Peter, he’d had a long time to learn restraint. He could hold back as long as he needed to, and he didn't expect that to be more than a minute or two; he could see Peter was already hurtling toward his own finish, his breaths high and whimpering and his skin mottled with red. He writhed beneath Elias and a few overwrought tears rolled down his cheeks. With those tears and his hair dishevelled and sticking to his forehead and his fingers white-knuckled around the edge of Elias’ desk, he could not have looked more perfect.
Elias pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Peter’s sharp jaw as he snapped his hips rhythmically, going harder, faster. Not so much that he would hurt Peter, but enough to make the man keen instead of whimper. His efforts were shortly rewarded with just the sound he’d been hoping for: a long, high cry that warbled each time Elias’ cock slammed against Peter’s prostate. He continued to press kisses to Peter’s skin, tasting salt as his lips slid across Peter’s flushed cheek and to the corner of Peter’s open mouth. He dipped his tongue past Peter's parted lips and he tasted like black coffee and the artificial sweetener of a finger bun.
He wanted to mark Peter’s skin, make it blossom with a bruise, make it bleed. It was the white of alabaster, the white of bone, and any mark on it would be so vivid. He twisted his fingers tighter around his handful of Peter’s hair and drew his arm back until Peter’s neck was forced to crane. Then he bent down, secured his lips over Peter’s neck, and bit down as hard as he could without breaking through to muscle. Peter yelped and squeezed around his cock and shuddered all over and- oh, goodness. He’d come. A bite, of all things, had pushed Peter over the edge. Elias might have laughed were his mouth not so full.
He bit down until he tasted blood, until he was sure the mark wouldn’t fade for at least a few days even with Peter’s accelerated healing, then drew off of him and licked his lips. When he looked down to admire his work, he saw a perfect imprint of his teeth torn into the side of Peter’s neck. The red was just as vivid against Peter’s pale skin as he’d hoped, like a brand. And it was high enough that Peter wouldn’t be able to hide it beneath one of his obnoxiously expensive turtlenecks.
In the wake of his climax, Peter lay panting and shivering under him, his eyes closed and no little amount of drool gathered under his lips. What a mess he was. Elias continued to thrust into him, staring fixedly on Peter’s exhausted face as he sought his own finish with quick, brutal snaps of his hips. He didn’t need to worry about holding back now. Peter was satiated and loose beneath him. The desk creaked each time he rocked into Peter, and Peter’s breath hitched and his eyelashes fluttered.
“Wonderful, Peter. You came on my cock, just like I thought you would,” he murmured raggedly. He wasn’t giving his words much thought anymore; he was too close to finishing to be as cautious about what left his lips as he usually was. “That’s a talent, you know. You wouldn't believe how rarely anal stimulation is enough on its own. But my... you were made for this, Peter.”
Peter bit his lip, and Elias wasn’t surprised to find Peter’s cock twitching between Peter’s legs when he looked down. Evidently the thought was compelling for Peter as well. He leaned down, like a wolf scenting weakness, and whispered into Peter’s ear as he fucked him.
“Isn’t that ironic? A creature of the Lonely, and your body craves this intimacy. Look at you, whimpering and shivering beneath me, getting hard all over again at the thought of being made for cock.” He laved his tongue over the mark he’d torn into Peter’s neck, picking up blood and sweat, and Peter moaned. He tasted sharp and warm and ambrosian. “Made for me,” Elias said, so close to finishing now that his thrusts had lost all rhythm. Each time he jerked his hips forward their bodies made a sharp, fleshy sound that sent arousal radiating through his abdomen like a thousand little electric shocks. “Is that what you are, Peter? Made for me to fuck?”
Peter began breathing hard and fast and Elias knew he had him like an animal in a snare. “That's right,” he hissed into Peter’s ear, gripping so hard onto Peter’s hips that he knew they would bruise. “You want to spend the rest of your life coming on my cock, don't you?”
“Yes,” Peter groaned, his voice barely audible.
“Say it,” he said again, rubbing his cock persistently over the sensitive bundle of nerves within Peter.
“I-I- want-” Peter struggled to get out the words, but Elias was patient. “Want to spend the, nng. Rest of my life coming o-on your cock.” He whimpered and pressed back into Elias as he spoke, his nails cutting thin lines into the fine wood of Elias’ desk.
“Good boy,” said Elias, panting between each word.
“Elias, Elias, god,” said Peter, his voice soft and sweet, and Elias couldn’t hold back any longer: he groaned one long, keening note and spilled into the softness of Peter’s body, his thighs clenching and his body rocking back and forth spasmodically. He filled Peter with so much come that it crept out at the base of his cock and slid down the inside of Peter’s thighs. He didn’t think he’d ever come that hard in his life, nor that much. And he’d had a very, very long life, in which he’d fucked a lot of people.
While he fought to catch his breath, he slowly bent over Peter and laid his head against Peter’s sweaty nape. Peter was breathing just as hard despite having finished several minutes before Elias. He was probably hard, too, but he doubted Peter would want to go another round. What someone said while their inhibitions were smothered by arousal wasn't always something they were willing to do, and that seemed especially true for someone like Peter, who – up until this point – had made it clear he reviled any form of intimacy.
It was lovely inside Peter, wet and comfortable, but he knew they both had things to be getting back to, so he slowly, reluctantly started to draw out of Peter and reached across his desk for some tissues.
“Well,” he said, his voice tremoring. “I hope you’ll consider-”
“I’ve considered it,” said Peter, reaching back and seizing a handful of Elias' shirt before he could finish drawing out of Peter. He jerked Elias back into place with a surprising amount of force for a man so gaunt. Or perhaps Elias was just weakened after his orgasm. “And I want you to keep going.”
Oh.
Elias drew in a sharp breath. “Do you, now?” he said, mostly because he couldn’t think of something more poignant to say in the moment. For once in his life, he was at a loss for words.
“That’s what I just said,” said Peter, rocking back against him. “I’m not going to explain myself to you. Just keep going.”
Elias almost choked on his breath. He dropped his handful of tissues and seized Peter by the waist again, keeping him steady while he began to meet each rock of Peter’s hips with his own. “You definitely were cursed when you asked for this, weren’t you? Or did you just want me that badly?”
“Shut up,” Peter said, panting and glaring at him over his shoulder, and Elias laughed. He didn’t really believe Peter had come here with some burning desire to be fucked, but that just made it all the sweeter that he was staying here with exactly that in mind.
“Very well.” He licked his lips and grinned, displaying all his teeth for Peter, a hungry maw. “I suppose I can spare the rest of the afternoon.”