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Once it had been pointed out, he couldn’t exactly not acknowledge it. The bed in what was supposed to be their personal dorm room was facing the wrong way to everyone else’s, apparently.
Their bed was in the direct path of the huge window, headboard on the wrong side and unable to block it, allowing light into the empty living space rather than facing away. It was frustrating after everything he’d gone through in the day already.
From his slightly-murderous dragon dying less than an hour after it chose him as its rider, to catching glimpses of a familiar face in the Vulpes cohort. Their day wasn’t going precisely to plan—far off what he imagined when volunteering frankly.
To top off a shitty introduction to the academy though, they were then baby-trapped, very literally, by a shimmering dragon egg bearing the promise of another companion. Not just him even, but every poor forsaken soul that had turned up alongside him, minus the few that didn’t make it.
Pyro pinched the bridge of their nose, storing what little he had put down in his space and walked out onto small steps. Their dull blue eyes immediately locked onto the dorm across from where he stood, the nameplate above the door carved out of smooth wood had a name engraved in it.
Scott.
His mind helpfully supplied blurred flashes of who they’d thought they saw earlier. He forced those down. Surely not. It was a common name, after all—the other would never leave the mountain so it wouldn’t be him. It couldn’t.
The door to the room was open invitingly, showing off the empty space, still untouched. Theirs for the keeping—in other words. Pyro was sure the Scott who was meant to be in here and didn’t have any ties to them wouldn’t mind waking up to the sun each morning. This was his room now, with a correctly placed bed.
He thumbed over one clasps low on his shirt, undoing some of the tightness around his chest that the deep v-cut neck gave them, letting out a long sight of relief.
They dumped the small portion of stuff they had brought into the room, slipping out of his silver-toes shoes before climbing onto the bed.
Fresh white sheets embraced them, they couldn’t be bothered to take off anything else yet, he still needed to be somewhat presentable.
Pyro’s hair splayed out on the soft pillow, dark brown nearly black from the shadow of the headboard, the sun already starting to move lower in the sky—had the day gone by that quick?
It didn’t matter too much, they weren’t highly interested in mingling with the other folk around him, he knew he was likely better than them anyways.
He moved his hands to rest behind his head, puffy dark sleeves squashing to accommodate, an unfortunate wardrobe choice for the action.
They let their eyes slip shut, quietly humming an old travellers tune he’d learnt after leaving Tegrith’s frigid grasp. It was calm—for a moment, he needed any rest they could get.
The door to the room clicked shut and immediately ruined that fantasy, causing him to shoot up in surprise, ready to argue and—
No. No fucking way.
There, in all his pompous-blonde glory, was Scott Boralith. Stood in some fancy-training wear that screamed ‘Tegrith sponsored fuck’, he looked far too approachable, almost elegant. Pyro mentally slapped himself, he had tried to ignore all the signs pointing to him and this was his consequence.
“What the hell do you want?” They hissed, not an ounce of fondness in their voice. Fondness was only reminiscent of what they had with Scott in the past, during warmer times. But those weren’t now—and wouldn’t ever be again.
Scott at least had the decency to look similarly at Pyro in response to his words, purple eyes looking around the room and spotting Pyro’s measly pile of items. He frowned. “This is my dorm room, Dagmeare.”
“No, Boralith,” his gaze narrowed. “You can have the one over there, I’ve claimed this space as mine.” Pyro didn’t want to talk with the other for longer than they had to, it should be clear that Scott would lose this argument if their past ones had any indication of the blonde's morals.
Except, he didn't back off, moving away from the doorway and closer to Pyro on the bed but not before slamming the spruce behind him, the force making Pyro flinch.
The feeling that nestled into his bones at the action was quickly identified as mana by his mind, burying itself alongside his own and mingling together. Scott's room was brimming with the weak magic, Pyro knew his dorm had possessed a similar feel, catered to them by the Professor and probably not meant to be switched around or messed with.
Scott stalked forwards, pulling his leather gloves off, scarily silent.
The feeling in the room was the same way he knew the door was locked and by all accounts, they were trapped in the room with Boralith.
Pyro went to stand up and remove himself from Scott’s correctly facing bed, but didn’t make it as a sharp pain hit between his temples, they swore under their breath, eyes squeezing shut to block out the light instinctively—fucking migraines.
Steadily, the pain dwindled away to something less moments later, their senses returning to them sharp and fiery, along with the feeling of Scott’s cold palm on his chest.
“Oh? So you still get those headaches then?” Scott drummed his fingers against the base of Pyro’s sternum. Looking more curious than angry at the taller now, the latter emotion was almost certainly still there though, Pyro could always tell with Scott.
He glared but didn’t push back against the hand, head still lightly throbbing, a good excuse to allow Scott to push him down onto the sheets gently. Slender fingers tracing along their collarbones.
Their breath hitched at the thumb sweeping over his cheek, when had Scott even cupped his face? They had to say something, the silence was too much. “They’re migraines, not… headaches.” A weak argument to start, not because they couldn’t win said argument—but because Scott was making him weak.
The blonde didn’t even rise to the bait.
He must’ve been blushing already as Scott made his way onto the bed, hand still cupping the warm skin of Pyro’s face.
He crawled atop them, caging their limbs with a smirk, occupied hand squeezing gently. “I’m surprised, the old you would never let this happen.”
Pyro was tempted to spit in his face, just to see what would happen. A knee between their thighs quickly derailed that however.
In response, he did technically spit, if one could call sputtering out a startled sound with a glob of saliva accompanying it.
Scott made a face, pulling his hand from their cheek and dramatically shaking off the minuscule bit of spit that had probably tainted his smooth skin, Pyro snorted.
The blonde's hand that was resting on the sheets beside his head scrunched them, and then—there was a hand around Pyro's throat, crushing his Adam's apple and burying dull nails into tense muscle.
Finally, Pyro’s own arms shot up from where they’d been lazily splayed out and they started batting at Scott’s arm, clawing silky fabric desperately, trying to harm the skin beneath.
Scott, without missing a beat, even whilst choking them—tsked.
Pyro felt blood rush downwards, their arms losing the fight as his world started to spin from a lack of oxygen. Scott loosened his grip, leaning closer to Pyro, noses almost brushing, breaths mingling. “Don’t steal my bed, Dagmeare.” The hushed whisper sent sparks through Pyro’s body.
It was also the only warning they got before Scott was crashing his lips against his.
Pyro tried to turn his head away, refusing to open his mouth and denying the action. Scott’s fingers dug into his neck again, reflexively causing them to open their mouth for a breath.
The feeling of Scott’s tongue exploring their mouth would be permanently ingrained into his memory, it felt beyond amazing like everything he desired was right there, swiping against his teeth greedily.
They relaxed slowly on the bed with their neck in Scott’s hold, it was easier to comply than fight, not because he wanted more. That would defeat the point of his hatred for the other.
Scott's grip released enough in response to the submission for their strained breaths to turn into pants as he started to grind his knee up against Pyro’s crotch, eliciting a surprising groan from the taller. Scott pulled away from the kiss, a sultry string of saliva connecting flushed lips briefly. “So you do get needy, I expected as much.”
Pyro wasn’t sure if that was an insult or not, nor were they too concerned on finding out when their hard-on was fully visible, should Scott look down and stop grinding his stupid knee up—
He whined this time, voice cracking pathetically and echoing within the confines of the room.
Scott seemed pleased, he shifted forwards to press his knee up onto the tent Pyro possessed and didn’t move.
“Pyroscythe Dagmeare… going to cum from a measly leg?”
“F-fuck off Boralith.” Their tone matched their reddened face as much as he tried to sound pissed, to sound like he wasn’t enjoying it.
Lavender eyes bored into his soul, Scott absolutely not buying it.
The shorter unwrapped his hand from Pyro’s neck, a small spark of relief shooting through them, oxygen free to fill achy lungs. Except, Scott reached for his belt, sitting up with a knee on one side of Pyro’s own whilst the other… kept them occupied.
His hands worked behind his back where the belt met his tight, off-white thermal shirt, still staring at the dark-haired male.
Pyro swallowed thickly, throat bobbing. It made Scott look up, scanning their features for hesitation as his belt fell gently off the bed, softly thudding. “You can say no, Pyro.”
They were shaking their head before even processing the words, tongue wetting his lips before speaking. “Just… continue. I need—this.” Need you, went unsaid.
He looked away from Scott at the admission, the other would likely read them like a book anyways.
Pyro was quickly proven right on his presumption when Scott’s careful fingers started to mess with their clothes, sliding down crimson fabric to the waist wrapping he was using as a belt, a small knife tucked to the side and all.
Scott did it silently and Pyro didn’t protest, grateful he didn’t have to move and try to navigate around Scott’s leg, there was probably a dark spot against it already. He couldn’t actually tell if the dampness against his clothed cock was from himself or just sweat.
Pyro sucked in a breath when Scott moved his knee off of them. Replaced by the feeling of cold air hitting his legs, tight pants easily pulled down by Scott to reveal his prominent arousal beneath thin black underwear.
Pants pooled at his ankles, Scott thumbed over their waistband with a quiet hum. Pyro grabbed the offending hand, locking eyes with the blonde. “You too.” They pointedly looked at Scott's flared pants.
Scott complied and took care of himself, soon enough left only in a pair of dull boxers.
Fucking hell, Pyro suddenly felt self-conscious of their own size, the bulge adorning Scott’s front was, in Pyro’s unbiased opinion—huge, well endowed, some other word that they could call their childhood friend’s dick.
But the length seemed well contained by Scott’s undergarments, definitely straining but not tenting the fabric.
Scott caught him staring.
“What, my wood warding you off?” The blond visibly grimaced, they both knew that was absolutely a horrible line.
“Just—get yourself out. Or do you want me to do it for you, Dagmeare.”
Pyro was perfectly capable of getting his cock out, thank you very much—but Scott’s hand doing it for him sounded far more appealing. They crossed their arms over their chest with a defiant huff.
He shook his head. “Go ahead, you won’t.”
Scott blinked, sat himself on Pyro’s bare thighs and pulled his underwear down with a quick motion. Pyro could only stare as his body betrayed him, dick twitching in interest at the air hitting it and in response to Scott being so bold.
Mostly in response to Scott because Pyro being bare to the other was quickly overshadowed by Scott pulling his own undergarments down, cock springing up just nigh of his stomach, free from containment.
“Wow.” They breathed out, genuine interest in their voice whilst mentally cataloging every view of Scott they currently had for later use.
“Impressed? At least I get to beat you at something.” He huffed, lowering his hips against Pyro’s thighs, shuffling closer until their lengths pressed together.
Shamefully, Pyro could’ve let go right then and there, the burning skin against skin—Scott’s size making him feel small, the flushed tan head not even brushing against his own from the height difference.
Pre dribbled from Pyro’s cock, the sticky fluid getting between the divide of their members. “Fuck me…” A sigh. “Next time.”
Scott wrapped one of his somehow still-cold hands around his own and Pyro’s length, holding them like that before gently starting to pump. Pyro moaned loudly.
They propped themself up with a whine, arms bracing against the mattress and offering him a better view of Scott jerking him off, breaths already heavy with need. Pyro tried to move his hips up, dicks rubbing against one another whilst gripped. To their brain, it felt like heaven.
Scott didn’t let go but he matched the action, thighs pressing Pyro’s own together so he could effectively rut against the taller, choosing to squeeze at random intervals, eliciting increasingly desperate noises from them.
Pyro felt like they were burning up, he couldn’t tell if he was close or about to literally explode, dick twitching.
“Scott I’m–” He was hushed, a stern expression on the face of the man currently grinding lengths with them. Scott didn’t relent, leaning his face over where his hand worked to glare at Pyro, surprisingly flexible. “Can’t you hold off? Always have to be first, huh?” Scott’s voice was hoarser, just the right volume to make them squirm. Pyro silently bit his lip and held on for a shred longer.
Only for the asshole to dig his nails in.
They came with a gravelly shout, pale blue eyes fluttering shut and missing the show of cum spurting right onto Scott’s face and dribbling down to his stomach, coagulating on the coarse hair leading to his privates.
Scott used his hand, the one free of bodily fluids, to wipe a small glob from his nose.
Pyro was already spent, content to just lay back and hopefully wake up from this ‘dream’ with an unsoaked pair of pants–but Scott was very much real, and still hard as Pyro started to go soft.
The blonde wasted no time in shifting his approach, he lowered himself to nearly lay atop Pyro, and started grinding roughly against their thigh. Scott’s cock was slick enough–with Pyro’s cum, letting him drag slowly so his tip could receive some stimulation before speeding back up.
It didn’t take long for Scott to bring an arm to his mouth with Pyro barely aware of the action, head already starting to pound again. Fabric between Scott’s teeth muffled the sound of his climaxing moan, hot white coated the reddened skin of Pyro’s leg.
Scott slumped over, head thudding softly onto the taller’s chest, breathing shakily.
Both men were still half naked, bare lower bodies tangling for warmth–Pyro was much more grateful for the locked door as his brain fogged over with a migraine. Scott's weight atop them felt nice.