by Phail
(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/159901.html)
The problem with Kiran’s fantasies isn’t that they are too vivid. No, he can always tell when he’s day-dreaming (or, in some cases, night-dreaming); the problem is that his fantasies are entire fucking worlds, and he’s always much happier there than he could ever be in real life.
Their feet make little noise on the polished white-and-grey marble floors, but they do get said floors dirty. It is Kiran’s job to wash the floors three times a day, during the hours when the acolytes are in ritual prayer.
Ki does so dutifully, once he’s dared himself a quick peek into the prayer-room. Rows and rows of boys matching his own nineteen years and younger, kneeling on mats, the bottoms of their feet on full display, from heel to toe and even flashes of ankle here and there. So many feet. He ducks out again, and begins work.
Always, he barely finishes in time, barely moving himself, his wooden bucket, his brush, and his drying-rag out of the way before all those feet make a quiet sort of stream out of the prayer room. One at a time, once they’ve received a sip of the ritual blessing-wine.
Some feet run, some walk, some stop for quick, whispered conversations. But none talk to Ki, because he is only a slave, little more than a part of the temple’s architecture for the acolytes.
If wishes were fishes…
“You there,” someone says, and a lovely pair of feet that he doesn’t recognize walk up. They’re well-formed, not too large or too small. Right in the middle, average, but beautiful because of it rather than in spite of it.
“Sir?” Ki answers hesitantly. Most would not converse with a pillar, and therefore do not converse with Ki, but this pair of feet is different.
The feet shift, like the owner is shifting his weight, and when they are still again both are pointing directly at Ki. “You wash the floors here, right?”
Ki responds the only way he knows how: “Yes, sir.”
A hand touches Ki’s shoulder, but he keeps his gaze squarely on the pretty feet. “You do a good job. My name’s Tavi, by the way.”
It’s the first time anyone’s given Ki their name directly; usually he learns names when the acolytes call out to one another. Tavi must be new, because it’s not a name he’s heard before, and feet that pretty must have a pretty face to match. Not that Ki’s allowed to see it, or anything.
And again the feet shift, taking a baby step closer, so close that Ki feels Tavi’s breath on his cheek when Tavi leans in and says, “It’s customary to tell your name, when someone gives you theirs.”
Oh. Ki licks his lips, and imagines that he can taste the blessing-wine on Tavi’s breath. “Ki, sir. I am Ki.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Tavi’s hand, still perched on Ki’s shoulder, squeezes gently for a moment before falling away. His feet shift again and this time only one points at Ki, while the other points back into the prayer room. “I hope to see you again, Ki.”
This time Ki really can smell the sharp tang of the blessing-wine. “Yes, sir,” he whispers, when Tavi’s feet begin to walk away.
But Kiran is not an anthro; he is a normal human, a rarity in this day and age, and he is a personal assistant to a member of the Milky Way Congress. He has very few hours in the day that are his own, but he’s happy despite that.
There are all sorts of interns in and out constantly, and one in particular catches Kiran’s eye a few days after he starts. His name is Tavi, and he is some sort of dog anthro, with black fur all over like a wrong-colored golden retriever, floppy triangle-shaped ears, a snout, and a tail long enough that it brushes the ground. He even walks on his toes, as animals do.
Nothing in particular catches Kiran’s eye; it’s more like everything Tavi does is filled with an unconscious sensuality. When his paw brushes Kiran’s hand as he passes a handscreen, Kiran’s heart beats harder, faster, and his breath catches in his throat and for long moments he is frozen.
Then Tavi’s tail wags twice, and the spell is broken. “Thanks,” Tavi says, and his ears are all perked forward, his eyes shining with happiness.
Kiran blushes, of course, and mumbles some reply and goes back to working.
One day short of five weeks into Tavi’s internship (Kiran knows because he knows how long all the interns have been there, not because he has some sort of special interest or anything) Tavi asks Kiran out.
“On a date,” Tavi specifies quickly. His tail is between his legs and his ears are back, but not in a hostile way.
“I–” Kiran licks his lips. “I suppose, if there aren’t any rules against it.” (And there aren’t. He’s checked.)
Even so, Tavi leans in and says in a growly sort of tone, “Fuck the rules.”
Kiran’s body is hot all over, his cock half-hard, his breath coming up short, his legs just the slightest bit unsteady.
“Let’s have some fun,” Tavi says, still in that growly tone, and wraps his paw around Kiran’s hand, and pulls him toward the exit.
They bid him, the bathing-servant, to come and bathe them and he knows without asking that he is required to do what they ask and act as if he feels nothing while doing it.
Of course there has to be one to break the pattern.
“Wash me,” Tavi says. His black hair falls in his black eyes, hides his long ears, but doesn’t do anything to hide the provocative quality present in the upward tilt of Tavi’s thin lips.
There is nothing Ki would enjoy more, so he says “Yes, sir” and fetches a sponge and a brick of soap. The type he grabs is light pink, and has a slight grit to it as he’s lathering the sponge up, as well as a light scent of grapefruit.
The bathing-room is larger than Ki’s own room, four times the size, tiled with rough marble from floor to ceiling, with a bath that is more like a pool. Tavi sits on the edge of the pool, his feet in the warm water and his hands behind him, supporting himself by way of the wide, black marble rim all the way around the edge of the bath.
Tavi is pliant, as always. He lets Ki lift his arms, spreads his legs so that Ki can get at his genitals, and stands up for Ki to wash his backside. Ki washes slowly, with care, scrubbing gently but thoroughly as he has been taught. “Done,” he says, and pulls away, looking over his work. Lather from head to knees, including Tavi’s face, and for some reason the sight of all that makes Ki’s cock twitch.
The lather floats to the surface when Tavi slips into the hot water, and Tavi comes up all the way across the pool, against the far wall. “Again,” he commands, and stands on the seat there, feet shoulder width apart, back to Ki.
Who obeys, stepping into the bath still clad in his servant-robes. He washes everything he can reach, shoulders and arms and upper back, then slides the sponge down the indent where Tavi’s spine is until he reaches Tavi’s backside.
“Wash it,” Tavi commands, the words sending a thrill through Ki’s body, making his cock stand up and pay attention to the goings-on.
Ki acquiesces silently as ever, re-lathering from the unscented brick on a nearby shelf. This one isn’t gritty, the feeling smooth as he pushes the sponge over each cheek slowly, then down the cleft and back up again. Tavi turns around and ducks under the water, his hands finding Ki’s cock through the servant-robes, touching, teasing, and finally pulling away as Tavi surfaces once more.
“Again.” Tavi says it softly this time, and swims to the other edge and bends over, leaving no doubt as to what it is that he wants washed. “With your tongue.”
Ki does exactly as he is told, even if he’s never done it before. He licks and licks, cock throbbing at the taste of soap and cleanness, pulling Tavi’s cheeks apart and thrusting his tongue inside, then licks more.
By the way Tavi is moving he can tell that Tavi’s masturbating, but it’s not his place to comment, so he doesn’t. A soft cry marks Tavi’s orgasm, and he turns over and says one last time, “With your tongue.”
Most of it went into the water, but there’s still bits on his belly, and his hand, and his cock. The taste is not any kind of delicacy, but Ki does clean all of it off, with his tongue and then with the sponge and more gritty, scented soap.
Tavi dips under the water one last time and departs, leaving a whole gold crown as Ki’s tip for today.
“I want that sphere bot project done today,” he says at a meeting, voice firm and unwavering.
“You’ll probably have to stay late, but that’s sort of the plan,” he adds later, when he visits Kiran’s tiny office. The words are delivered with a grin that can only be described as sensual, and a licking of the lips that is six parts sexy and zero parts nervous.
“Aye aye, captain,” Kiran replies, a smile playing on his lips because– well, the sphere bot project is all but done. It just needs some tweaks. The staying after work will hopefully be filled with some kind of delivery on the teasing that’s been going on over the past few weeks, though.
“And no pet projects,” Tavi calls on his way out of Kiran’s office. “It will do what the contract specifies and not a damn bit more.”
Tavi doesn’t show up in Kiran’s office again the entire rest of the day– an unusual occurrence, which bodes well for Kiran actually getting some tonight. He shows up once everyone else has left, with his tie loose and the top two buttons of his dress-shirt unbuttoned, and leans against the doorjamb. “So, show me this bot of yours,” he says, like he hasn’t seen Kiran working on it for three months.
The contract specified that they wanted a chrome sphere-bot that would function in low-g environments. It had tiny little air thrusters all around its body, and in the experiments had functioned rather well.
“Let’s try it out.” Tavi’s tone doesn’t allow for argument; Kiran follows him to the low-g room.
“Strip,” Tavi says, softly, as the door glides closed.
Kiran stares blankly, because– well– that was sudden. But–
“Strip,” Tavi says it louder this time, and opens the control panel on the back of the sphere-bot, keying in some code or another. It floats across the room to Kiran and moves up to eye-level with him, scanning his eyes no doubt to confirm his identity, then a hatch on its right side slides open and one of the mechanical arms snakes out, reaching down and pulling impatiently at Kiran’s shirt.
“You programmed the bot to be a pervert!” he says, voice much squeaker than he would have liked, but whatever.
“And if I did?” Tavi sounds unconcerned.
Kiran wonders how long, how long has his boss been planning on using one of their prototypes for the client to do pervy things to Kiran, but– but it doesn’t really matter; this is what he wants, is it not? “Nevermind,” he mumbles, and strips.
The low-g room is supposed to be neither warm nor cold, but that is only if he’s dressed. Now he’s naked, it’s cold, and he rubs his arms, chafing them to warm himself up.
“You won’t be cold for long,” Tavi says, voice all warm amusement.
That, naturally, is the moment that Kiran feels the cool touch of plastic on the inside of his thigh. He goes tense all over, and looka down to see one of the sphere-bot’s prehensile ‘arms’ touching there. It is about a half-inch in diameter, and slick. The air smells faintly of machine oil. “What the–”
Tavi’s look shifts to amused, dark eyes dancing with it. “I took the liberty of installing a new sub-routine. It’ll only work with my prompt and password; the customer will never know it’s there.”
Another arm comes out of the same flap as the first, and Kiran recalls suddenly that there are three arms in all, and wonders if the third will get in on the act. The first arm is working its way between Kiran’s thighs, the slick default nub– a non-hand– probing gently at his hole. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to,” Tavi says, like daring Kiran to contest his words.
Kiran can’t do much of anything, not with the way the first arm is pushing inside of him. Well, he can fight back, but being fingered by a robot is actually kind of sexy so– yeah. “O…kay?” What the fuck else do you say to that, really?
Tavi pushes off from the floor and floats over, magnets on the soles of his shoes clinking as he stands once more, his face just inches from Kiran’s. “Just relax.” He can smell the coffee Tavi had earlier, can feel the warmth of his breath, so close, just a little closer and they’ll be kissing. “The robot knows what to do.”
He only jumps about a mile, of course, his head still filled with the day dream about the robot tentacles. Hell; he has to stop this, or Tavi’s going to figure it out. “Sorry. Was I spaced long?”
Tavi shrugs. “I couldn’t tell, honestly. I was, you know, studying. The way you’re supposed to be.”
“Right.” He’s going to fail his finals at this rate, and then his brother will get into med school and Ki will have to be a veterinarian or something. “Sorry– what’re you studying now?”
“Organic chem.”
Ki groaned. His least favorite subject. “Do we have to study that?”
“Since you’re taking the class as well? Yeah, we do, actually. But we could spice things up a little, make studying interesting enough to hold your attention.”
For a moment, Ki thinks that he must be dreaming. Surely Tavi didn’t just say that, with a glint in his eye like this is one of Ki’s endless fantasies. “What?” he asks, just in case he misheard.
“I said, let’s make studying interesting. Rodney introduced me to strip studying, last week, and I feel like it could work for us too.”
Could work for us. Right. Like it’s normal for brothers to play strip studying. Ki’s mouth is dry, and it takes a few tries to get out the words “You sure about this?” around the lump in his throat.
“Course I’m sure!” Tavi’s grin says that Kiran’s fears are silly, and founded on foolish things like normalcy and morals, things which he knows for sure that Tavi scoffs at. “Now, are we playing, or what? ’cause if not–”
“I’ll play,” Ki says. Squeaks. Whatever.
“Oh, good.” The way it works is easy, according to Tavi: they ask each other questions from their notes, and if one of them gets a question wrong then they have to strip off an article of clothing. Belts don’t count as an item; socks are one item. “Extra incentive to get things right, Mr I-hate-organic-chemistry.”
The first question is easy, thank goodness. He gives Tavi an easy question in return, and Tavi answers it correctly.
The second is some kind of bullcrap that Kiran pulls from God knows where and manages to answer the question only half-right.
“Almost doesn’t count,” Tavi says, with that smirk, that goddamn smirk. “Take something off.”
Ki chooses to take off his shirt first, maybe as a sort of distraction technique, but it doesn’t really work because Tavi gets the second question right too. Bastard.
But Kiran gets the third question right while Tavi gets it wrong, and that smug look wavers for a moment before returning full-force. “This is what you were hoping for, isn’t it? Me naked.” Tavi pulls off his jeans and– surprise– he’s wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Naked, except for his socks and shirt, and Ki can see the muscles in his thighs, can just about taste his brother’s skin.
He’s eternally grateful that he chose to take of his shirt and not his jeans, because he’s sporting a halfie but– but the whole thing still feels so unreal that he doesn’t care. He answers the fourth question wrong and throws his socks at Tavi; Tavi gets it right and throws them back at Ki.
They both get the fifth and sixth questions right, and the seventh wrong. Kiran balls up his jeans after he takes them off and puts them over his lap, over the tent in his boxers, and Tavi doesn’t stop him. Tavi does throw his shirt at Ki, when he answers incorrectly, and as Ki is pulling the green, cottony mess off his head winks in a way that makes Ki blush.
Fucking brothers and their fucking winking in the middle of fucking strip goddamn studying. Who plays that kind of game in the first place? Really, like, who plays it, and doesn’t have designs on the other person’s virtue. That’s the point of strip-anything, but Tavi seems too happy to just sit there grinning. Lewdly.
“Are we actually going to do anything, or are you going to sit there with that dirty look on your face the whole time?” he ends up asking, instead of an eighth question, once he’s gotten his own correct.
Tavi just laughs, because accusations of incest are apparently a laughing matter for him. Becuase he’s Tavi, and that’s just how he rolls, that’s just his fucking, his goddamn modus operandi and all of the sudden Kiran can’t take it anymore. If Tavi’s not going to do anything, well, Ki will do something, then.
Smug bastard that he is, Tavi just turns his face upward as Ki stands over him. “As frightening as your hard-on is, I–” is as far as he gets before Kiran kisses him. Tavi kisses back, but doesn’t try to take control of the kiss. Just slides his tongue against Ki’s, and makes a happy sound into the kiss.
Neither of them speak when the kiss breaks, and there are a few breathless moments when Ki wants very badly to tackle Tavi and isn’t entirely sure he could, and Tavi just pants, soft, quick little breaths in and out.
Ki fully expects to wake up any second, and just kneels there waiting for that moment. But before it comes Tavi’s breaths even out and he opens his eyes– black as night– and smiles. “Is that all you could work yourself up to? I thought you had more in you than that.”
The idea that Tavi is doing this on purpose, is working Kiran up on purpose because he’s a horny, insufferable prick is just too much. Ki puts his hands on his brother’s shoulders and pushes Tavi back against the tiled floor, but gently enough to not be an ass about it– banging one’s head mid-coitus is decidedly unsexy, not that they’re to the coitus part yet, but Ki is intent on making sure they get there without mishap.
“And just what is it that you want me to do?” Ki asks, with more authority than he actually feels. “Or is anything good enough for you?”
Tavi shrugs, a smooth movement that he probably doesn’t even realize is sexy. “I don’t know, I was thinking you’d fuck me, but if you’d rather not, I could always blow you instead.”
Ki’s head spins with possibilities, and he is breathless for long moments. Fuck Tavi. Or be blown. Why has he never imagined that Tavi might want to be the one who takes the submissive role? He always thought that himself, as the younger, and the quieter, and the… he is distracting himself, and he is going to wake up any moment. “Blow me?”
“Gladly.” Tavi shimmies down, pulling Ki’s boxers as he goes, and Kiran breathes in a shaky breath in the space between when the cool air touches his cock and when Tavi’s warm tongue follows behind it. Then Tavi’s lips close around the glans and Ki breathes out a moan, soft and shaky with the effort to stay quiet. They have their own apartment, but– but it just seems wrong to make a lot of noise, and–
The rest of that thought is obliterated by Tavi’s tongue and fierce suction. Ki’s never had a blowjob from a guy before– Tavi being the only guy he fancies– and it’s, well, different is a vast understatement. The same goes for good. It’s fantastic, and Tavi dives right in, like he’s done this thousands of times before– which he may have, actually, but that’s totally not a thought that Kiran wants to be having and so he concentrates instead on the warmth and the delicious way Tavi’s hands are grasping his hips, holding them in place.
“T-Tavi,” he says, or tries to say, but the word comes out more a whine than anything else and Tavi just keeps right on going, sucking for all he’s worth, making Ki’s knees go weak. “We should–”
“Sixty-nine?” Tavi asks, with a– a tone. “Excellent idea.”
So they arrange themselves on their sides and for the first time in his life, Ki finds himself face-to-face with a cock. (His brother’s cock. Oh, fuck, that shouldn’t be so sexy, but it is, and he finds himself thrusting into Tavi’s mouth without meaning to. Tavi’s hips rock forward, too, and his cock brushes Ki’s lips, and Ki’s tongue darts out and tastes precome. He’s tasted his own before; he knows what it tastes like, but he’s never sucked his own cock before (that sort of thing isn’t possible, as far as he can tell) and so the experience of wrapping his lips around Tavi’s cock and giving it a good, hard suck is a completely new one.
The feeling of Tavi moaning around his cock is– sexy. Sexier than he would have given credit for; the sensation makes Ki’s hips buck again and he realizes quite suddenly that he’s about to come. Tavi chooses that moment to rock his hips forward once more, so Ki’s warning becomes “Mm-mmgnng”, but that doesn’t trip Tavi up at all, and Ki moans as he comes. Tavi swallows around Ki’s cock, three swallows and then pulling away to rest his head on Kiran’s thigh and pant with exertion.
And roll his hips, reminding Ki what he’s supposed to be doing, but Ki’s no good at it; he settles instead for spitting in his hand and giving the best handjob he possibly can. Tavi doesn’t complain (how could he) and he comes sometime after Kiran’s switched hands three times, because the angle is hard on his wrists.
“So,” Tavi sighs, in a contented sort of way. “Back to studying?”
