Archive of Our Own

Something’s burning a hole in Simon’s heart when he wakes. He tosses and turns on the spare mattress, a breathless whine escaping him. He writhes in the blanket—Ryland’s blanket—and realizes what it is that he’s missing.

Simon draws the fabric closer to his face. He breathes it in deep, allowing the scent of it to fill his nose and his lungs. He lets himself melt in comfort and love and pleasure, all these things he never thought he could have. Things he never thought he could deserve. Things that Ryland gives him, like it’s nothing. 

The now-familiar ache between his legs makes itself known to Simon.

Simon groans and shoves his face back down into the blanket. It’s embarrassing. He’s embarrassed at himself. He does not need to be getting himself so worked up at the slightest thought of his lover. 

But it’s okay, a sweet voice sings inside his head, half Ryland and half his own treacherous thoughts. You’re safe now. You can feel good. You can let go. 

Simon forces himself to sit up and shrug off the blanket from around his shoulders. He tries to ignore the swirling of warmth and desire in his gut, the slow pulse of blood to his crotch. He tries to think about what he needs to do today that doesn’t involve shoving a hand down his pants or huffing Ryland’s linens. Like watering the plants. Yeah, he can do that. That’s a good idea.

Ryland, the siren’s voice inside his head calls. Ryland, Ryland, Ryland, angel, angel, angel—

Simon smacks his fist against his forehead. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need to be dumb and horny and weak for Ryland Grace. He doesn’t! He wants to be useful and pull his own weight on this goddamn ship. He’s better than this.

…It sounds pretty convincing, at least at first. 

Finally, Simon manages to stand himself up. It pains him to leave the blanket behind, but it helps to tell himself how ridiculous he’d look walking around with the thing. And it would please Ryland way too much to see that. 

Well, he might look ridiculous already. He certainly feels ridiculous, with his hair still mussed from sleep, shirtless in just a pair of gray sweatpants. Not to mention that he’s somehow already half-hard without even touching himself. He adamantly tries not to focus on how the fabric brushes against him with each movement, a feeling worsened by his lack of underwear. Because of course he’s not wearing underwear. He’s sure Ryland would have some choice words for him if he saw him like this. 

On his way to the plants, Simon realizes that it may be a good idea to try to find a shirt. It’s a pain to try to get a shirt on by himself, but maybe adding another layer of clothing will help pull his brain out of the arousal-fog that it’s currently stuck in. 

A splash of bright color catches the corner of Simon’s eye. Just his luck. As he passes by the bathroom, there’s a haphazard pile of Ryland’s clothing near the entrance.

Used? Probably. Simon swallows thickly.

He tells himself he has good intentions as he pulls the item from the top of the pile. It’s Ryland’s tan cardigan, the one with foxes embroidered beautifully on the sides. It’s perfect.

Simon holds the soft fabric with an air of worship. Carefully, he shrugs the cardigan around his shoulders and slides his arm through the sleeve. The fabric is warm and delightful on his bare skin. It’s absolutely-the-fuck-not an item that he would ever choose for himself. It’s thoroughly Ryland’s. And Simon does not hate how that makes him feel.

Simon pulls the collar of the sweater towards his face. He dips his nose into it, inhaling as if he can feel the presence of Ryland just by breathing in the fabric of his shirt. 

Ryland would be so goddamn unbearable to him; Simon knows it. Ryland would grin widely and twirl Simon around and say something like “You always look so good in my clothing, sweetheart.” Something dumb and cheesy that nevertheless would melt Simon’s brain. 

Simon tugs the cardigan tighter around his front. It feels like it’s Ryland that’s enveloping him, not just an item of his clothing. He breathes in the vague smell of skin and sweat, remnants of Ryland’s everyday life. He wants to be part of it. He wants to belong. He belongs with Ryland. He belongs to Ryland.

Simon's breath comes out shaky. The cardigan’s fabric tickles his chest and stomach, now suddenly more sensitive. The bulge in Simon's pants beckons insistently, embarrassingly, for his attention. Ryland’s cardigan holds Simon softly, a comfort and an encouragement.

Leaning his forehead against the wall, Simon lets his hand trail between his legs. He cups his bulge, his way-too-eager cock twitching at the contact. He closes his eyes, lets himself imagine it’s Ryland who’s giving him that gentle, teasing touch. 

Simon is always hopelessly desperate for Ryland’s hands on him. It's because Ryland’s so damn good with it—always finding Simon’s weak spots, always teasing him until he breaks. 

Simon is ashamed of how he adores Ryland giving him pleasure and gentleness. But he's more ashamed of how he aches for Ryland’s cruelty. He wants Ryland to pull everything out of him, exploit him until there’s nothing left for him to hide.

And Simon would obey. He would do whatever Ryland wants, even if it’s just sitting there and taking whatever Ryland has in mind for him. 

Simon is more than aware of the unusual nature of this relationship. He’s dependent on Ryland for everything: food and shelter and clothing and, yes, pleasure. Rationally, he should be terrified that he's in this position. A previous version of him would've fought or stolen or threatened until he got his way. But not this version. 

Ryland, of his own free will, cares for Simon and willingly gives things up for Simon. And Simon has no choice but to take it. Simon is now utterly, completely Ryland’s. 

Simon pulls his hand up to his mouth, biting down on his skin to keep from making any embarrassing noises. His head spins, filled with thoughts that push away his conscience and make room for lust and pleasure. Ryland standing above him as he kneels. Ryland combing soapy fingers through his wet hair. Ryland spoon-feeding him a bite of ramen. Ryland leaning his head against his shoulder during movie night. Ryland with his hand curled tight around the base of Simon's cock, murmuring “Don’t come yet, it’s still too early.”

Heat races through Simon’s veins. His skin burns, his heart on fire. He’s such an idiot. How could he forget? He needs Ryland.

Simon traces a finger along his hard length through the thin fabric. The outline of him is unmistakable, impossible to hide. It’s too late to distract himself. He could take care of it here, wrapped in Ryland’s sweater. Or he could go get the real thing. 

The answer is obvious. 

Simon makes his way towards the lab, bare feet padding along the hard floors. With each step, he feels himself sinking further into that soft, suggestible mental state that he had tried so desperately to avoid. His approach feels like a magnetic pull, always dragging him back to Ryland. 

Outside the lab’s entrance, Simon pauses. He leans against the wall and folds the cardigan over his front. He’s grateful that it’s long enough on him to be able to cover a bit of his crotch. 

Then, he pokes his head in. The lab’s bright lights illuminate Ryland, hunched over the microscope. He hums as he works, following the tune of the music that he’s playing from the laptop. It’s not something Simon recognizes, but it’s warm and pleasant, with twangy guitars and mellow vocals. 

“Morning, Simon!” Ryland calls, without looking up from the microscope. His dexterous fingers manipulate the slide with the stage clips. He turns up the brightness, then moves to his notebook to scribble down a few words. 

Simon pulls the cardigan tighter around himself, suddenly self-conscious. What the hell is he doing, interrupting Ryland in the middle of his work? 

“Good morning, Ry,” Simon responds, attempting to return an upbeat vibe. It comes out closer to “nervous wreck."

Ryland pulls his head up from the eyepiece, letting his glasses fall back down onto his nose. He does a once-over of Simon’s body.

“Woah,” he says, his eyebrows raised. “You look…um…” he trails off. 

“...Is there something I should know about?” Ryland ends up asking, tilting his head towards Simon.

Simon grips the sweater sleeve tightly. “I, uh, I just wanted to see you, angel.”

Ryland nods slowly. “...And?”

Simon shrinks back against the wall, wishing his body—particularly his lower body—might be a little more inconspicuous. Ryland’s prodding, no matter how tame, always gets him so weak.

Ryland crosses his leg across his lap. “I’m waiting.”

“I…” Simon tries to force the words out of his throat. He’s nothing if not stubborn.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to play.” Simon feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, the tight sensation in his chest making it hard to breathe.

“Uh-huh,” Ryland nods, satisfied. “Okay. Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. It makes me so happy to see you using your words."

Simon leans closer against the wall, his face burning. He hates the way Ryland patronizes him, but he hates the way his cock responds to the patronization even more. 

“As you can see, I’m kind of in the middle of work,” Ryland says apologetically. “That doesn’t mean we can’t do something later, though.”

The cardigan’s fabric bunches in Simon’s grip. He wishes for nothing more than to sink into the wall and disappear from this horrible embarrassment that he’s gotten himself into. He can already picture the escape: lying back down into that beautiful blanket, burying his face into Ryland’s cardigan, fucking his hand in desperate, guilty need. 

Simon tries to slink back out of the lab. As if Ryland might not be able to see him if he makes himself small enough.

“Although…” Ryland says suddenly. His eyes once again travel over Simon’s body, cool and observant.

“Maybe you could keep me company. Would you like that, Simon?”

Simon’s heartbeat kicks back up.  “I…I’ll take it. Thank you.”

God, does he really sound that pathetic? 

Ryland beckons him over, and Simon obeys unthinkingly. He pauses in front of Ryland, who has spun his chair around to be able to view Simon properly.

“Put your hand down. I want to look at you,” Ryland instructs. Simon does as he’s told, letting his arm hang down by his side. The movement pulls the cardigan open, exposing his chest and stomach. 

“Good,” Ryland murmurs. He shamelessly lets his gaze linger over Simon’s body. It takes everything in Simon not to hide or turn away. 

Ryland pulls off one of his gloves. He takes some of the cardigan’s fabric and feels it in his hand. “You trying to get my attention that badly, sweetheart?”

Simon nods, embarrassment making his voice weak. “Needed you.”

“It shows,” Ryland responds coolly. “You’d never wear this unless you were thinking about me. Maybe doing something else and thinking about me. Right?”

“Yes, angel.” Simon can feel himself sweating under Ryland’s attention. He tears his eyes away, face flaming, as he notices Ryland leering at the bulge in his pants.

“And these sweatpants, too. I mean, really, Simon. Why even wear anything at that point?”

“I-I didn’t mean to." Simon desperately tries to justify his choice of clothing. “They were comfortable when I was sleeping. And then…”

“And then,” Ryland nods. “Yes. And then.” 

Simon thinks he’s going to be sick from the shame. Just when he thought he was getting what he wanted, now here’s Ryland putting him on display and telling him what a needy slut he is for wanting it.

“Well,” Ryland sighs. He scans approvingly over Simon’s crotch, his stomach, his chest, finally resting on his face. “A little eye candy never hurt anybody.”

He reaches out to take Simon’s hand. He must’ve finally landed on an idea.

“Tell me this, Simon,” he asks, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Do you want to hang out under my desk for a little bit? Be my desk pet for the day?”

Simon’s breath catches in his throat. Without even fully realizing it, he finds himself nodding vigorously.

“That’s a good boy." Ryland smiles. “Why don’t you come down here?”

He scoots his chair out of the way so that Simon can climb underneath.

“Don’t hit your head,” Ryland warns him as Simon maneuvers into position. He kneels down slowly, shifting his weight and trying to get comfortable.

Simon looks up at Ryland from between his legs. The sight of Ryland above him absolutely melts every critical-thinking part of his brain. 

“Aww,” Ryland coos. He runs a hand through Simon’s hair. “What a cute pet. I think I’ll call you ‘puppy.' Is that okay?”

Simon moves his head, just enough to show agreement. “Yes, angel.”

He lets the words fall from his mouth, a natural reflex. If he thought too hard about it, he might start getting embarrassed or defensive. Ryland tells him he doesn’t need to think too hard. Now, with his head warm and buzzing, that idea doesn't sound too bad.

“You comfortable down there? You need anything?” Ryland asks softly.

“I’m okay,” Simon affirms. Being on his knees for Ryland like this is more than enough.

“Good,” Ryland murmurs, continuing to pet him. “You look so beautiful underneath me, puppy.”

Simon feels his face heat up, the gentle hum of Ryland’s praise causing pleasure to flow through his veins. Before he has a chance to respond, Ryland continues:

“I’m going to tell you the rules now, so make sure you pay attention.”

He tilts Simon’s face up.

“I’ll let you have what you want, puppy. In about a minute here, I’ll unzip my pants. Now, you’re going to be a good little pet and open up that pretty mouth for me.”

Simon’s face burns under Ryland’s touch, but he forces himself to look into Ryland’s eyes.

“You will sit nicely and behave yourself while I work, because I really do need to finish looking at these slides. That means, be gentle. Don’t try to distract me. Don’t try to take too much inside, and don’t even think about using your hand. Just…keep me warm.”

Simon nods, his eyes wide. He’s already feeling light and heady from Ryland’s words and the touch of his hand along his jaw.

“Next thing,” Ryland continues. “I’ll be doing my best to not pay attention to you. So if you really need something, you will tap my leg, like this.”

Ryland demonstrates on himself, then looks back at Simon. “Understand?”

“Yes. Thank you, angel,” Simon answers. He still can’t believe how thoughtful Ryland is.

Ryland smiles down at him. “Of course. Any questions?”

One thing does come to Simon’s mind. “Uhm…may I…may I touch m-myself? While I’m…warming you?”

Simon forces himself to look up at Ryland instead of dropping his shameful gaze down to the floor like he wants. Maybe he can lean into the whole “pet” thing and give Ryland some serious puppy eyes. 

“Hmm.” Ryland leans back in his chair. “...I’ll allow it. But go slow. And do not come. Okay?”

That’s enough for Simon. “I promise I won’t. Thank you.”

Ryland smirks at him, somehow mirthful yet terrifying. “Well, aren’t you just such a good boy? You want to go ahead and get started, then? I’m not trying to spend all day on these slides.”

Simon lets his eyes close as Ryland ruffles his hair. “Please, angel. I need you.”

He listens to the sound of Ryland’s belt unbuckling, the click of the zipper’s teeth as Ryland pulls it down.

“Alright, then,” Ryland says, finally. “Make yourself at home.”

Simon will never, ever, ever get tired of seeing Ryland’s cock. He wishes Ryland would just walk around the Hail Mary naked. Unfortunately, Simon must instead make do with what is given to him. 

He is so grateful that Ryland gives himself to him.

“Open up for me, puppy,” Ryland murmurs. So Simon does, letting his mouth fall open and his head rest against Ryland’s thigh. The fabric of his jeans is cool and grounding against Simon’s face. 

“Good boy,” Ryland whispers as Simon lets his mouth close around Ryland’s cock. “Your mouth is so nice and warm for me. Now just stay here and be good while I work.”

Simon moans quietly around the soft, silky length. He swears he can feel Ryland's heartbeat pulsing underneath his skin. Like this, Simon can easily take all of him in his mouth. He lets his throat relax and leans his face into Ryland’s crotch. The coarse hair there tickles Simon’s skin. He inhales deeply, letting the scent of Ryland be a comfort to him. 

“Hmm,” Ryland says aimlessly, but otherwise continues to busy himself at the microscope. Simon tries to clear his mind of everything except the sensations of his lover. He listens to the objective lenses clicking as Ryland cycles through them. He can picture Ryland’s hands moving as he rapidly scribbles down notes. He follows along to the melody of the music playing through the laptop’s tinny speakers, feeling the vibration as Ryland occasionally hums along to a line or two.

And in his mouth, Ryland continues to grow thicker. With every twitch or pulse, the fire burning in Simon’s gut grows hotter. He yearns to make Ryland feel good, to be another helpful tool in Ryland’s collection.

Simon lets his mouth move in gentle patterns along Ryland’s shaft. He doesn’t dare move too much or too quickly. As much as he wants to slurp and suck and get sloppy for Ryland, he knows better than to disobey his instructions. Ryland always gets what he wants, and what he wants today is something to keep him warm. No more, no less. 

So Simon lets his jaw go slack. He rests his head on Ryland’s thigh. And he waits.

A continuous supply of drool seems to be making its way out of Simon’s mouth. With Ryland keeping him propped open like this and Simon not daring to swallow too tightly around him, it seems like the situation is going to be fairly messy. Simon lets Ryland’s length rest firm and heavy on his tongue, and lets his saliva make it nice and wet. If Ryland were worried about his jeans, he would have said something by now.

It takes Ryland fumbling one of the glass slides—and exclaiming a teacher-appropriate remark in surprise—for Simon to realize that he’s become fully hard in his mouth. Simon’s face heats up with pride and satisfaction. Even without doing much of anything, he’s gotten the perfect response from his lover.

Simon allows his hand to slide down his body to his hard cock. He’s aching for touch, unbelievably stretching out the front of his sweatpants. As Ryland told him, he moves slowly, letting the pads of his fingers run along his length through the fabric. He groans around Ryland’s cock at the teasing feeling. He grips himself tightly, not quite daring to stroke, but letting his hips move instinctively against his hand. 

One of Simon’s fingers circles lightly around his tip. A shameful thrill goes through his body as he realizes he’s been leaking into his sweatpants, forming a wet spot in the fabric. He teases the spot, rubs it back and forth, coaxing out more fluid that leaks through onto his hand. Dazed, Simon swipes his tongue along Ryland’s slit. He wonders if Ryland might be leaking too, if he can give Simon something to taste. 

“Mmh,” Ryland moans softly above him. Simon hears the slight crumple of paper, the click of the pen as Ryland frustratedly taps it back and forth. Boldly, Simon drags his tongue along Ryland’s tip, desperate to hear that sound again.

“Simon,” Ryland practically growls. Then, softer: “Puppy. I’m almost done, alright? Just a few more notes, then we can play. But I need you to control that tongue until then. This is your only warning.”

A small whine escapes Simon, but he manages to nod. He really didn’t mean to distract Ryland or make him mess up. He just wanted to hear his angel’s pretty noises. Resigned, he lets his eyes close and sinks back onto Ryland’s thigh. He tries not to move a muscle as Ryland finishes up the last parts of his work. He lets himself become what Ryland wants. A good pet. A nice, warm hole. 

Simon breathes deeply through his nose. He lets his heartbeat slow, even as he keeps his hand curled lightly around himself. He wants the pace of his heart to match the veins pulsing in Ryland’s cock. 

The weight, the texture, the scent, the feel of Ryland—they all blur together in Simon’s head. Angel, angel, angel. He wants to let Ryland own him. He wants to let Ryland take care of him. Ryland always takes such good care of him. As if a dumb, needy puppy like him deserves Ryland’s care. But Ryland is always so kind, so smart, so perfect. Ryland is such a good owner. 

As if on cue, Ryland finally moves back in his chair. He glances down at Simon and rubs a thumb across his cheek.

“Hey, pretty boy,” he whispers, a smile on his face.

“Mmmf,” Simon attempts to acknowledge with his mouth full. He wants to deny it. He can feel Ryland’s fingertips on his scars, like little lightning strikes on his sensitive skin. He’s not pretty. He’s just a stray that Ryland insisted on taking in.

“Oh, Simon,” Ryland sighs. “You are impossible. How can I resist you when I always want you so bad? Your gorgeous face and your mouth, all for me…”

Simon makes another choked sound around Ryland’s cock. He can’t stand Ryland sweet-talking like this—a fact that Ryland knows damn well and intends to use to his advantage.

“That’s right.” Ryland pulls his other glove off. The tight, latex-like snap on skin rings in Simon’s ears. “You asked for this. You wanted to get me worked up, and here I am, sweetheart.”

Simon moans. He loves—and hates, but mostly loves—when Ryland “blames” him for turning him on. To be desired by someone so angelic… Simon can’t believe he deserves such a blessing.

Ryland runs sweaty fingers through Simon’s hair, petting and comforting and teasing all at once. 

“Yes.” His voice is soft and sweet, which only highlights the dirtiness of his words. “Good puppy. So well-behaved for me. Sitting nicely, keeping me warm. I think it’s time for your reward, huh?”

Simon nods eagerly, bobbing up and down Ryland’s cock. Ryland groans softly, giving a sharp pull to Simon’s hair as he fists his hand in the locks. 

“I know, puppy,” Ryland says, continuing to pet all over Simon’s face. “I know you want it. The question is…do you want to lead? Or do you want it rough?”

Simon grimaces as he’s pulled off of Ryland’s cock. Immediately, he misses the shape around his lips and the sensation of being full.

“Tell me,” Ryland instructs. “I’m okay with either.”

“I…” Simon starts. He has to swallow down some of the spit that’s been building up in his throat. 

“I need it rough,” he breathes. His voice is already scratchy. “I can take it.”

“Oh, I know you can, puppy,” Ryland murmurs dryly.

Simon blushes. Suddenly, his lungs can’t seem to get enough air. 

“That’s…” He stops. He finds no words coming to his mind. Other than "Thank you, angel.”

“Oh, you are so welcome, my dear,” Ryland says in a way that makes Simon wonder just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

Simon feels the hand in his hair and the one on the back of his neck guiding him back between Ryland’s legs. Obediently, Simon opens his mouth, shivering in ecstasy at that familiar weight coming back to him.

“Same rule as before,” Ryland says breathlessly. “You need something; you tap my leg. Otherwise, I’m putting your whore mouth in its place. Okay?"

Simon whines, feeling his face burn. But he nods. Only Ryland knows what he truly needs.

Those insistent hands guide Simon down further, curling around his head and pushing gently. Simon feels his eyelids flutter and forces himself to keep them open. He tries to relax his throat, breathing in deeply through his nose. 

“Yeah, take it.” Ryland’s cock twitches eagerly as it’s enveloped by Simon’s throat. “That’s a good puppy. Oh my God.”

Getting accustomed to the feeling of taking Ryland deeper, Simon feels around with his tongue. He traces out engorged veins, following them up to Ryland’s swollen tip. He circles around that sensitive spot just underneath the head, teasing along the frenulum and drawing more pretty noises out of his lover. 

Simon loves being held in that tight grasp as he works, a not-so-subtle reminder of who’s in charge. And the better it feels for Ryland, the more urgently he’ll want to remind Simon of his place.

Simon’s throat tenses up as Ryland pushes him just a little too far. 

“God, yes,” Ryland breathes. He tugs on Simon’s hair.

“You look so stupid right now, puppy.”

Simon whines. Sure, he might not be able to voice a reply, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. 

“You take cock so well. Do you even have any thoughts in your pretty head, besides cock?”

Just yours. Simon blinks slowly up at his angel, hoping the message gets across.

“And those sad little puppy-dog eyes. You look so desperate for it. Drives me crazy.” Ryland exhales sharply, combing through Simon’s hair. “It looks slutty. That’s what you look like, Simon.”

The shame is too much. Simon has to blink back tears. At the same time, he leaks more onto that embarrassing wet spot on the front of his pants.

“My dumb puppy,” Ryland sighs. “I just wanna fuck your pretty face. Do you want that?”

Simon nods. He needs Ryland so deep that it hurts.

“I knew it.” Ryland drags Simon down further, the tightness in Simon’s throat starting to get uncomfortable. “I need to use you. Isn’t that right?”

Simon feels saliva leaking all over his face as Ryland moves his hips. Ryland still holds him in that tight grip, allowing Simon no escape from the degrading treatment.

“Yeah, just like that,” Ryland moans. “You’re such a good hole for me.”

Ryland tugs on Simon’s hair with harsh movements, trying to get the best angle. Simon lets himself be pulled around like a doll. Ryland’s words sink into his brain and turn any remaining thoughts into fuzz. 

“So slutty. You like your throat being used like this?”

In response, Simon can only cough and drool out more spit. With Ryland hitting his throat so forcefully, it’s only a matter of time before the tears in his eyes spill out over his face. The cruelty of Ryland’s words doesn’t help.

“Yeah, you take it. Just take my cock in your nice, tight throat, sweetheart…” Ryland’s eyelashes flutter, and he lets his hips move mindlessly in and out of Simon’s mouth. With his tight grip on Simon’s head, Simon has no choice but to stay in place and let himself be used.

When Ryland’s hands push him a little too far down, Simon can’t help it: he gags. He’s not proud of himself for the embarrassing noises coming out of his mouth, nor the stream of tears now running down his face. But the way Ryland throws his head back and moans openly, the way he twitches and leaks down Simon’s throat… It’s worth it.

“God, yes, Simon.” Ryland’s voice trembles with lust. “Fucking gag on it. You dumb whore. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

A slight panic runs through Simon’s body. He shivers, his cock throbbing with need. If Ryland is swearing like this, being mean like this without thinking twice, he must really be in a mood.

And then he’s pushing Simon back down again, holding him there as Simon struggles and chokes. 

Ryland reaches his fingers down to the thick gobs of spit leaking from Simon’s mouth. He swirls them around and rubs the fluid along the base of his cock.

“So messy. Such a sloppy pet,” Ryland sighs. “You’re getting your slobber all over me.”

As if to prove his point, Simon’s throat tenses up again, the gag reflex pushing even more drool out of him. Humiliated, Simon lets out a muffled sob. It’s so fucking unfair, the way his tears and his runny nose contribute to the mess all over his face. 

Ryland’s gentle hand swipes across his cheek.

“So beautiful when you cry, sweetheart. You don’t need to worry. I like it wet.”

Simon’s chest heaves. He swallows tightly around his lover, trying desperately to calm his breathing and his heart rate. 

Then, suddenly, he’s pulled off. Fresh air floods Simon’s lungs, and he gasps.

“Breathe,” Ryland instructs. “You’re okay.”

Simon's chest feels tight as his lungs rapidly fill and deplete. Tears sting in his eyes.

“That’s it,” Ryland murmurs. “Nice, deep breaths. Good boy.”

Simon hiccups, drawing his hand across his mouth. His stomach twists with disgust at the sliminess leaking from his mouth and nose. 

“Please,” he croaks. He needs Ryland back inside now to get rid of this cold, empty feeling.

“You’ll take what I give you,” Ryland replies. “Now catch your breath, and I’ll think about putting you back.” 

Simon tries to do the exercise that Ryland taught him. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Eventually, his chest doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.

“Good,” Ryland whispers. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, angel.” Simon rests his head against Ryland’s jeans again, letting the cool material bring him back down to earth. “Thank you, angel.”

“You’re welcome,” Ryland acknowledges. He pets Simon softly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“So pretty, puppy.” Ryland drags his thumb along Simon’s bottom lip. “You ready for some more?”

The second Simon whispers yes, Ryland’s thick cock nudges its way back into Simon’s mouth. Simon’s eyes roll back. Every part of him is focused on the heavy drag of it against his tongue. When it hits Simon’s throat, it’s like pressing the “off’ button on his brain.

Simon moans with greedy pleasure as Ryland’s hands make their way into their familiar position at the back of his head. A rush of adrenaline floods his body, and he anticipates how Ryland will use him. 

Wordlessly, Ryland nudges Simon further and further down. It’s achingly slow. Simon is sure that Ryland can feel every tiny, minute movement of his throat as it clenches around the intrusion. 

“Good dog,” Ryland murmurs. 

Simon moans wantonly as Ryland strokes his hair. He sneaks his hand into his sweatpants and curls it around the base of his cock.

“Oh, you greedy whore.” Ryland gives Simon a good push. “You just love this treatment.”

It’s not a question, even as Simon gags once again, sputtering helplessly around Ryland’s cock.

“Come on, then.” The cruelty in Ryland’s voice has Simon’s cock throbbing. “Touch yourself while you choke on it.”

Tears leak shamefully down Simon’s face as he slides his hand up and down. He only holds himself lightly, not daring to risk pushing himself over the edge. Meanwhile, Ryland uses him like a toy, thrusting in and out as Simon gags and drools. 

The conflicting pleasure-danger signals absolutely fry the shit out of Simon’s brain. He’s so dizzy, so dumb, so helpless. His body practically ragdolls in Ryland’s grip.

“God, Simon, your tight little throat...!" Ryland moans. His thrusts have been getting messier, adding to the ever-growing puddle of drool in his lap.

“You wanted it rough, puppy…” Ryland drags a hand across Simon’s face. He strokes Simon’s cheek where tears have been streaking down. Slowly, he moves to Simon’s lips, and then up to his nose.

“...Do you want it this rough?” 

And Ryland pinches his nose shut.

Just for a split second, then the hand moves away. Cool air floods back in, and Simon inhales deeply. 

Simon can’t believe what he’s doing, but he nods. He looks Ryland in the eyes as he does it. Just imagining the adrenaline flooding in his body, with all his airways blocked, has Simon reeling with pleasure.

“Unbelievable,” Ryland breathes. He pulls Simon off. “Take a deep breath for me, real quick.”

Simon obeys, letting his eyes close as he does so. He allows Ryland to guide him back.

At first, the feeling is the same. Ryland pushing him down his shaft, tugging gently on his hair. Ryland’s cock hitting the back of his throat, twitching eagerly. Ryland’s hips moving in search of the best angle.

Then, Ryland’s hand across his nose.

A cold bead of sweat runs down Simon’s spine. He shivers as Ryland plugs his nose shut. 

“Take it,” Ryland murmurs. Then, he nudges Simon’s head, letting his hips move of their own accord.

Simon can’t breathe. Oh God, he can’t breathe. Ryland’s cock is filling up every single part of him, and he can’t fucking breathe. 

He gags almost immediately, Ryland holding him tight and moaning at the sound. Simon’s cock throbs and his chest burns. He feels spit falling out of his mouth in thick globs. 

No matter how softly Ryland’s hips move, Simon’s throat convulses violently. He coughs and heaves, trying to suck in any amount of air. The sloppy noises are so disgusting; they don’t even sound like they’re coming from him. 

Ryland’s hand doesn’t let up, pinching Simon’s nose cruelly. Simon can’t think. This is Ryland absolutely controlling him. This is Simon’s true purpose. 

Maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe he can get used to the painful delirium. Dark spots float in Simon’s vision, causing his eyelids to flutter.

Then, he retches.

Simon’s stomach gives a sharp twist, and he feels a sour taste rising in the back of his throat. His head spins like that fucking disco ball that Ryland hangs from the ceiling. He’s seeing stars, tiny bright lights clouding his eyes. 

Quickly, he smacks Ryland’s leg several times.

Almost instantaneously, he’s pulled off, and the hand on his nose is gone. Simon heaves rapidly, coughing up spit. He feels his nose dripping as he sucks air greedily into his lungs.

“Deep breaths,” Ryland says, worry seeping into his words. It’s remarkably similar to his “concerned teacher” voice. Simon almost laughs, feeling sick and giddy and stupid.

“You’re doing so well, love.” Ryland’s voice is sincere but hesitant. “That was a lot. Do you need anything? Just a break? I’m here.”

“Few seconds,” Simon wheezes. 

“Oh God.” Ryland’s hands are shaking as they caress Simon’s face. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

Simon shakes his head. He closes his eyes and forces a deep breath through his lungs.

“I’m ready. Put me back.”

Simon opens his eyes to see Ryland staring at him as if he’s grown an extra head.

“You sure?” Ryland frowns. “That was… I mean, you almost…”

“Please,” Simon grits out. He will absolutely beg for it if he has to. 

“One condition.” Ryland fiddles with a lock of Simon’s hair and looks away shamefully. “I’m not doing that to you again.”

“Fine,” Simon agrees. It’s not his place to be making demands. Even if Ryland had said “just the tip,” he would’ve been grateful.

“Okay.” Ryland nods, his voice trembling. “God. You…you really want it still, huh?”

Simon can’t take it. “Fucking please, Ry, I need it; I need you. What else do I have to…”

He can’t finish his sentence, already running out of breath. He’s ruined. Ryland’s ruined him. 

And then Ryland’s shushing him, cradling his face so gently in his hands. Simon can feel tears in the corners of his eyes again. 

“I’ll give it to you,” Ryland murmurs. “Give it to you, sweetheart. I want you to take it. I want you to take me; I want to be inside you so bad, my love.”

Simon doesn’t want to cry. But as usual, his body doesn’t want to obey him. Sniffling and trying to blink back the tears, he lets his lips wrap around Ryland’s cock. The sensation is so familiar at this point, so unbelievably good. 

“That’s it, right where you belong, good boy,” Ryland purrs to him. Sweet little phrases that make Simon softer and dumber and more pliable. Simon feels the tears escaping him now—fat, wet drops that he practically shows off to Ryland by looking up at him.

“Just look at you,” Ryland breathes. “So fucking gorgeous when you cry for me.”

Simon sobs, coughing around Ryland’s cock. It never fails to catch him off guard when Ryland swears like that. He can only imagine what he looks like right now. He’s not sure "gorgeous" would be at the top of the list. Still, his face heats up and his cock pulses with need, wordlessly begging for more praise.

“Yeah, you like when I talk to you like that?” Ryland asks softly. His strong, guiding hands are on the back of Simon's neck. “I love filling you. Good puppy. Good tight, little hole.”

Simon is so far gone at this point, his brain might as well be in another room, if not outside the goddamn spaceship. He’s ready to burst. So needy, he teases himself through his pants, then dips underneath the waistband. Ryland has him right on the edge—without laying a single hand on his cock.

“Can I tell you something, puppy?” Ryland breathes. His face is flushed, and sweat drips down his neck.

He continues without a response. “I need to confess to you.”

Simon looks up, but Ryland just holds him still. At least Simon can get a nice, long taste. He sucks mindlessly, drooling and making wet, sloppy sounds for his lover.

“Mmh.” Ryland chews his lip, trying his best not to moan out loud. “Your mouth is so incredible. I love it so much, and doing it rough like this is…”

Ryland pants, his skin hot to the touch. “You make me want to just use you. Like this is what you’re made for.”

Simon sniffles helplessly as Ryland talks.

“Am I messed up?” Ryland shivers. “When you first gagged, I… I immediately wanted to go deeper. I wanted to fuck you harder.”

Simon moans, thick and sloppy around Ryland’s cock. Everything is so blurry and messy now. He wants to take Ryland deeper. He wants it harder.

“Do you like that?” Ryland murmurs. “My good boy who needs it rough, huh?”

Simon inhales, exhales, and relaxes his throat. He leans down, taking Ryland as deep as he can go.

“Yes,” Ryland groans. “Just like that.”

And Simon stays.

Simon has been learning all of Ryland’s tells. He knows what it means when Ryland suddenly gets quiet, when Ryland’s hands twitch, when his breathing starts getting shallower.

So Simon isn’t shocked when Ryland whispers, “Oh my God, I’m close.”

Simon slurps greedily along Ryland’s shaft. The organ pulses insistently in his mouth, threatening to spill deep down Simon’s throat. 

“My gorgeous puppy,” Ryland whines. “So beautiful. I wanna come all over your beautiful face. Do you want that?”

Simon doesn’t mean to be bratty, but he shakes his head.

“No?" Ryland lets his surprise show, carding a hand through Simon’s hair. “Puppy knows somewhere else he wants it?”

Simon nods. He looks up at Ryland with tearful eyes. 

“Yeah? That’s right?” Ryland pets Simon, strong and loving. “Puppy wants my cum inside? Gonna swallow for me?”

Simon thinks his actions answer for him. He lets his lips wrap tight around Ryland, as if daring him to pull out.

“Okay,” Ryland relents. “Okay, yes, you can have it. Oh, Simon. Greedy till the last minute. So desperate, my desperate cumslut—oh God, gonna give it to you!” 

Simon has been ready for this since he woke up. 

Ryland’s release is a work of art. His cock pulses deep in Simon’s throat, painting Simon’s insides. Meanwhile, Ryland throws his head back, moaning beautifully and holding Simon tight.

Simon drinks it all down, greedy, just as Ryland told him. He’s on fire, every part of him filled and satisfied. Gently, he pulls off. He lets Ryland hold and pet him as he reels from his orgasm.

Yet, as Ryland basks above him, Simon’s attention is slowly drawn back to his own insatiable cock. 

“You are such a good boy for me." Ryland smiles dreamily down at Simon, his words slurring together. Simon takes a deep breath and forces himself to pull it together. 

“Thank you, angel,” he murmurs. 

“So polite. Good puppy.” Ryland still seems half-delirious, but he continues petting Simon, even sticking the tips of his fingers into Simon’s mouth. 

Simon lets his tongue hang out just slightly, tasting Ryland’s fingers. 

“That’s good. I…” Ryland blinks away the fog in his eyes, considering an idea. “May I help you up, puppy?”

Simon frowns. He doesn't want to be done yet. 

“Let me rephrase. Come up here for me, puppy. I’ll help you.”

Simon doesn’t have a chance to react before Ryland’s out of his chair, leaning down and enveloping Simon in his arms. 

“Oh,” Simon gasps. He allows himself to be led gently out of his kneeling position and slowly pulled up to his feet.

“There we are!” Ryland beams at him, pulling him into a hug. Simon’s head spins from the softness and the sudden change in blood pressure. He lets his vision blur as more tears fill his eyes. 

Simon leans his head into Ryland’s shoulder. He wants to stay here forever. He wants to breathe Ryland in and hold him close. He wants to let his hips move against Ryland’s body and melt in pleasure.

“I’ve got you, puppy,” Ryland murmurs into his ear. Simon shivers. He pulls Ryland closer to him, which has the delicious side effect of rubbing his cock against Ryland’s front. 

Simon moans, his voice rough and scratchy in his throat. He wraps his arm tighter around Ryland’s middle. Mindlessly, he lets himself hump Ryland’s body, like the dumb puppy he is. Ryland shifts slightly, allowing Simon better leverage. 

“You’re being naughty,” Ryland whispers, a hot breath on the shell of his ear. Simon flinches, but he can’t stop moving. He’s too far gone now to think of consequences. 

“You should let me take care of that for you.” Ryland drags a hand down Simon’s chest, dipping into the cardigan and touching the hot skin underneath. He grazes Simon’s muscles until he’s stopped by the hem of his sweatpants. Then, through the fabric, he touches where Simon needs him most. 

Just for a split second, then he’s gone. Simon whines. He looks up at Ryland pleadingly, silently begging for him to come back.

“Shush. Trust me.”

Ryland leans over him, haphazardly clearing a space on the desk. He nudges Simon backwards until he hits the edge and props him against it. 

“Now you can brace yourself while I give you your treat.”

Simon feels his face blushing, a chill of anticipation down his spine. His hand grips the desk. The cardigan lies open at his sides. He’s so exposed for his angel. 

Ryland smirks at him, enjoying the view. He reaches past Simon to the box of gloves that sits with his lab tools. 

Simon blinks rapidly as Ryland pulls out a pair of gloves and snaps them onto his hands. What’s he doing?

Ryland waggles his gloved fingers at him. “Welcome to the vet, puppy.”

Simon swallows thickly. Ryland is going to touch him…with those on?

Then, Ryland is caressing him, laying his cold, sterile touch onto his face. 

“Hmm, everything’s looking good.” Ryland tilts Simon’s chin up and strokes across his lips. “Bit of a mess here, but that’s normal for a puppy.”

Simon’s face burns. The subtle humiliation sends a rush through his body.

Ryland pushes the tip of his gloved finger into Simon’s mouth. Simon tastes it hesitantly, mostly getting powder and plastic. He feels a bit of drool leaking out, slicking the strange texture of the glove. 

“There we go,” Ryland murmurs. “You can keep that there, since you like having something to do with your mouth.”

He slowly runs his other hand down Simon’s body. The cool, unfamiliar sensation glides down Simon’s face and neck. He feels Ryland give a good squeeze to his pecs, then trail down to his stomach.

“Looking very healthy here, puppy.” Ryland’s eyes are inquisitive and greedy. That look makes Simon squirm with need. 

“So strong. You’re in great shape. So it makes sense that you…” He lets his hand rest over Simon’s clothed bulge. 

“It makes sense that your body is so ready to mate,” Ryland breathes. His skin is flushed pink, a look of focus on his face as he teases Simon’s cock. 

Simon whines. He needs it so bad. He needs Ryland to take care of him. 

Ryland pushes his fingers deeper into Simon’s mouth. “So dumb and horny. Thank goodness you have me to help you.”

Simon lets his mind sink into the pleasure of having a full mouth and a hand on his cock. He moans, low and desperate, as Ryland tugs down his sweatpants. 

“I’ll need to examine you here, of course,” Ryland says. The way he keeps his voice neutral, almost casual, makes Simon even more desperate for it.

Simon lets his hips push into Ryland’s waiting hand. The cool, rubbery feeling of the glove is a shock to his system. 

“Oh no, what do we have here?” Ryland shakes his head. “Your cock is much too hard for me to examine you properly. I’ll need to get all this cum out of you instead.”

Simon whimpers around Ryland’s fingers, so embarrassed at being spoken to in this way. He’s light-headed, suddenly very grateful for the table behind him.

Ryland curls his fingers around Simon’s aching length. Simon’s hips jolt forward, even as the unfamiliar texture confuses him. 

“This is the most efficient way for us to proceed,” Ryland whispers into his ear. Then, he grips tight and starts to stroke up and down.

Simon squirms at the unusual feeling. His hips try to chase Ryland’s hand, to earn more of that delicious pleasure. But, then, to be met with that cool, plastic texture… It’s breaking Simon’s brain. 

“Take your treatment, puppy.” Ryland rubs cruelly over Simon’s tip. The precum oozing from him adds a slick, wet feeling to the strange pleasure.

Simon moans helplessly. The drool leaking out of his mouth is becoming unbearable. Ryland pulls his hand out slowly, a thick string of saliva coating the gloved fingertips.

“Messy puppy,” Ryland purrs. “Such a needy mouth—and such a big, hard, needy cock…” He twists his hand over Simon’s shaft, ghosting over the tip and driving Simon crazy with want.

Simon pants like a dog, so dumb and desperate to feel good for his owner. With his mouth free, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind: "Please…"

Then, when Ryland doesn’t let up, teasing him relentlessly with those gloves, he lets it slip:

“...Dr. Grace!”

Ryland’s eyebrows raise. “That’s right. Good puppy.”

As he strokes Simon, so tight and controlled, Simon watches his cheeks turn a pretty pink.

“Yes. You’re at the vet, so I’m Dr. Grace today, aren’t I?”

Simon nods, starting to once again lose focus in his vision. 

“Please,” he begs again. 

“Just trust me, Simon,” Ryland answers, calm and collected in the face of Simon’s helpless chaos. “Don’t you trust me to make you feel good? I won’t dare let you go without your cum all over these gloves.”

That does it. 

“I can’t, angel,” Simon whines. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” Ryland whispers into his ear. He rubs Simon’s cock as if trying to milk the cum out of him. He lets his fingers spread, lets Simon rut in between the gaps. 

With his other hand, Ryland reaches down. He cups Simon’s balls and rubs them with only the softest touch. Then, that inquisitive hand moves even lower. 

“Ry?” Simon asks in surprise, his voice suddenly high and breathy. It’s not entirely unfamiliar, Ryland touching him here, but right now it’s thrown him off guard. His stomach flips in worry and excitement.

Ryland explores softly, gently—barely pushing in, if at all. Simon breathes out a shaky sigh, staring at the ceiling for some sense of grounding.

“I want to examine you here, too, puppy,” Ryland confesses. “I want to press that special little button inside of you until you scream for me.”

Simon inhales sharply. He wants it. He wants it bad. 

Ryland continues, lost in his fantasy. “You’d really gush all over me if I did that. Wouldn’t it be beautiful?”

“Do it,” Simon pleads, long past the point of critical thinking. “Don’t care if it hurts.”

“I care,” Ryland insists in return. “I want you to feel good for me. That’s why I’m showing restraint.”

He shoots Simon a meaningful look that Simon should probably take as intimidating. Instead, it’s really, really hot.

“I’m s-sorry,” Simon gasps, his breath stuttering. “Dr. Grace. I need it, I need you, so fucking bad, I…”

He closes his eyes and leans his head back. He literally cannot think. Every part of his body yearns towards that aching pleasure between his legs. As Ryland strokes him with those gloved fingers and teases the most secret parts of him, Simon feels the heat that’s been curling in his stomach reach a boiling point.

“I’m gonna come for you, angel.” He can barely whisper the words.

Then, Ryland is on his lips, kissing Simon soft and sweet, as if his hands weren't giving him the most beautiful torture. 

“Whenever you’re ready.” Ryland’s voice, from the heavens, signals the blissful end. “Give it to me.”

A few more strokes, and then the air is knocked from Simon’s lungs.

He’s lost full control of his voice and his body. The only thing holding his soul in place is Ryland, kind and steady, talking him through it. He murmurs sweet little words that Simon can hear but not understand. 

Simon lets each lightning strike pass through him, riding out the overwhelming release. He grips the edge of the table, letting it indent his skin. He waits for his vision to fully return before he dares to look at Ryland. 

“Good boy, so good for me,” Ryland murmurs, satisfied. “Look at how you covered my gloves.”

Simon looks. His cum drips from Ryland’s fingers, coating the blue with streaks of white. Embarrassed, Simon blinks, turning away. He can’t bring himself to talk just yet.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. Where else was it gonna go?!” Ryland smiles at him, his pretty blue eyes sparkling with good-natured humor. 

Simon feels his face heating up. He realizes his throat is so very dry. 

“Hey, I can finally do this without having to worry about accidentally eating Astrophage. Look.” Ryland bites down on the glove near his wrist, and uses his teeth to pull it off. 

“Easy cleanup, huh?” he laughs. Simon can feel the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

“Yeah, there he is.” Ryland pulls his other glove off and wraps his arms around Simon. “My good boy. You did such a great job today. I’m so proud of you.”

Simon really, really does not want to cry again. He distracts himself by tucking into Ryland’s shoulder, breathing that familiar scent. He feels his heart beat in his chest as Ryland holds him close. 

“Give me one second, sweetheart,” Ryland says softly. He lets Simon go, then wanders over to the other side of the room. He picks up a few paper towels from a box of mismatched materials.

“Water,” he calls out, and Mary provides him with a cup. Then, fully armed with supplies, Ryland makes his way back over to the desk. 

Ryland wets the paper towel in the cup of water. Then, he brings it up to Simon’s skin, his touch soft over Simon’s body. He wipes his face first, clearing away the residue of tears and drool. Then, he passes the cup to Simon.

Simon accepts, greedily letting the cool water flood his throat. Meanwhile, Ryland does a quick wipe-down between Simon’s legs, carefully avoiding overstimulation of his sensitive cock. Then, Simon watches as Ryland cleans himself up and tucks himself back into his pants. Ryland notices Simon’s eyes on him.

“Better?” Ryland asks. His kind face never fails to get Simon all flustered.

Simon nods. He still can’t find his voice, but he hopes Ryland can sense his gratitude.

Ryland draws him in for another hug. “Perfect.”

They stay in comfortable silence for a minute or two. That soft music still plays from the laptop at low volume.

“So, what are you feeling up to?” Ryland finally asks. “I’m done with work, so…maybe a movie?”

Simon doesn’t want to let go. He’d call it clingy, but maybe Ryland would call it cute.

At last, he finds himself with the strength to speak.

“Sure.” Simon lets a hint of a smile spread across his face. “Just wanna be with you.”