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Wilson whimpers.
A lot.
That's what Vanta noticed— can't help not to anyway— during the two hours of handcam stream they did with Zali to celebrate KRISIS’ second anniversary. Granted it was mostly his fault, he was trying to let chat hear him crack a few of Wilson’s fingers for you know, fan service? But instead, he got a mouthful of curse words and a whole bag of whining and whimpering for all to hear just because Vanta wouldn't give up on getting a few more ‘pop’ from Wilson’s long beautiful fingers.
Oh right.
Wilson’s long beautiful fingers.
It shouldn't come as a surprise for Vanta, he’s around Wilson most of the time and he has seen them up close, personal, and gloveless. Not only long and slender, they are dainty, like how the tips are ever so slightly tapered the way shoujo mangaka would draw hands reserved for pretty boys only.
Yes.
Wilson is a pretty boy.
Big blue eyes, blonde hair, small frame, adorable smile, beautiful hands, and- he whimpers. Oh, we are back here again, Vanta thought. That's right, they just finished dinner and he's still- thinking about those pathetic little noises. And it's not like he wants to. It's not like it's his choice. In this department, it's usually Vanta’s jr who's calling the shots. And now he's stuck in a predicament.
——
“Vanta, everyone is going out for a drink. You coming?”
Wilson pops his head through the door frame, just enough to make his presence known to the other.
“Uhhh tempting, but I'm gonna have to pass. I want to try to take it easy and tuck in early tonight. If possible” Who is he kidding? He's already halfway in his skincare routine and is nicely wrapped in his pajamas. There is no way he's getting dragged out even if they were to dangle umeshu or lemon sour in front of him like a dog.
“Oh cool! I was worried I'll be all alone tonight! I’ll let them know you're staying too” Wilson dips out like a lightning, face full of glee. Vanta cocks an eyebrow. So Wilson is not going out too. Big deal. They are both gonna be all alone for the first time since this trip started. So what? Its not like anything un-homie is going to happen,
Right?
——
“Wilson, why are you in my room?”
Vanta finally cracks the silence as Wilson— who is comfortably sitting on Vanta’s bed, raises his head from his phone to look at Vanta nonchalantly.
“What? Two homies can't enjoy silence together anymore? I mean you also said you want to tuck in early… so I can like.. just hang out here until you kick me out.” He pouts at the last sentence. God— now he pouts too?
“Dude, it's chill. You can hang here. I’m more surprised you still want to be around me after what I did to you today.” Vanta throws a bone, eagerly waiting to see if the blond picks it up.
“What have you done that would have made me shake in my boots to be even in the vicinity of you, oh Mr. Crow?” —oh, Mr. Crow he said. It's been awhile since Vanta heard that one. Not only did Wilson pick up the bone, he threw it back to Vanta with a snark. Something started to wake.
“This.” Rather than words, Vanta thinks Wilson would appreciate action more. He put both of his hands in front of him and started pulling on his finger one by one, each one followed by a shallow pop, showcasing Vanta’s long fingers and its prominent joints. To be fair, Vanta’s hands have seen better days. All the punching and fighting had left tiny scars on the skin and strengthened the bone and muscles under it. Compared to Wilson who’s mainly trained to aim and pull triggers, their hands obviously won't have anything in common. Wilson winced at the sight, following with an “ugh” and an eyeroll.
“That was just a bit okay? I just thought all the struggle and the stupid noises would be more entertaining. And I was right! I crack my fingers all the time! Just— off stream… of course” Wilson said, convincingly, as he let his eyes drift along an invisible line above Vanta’s head, completely avoiding eye contact.
“Okay,
then I can pop the other 9 myself right? We are off stream, after all.”
Look, Wilson wasn't some random Canadian boy who worked a 9-5 desk job and came home to his nintendo DS to play tomodachi life everyday. He was an assassin for God's sake. But maybe retiring and becoming a righteous hero has softened his sense of danger a little, especially in the comfort of a supposedly safe space. Because why is his back pressed against Vanta’s chest and one of his hands is now locked tightly in the tyrant’s merciless grip in a split second? He barely even finished registering what Vanta said— he wants to pop the other 9 digits by himself.
“——wait, okay wait wait wait wait—! I never said you could! I never agreed to this!” Wilson tried to wiggle his way out, but to no avail. The skin on skin contact gave Vanta advantage because more friction means better grip. Plus, it burns. Vanta’s body surprisingly runs hot and the unexpected heat on his wrist and back made Wilson a little weak— for whatever reason.
“Why not? Like I said, we are off-stream, so you don't have to do any of your bit. I’ll get it done quick and we can put this all behind us” Vanta said quietly. He lowered his head slightly, just to get a little closer to Wilson’s ear. A courtesy, or a threat.
“Remember, it will only hurt more if you struggle.”
Vanta can hear a shaky sigh from Wilson. Followed by an even more quiet “fine. Whatever.” He resigned quickly. White flag. Surrendering with zero condition. Because Vanta’s right. The sooner this ends, the better, because Wilson starts to realize the heat building up at the pit of his stomach might lead into something that would humiliate him even further.
——
Wilson has learned many new things about himself since he started livestreaming. He learned what kind of games he's good at, what kind of jokes, what makes people tick and what he can do to entertain whilst still staying true to himself. And then comes his genmates, that too help him learn about what kind of dynamic they have as a trio or as duo with either Zali or Vanta. And with Vanta, specifically Vanta, Wilson learned that he often walked himself into the very obviously laid out trap Vanta set up for him.
Why?
For the fans of course.
But there are no cameras pointing at you now, Wilson.
So why are you still walking right into,
“Vanta-“
Wilson whimpers. Whines. Toes curled and his free hand desperately holding onto the other’s forearm, using whatever strength he has left to stop the tyrant.
“Enough, enough- I’m sorry, I can't handle it-“
Vanta pops Wilson’s ring finger.
Wilson yelps. The noise caught in his throat he almost choked. The sensation traveled from the finger right to his spine down to his stomach.
“I’m barely halfway done. Is this really all you can take?”
That jerk is smiling. Wilson can't even see his face right now but he can tell from Vanta’s voice and tone alone, that he is way too gleeful from putting Wilson through this. Maybe its time to cut this loose. Tell Vanta that it's not funny anymore and call this a night. There's no audience to disappoint if they stop now anyway, right?
“No! It's just- it's obvious you’re doing this just to tease me! Do you enjoy seeing me squirm that much?!”
“Alright, fine fine. I’ll stop before you burst into tears. See how nice I am to you?”
Vanta laced his fingers with Wilson’s and pulled him into a hug while simultaneously locking him in place. It seemed like it was supposed to be an innocent hug, but Wilson couldn't tell if its claustrophobia or the fact that Vanta’s body heat is burning him like an incinerator, the smaller boy could feel his heart beat so awfully loud he hears it in his eardrum. As his eyes are fixed on the floor, toes curling and fidgeting nervously, it’s impossible to ignore the growing bulge from his pants in his own line of sight.
‘Fuck’, Wilson cursed under his breath, now this is not funny anymore. If the other finds out, this might be the end of his life as he knows it. It would hurt less to be shot in the head rather than having the Evil Tyrant knows that he-
“Wilson.
Are you hard right now?”
He was right.
It would definitely be an act of mercy if someone just went and shot him in the head. He’s been humiliated or has humiliated himself in public for entertainment in many ways, but this one is different. This one is borderline cruel. Wilson doesn’t even have the energy to banter or pretend to fight for his pride anymore. He just wants to disappear into a hole and hoping he’ll be reborn as a piece of rock. He made a pitiful groan. Head hung low. A second white flag.
.
.
.
“Do you want my help?”
Wilson was so caught off guard he almost twisted his neck from whipping his head back too fast. Did he seriously just say that? The Vantacrow Bringer? The ‘I love women so much I am one’ Vanta? Just offered to jack him off? Him? another grown man with dick and balls?
Wilson didn't really know what to expect when he turned, but the slight tint on his cheeks and the absence of his shit eating grin made Wilson even more nervous that he didn't realize he started breathing through his mouth.
“I mean I've never done it to another guy, but if it's you-” If it's me, Wow, is he being genuine?
Wilson thought he was about to be violently shamed or shoved onto the floor head first in disgust.
But a real open invitation from Vanta?
Maybe this is not a lost cause after all. Maybe Wilson can come back from this. Maybe he can make this feel even better by making it worse.
“Is this how you’re trying to get your hands on me? Mr. Pervert.” Wilson tilted his head back, collarbone exposed, gazing through his lashes with a slight mischievous grin, not caring that he’s probably the shade of a firetruck at this point. A twisted sense of confidence. If Vanta loves humbling and putting Wilson in his place, he’s giving him the golden ticket right now.
“Mr. Pervert? I’m not the one who got a boner from getting his fingers popped. Or is it being held down like a helpless animal that gets you off?”
Vanta freed one of his hands to grab Wilson’s jaw. Not hard enough to hurt but strong enough to drive the point home. Is this what you like? Fuck yeah it is. But Wilson can’t say that. That’s not the kind of play they are doing. So he scoffed just to double down on himself.
“Holding me down? As if I can't get out of this if I want to. All I have to do is stand up and walk back to my room.”
Wilson is a pilot on a suicide mission.
“Yeah?” With one swift move, Vanta pushes Wilson’s whole body to his bed with a little more force, sinking him down with his weight while making sure he’s pinned in place.
“How about now?” Wilson would have moaned out loud if he had no restrain. But as they say, patience is a virtue, and he’s not about to lose to Vanta, nor this momentum. Not to mention that the other is half-hard himself, Wilson feels like he’s on top of the world despite being under a literal Tyrant.
“I was planning to play nice and use my hand, but since you want to act like a brat all of a sudden, maybe I should just rub you out with my knee until you come.”
Vanta slipped one of his legs in between Wilson’s, giving enough pressure on his crotch as a warning. Instantaneously, Wilson can feel a shockwave through his body, surprised at how so little stimulant can go a long way. But this only proves difficult because it means he won’t last, and if he comes too soon, well, at this rate Vanta is not even mad enough to humiliate Wilson for it. An easy win will never feel like a real victory. So the former hitman is determined to make it anything but easy.
“Ha, speak for yourself, are we gonna address this elephant in the room?”
Wilson brazenly used his free foot to press on Vanta’s own prominent bulge, -elephant is right because Jesus, has he been walking around with a weapon in his pants? I mean, sure, it shouldn't be a surprise that Vanta is clearly above average due to his overall size and whatnot. His height, his build, broad shoulders and back, his weight that’s sinking him further into the mattress, the unforgiving hands pinning his wrists down, and now the erection under his foot where the fabric couldn't even hide the sheer girth and heat behind it. But to think Wilson has this effect on him, that he’s the reason they both ended up rock hard,
Suddenly the threat on top of him is very much real- and armed.
“So what was the plan, Vanta? Coming untouched from watching me squirm and moan while you jerk me off? That's really… not very straight of you…”
Wilson slurred his last words, curling his toes on Vanta’s bulge like he had no fear for his life.
On the contrary, it's almost like he’s making sure that Vanta will take it with his bare hands. Vanta groaned and bucked his hips, instinctively trying to chase more of whatever Wilson just did. But as good as it felt, he’s not gonna let him have it. Not now. Not here.
Not when he's in charge.
In a split second, Wilson felt two thick fingers shoved down his throat without warning. His whole body jumped in response, with one of his now free hands grabbing helplessly onto the ones invading the inside of his mouth without any regard. Vanta can tell Wilson was trying to say something. He could feel the voice vibrate from his throat to his fingers and hear the jumble of incoherent noises in his ears. But Vanta doesn’t care. In fact, he thinks he should've done this sooner.
“And to think you’re a prude.. you have quite the nasty mouth, Wilson.”
Vanta leaned closer, still firmly holding the other in place.
“Its not my fault you’re so pretty like a girl sometimes.”
Lighting strikes Wilson’s spine when Vanta grinded his crotch on his with such force, such intent, that the sensation threw Wilson’s head back onto the pillow and his pitiful moans got caught in between his throat and the other’s fingers.
“God, you even sound like one right now,” Vanta chuckled under his breath as he continued to dry hump the boy under him, every friction giving him another sweet whine or whimper that he so loved, only five thousand times better. As for Wilson, he wanted this, he planned this, this is the Vanta he’s been waiting to put him in his place. The one who relishes in his helplessness and desperation. The one who takes pleasure in his shame and humiliation.
Wilson uses the strength he has left to reach Vanta’s mouth and hooks his fingers on the side of his teeth, catching the other’s attention to look at him. And when they lock eyes, Wilson grinned with Vanta’s own digits still deep in his mouth,
“you peveted ahhole”
So close, Wilson is so close right now that he wishes this last push will make Vanta do something outrageous to give him an even bigger orgasm. Just a little more-
“What did you call me?”
Vanta pulled his fingers away from Wilson’s mouth, now sopping wet with the other’s spit. The loss in his throat took him by surprise, but he cleared it twice to make sure he made himself clear whilst trying to catch his breath.
“I said, you perverted asshole”
The tyrant’s laugh was more akin to a roar. It was short and quick, but was dark and out of place enough to make the hitman uneasy. Just slightly. And Wilson was right, Vanta really lost it when he pulled his pajama pants down and then Wilson’s, both of their cocks now exposed as it bounces off their pants. Holy fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Wilson’s head and heart are racing at a thousand miles an hour, making him light headed. Their dicks are an inch away from each other with his already leaking in precum while Vanta’s- Vanta’s girthy and throbbing-
“Hey,”
“Eyes up here blondie,”
Blondie, that's me, Wilson gulps and shifts his gaze slowly back to Vanta who’s now also barely inches away. Eyes fixed on him. Unwavering. Borderline piercing. Wilson’s pupils shake. If pheromones were real, the stench of Wilson’s fear would have drowned the whole room, and Vanta would feed off of it like its honey.
“Since I'm such a perverted asshole,
I’ll jerk us off together with the spit on my hand from throat fucking you as lube. How about that?”
Vanta slotted both of their bare cocks in his hand and let it effortlessly slide up and down while fucking into it to add more friction. If whatever they were doing before felt good, this is borderline hedonistic. Skin on skin covered in his drool rubbing angrily against each other, the squelching sound and the bed creaking that would send the neighbors downstairs running. And to make it worse, Vanta didn't hold back from letting his voice out. He grunts and moans and growls right into Wilson’s ears calling him names it felt like his brain are being fucked raw. Wilson moaned to his heart's content too of course, the high pitched ones, the caught-in-my-throat ones, the breathy whimper ones, all the ones Vanta loves, the ones that made Vanta curse into his skin and gave him goosebumps. This is it. They’re finally at the final stretch and the finish line is right around the corner.
“ ‘m gonna cum, Vanta, Vanta I’m cumming-“
Wilson can see it, all they had to do was hold hands and cross it together, but clouded by the ecstasy and euphoria, the oblivious blond seemed to forget that the Tyrant hadn't evened his score with him.
“You think I'm just gonna let you cum after what you pulled?”
Vanta stopped pumping immediately, only to hold Wilson’s dick and cover his urethra with his thumb to prevent him from cumming. The bastard is holding his dick hostage. This fucking sadist, is what Wilson is screaming in his already half scrambled brain. What more could Vanta even do to him?
“Since you looked like you had the time of your life ragebaiting me, how about asking me nicely for a change?” Vanta said quietly, deceptively, framing it like a friendly request when it was obviously a command. Ask me nicely to let you cum. And Wilson is out of moves. Out of cards. As he wished earlier, now he is completely in Vanta’s mercy.
“Vanta… please…” his voice shakes.
“Please what?” Like a knife to his throat.
“Please help me… let me cum… I want to so bad…” he sounds like he's about to cry. But Vanta would love that wouldn't he?
“Mmm… now put that potty mouth to good use and beg for it like a whore.” There is no negotiating with someone like Vanta. Not when he’s as vindictive and horny as he is now. Vanta will keep raising the price and adding more terms and as long as Wilson has everything to lose, Vanta knows Wilson will have no choice to pay up.
“Come on, blondie. I know you can do it” that damn nickname again. Wilson would be lying if he said he hates it.
“Ng… I need you Vanta.. need you to cum.. I’ll do anything for you so please- please let mee-“
Vanta’s ears perked up. “Anything?”
“I’ll- I’ll get you off- my hands, my mouth- I’ll put on a skirt- you can call me a girl all you want- Fuck, just use me however so please let me c—“ Now isn't that a fucking deal? Wilson barely finished his plea but Vanta has heard enough because his hand is now back to finish Wilson off, focusing on him only while neglecting his own cock. Throwing his head back in relief, Wilson welcomed the white spots in his vision just before he finally cum ropes onto himself, hands holding onto Vanta’s shoulders for his dear life. Mouth agape and eyes shut tight, desperately trying to suck in as much air into his lungs as the orgasm hits him in waves— three in total. And the noise he made, lets not even start. Vanta wished there's a wire hidden in this room so he could get the audio later.
Wilson is completely blissed out; being hit with an orgasm that big and hard for the first time in your somewhat maiden life, going back down from it will take him more than a while. But this is fine, in fact, its more than nice. To know that his little impromptu sex play with Vanta somehow worked out this well and-
Wait,
Did Vanta even cum?
As poor debilitated Wilson tried his best to finally lift his head off the pillow, what he saw was Vanta smiling at him with both their cocks again in his hand. But I came already, so why even,
“Hey Wilson, ever been overstimulated before?”
Like, during a social gathering? Or when there’s too much noise and suddenly someone is trying to make you do something you were already planning to do? No, Wilson. Why would that be any relevant in this situation? Wilson shook his head timidly. His still shaky elbow propping half of his torso up.
“Well, you’re about to find out.”
Wilson thinks being struck by a bullet right in your spine is an understatement of what he felt when Vanta starts stroking both of them again. Because. Holy. Now his whole body feels like it's on fire and the oversensitivity of his dick being mercilessly pumped hurts so bad that it feels mindblowingly good, so so much that Wilson actually cried real streaming tears. Vanta stop, Vanta please, Vanta I can’t cum anymore, Wilson begs for his life once again like its gonna change anything. It won’t. Vanta was kind enough to help Wilson cum first and it’s only right that Wilson be there to return the favor. Aren’t you happy I'm so dependent on both your pleasure and misery?, is probably what Vanta’s trying to get across.
Wilson doesn’t even know what or where he is anymore. Valhalla? Hell? Purgatory? He felt like he had been reduced to a bundle of nerves twitching helplessly until his second orgasm was imminent. Did he grab onto the sheets? Did he claw his nails onto Vanta’s shoulders? Did he drool on himself? Did he have a dry one or worse, pissed himself in front of Vanta?
Who fucking cares, Wilson’s body went limp and all he could hear was static noises, and a faint groan that sounded far far away, followed by a warm liquid splattering on his tummy. No way that’s—
This bastard. I’m going to kill him. I'll do it. definitely do it later.
——
On the other hand, Vanta is more than satisfied with his handiwork. Not in a million years would he ever dream of seeing his own best friend an absolute mess on his bed, unresponsive, half naked covered in both of their cum. It's not just naughty– it’s obscene. Vanta almost felt bad he pushed Wilson this far on their first ever sexual encounter.
Almost.
Not to shift the blame, but Wilson was kind of asking for it. Right? Well, he’s not gonna respond anytime soon, so let's pin that question for tomorrow. For now, Vanta at least owes Wilson the clean up duty and to carefully carry him back to his room before the boys are back from their night out.