pathologicroundrobin | Pathologic Kink Meme!

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Pathologic Kink Meme!

Hello, welcome to the Pathologic Kink Meme! WARNING: This one is NSFW!

Please make anonymous prompts for things you would like to see, or anonymously fulfill prompts by creating stories, poetry, drawn art, music, or anything! I just want to say that this prompt meme is open to people of all skill levels, so have fun!

Some basic rules that were recommended to help out before we get started:

- This is the Pathologic Kink Meme, and it's NSFW! Please post any NSFW prompts or fills here. A good rule of thumb is whether or not you'd be comfortable with your boss at work looking over your shoulder and reading what you have on screen.

- If anything is a little too explicit in detail (e.g. in terms of medical procedures or gore), it probably needs to be here as well. Basic mentioning of medical procedures is allowed, but this is just in case for folks who have limits in regard to certain explicit things. Speaking of explicit things...

- Please use tags and content warnings, especially for things that people might be triggered over. For prompt fillers, please put those tags in the beginning of the post so that way people can skip over them if need be. Tags can also attract people to your art if it has content that they're interested in, so it can be a helpful tool for content creators as well.

- No writers of incest (kains which does include aglaya and her relatives, stamatins, olgimskys, etc), underage/adult ships (which DOES include Clara,) or rape. Please don't make anything gross happen to underage characters!

- Multiple fills to a single prompt is not only accepted, but wonderful! It's a win-win for everybody!

- In the case of a filler of a prompt going inactive for a long time in the middle of a story, it's okay for a different person to continue where they left off. Please make it obvious that you're not the original author, and then feel free to write.

And that's as much as I have in regards to rules! Hopefully these answered answer any questions you might have! Feel free to recommend any rules of your own, or ask me for clarification on the current ones.

AND THAT'S IT! Have fun! :D

LINKS:

Pathologic Prompt Meme: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/825.html
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Pathologic Kink Meme (nsfw): https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1201.html
Contact me here if you have any questions!: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1347.html

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so much bedsharing fics with these two and nothing where daniil wakes up with his dear colleague's hard dick on his ass and getting obscenely turned on by it, much to his distress. artemy wakes up and is turned on by the fact that daniil is so flustered by it, and maybe tries to take care of their situation.

artemy gently teasing daniil is a major plus. no preference on if daniil is trans or cis. just nothing where daniil acts without permission, obviously.

Omg please this is so cute

Daniil's dreams had been surprisingly calm and his sleep unexpectedly restful, considering the stress and hurry of the ongoing crisis, and yet he immediately, viscerally regretted it, all because of the way he'd just now awoken.

It was a simple enough matter to have shared a mattress with Burakh, even if that mattress was far from large enough for the both of them at once. And while it was awkward, nothing especially bothered Daniil about having ended up little spoon to Burakh's broad embrace, either, save for how it stopped him from being able to get up and out of bed without waking Burakh up. Daniil felt warm and bleary. Comfortable, even.

And there were a thousand points of anxiety raising gooseflesh down his back. Because he couldn't move away without drawing attention to himself, but nor could he simply stay here, pretending he couldn't feel the half-hard press of Burakh's sizeable prick against his ass. He couldn't. There were the obvious ethical concerns, for one thing, on top of which it was literally going to drive him insane.

Their bodies were crescented together. At some point in the night they'd shifted from lying respectably parallel to all but cuddling, with Burakh's arms wrapped firmly around Daniil's middle and holding his back flush against Burakh's torso: the muscles there, the faint beat of his heart. (And Daniil knew where all that blood was pumping, didn't he.)

Burakh's unconscious breath was warm at the back of Daniil's neck. Daniil made a concentrated effort to shut his eyes, block out his sense of touch somehow, and will himself with every ounce of hope in his body to fall back asleep. If luck was on his side, Burakh's erection would peacefully subside or he'd roll onto his back and release Daniil from this hell.

Neither of those things happened. Daniil couldn't even fall asleep. He was far too aware of the rigid length nestled against his body, so terribly close to where he'd want one to be if this were a different time, circumstance, and bed companion entirely. Heat was building in his core and his nerves were alight with excitement for something that was absolutely not going to happen.

A flash of images played through his thoughts in an instant. He could rut back against Burakh's erection and wait for the man to wake up, already roused, and see where things went from there. Maybe Burakh's confident, workmanlike hand would slip beneath the hem of his sleep bottoms and search into his wet heat. Maybe—

Anger and shame at himself exploded in Daniil's mind in an instant, like a lightning strike. All in what felt like a single motion, he threw Burakh's arms off from around himself and leapt out of bed. Only then did he realize how fast his own heart was pounding. How tightly he'd clenched his jaw.

Also like a lightning strike, everything was different in the aftermath. Where there might have been a smell of ozone in the air there was instead the quick, confused blinking of Burakh's eyes in the early dawn.

"Something on fire, oynon?"

Daniil's facial muscles made an admirable but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to render any expression besides his very strong desire to hurry down the stairs and out of the building. Through some miracle, he managed to keep his feet flat on the floorboards.

"Not exactly, no," he answered uncomfortably, with a pointed but unintentional glance further down the bed.

"...oh, shit."

"Right. So." Daniil turned on his heel then, facing his desk and pulling his chair out to sit down. He might not have been able to escape utter embarrassment, but it was in the past now, and he needed to get to work. So he told himself, ignoring the fully-body flush that hadn't even begun to lessen.

The mattress creaked gently as Burakh shifted around, turning himself to face the wall. "Sorry. That definitely wasn't intentional."

"It's biological," Daniil supplied, flipping his journal open to review his notes from before he'd gone to bed.

With Burakh.

"Biological. Yeah. But still—you know. Sorry."

Daniil let out a sigh and forced himself not to turn and look Burakh's way. He'd spent enough of this morning in an addled fit as it was. "I can't blame you for automatic physical functions that happen when you're literally unconscious, Burakh. It's fine."

"You jumped out of bed like I'd stabbed you," Burakh protested. "Although, heh, I guess in a manner of sp—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Fair enough," Burakh laughed. There was still a thin line of discomfort in his tone of voice, but it seemed they could both be diplomatic about this mishap. Good. "...Do you want to finish what we started, though?"

Daniil froze up. Surely that was also a joke. Although it wasn't very funny—not that this would have been the first time that a supposed joke had flown right over his head. Slowly, he turned, leveling Burakh with a silent and blank stare.

"Sheesh," Burakh said, laughter still in his voice, "a 'no' would have worked too, you know. No need to try to kill me with your mind... Forget I said anything."

Daniil shook his head in disbelief. "You're ridiculous. Don't try to trip me up again; I'm working."

"Trip you—? Dankovsky, I was coming on to you."

"Sure." Despite himself, Daniil felt his cheeks warming in a blush, but he committed himself to ignoring it. Or, at any rate, to not acknowledging it.

He was less able to ignore the movement in his peripheral vision when Burakh sat up entirely. "Oynon. Dankovsky. Look at me."

Daniil did. Burakh was shirtless; apparently he slept only in a pair of underwear bottoms. Daniil was suddenly encountering some difficulty in keeping his gaze trained on Burakh's eyes. He was strong and broad and soft, hair trailing down his built torso and his sun-warmed skin.

Daniil wasn't looking at his eyes, was he? Shit.

"Yes?"

"So you're clearly somewhat distracted."

"And whose fault is that?"

"I'm not pointing fingers! I'm trying to say... What I mean is... Look, we may as well."

Daniil raised an eyebrow. "Does that line usually work well for you, Burakh?"

And Burakh clicked his tongue, tsking at Daniil's reticence. "How well do you usually do your work when you're distracted in this way? Maybe you're just that good at repression, and I've got something to learn from you."

"...no. Not really." With another sigh, but a much abbreviated one, Daniil pushed his microscope back further away from the edge of the desk and folded his notebook closed. "If you really mean this—"

"I really mean it."

"—then let's do it quickly. Neither of us can afford to waste more than," he calculated, pausing to glance out the window and find the sun, "...forty minutes or so."

Burakh snorted. "That's very precise."

"Someone has to be." Daniil shrugged as he stood up. He was doing his very best to seem casual about it all, as if he did this sort of thing frequently, but the ever-returning blush on his cheeks (and traveling down his chest and out to his ears) no doubt gave him away.

Luckily for him, Burakh seemed to be blushing too. His expression was screwed up in an awkward something that approached a smile as he fell back down onto his side and moved back to make room. His eagerness did a lot to lessen Daniil's nerves, though so did being able to immediately turn and face away from Burakh so he didn't have to worry about being seen.

They fitted together just the way they'd been before, the mattress creaking slightly as two grown men shifted around and got comfortable. Daniil felt slightly ridiculous as Burakh got hold of him and pulled him back into that tight embrace... But there was no denying how being held like that made him feel.

Wasting no time now that Burakh was aware of the situation and had given his permission, Daniil arched backward, rolling his hips to find Burakh's prick again. It had gone limp in the intervening minutes, but if Burakh's sharp gasp over Daniil's shoulder was any indication, that wouldn't be a problem for long.

Moreover, Artemy was doing more than his fair shape of helping this time, balancing out his prior unconsciousness by meeting Daniil halfway with forward rolls of his own hips, rutting against the thinly-clothed crease of his ass. He also slipped a hand up and under Daniil's sleep shirt. Burakh's wide palm spread heat up Daniil's belly toward his chest, keeping him embraced, secure, held.

Daniil's long, low moan could only have encouraged him. Soon enough Burakh was pinching a hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his own breath heavy in Daniil's ear as Daniil gasped his own pleasure to match the hard rut of Burakh against him.

"Hold on— Burakh, wait, stop—"

"Mngh?" Burakh asked as his movements instantly stalled, then, somewhat more eloquently, "What's wrong?"

Daniil pushed away from him enough to turn around in his arms. Then nudged his far shoulder, encouraging him to fall over flat on his back, which he did.

"Nothing's wrong at all. I'm moving things forward," Daniil answered, in the same second he began unbuttoning his sleep shirt to throw it aside. His bottoms came off next and both clothings fell in an unceremonious heap on the floor.

The twitch of Burakh's prick was visible through the fabric of his underwear. "Forward's good," he confirmed all in a rush. "I'm a big fan of forward."

"As am I," Daniil agreed, tucking fingers under the hem of Burakh's underwear to pull it down to his knees.

As Daniil repositioned himself, spreading his legs wider so he could align Burakh's full length between the folds of his core, he felt Burakh kicking one leg around. Kicking the underwear off, Daniil realized, and grinned as he slowly began to move.

"Oh. Oh, fuck," Burakh moaned.

Daniil could only hum agreement. He'd screwed his eyes shut to focus on the feeling of the sweet drag of Burakh's cockhead against his own prick, enlarged and poking out of its hood. His own slick made it easy to ride the length of Burakh's prick. Each and every sliding thrust felt more natural and necessary than the last.

Burakh seemed to agree with that, too: his hands grabbed onto the soft of Daniil's ass, fingers digging in so hard it would probably mean bruises, just to slip harder and more efficiently against him.

This was what Daniil had wanted. The heat and the movement and the building need. This had been his private daydream and the cause of his sudden horror not more than fifteen minutes ago. Exactly this.

"F-fuck, Dankovsky... I need—Let me fuck you. I mean," Burakh interrupted, correcting himself, "if you, uh, want that. Because I want that."

Now it was Daniil who laughed a little, giddy and flattered, and brought his movements to a lazy, barely-there rocking. He drew out the long seconds before he responded just to watch the desperate hope in Burakh's eyes.

Then, finally: "Yes, I want that, too."

He sat up on wobbly knees to assess the mess he'd made of them both. Burakh's prick was wet and glistening with Daniil's slick... enough of it to use to ease himself down. Next he leaned back, reaching two fingers through his core to wetten them, then reaching them around to start to prise himself open.

"Oh."

"What? Don't tell me you have a problem with this. If you meant to come on to a man in the first place, I figured you'd have assumed—"

Burakh was quickly shaking his head. "Dankovsky, do you really think I'm one to look a gift horse in the—well, the..."

"Don't finish that sentence either," Daniil groaned, half in exasperation and half as he curled his own fingers the way he knew he liked. He felt himself relaxing. Leaning further back so he could see what he was doing, he took Burakh's prick by the base in his other hand and slowly worked up the length until he had enough control to guide it against his hole. It took some doing to slip it first against his fingers then pull those fingers away without botching the whole operation, but when both of them hissed simultaneous noises of pleasure, Daniil felt confident enough to brace both palms against the bed behind his back.

"Stay goddamned still," he insisted, lowering himself down what felt like a millimeter at a time.

Burakh's hands had tightened entirely in the sheets, fabric twisting hard into his balled fists. "Yeah, got it, will do..." he breathed dreamily, not seeming especially like he could move if he tried.

All told, it wasn't much time at all before Daniil managed to take him in entirely, bottoming out on his prick with his back arched so he was nearly looking straight up. Somehow he wouldn't be surprised if he'd seen a scattering of stars painted across the ceiling. Especially once he started moving and Burakh's hands held fast onto either side of his waist.

Daniil lifted himself up and back then dropped down and forward, slowly at first but not for long, until he and Burakh were fucking in a rough, dirty rhythm, skin smacking against skin every time Daniil slammed down to meet their bodies together.

Burakh's hands dug in tightly again. Yet another set of deep bruises marking Daniil's skin. Daniil could hardly deny the way the strength of Burakh's hands made him shiver with arousal. He bit down on his lower lip as his toes curled in and his front hole ached to no avail, clenching desperately around nothing while Daniil drew his pleasure elsewhere.

Still— "Touch me already..."

Nodding rapidly, apologetically, Burakh lifted one hand off of Daniil's waist and immediately placed it with his thumb pad just under Daniil's prick, ready to push up and rub. "Like this?"

"Yes," Daniil gasped, and then again, "yes, yes," until it became something of a mantra, less a word than a noise, and one that continued through the onrush of Daniil's orgasm. Any coherent thought disappeared in a long moment of reckless bliss that left him quivering and panting in its aftermath.

The thought of getting up and facing the day nearly pained Daniil. He stayed seated on Burakh's prick for as long as he could get away with it, rubbing against his pelvis to steal whatever more sensation he could from Burakh being buried so deep inside. As it turned out, he could only get away with it for a minute or so while Burakh was still catching his breath, then he was quickly heaved up and off.

"I'd be worried about my dignity, being tossed around like that," Daniil teased near-breathlessly, "except I'm not sure whether you still believe I have any."

Burakh rolled his eyes. Among the mess of shining slick on him, there was also a trail of thicker white cum running down his softening prick and over the curve of his balls; it was no doubt a match for the wet warmth dripping out of Daniil's hole and gathering between his thighs. He must look absolutely ruined.

But all Burakh said, after everything, was "you're exactly the same pain-in-the ass arrogant colleague you were yesterday, don't worry," and. Well.

Daniil liked this morning quite a lot more already.

i really liked this prompt and so i... also wanted to try filling it, i hope that's okay!
--
The offer had been what Daniil would term a nicety. He wasn’t prone to those. He’s not exactly been in the most generous of moods in the short time he’s spent in this hellhole, and the town hasn’t given him much of a reason to feel more giving.

Present company is the one exception to the rule. Daniil’s not sure what to call it – just a funny feeling he gets when he looks at the other man, this wriggling notion in the pit of his stomach and sometimes his chest that tells him he can expect more out of the Haruspex. Damned if he knows about the other two healers, but there’s something different about Artemy. Something Daniil can’t quite name, but something he’s keeping his eye on all the same.

So, what the hell. He can offer up his bed in this trying time. It’s not like he’s using it; at least, not the first time he offers, busy with the sample of bull’s blood Artemy brought by to have him check. But it’s not an isolated incident. Artemy comes back, sometimes for chats, sometimes for quick naps. They’ll take their rest where they can get it, but last night they both needed to get a little shut eye and…

Well. Here they are. On the bed. Spooning, with Artemy’s arms wrapped around Daniil’s waist. It’s probably the first time in five years Daniil’s been held like this. It might give him feelings akin to affection if there wasn’t a more pressing issue.

Pressing into his backside, that is.

He’s not sure what to do with this. He’s been awake about five minutes now. For the first minute and a half he didn’t want to move because he was comfortable, which wasn’t something he could boast about his usual sleeping habits. And the other three and a half minutes he hasn’t wanted to move because there’s a sizeable erection pressed into his ass, and he’s feeling mortifyingly caught between confusion and total, unbridled lust.

This must be one of those feelings Burakh inspires in him. Pity he didn’t realize it sooner – or maybe much, much later, when he could make a move in a way that wouldn’t be miserably awkward. Artemy’s still snoring away right next to his ear, dead to the world, and Daniil’s not sure he wants to try and extricate himself and wake the sleeping bear. There’s no good outcomes to this mess if he does, just an awful shuffle of excuses as his companion tries to work out apologies that Daniil, frankly, doesn’t want to hear, and –

God, it’s been too long since he’s had sex. He can feel his arousal working its way through his body as his mind just dances with the possibilities, with flitting images of Artemy’s hand down his pants and his hot breath on Daniil’s neck, his teeth sinking into flesh, opening Daniil up to take him in.

“Shudkher.” It’s the quietest Daniil’s ever heard another person swear.

“Oh good,” Daniil says, “you’re up.”

He hopes the pun speaks for itself. Artemy isn’t in any hurry to remove himself, possibly in the wake of his embarrassment locking his body into place. Daniil can feel the heat from Artemy’s cheek on his own before the man even speaks again. “Dankovsky –“

“I think we’re beyond last names now, Artemy.”

“Daniil,” he corrects, and then he squirms, and Daniil has to bite his lip from making some sort of stupid noise at how wet he’s getting, “I am – I am so, so sorry about this. I don’t know what happened –“

“Yes you do,” Daniil says, and either his imagination is very good at psychosomatic sensations or Artemy has just gone even more rigid. “It’s early morning. Your body is in the process of waking up. Blood flow to the area and… all that.”

“Right,” Artemy replies, his voice faint. “Blood flow.”

But there’s something that just doesn’t line up in the way he speaks. Too soft, not agreeable enough. Or maybe it’s the way his hand still hasn’t moved from Daniil’s waist, his hips only jerking his body against Daniil’s without making any significant progress to move away. And Daniil might be oblivious to many things: to social customs, to norms, to tradition, but he’s not stupid. If things are going to be lingering in this direction – well, there’s no need for them to straggle when he can simply help them along.

“Artemy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to do something about this little problem, or am I going to have to assist you?”

There’s a moment of genuine thought process, when Artemy doesn’t say anything at all. His fingers squeeze Daniil’s hip, but don’t move, like the man himself isn’t sure of what to do. It takes a second for him to answer, his voice rough as it pushes through his throat. “Honestly, I think I’m a little stuck.” He sounds wrecked already, and Daniil wants to hear more of it.

“Allow me to help you, then.” Daniil sets his hand over Artemy’s and pushes their thumbs under the band of his trousers and undergarments, shimmying them down to mid-thigh. He hears Artemy’s guttural oh as he pushes back against his clothed erection, reaching one hand back to try and jerk the man’s slacks down. It’s a little difficult when Artemy’s not really following the implied direction, his hand curved around Daniil’s thigh, but Daniil manages well enough with the buttons.

He catches on, finally, and their hands clash around the actual disrobing of his dick. Something that Daniil would very much like to see, but he’s fine for the moment just wrapping one hand around his length and getting a feel for it. Thicker than Daniil had been expecting – so it wasn’t just the fabric of his trousers giving him an edge. Daniil’s hand strokes down and his legs part, for as much as his half-worn trousers will let him.

“My thighs,” he says, and Artemy gets the message much quicker this time. Artemy adjusts himself so his cock is situated between Daniil’s parted legs, and waits for Daniil to lower his leg to make his first jerky move forward.

“Oh,” Artemy says again. Daniil pulls the hem of his shirt up, looks down to where the head of Artemy’s cock has started to poke out from between his thighs. Artemy shifts and presses as close to Daniil as he can, his testicles pressed to Daniil’s thighs. “You’re wet.” The words come out as a revelation, his cock moving back through the slick on Daniil’s skin before he thrusts forward again.

“Astute observation,” Daniil chides, but he’s too breathless to put any venom into it. Artemy’s fingers are burning where they grab onto his hip, and he’s reaching his left hand down to part his folds. Artemy rolls his hips and Daniil makes a horrible little noise, something akin to begging in the tone.

“You’re into this,” Artemy concludes. Daniil can’t think of any pithy remarks to make to that, and so he settles for keeping his mouth clamped shut as his bedmate’s fingers make their way down around his thigh. If nothing else, his partner’s movements are becoming more confident, rocking with a sort of rhythm as he works himself between Daniil’s thighs. “Nothing to say to defend yourself? You just liked the feeling of my cock against your ass?”

Daniil squeezes his legs tight together in response, and Artemy’s nails bite into his skin. He moans, pulling himself up, throwing his left leg over Daniil’s hips. His cock slides between Daniil’s folds, nudging his own neglected dick in the process. It makes Daniil squirm, desperate for rougher contact.

“How long have you wanted to do this?” Artemy teases him. His hand moves dangerously close to Daniil’s sex, but not enough to touch just yet. “You came up with this solution awfully fast. Don’t tell me you were waiting for this moment, Daniil. You don’t seem the type to wait.” Daniil rocks back against him, forcing the head of Artemy’s cock to grind against his own as he goes. “There you go, Daniil,” he huffs, hips jerking in short little thrusts. “Asking works just as well.”

It’s still not quite enough. He’s so close to just slipping inside that Daniil’s wants have evolved, his fingers poised over his cock. “You know asking is a difficulty for me,” he rasps, and listens to Artemy grunt in acknowledgement. “But I suppose you like this. Seeing me flustered.”

“Suppose I do.” Another agonizing rub against Daniil’s sensitive cock. Daniil curls his fingers, trying his hardest not to give in, not to touch. He wants so much more. “Suppose I like it when you’re all worked up. It’s cute, you quiet and wanton, trying not to touch yourself.” Dammit. Daniil didn’t think he’d noticed. “Like a cat’s got your tongue. I don’t imagine many people get to see you like this.”

“You imagine correct.” Daniil swallows, rolls himself back on Artemy’s cock. “While we’re on the topic of things you imagine: do you ever imagine me on my knees?”

Artemy laughs, short and breathy against Daniil’s neck. It makes his hair stand on end. Daniil squirms as Artemy’s hand moves around to his stomach, pushing his shirt up with his palm flat atop Daniil’s navel. “Of course I have. That mouth can be put to much better use than the Latin you spew.”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind.” Daniil turns on his side, Artemy’s cock slipping between his folds as he moves. He bows his back, lifts his waist and tries to kick his trousers off as they pool around his knees. He can feel Artemy’s length twitch against his thigh, and arrogance returns to his demeanor for just a second, smirking with his face buried in the pillow. “Well?”

He can all but hear the gears turning in Artemy’s head. If he tilted his head, he’s sure he’d see that look of surprise, lips parted, lids lowering. “I don’t have a –“

“I don’t care,” Daniil interrupts. He spreads his thighs and waits, skin tingling as Artemy finally makes up his mind. His fingers trace lightly around Daniil’s thigh as he readjusts himself, sitting up on his knees behind Daniil. Daniil pushes back up on him, his cock grinding against Daniil’s ass.

Two fingers rub Daniil’s fold, sliding between them to collect the slick before they press into him. Artemy lets out a soft gasp as he prepares Daniil, his fingers spreading as he works him open. Daniil rocks on his fingers, his lip caught between his teeth as he moves. Artemy slips a third in and curls, drawing a mewl from Daniil the man tries to abort. But there’s little use in hiding his pleasure, not when Artemy seems so determined to seek it out.

“I can’t wait any longer.” He’s surprised it’s Artemy speaking and not himself. The other man withdraws his fingers and directs Daniil’s hips with his right and, and the left – the left is clearly working on lining himself up, the head of his cock pushing inside, filling Daniil as his fingers tighten in the bedsheets. It takes a moment before Artemy’s fully seated, Daniil’s muscles squeezing around the throbbing length inside him.

Now, Daniil assumes he knows Artemy. Not particularly well, perhaps, but enough to know how this will go. He assumes Artemy will start slowly, build up a pace, that Daniil will have to beg for him to go faster, go harder.

Daniil assumes wrong. Artemy’s gotten just as needy as he has, his hands tight on Daniil’s hips as he moves. Daniil is thankful his mouth is partially obscured by the pillow, because he’d be making all sorts of ridiculous noises if it weren’t. This feels too damn good, and as much as Daniil wants to reach under and rub himself off, he won’t.

But Artemy will. He bends over Daniil’s back, right hand holding him in place and left covering his cock. His fingers press down, grind, and Daniil sobs, his lips wrapped around his pillow. “So it turns out you do - you do have some good ideas, emshen,” Artemy says. His words are almost drowned out by the lewd sound of their bodies moving together. His hips are working so fast Daniil can hardly breathe, overwhelmed by the fingers circling his cock. Daniil’s body tenses, and Artemy grunts. “Gonna make me cum like that.”

He has to let the pillow drop from his mouth to speak, spit trailing down his chin. “That’s the – the idea, isn’t it?” He’s not so good at talking now his body’s full, mind too hazy with pleasure to keep up. He can feel his orgasm building in his stomach, slamming his hips back to meet Artemy’s thrusts. Between the frantic pace, the feeling of the sheets under his knees and in his hands, the hand on his cock, the breath hot and loud in his ear, the mattress thumping under them – Daniil’s getting overwhelmed.

His body seizes. He cries out, thighs shaking as he comes. Artemy’s hand stays insistent on his cock as he falls apart, body pliant when he finishes. Artemy mumbles something Daniil cannot understand, his hand moving up to Daniil’s stomach as he thrusts once, twice, and stills, buried deep inside Daniil.

A moment passes, and they collapse. First Daniil, his hips dropping back to the bed, Artemy’s cock sliding out of him; and then Artemy, laying gingerly on top of him, his nails still biting into Daniil’s skin. Daniil listens as his heart rate starts to return to normal, only for it to rocket once again with a brush of lips against his neck. This, this is more like what he expected from someone so soft-hearted. It’ll be amusing, once Daniil remembers how to speak.

“So,” Artemy says, letting go of Daniil’s hip to rub his thigh. “This was…nice.”

Daniil takes a second to lick his lips and find his voice before he attempts a reply. “Nice,” he repeats. “That’s one way to put it.”

“And how would you put it?”

A pause. “I’ll have to come again.” Artemy snorts. Daniil hums, feeling contented for the first time in… a while. “You know, nice as this has been, we can’t stay here all day. We both have things to do, Inquisitors to meet, children to care for –“

“Alright, alright. I get the message.” He rolls off of Daniil, standing to fix his trousers. “You know, I really do appreciate you letting me use your bed. Even without, uh. That.” Daniil can feel him sitting back down on the bed, and as he turns to face Artemy he finds the man much closer than he’d been expecting. And he’s startled by it, flustered again by his presence. As if they hadn’t just been in the act of pleasuring each other.

Artemy tilts his head and brushes their lips together. Daniil is helpless, melting into it.

When he pulls back, Artemy is all smug self-assuredness. It’s a feeling Daniil is better used to, but it looks great on him. “Just like I said. Cute.”

“Get out of here before I throw something at you,” Daniil grumbles, but he knows the threat doesn’t do much to hide the blush in his cheeks. Artemy laughs, fuller this time, and exits, but Daniil knows he’ll be back.

He looks forward to it.

god thank u for this food i loved it. i am so happy this has gotten two fills.

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artemy/daniil - morning wood + embarrassment

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