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The Real, the Semi-Real, and the Verifiably Unreal

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Ssh, you're safe, in my arms. On my lap. Your head with its beautiful, perfect hair tucked under my chin. I'm going to keep you warm under this blanket on my couch, wrapped in the velvet of my Voice.

I'm glad you came over, my love, so I can give you a peace that is as deep and quiet as the sky, which is mostly void, partially stars. You've had a long day, haven't you? Well, if time is real. All that Science bubbling away in beakers, and sparking and clicking in tiny models of the universe. It's so good of you, so brilliant and wise, to just let go beneath my words. You know exactly what you need, don't you? Thank you for letting me give you exactly that.


Carlos floated, as in a dark ocean filled with distant lights. Warm hands and soft fabric slid across his bare skin, and he felt vulnerable at his own nakedness. But the touch felt good as it ghosted lower on his back, so he arched into Cecil.

"That's it, melt into your pleasure. I'll give you nothing else."

His skin tingled and buzzed, brain filling with endorphins and happy chemicals. What was it again? Dopamine and--

"No more problem solving," Cecil growled in his ear, gripping his hair close to the skull. "Just feel. That's it, let it go."

Shuddering, Carlos obeyed. All he could do was obey, waves of giddy contentment washing over him. Nothing was required or permitted, save this.

As Cecil told him a fantasy story about mountains on the moon, he fell asleep.


When he woke, they were lengthwise on the couch. Carlos had his face buried in Cecil's tunic, and their bare legs tangled far away. It took a moment to remember, but--

Ah. There it was, the stillness like a heavy blanket. He released a deep sigh.

"What's your color, love?" murmured Cecil above him.

"Green," said Carlos, his voice thick with sleep.

"Good. Hush now. No more talking." Raising himself on one elbow, Cecil trailed his hand down to Carlos's belly and let it rest there. The tattooed eye on Cecil’s forehead blinked once.

Overhead, the crescent moon gleamed like an eye, watching over Nightvale.

"Do you want to be penetrated? Nod yes or no."

Mind running slow and dreamy, Carlos nodded yes.

"Show me where."

Carlos thought about it. In the space behind his dick, he was so wet that he ached. He let his fingers brush down his own body, past his reconstructed chest and fuzz and jiggle. He let himself be deliberate and sensual, as though his touch were Cecil's adoring gaze. When he finally carded through the dark curls between his hips, he heard a hitch of breath which turned into a low purr.

"Right here?" Light and tantalizing, Cecil covered his entire mound with a hand. In answer, Carlos spread his legs and pushed up, until that wonderful hand retreated.

A flash of teeth above him.

"Eager, are we? Patience, my love. I'll give you exactly what you need." Cecil reached over him to a secret compartment in the coffee table and withdrew with a bottle of lube. Good idea. Even as wet as Carlos had gotten, being on testosterone made that area dry out pretty quickly.

Out of the corner of his eye, something flickered, dark and sinuous. But when he looked at Cecil's arms, the tattooed tentacles were still. This present space and time felt less than real, but a little more than unreal. Like the intensely private domain of an elder being who lavished him with attention.

Fingers slicked with lube, Cecil stroked along Carlos's folds, leaning down to swallow his whimpers in a deep kiss. Reaching up to cup his lover's cheek, Carlos sighed as Cecil pushed and stretched and made space in his core. Finally he crawled to loom over him, hitching his tunic up around his waist.

He squeezed the lube bottle into Carlos's open palm.

"I'm probably going to slip in all the way with one thrust. So make sure I'm slippery."

Without thinking, Carlos took a breath to say something--"yes sir," perhaps--but found his mouth plugged by two fingers. With a demure blush he sucked on them as Cecil massaged his tongue.

"Ssh. You don't need words." Except for a faint sultry note, he sounded unaffected by Carlos's slick hand on his cock. "What are words but half hearted bees, in a summer drunk on memory? Forget the language of mortals.”

After one last swipe of his thumb across the head, Carlos let go of the shaft. Then in a long, shocking instant, he was so very full, and Cecil was nuzzling his cheek, his weight like a comforting blanket. Groaning in bliss, Carlos wrapped his legs around him.

“Oh Masters, Carlos, yes, ” Cecil hissed in his ear. “Give me those thick furry thighs, this soft round ass. All mine. All mine.”

He rode him hard, and Carlos could only hold on tight and moan into his neck. He almost didn't notice (and certainly wasn't complaining) when Cecil's cock wriggled a little more than it strictly should. Sometimes it seemed to swell or undulate, and once Carlos was sure that he felt ridges pushing against his soft tight walls.

“You're getting close,” Cecil mouthed at him, all consonants and deep echoes. And he was. “Something's building in your loins, a consuming fire beyond conscious thought. Your cock, erect and glistening, has thrown back its hood to beg for the slightest caress. But I am not going to touch you yet, dear Carlos.”

As Carlos keened in lust, he didn't see so much as feel Cecil smile.

“I'm going to keep you, beautiful and desperate, on the razor's edge of ecstatic need. And when you break, when you shatter, I will lick all your pieces.” Cecil demonstrated by licking a stripe along Carlos's square jaw. His tongue felt rough and forked.

Tears leaking from closed eyes, Carlos heaved a sob. His cock was burning, and Cecil slowed to stillness, rippling gently inside him.

“Not yet,” he said with a sweet kiss on his mouth. “I'm going to take you right to the brink of the void. No, there's nothing you could bargain with. I know you're already mine, body and soul. And you find pleasure even in the torment of a cock engorged with blood and the need to fuck.” He started thrusting again, slow and hard, on each word.

Time stretched out like a recursion of mirrors that faced each other in an endless tunnel. And then time spiraled around the points of Cecil's crooning voice, and the throb of desire. Carlos couldn't take another moment and yet he needed this to last forever.

After some number of endless heartbeats, cool fingers rubbed down his shaft and circled the hot tip. He crested with a shudder that metamorphosed into silent weeping.

“Fall apart for me, yes love, you're so beautiful and helpless. Show me everything.” Cecil began moving faster, eyes glowing white with lust. He still held Carlos's oversensitive cock, giving it agonizing pleasure as he caressed it. With a spasm like thousands of tiny waving cilia, Cecil emptied himself, and that sent Carlos over the edge a second time.

Lying down beside him, Cecil held Carlos tightly as he cried.

“You were so good for me. You were perfect. I adore you.”

Bit by bit Carlos came back to himself, grounded by the warm, soothing hands that rubbed his back.

“Do you want some water? I think you should hydrate.”

“Uh--yeah. I think I do.” His voice sounded hoarse and strange after its absence.

Cecil opened a second secret compartment in the coffee table, in which he kept his Pitcher of Eternal Water. It tasted good. Refreshing. Idly Carlos wondered about the physics of such an object. He might have to run some experiments later.

Cecil gave him an assessing look. The eye inked on his forehead did not blink.

“Are you sore? I hope we used enough lube.”

“Only a little, but it doesn't hurt,” Carlos assured him. “And yeah, I think we did.” He took a moment to breathe. “Thank you. I feel drained, but...better.”

“Thank you for letting me give that to you,” said Cecil, almost shy. “Why don't we rest here?”

Carlos settled back into his arms, and Cecil drew the blankets over them.

Goodnight, dear Carlos, goodnight.