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wheneclipsefalls · 11 months ago

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I really don't know how to fully express how much comments like this mean to me! The fact that you spent all of this time and effort to tell me exactly your thoughts and reactions is simply amazing! I've had comments like this from different people during my time posting online and I'm telling you that I remember each and every one! They are so lovely and detailed that I take an hour to read them fully simply because I get so excited and bashful during it that I have to take breaks. Not only that but it sparks my inspiration and motivation to increase tenfold and that is not an exaggeration. It is a reminder to me that all of the time and effort I put into crafting these characters and their stories has not been for nothing, that there are truly other people out there who appreciate it.

Sincerely thank you so much! I can not say that enough! Your support has made me giddy and happy in such a special way.

Anyways, now that I've done my time sobbing over this, here are some responding thoughts.

/He considered going over to reprimand them, but resisted./ Broooooo, it's a party. YOUR party! Chill tf out 😂

Hahaha Kxolo soemtimes does not know how to chill. Then again, I would say that part of his cause here is from not getting laid for a long time.

/He knew pushing Neteyam to Vamai would come back to bite him./ and /Thinking of the omega practicing such an erotic dance Kxolo knew it had Vamai’s name written all over it./ YOU LEAVE MY GIRL'S NAME OUT OF THIS! SHE'S NEVER DONE A SINGLE THING WRONG IN HER ENTIRE LIFE

This made me BURST OUT LAUGHING! It's true, Vamai is just a good friend that happens to love dancing and love encouraging Neteyam to join her. Kxolo has such an interesting relationship with this fact because he LOVES to watch Neteyam dance, he LOVES TO DROOL OVER NETEYAM DANCING, and he LOVES to join him in saucy dances. However, another part of him DOES NOT LOVE to think of other males witnessing this art too.

When Neteyam began to shudder and shake, eyes clenching shut with a cry, the Olo’eyktan simply cood out mocking praises and kissed his sweaty temple./ The 'mocking praises' are what I live for omggggggg they can be so fucking hot

Mocking praises make me WEAK in the knees. If a man like Kxolo ever said half the stuff I've wrote in Ma Neteyam I would simple fall into a puddle on the floor

heir tails wrapped together until they were intertwined. “Deal.” The omega whispered before connecting their lips in a soft kiss./ Their tails wrapping around each other like a pinky promise 🥰

Awww that is so true and so adorable *sobs in the corner*

“You will finish, omega. As many times as I decide.”/ AHHHHHHHHHHHH 🥵🥵🥵🥵

I wrote most of this fic in a PUBLIC library and I remember getting to this part specifically and just STRUGGLING to keep my composure

He did, however, not miss the way Vamai and Neteyam exchanged a secret look, the other omega nodding in response before running off to speak with the musicians./ Vamai best wingwoman everrrrrrr

This story truly owes her SO MUCH!

“I too am neither required to put up with your bossy attitude, paskalin.” “So you think.”/ This whole exchange is so funny to me cause Pulo's being waaaaayyy bold with how he's talking Kxolo and I keep expecting Kxolo to be like 'alright chill tf out with how you're talking' and instead its Resaal who has to put her mate in his place lmao. Their banter is so cute - I love when couple's can have easy and fun banters back and forth like this.

Pulo and Resaal have a very dramatic enemies to lovers romance so they actually spent years claiming to hate each other. Now that they are mated they still aren't afraid to call each other out or push one another's buttons. Resaal is VERY comfortable teasing and pushing him and Pulo vice versa. This push and pull dynamic is something that secretly makes them feel satisfied and draw closer together. They are both too head strong to enjoy something easy. I'm glad you enjoyed this exchange as much as I did!

This is such a Neteyam thing to do! Not only as an omega who are stereotypically kind/caring/thoughtful, but I feel like canon Neteyam would also do this for his partner. He's a quiet observer, he watches people (mostly Lo'ak in the movies) but you can see how he just watches everyone and then steps in if he's needed. I think that would translate into his romantic relationships as well and would be one of those 'how did you even know I liked this specific kind of soup' moments. Plus canon Neteyam is a sweetheart - you can't tell me he wouldn't do all he can to celebrate his partner's birthday.

ABSOLUTELY! Not only because he is thoughftul and observant but also because he is used to doing everything in his power to make things perfect. He trains until he knows the skills perfectly. He organizes things until it's good enough to make his parents proud. And now that he has a true mate in his life he obssesses over ensuring that their birthday is amazing. It is one of the many ways he shows his love. Kxolo finds it incredibly heart warming and apprecites it fully, but truth be told that boy could hang a dead carcass as a celebration and as long Neteyam is his, Kxolo is delighted.

OMFGGGGGG I HATE when parents (or things like religious guilt or the like) get in the way of moments that are supposed to be fun and pleasurable and private. There shouldn't be any guilt when it comes to sex in general, but as much as I hate it - I love that you added this part in cause it makes it all the more realistic. I empathize with Kxolo for his struggle to deal with his father's words and probable disapproval. And the resulting bond that creates for him with Neteyam is all the more stronger because of it and I love that Neteyam is someone that he can finally feel safe with enough to be himself instead of just the person he has to be in order to be Olo'eyktan.

THIS. THIS is exactly what I was trying to convey, thank you for understanding it so fully. Kxolo doesn't like to talk about it but his upbringing was rough and harsh. He had to learn how to value his own opinions over that of his fathers and learn to trust his own judgment. It was incredibly difficult but its what makes Kxolo a wonderful leader and confident man, as well as knowing how to show empathy and love (especially to Neteyam as he understand that pressure the omega puts on himself to make his parents happy).

/It began to grade at his nerves this game of ‘you can look but you can’t touch’. At one point he swiped out to catch Neteyam’s tail but the omega tripped slightly and glared back at him./ Let the poor baby finish his dance, Kxolo! He worked really hard on it! 😭

This rehearsed dance is going to be staple between the two. Kxolo is ready to beg on his knees if that is what it takes to have a performance of it whenever he'd like. However, seeing it for the first time is such a beautiful mix of heaven and hell for a man that hasn't gotten laid in weeks

As he gripped those hips and watched the way bioluminescent lights bounced off of Neteyam’s swerving body, Kxolo swore this was the longest song in existence./ Kxolo is so real for this 😂 I'd be impatient too

Kxolo's love language is 110% physical touch so watching this beautiful dance is exciting to say the least but when you tell him he can't touch and manhandle his mate the way he would like, now he has a problem

Anyways, thank you again for these wonderful thoughts! I will always cherish them and you<3

(Also I didn't proofread this so sorry about the mistakes that I know must be there)

Would you be willing to write a chapter where Neteyam gives Kxolo a lap dance? hehehe 😏😏😏👀👀👀

Pairing: Omega Aged Up Neteyam x Alpha Male OC

Masterlist AO3

Warnings: eplicit NSFW content, omegaverse, established relationship, power imbalance, aged up characters, anal, dom/sub dynamics, stockholm syndrome, not an exhaustive list. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Important note: This drabble takes place in the future in the Ma Neteyam universe, after the first book.

A/N: Thank you for waiting so long! You'll have to be patient with my writing on this one. It felt like word choice and I were duking it out, but I had a lot of fun writing it. If you enjoy it, as always, comments reblogs and asks mean the world to me and motivates me to write more! Enjoy<3

Kxolo shifted the feathers laying across his shoulders again. Wearing the ceremonial clothing had always been an honor and one that the alpha never took lightly but right now it felt as if the material was going to suffocate him. Still, he couldn’t let the appearance of his annoyance shine through. Especially not on a day like today. His birthday.

A day where the entire clan had come together and decided to throw a festival lasting from mid afternoon until deep into the night. He knew he had Neteyam to thank for many of the details that went into such an occasion. His sweet omega had been running rampant for the past moon cycle, organizing every little surprise and delight in secret until the big day. More times than one he had found the boy huddled in the healer’s tent to speak with his cousin in hushed whispers.

Try as he might, Neteyam had been relentless in keeping every morsel of this day a surprise and truly he had to admit that it had been perfect. His favorite food, people, music and location all rolled in together in spectacular celebration.

Kxolo subconsciously ran his thumb over the new smooth leather of his knife sheath. The same one that Neteyam had woken him up with this morning as a gift. His little mate couldn’t wait another five minutes before nervously presenting the hand crafted gift. His old sheath had been completely thrown aside and forgotten in favor of this personalized one, something he knew would continue to be the case. However, before he had the chance to thank his mate properly, they were interrupted by friends already putting into play the first part of the day’s festivities

It had been a real strain to put on a wide smile and act like his closest friends weren’t being the worst cock block imaginable.

As much as he loved the effort and true love that had gone into the celebration it was also the main thing that had kept Neteyam busy and away from their hut for the majority of their days. The boy had been zipping back and forth across the village with only small kisses to give before slipping from his grip to do the next task.

The last time Neteyam had wiggled himself off of the alpha’s lap amid passionate kissing, Kxolo had been dangerously close to insisting on canceling the lavish events just so he could have his omega back for more than five minutes. However, he could never do that. Not when Neteyam looked up at him with those golden eyes that sparkled with excitement and mischief as he once again denied Kxolo’s request to be filled in on details. How was he supposed to take that away from his little love?

“Brother, I can tell that extra year has already aged you into an old man.” Pulo settled beside him on a stump, handing over another wineskin full of strong drink. The party continued forward with a blurry of crowded dancing and intoxicated youth slipping off to hide their drunkenness.

He considered going over to reprimand them, but resisted.

Let the boys have some fun. It’s a party after all.

“I fear it is this mysterious concoction from Epok that has brought me there.” Kxolo responded but took another swig regardless. Even with his experience drinking the alcoholic fermented fruit, he had to admit that this was the strongest batch Epok had made in years. He made a mental note to keep the substance away from Neteyam. No doubt the sweet boy would be toppled over within a few sips.

“Soft as a flower, you’ve become.” Pulo teased, earning him a playful jab to the ribs. “Your little omega is already running circles around you.”

Kxolo’s eyes shifted back over to where Neteyam was continuing to dance without a care. It was a good look on him. A rare sight to behold, the eldest Sully child letting himself go. So far it had been the Olo’eyktan’s favorite part of the night, especially when Neteyam rolled his hips sensually to the beat of the base drum. At some point however, the dancing had turned into such erotica that Kxolo became ever more conscious of any wandering gazes.

He knew pushing Neteyam to Vamai would come back to bite him.

“He’s been doing that for weeks.”

“Ah, I see.” Pulo mused. “Someone missing their one on one time?”

Kxolo’s eyes shot like daggers to his chuckling friend. Leave it to Pulo to tease him on his birthday without a hint of remorse. However, Kxolo couldn’t deny that he appreciated how easily Pulo could read his emotions. Many times they required little words to communicate with one another.

“Wait, does this mean you didn’t like our little surprise this morning?” Pulo let out an overdone gasp, hand placing over his heart with a feigned wounded expression. “Surely our mighty Olo’eyktan would never wish to be away from his People.”

Kxolo rolled his eyes before swinging them back to his dancing omega.

“Of course not.” Another swig of alcohol and it burned just as much as the first.

His internal pouting, however, was cut short when Neteyam stumbled over towards him. Not willing to let the opportunity, or rather omega, slip away, his arms reached out and snatched the boy onto his lap. Neteyam’s drunken giggle rang through the air as he allowed himself to be manhandled across the Olo’eyktan’s muscular thighs.

“There you are.” Kxolo drawled out along Neteyam’s ear. Pulo’s little snort was ignored as he continued to run his flat nose over the column of his mate’s throat.

“You stopped dancing.”

“I enjoyed watching.” Kxolo reviled in the way Neteyam still blushed at comments like that, even after all this time being mated. He nosed at the rising tint blossoming over his cheeks.

“You’ve liked your birthday then?” Neteyam attempted to turn his face and get a good look at the male but his alpha was already nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“Mmm very much so. It’s perfect.” The feathers magically no longer itched as he was embraced with the sweet warm scent of his love. He basked in the swirled of essence that had been oh so missed over the last few weeks.

Neteyam on the other hand apparently had decided this distraction would be the chance to grasp at the wineskin in Kxolo’s hands. The alpha just barely managed to whip it away before those small fingers could clasp around it.

“Ah ah, this one’s not for you, baby boy.” Kxolo struggled to hold in the deep chuckle at the sight of Neteyam’s pouting, scrunched up expression. It was clear the boy was already tipsy from the watered down communal alcohol. One swig would be enough to swirl him into incoherency and for sure then their night would be over. “Trust me, you don’t want it.”

To prove his point further, the open bottle was brought under Neteyam’s nose. Instantly the omega scrunched up even more and turned away. Kxolo’s laughter rumbled against the boy’s back.

“I asked Epok to make the drinks but if you don’t like-”

“It is perfect. Mawey, sweet one.”

Neteyam visibly relaxed but a hint of that mischief still shined through.

“So perfect that you won’t let me try it?” Despite Neteyam’s batting lashes and lip bite Kxolo was compelled to once again deny his request. Instead he opted to playfully nip at that trapped bottom lip. Neteyam blushed a deeper red, pushing back at his alpha’s shoulders. He was not easily swayed, instead wrapping his arms around the boy's waist and pulling him closer until the omega couldn’t escape the persistent kissing.

Contrary to Neteyam’s outraged little squeak, his tails flickered with excitement.

“I suppose here is as good a place as any, but do let me know if I should herd the children away, brother.” Pulo smirked but it was short lived as a harsh yank pulled at his braids. Pulo’s mate did not back down from his responding hiss. Resaal flashed him a cunning smirk.

“Leave them be, won’t you? Olo’eyktan is not required to let your jesting slip by, no matter how long you have known him.” Resaal scolded but it only lit a fire in Pulo’s eyes.

“I too am neither required to put up with your bossy attitude, paskalin.”

“So you think.” Resaal purred, back away when Pulo reached for her hips. With confidence bursting from the seams she gracefully lured the other alpha away from the pair, a welcome intervention in Kxolo’s opinion. He made a mental note to think twice before sending Resaal away with a scavenging party for months on end. He loved his friend, but Pulo often became restless without his mate to challenge that fire out of him.

“Sweet peace.” Kxolo sighed before diving back in to leave kisses along Neteyam’s throat.

“Wait wait, I have a surprise for you.”

“So many surprises, baby boy. You have done enough.” Kxolo leveled his voice to sound sweet and endearing but he couldn’t deny that a part of him dreaded another celebratory surprise, especially with his omega already so sweetly perched in his lap. So close to the goal and yet his own birthday seemed to be getting in the way of what he wanted most.

“You will like this one. I promise.” It was the waver in Neteyam’s voice that caught his attention. Hesitation clearly spanned over the omega’s features and it made his own tail perk in alert. “Come.” Neteyam demanded, taking the alpha’s larger hand in his own to pull him away.

Finally realizing that his wishes were about to come true, Kxolo let himself be pulled along. Excitement ramped higher as the omega began leading them towards the outskirts of the party. He did, however, not miss the way Vamai and Neteyam exchanged a secret look, the other omega nodding in response before running off to speak with the musicians.

The only thing growing faster than his curiosity was Kxolo’s lust as he abashedly watched his mate’s hips side to side with each step. It had been too long, far too long and Kxolo suddenly remembered what it was like to be an insatiable teenager again. He hadn’t so desperately yearned for physical affection from Neteyam since the first few weeks he had stolen the boy away.

It was an experience he had no desire to repeat, every day feeling like a battle as he held himself back from acting on his most carnal yearnings.

Neteyam led them deeper into the forest until they were out of sight of any clan members but the music still rippled through the trees.

When Neteyam gently pushed his shoulders down until Kxolo was sitting on a stump the alpha wasted no time in pulling his mate onto his lap and connecting their lips once more. He allowed his hands to wander greedily over the omega’s soft skin, squeezing at the plump flesh of his exposed ass.

“You are right, I do enjoy this surprise, little one.” He breathed out, barely letting their lips disconnect for a second. Neteyam on the other hand was slowly starting reel back and fumble a sentence together.

“Wait, yawne. This is not-” He gasped when Kxolo teeth sunk down on the exposed hickey lining his throat. “N-not the surprise.”

The alpha simply hummed in response, already getting to work on bringing the bruise back to its full color.

“Wait w-wait wait.” Neteyam rambled before somehow wiggling out of the alpha’s possessive grasp. Kxolo went to stand up and follow but he was gently urged to stay seated.

“Neteyam,” Kxolo drawled, voice on the edge of a deep growl.

“Just stay for a second.” Neteyam pecked his lips but that nervous demeanor had returned. Curiosity once again took the reins so Kxolo reluctantly listened to his orders. It was rare to see the boy so demanding and he was not about to scare its appearance away.

Neteyam took a steadying breath, nerves already flashing over his angelic features but the omega’s hands told another story. They skated over Kxolo shoulders and along the vibrant feathers. He was ready to bask in the touch without the barrier so Kxolo rashly shrugged the traditional attire off. For a moment he swore he could hear his father's rough voice scolding him.

An Olo’eyktan must always remember his status.

An Olo’eyktan does not carelessly toss such symbols.

His fingers twitched, tempted to place it back over his shoulders but then there were Neteyam’s small hands tracing every vein along his neck and collarbones. His father’s brash voice floated away and there was only Neteyam.

Only Neteyam.

The one person that Kxolo could truly be himself with. The only person that was able to wash away the burdens of leadership simply with his soothing presence.

His father was not here, it was only them.

Kxolo’s hands did their own exploring, marveling at the boy’s tapered waist and curved hips. Each male petted with a reverence that sung out like a silent prayer of appreciation. Although he could already feel his member straining against his restricting loincloth, Kxolo allowed himself to sink into the slow build up of the movement.

Neteyam’s hips swayed, but this time not from simple walking. Instead they whipped to the beat of the drum. In perfect accordance with the music, that beautiful form curved and rolled sensually. He had seen Neteyam dance before, especially when under the influence of strong drink, but this was different.

It was unashamed.

It was erotic.

One leg swept backwards in a drawled semicircle along the ground before placing his foot on the other side of Kxolo's thigh. Now practically straddling the alpha’s leg, Neteyam dragged his inner thighs along him. It rippled a shiver up Kxolo’s spine and when he looked up to find Neteyam blushing profusely, it only tempered another flare in his heart.

His perfect omega.

It was undoubtedly new territory for both of them. The closest thing that the couple had participated in were a few forbidden sensual dances at celebrations. Although Neteyam's nerves were ever present, the boy continued to grind and roll to the rhythm perfectly.

His smooth transitions spoke volumes of the time that Neteyam had no doubt put into practicing this specific dance. Thinking of the omega practicing such an erotic dance Kxolo knew it had Vamai’s name written all over it.

He went to rise and join his mate in this explicit dance but Neteyam shook his head once more, making the male sit down with a huff again. A flurry of emotions raged through him and when Neteyam turned the other way so he had an obstructed view of his perky backside, Kxolo swore he was on the edge of ruin.

His sultry gaze couldn’t stay away from the beautiful display before him, not with his omega’s sweet scent now evermore present than before. It infiltrated the Olo’eyktan’s senses until there was nothing left but the throbbing of his loins.

Kxolo went to pull him back towards him but this time Neteyam required little persuasion as he bent to hover his backside over his pulsating erection. Instead of sitting fully, the omega swiped his tail and ass gently over the area, creating figure eight patterns. It was a soft type of torture, the smallest touches creating an ravenous rush through him.

As he gripped those hips and watched the way bioluminescent lights bounced off of Neteyam’s swerving body, Kxolo swore this was the longest song in existence. The harder Kxolo dug his fingers into Neteyam’s flesh the higher the omega’s confidence slowly grew. Gone was the blossoming blush, now replaced with a flushed countenance and blown out pupils.

Kxolo was sure his little mate would deny it but there was surely a part of him that enjoyed torturing his alpha. It was evident in the way his eyes sparkled every time he had to refuse Kxolo’s demands to sit down fully.

He was tempted to stamp that mischievous fire out, to show what happens when naughty omegas taunt their alphas, but he let him continue. No matter how impatient and downright desperate he was becoming, the Olo’eyktan did not want to associate retribution with Neteyam’s new attitude too quickly. There was something all too satisfying about the push and pull of such interactions; not that he could let Neteyam know that.

Kxolo swore he no longer had control over his hands as they wandered over his body incessantly. It was extremely rewarding however when a sharp tug to Neteyam’s nipple had that familiar gasp rising to the surface. The omega stuttered slightly in his movements but didn’t let it deter him for long.

He was starting to question whether or not this was a surprise or a punishment when Neteyam stood back up and slipped out of his reach. The hanging crystals making up his shall worked perfectly to glisten in the moonlight and bring attention to every movement.

A mental image of ripping those beads off with his teeth came to the forefront. Of course Neteyam would be upset. He would also be upset at Kxolo messing up the intricate designs painted across his chest and thigh, but he would recover. The Olo’eyktan was willing to take the consequences in any form that it came, as long as it meant having his way with the boy finally.

It began to grade at his nerves this game of ‘you can look but you can’t touch’. At one point he swiped out to catch Neteyam’s tail but the omega tripped slightly and glared back at him.

Kxolo was on the edge of pinning the boy down when Neteyam finally sashayed back over to him. Sitting backwards on his lap and circling those sinful hips once more, Kxolo did not wait to be invited to have a taste. He bit down harshly at the back of the omega’s left shoulder.

The responding small mewl was a greater symphony than the entire song combined. It laced the contours of the drums increasing build in a perfect masterpiece.

Neteyam struggled to continue the choreographed movements as his mate’s groping became strategically calculated. Those long fingers tickled and swirled along his most sensitive and private areas, ones that only his alpha knew by heart. When a warm palm slid over the front of his loincloth to cup him, Neteyam jerked back with a little shriek.

“That is not part of the show.” He managed to quip back.

Kxolo simply chuckled, hand now slipping underneath the waistband.

“Perhaps the encore then, little one”

“Let me finish.” Neteyam whined, hips already bucking upwards on the contrary.

Kxolo’s hot breath tickled at his ears until those soft lips were tracing his right ear’s shape.

“You will finish, omega. As many times as I decide.” That dark promise sealed his fate within a breath. It was endearing to watch the way Neteyam still squirmed and insisted on getting to the end of the song, even as his small cock twitched with each stroke against it.

He would make it up to the boy later, let him do the dance to his heart’s content, but Kxolo was tired of waiting.

Even an Olo’eyktan has a limit to his patience.

“You keep trying to run off, rude little thing.”

Neteyam whimpered, muscles in his legs finally giving out as the pleasure became too much.

“Just b-been busy.” He exhaled out an exaggerated breath, finally letting the alpha dispose of his loincloth and get to work. “Wanted to make it per…ah…perfect.”

“It is perfect and so are you. Now stop trying to steal my omega away from me. Otherwise I can’t promise to always play nice.”

Neteyam started to rut up against the male’s hand in rapid motion, but all that did was rub him back against Kxolo’s member tortuously.

“Or fair.” Neteyam gritted out between clenched teeth.

Kxolo chuckled darkly before tucking his chin over Neteyam’s right shoulder, giving him the perfect view of his mate’s twitching cock in his grasp. When Neteyam began to shudder and shake, eyes clenching shut with a cry, the Olo’eyktan simply cood out mocking praises and kissed his sweaty temple.

It became ever so clear that he was not the only one wound up after so much time apart.

Neteyam’s body had become familiar terrain for the alpha. Even a shift in his scent could trigger how close his omega was to finding sweet relief. It was a fact he took advantage of quite often because there was nothing more addicting than pulling out new sounds from his mate’s lips, that is besides the feeling of Neteyam’s tight heat milking him for all he is worth.

“P-please c-can I…hmm….need to….”

“Perhaps.” Kxolo mused, placing another kiss to his shoulder blade as he sped up the pace.

“Daddy please!”

A feral grin spread over his lips.

“Cum for me.”

Neteyam followed the order almost simultaneously and when he did Kxolo gave in to his intrusive thoughts. With sharp fangs he gathered a chunk of beads and strands and ripped them away violently. The beads went flying in every which direction but now there was a no layer of protection between Neteyam’s soft skin and Kxolo’s torment.

When his fangs sunk into the supple flesh, Neteyam shook uncontrollably.

He took his time nursing and sucking at the mark until his mate was whining and trying to pry Kxolo’s hand off of his overstimulated length.

The omega’s chest heaved up and down in a rapid pace but Neteyam’s wafting scent told him everything he needed to know. It spoke of that still ever rising desire, a flame that was easily recouping to match Kxolo’s own.

“Soaked for me already.” Kxolo whispered, rolling his own hips up until Neteyam’s arousal was staining the front of his loincloth.

“Alpha…” Neteyam reached back, fingers trying to grasp onto something; anything. They found a hold on the alpha’s waistband and that was all the encouragement Kxolo needed to rip off chuck the garment away.

Were this any other night the Olo’eyktan would watch that neediness grow, appreciate every shift in Neteyam’s demeanor until his omega was so fucked out that pleas bled from his lips uncontrollably.

Tonight, however, Kxolo found himself just as insatiable. Every minute without that tight hole wrapped around him was another of the alpha’s torment. Neteyam only made matters worse as he began to rub back against him, almost as if he could find a way to slip his alpha’s cock inside of him just from grinding.

Kxolo’s hand snatched the front of Neteyam’s throat so fast it expelled all the oxygen from his lungs in a burst. Eyes rolling backwards, he rolled his head backwards to rest against the alpha’s collarbones.

“Baby boy.” He growled. Using the other hand he reached beneath them and positioned the tip just barely at Neteyam’s slick entrance. “You’re going to take all of me, aren’t you?”

Eyes glistening with tears, Neteyam nodded hazily while pushing back.

Not good enough.

“Say it.”

His bulbous tip slipped just past the rim and Kxolo had to bite back a plethora of curses.

“Daddy I want to take all of your cock. Please!”

With one smooth thrust, Kxolo seated himself fully inside of the omega.

Who was he to deny such pretty pleas from his little mate?

“Great Mother, Neteyam! How did this little hole manage to get tighter?” His chest rumbled fervently and Kxolo once again felt another oral fixation coming on. The pretty marks covering Neteyam’s shoulder captivated him endlessly. Refreshing the color could never hurt.

“R-ready. Ready ready ready.” Neteyam babbled.

It was tempting to tease it out longer but Kxolo’s hips seemed to have another idea in mind as it took all of his concentration to not buck up into him. When he did, however, the result was electrifying. That clenching cavern fit him so perfectly, letting him carve out the space until there was not a doubt that this angel of a being was his.

No matter how many times they intertwined so intimately, nothing could ever erase the awe that washed over him every time Neteyam allowed him inside. The awe that they had finally made it, that they were mated and one before Eywa.

It was as if Neteyam could read his mind because he was quickly reaching back behind him to connect their neural queues hastily. As with every other time, warmth crashed through him boldly. It was the greatest satisfaction to feel his mate’s pleasure strumming through the bond, to know that he was pleasing the love of his life.

Their movements quickly became messy, spiraling out of control as Neteyam tried to rise up and down in tandem with Kxolo’s thrusts. When their lips found each other once more it was nothing but animalistic, a frenzy of urgency that neither was willing to live with. Had a clan member found them now, Kxolo was sure they would be shocked to see their naturally composed Olo’eyktan so untamed, unable to gather the slightest restraint.

That was the beauty of it.

Neteyam from the very beginning had brought out a side of him that he could express nowhere else.

Those special pieces of him belonged to his omega and his omega only.

Kxolo had to admire Neteyam’s rebounding sex drive. His fragrant essence was already tipping towards that natural burst of ecstasy quickly.

“Look at you. Already to the edge and ready for more.” Embarrassment was far from Neteyam’s mind, simply content to soak up the praise without objection. “What did I say?”

He plummeted to that special bundle of nerves and Neteyam couldn’t hold back his vibrant cry.

“As…..nahh….as many times as you decide.”

“Good boy.” Kxolo’s eyes shut on their own accord as his hips snapped upwards frantically. “Don’t hold back on me. Want that glimmering cum painting you inside and out.”

“Yes Daddy.”

If the trembling was any indication his mate was just as close to coming undone as he was. A new resolve sparked within him. The Olo’eyktan increased his efforts tenfold but then there was a small hand grasping his jaw. Neteyam’s tongues forcefully pushed its way past Kxolo’s lips and to the alpha’s surprise, claimed that area with ease. Their groans danced heatedly into the kiss until it was hard to recognize which taste was his own versus Neteyam’s.

The omega’s gummy walls squeezed around him just as Neteyam bit down on his lower lip. The pain rippled into a beautiful harmony with the height of his pleasure as they both reached peak together. Kxolo’s body took control, arms reaching out to make sure that not an inch of space could be formed between them.

Pelvis flush against the omega’s ass, warm seed painted those inner walls.

Through the bond he could track the moment Neteyam felt that primal claim. Even when Neteyam’s own release died down he was forced to ride out his alpha’s release through the bond. It shook him to the depth of his core.

Kxolo slumped forward against him, body shaking from the aftermath.

Several long moments passed with only heavy breathing to fill the silence. It was borderline painful to still be seated inside of such a tight channel but Kxolo didn’t dare to allow a gap between their bodies.

His stamina would ramp up again and once it did, he didn’t want the slightest chance of his omega teasing and running off again. Not that it would be possible in the first place. From the way Neteyam laid back against him completely limp, he figured it would be out of the question.

“I hope you aren’t too wrecked yet, baby boy.” He mocked, lips flickering up into a grin.

“As if.” Neteyam’s confidence wavered in its execution as his voice still trembled.

“Glad to hear because I know one last birthday gift you can give me.”

That perked Neteyam up, their eyes meeting finally.

“My omega all too myself.”

Neteyam’s lips parted.

“No more chores, no more late night tasks, baby boy.”

Neteyam giggled softly.

“I hope you don’t have any plans tonight or tomorrow because the only place I want to see you for the next day is in my bed.” Kxolo didn’t hold back the possessive growl lacing every word.

Their tails wrapped together until they were intertwined.

“Deal.” The omega whispered before connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

“Happy Birthday, Ma Kxolo.”

“Happy indeed.”

Taglist: @itchaboi-itchyboy @kayjaydee17 @theunfortunateplace @4ashes-stuff @neteyamssyulang @tallulah477 @perfectprofessorloverapricot @namjooncrabs @creepytoes88 @young5643-blog

#eclipse responds #I'm gonna go cry some more happy tears #ma neteyam #ma neteyam drabble #ma neteyam thoughts #omega neteyam #alpha male oc #alpha kxolo

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etherealblasphemy · 5 years ago

Text

You Never Seemed So Tense, Love

(what’s this? some actual content? on my blog? it’s more likely than you think)

hello again, y’all! it’s been a while since i’ve posted any writing, but at last, i’ve finished another fic! i hope y’all enjoy this one, i found it really fun to write. (title from “gives you hell” by the all-american rejects)

Trigger Warnings For: mild language and mentions of alcohol

Summary: Logan Guiscard loves his simple, mundane life. He most certainly does not love his next-door neighbor, Virgil Savage.

Length: 7,476 words

Kudos are appreciated, reblogs are adored, comments are loved!!

Logan Guiscard loved his life. Honestly. He loved his little suburban house that looked like almost every other home in his neighborhood. He loved his shiny car that he had to wash every weekend because if it wasn’t shining then obviously someone would think something was wrong and wouldn’t take him seriously. He loved his job as an astronomy professor at the local university where nobody cared about what the constellations were named because the Greeks were all dead, and it’s not they couldn’t just Google the names, anyways. He loved waking in the morning to see a lawn full of native plants and a little garden, because he might live in the affluent suburbs, but that didn’t mean he’d give into lawn culture, the horrid thing.

The only thing he didn’t love was his unfortunately next-door neighbor, Virgil Savage. Everything about him was simply illogical. The first thing the imbecile had done after moving in was paint the house bright purple, a stark contrast from the pastel grey every other home sported. He had a rather irritating habit of playing music a decibel too loud for Logan’s taste. He had absolutely no sense of self-care; Virgil seemed to throw on whatever clothes were clean— they were mismatched and rumbled, as if he had just taken them from his floor—and his skin was dull and most likely caked with makeup, which could easily be fixed if the man would just wash his face in the morning. Virgil Savage also had the miserable mannerism of being at least partially nocturnal.

Logan first found out about this “lifestyle” within a week of Virgil moving in. At first, he thought his neighbor was simply having trouble adjusting to his new house. And then the music started. Had it been any other time of day, perhaps Logan would have learned to let it by, to continue with his daily life. But because it was nine-thirty on a Wednesday night and Logan happened to teach Introduction to Astronomy on Thursdays at seven a.m., he marched over to the Savage house with a glare that burned hot enough to set Pluto alight, and knocked three times on the heavy door, tapping his foot incessantly as he waited for a response.

Virgil had opened the door with tired, bleak eyes the color of the Milky Way, full of enigmatic monachopsis that seemed to scream for human contact like an abandoned astronaut, and all arguments fled from the tip of Logan’s tongue. The music was even louder with the door open; the most prominent instrument was a piano that sounded like someone was slamming their fingers down on the keys in a desperate rage. Someone was screaming about friends and not wanting to leave, their voice raspy and broken.

“Do you… need something?” his neighbor had asked with a gruff voice, clutching at his elbows as if the sooner Logan left, the better. Logan had snapped out of his daze, pushing his glasses back up as he looked up at the man standing in the doorway. He couldn’t see much from where he stood on the porch.

“Yes, actually, I would like for you to turn your music down. It is impeding my ability to sleep, and I have to teach a class in the morning,” Logan explained crisply. Virgil looked him up and down, sizing up his new competitor with a smug smirk.

“Well, I dunno, teach.” Logan’s heart stopped for a full second at the nickname before his face morphed into a mask of contempt. “There’s a party going on right now, and what party is complete without music?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced inside. He couldn’t see much besides a very much empty living room. “Apparently, a pity party,” he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. For a quarter of a second, a single frame in the movie of life, Virgil’s face had contorted, full of hurt, before quickly losing its emotion, replaced with cool nonchalance. Logan had had half the mind to apologize for his unsympathetic behavior before the song grew louder and Logan was reminded that it was late at night and he was too exhausted to deal with this sort of tomfuckery.

He was about to launch into a full debate to convince this heathen to turn his music down to a respectable volume when another figure came careening through the living room by way of an unseen doorway, crashing into Virgil with raucous, drunken giggles.

“Broooooo…” the newcomer slurred, his arms wrapped around Virgil’s neck for support. “You gotta finish that assignment of yours. You wanna pass the class, donya? Come ooooon,” he wheedled. Virgil’s face flushed as the stranger whined.

“Roman, how much have you drunk?”

“…a bottle.”

“A bottle?! Dee let you drink a whole bottle?!” Virgil’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, his mouth hanging open in disbelief as he turned, facing the living room that still held no-one despite the “party” raging on inside. “Dee! I’m gonna kick your ass!” he yelled as he unwrapped Roman’s arms from his neck. Virgil’s eyes glanced back at Logan. “Sorry about my friend.”

With that, Virgil pushed Roman further into the house, muttering in exasperation as he shut the door without another word to Logan. The teacher blinked before he regained his senses. He scoffed at the sudden cut-off from his neighbor, rolling his eyes. There was nothing else he could do now besides head back home and shove a pillow over his ears to muffle the music.

It was only when he finally slipped into bed that he realized he could only hear the sound of crickets and someone’s air conditioner whirring in the late August night heat.

The music had been turned off.

He hated himself for believing that it would end that night with a simple confrontation. The next week, the music was up again. Logan was too busy grading incomplete and frustratingly incorrect constellation maps to tell off Virgil, and let it be. But then it happened again the next week. And the next. It seemed to Logan that Virgil was just trying to get a rise out of him at this point. When he called his brother he ask for advice, the only promising words he got was “talk to him.”

“Patton, you don’t understand. I have talked to him, he just won’t listen,” he sighed as his brother listened intently over the video call, constantly adjusting his round glasses.

“Now, Logan, you know that everybody communicates in different ways. Maybe he is listening, but he just can’t communicate in a way you understand.” Patton adjusted his glasses again as he tilted his head, a thought striking him. “Maybe he’s trying to get your attention?”

Logan sighed, thinking about Virgil. Would he really be the type of person to annoy him just to get his attention? Virgil didn’t need to play music at an irritating volume for Logan’s consideration of him—those sonderous eyes plagued him almost as much as the music did.

Hold on. What did he just think?

“Are you alright, Logan? You’re making face you always do whenever I correct on your grammar. You know—like someone just ate all the second cookies,” Patton giggled. Logan heard someone talking in the background as Patton turned away from the camera, listening to the person off-screen. “Yep! Do you wanna come say hi to him?” Logan heard a sound of acquiescence and the pounding of footsteps as someone ran down the hallway of his brother’s apartment.

“Hiya there, Logan!” He flinched as Patton’s partner, Emile, popped up in front of the camera. “I heard you were in a jam!” The psychiatrist held up a jar of jam as Logan groaned at the pun, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I don't know which is worse—your puns or Virgil’s music,” he grumbled goodnaturedly as the partners collapsed into laughter that sounded choppy in the low quality audio of his laptop. He ran a hand through his hair as he checked the time, cringing at the late hour. “I’m sorry, Patton, but I’ll have to sign off now. It’s getting late and I have the wonderful blessing of teaching a morning class tomorrow. I’ll see you next weekend, correct?” His brother nodded as he and Emile wished Logan goodnight.

As he turned off his computer, his mind wandered back to the original topic of his and Patton’s conversation—Virgil. He couldn’t possibly be engaging in this childish feud because he was, what, interested in him? Logan snorted aloud, shaking his head. Virgil was obviously only toying with him.

“Well, then,” he whispered aloud as he slipped into bed, ready to fall asleep. “Two can play that game.”

He wasn’t able to put his plan into motion until the following weekend, just before he had to pick up Patton from the airport. It was quite simple, in Logan’s opinion, but then again, he reminded himself, he had to be on the road by at least nine so he could pick up Patton from his eleven-o-clock arrival, so complex schemes were out of the question until he had the time and reason to do such. Thus, he found himself setting a heavy speaker down on the edge of his front porch, his phone already connected to it. He had deliberated for a while on what song to use before settling on the timeless classic of “Hooked on a Feeling”.

He was about to turn on the speaker when he felt his phone vibrating in his hand. He turned it on to see a text from Patton: “So… I might have told you the wrong arrival time…” Immediately, he called his brother.

“What do you mean, ‘wrong arrival time’?” he questioned as soon as Patton picked up.

“Well, I’m here now. At the airport. It turns out the flight isn’t as long as I thought it was…” He could hear incessant chatter in the background and could clearly picture the dismal little airport that never seemed to stop renovating one wing or another, resulting in utter chaos when it came to an orderly flight schedule. “If you’re busy, don’t worry. I can wait a few hours—”

“Don’t be silly, Patton,” Logan interrupted. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes if the traffic’s alright.” He was already grabbing his keys from inside, throwing on a jacket, and unlocking his car doors. “Have you eaten yet?” The silence was answer enough for him. “There’s plenty of options around. Just be sure to eat something healthy, alright? And remember to get your bags,” he sighed as he started the car, the engine a gentle thrum beneath him.

“Alright, Logan, I will. See you in a bit. Thanks for picking me up.” The call disconnected, leaving Logan in the silence of his car before he decided surprisingly that he couldn’t stand the quietude and turned on the car radio as he backed out of the driveway, unaware of the jet black eyes that watched him go sadly.

Logan made to the airport in forty minutes, actually. He found Patton sitting at the counter of a small shop selling dumplings and baobaos, giddily eating the delicious food. He watched with a soft smile for a moment as Patton snuck a bite of a dumpling to the golden retriever laying on the floor beneath him, her vest proudly displaying her role as a service dog. As Patton straightened, he finally noticed his brother standing several feet away.

“Logan!” he called excitedly, waving him over. Logan’s feet moved on their own, small steps turning into bounds as he ran to his brother and hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you, too, Logan. It doesn’t seem that university can end soon enough.” Logan’s grip tightened before he released his brother. He felt something nose at his leg and looked down to see Lola nudging at his leg, staring up at him with puppy eyes, despite knowing full well she was not a puppy, by size nor age standards.

He crouched down and ran a hand through her fur as Lola’s tail began beating excitedly. “Hello to you, too,” he said as Lola barked softly in greeting. “You’ve got your bags?” he asked as he stood up. Patton nodded, finishing the last dumpling, and clambered off his stool, thanking the shop owners as he grabbed the handles of his two suitcases in both hands. “I’ll hold on to Lola.” He grabbed the golden retriever’s lease, untying it from the chair’s leg, and began guiding the dog and his brother through the dim airport to the parking lot.

It was nine forty a.m. when they got home. The sun was glimmering, bearing down with no qualms onto the earth with a fierce intensity that seemed to rake across their backs with a near unbearable heat. Patton took one look at the speakers still set up on Logan’s porch and turned around, stopping in his tracks.

“Logan, what are you planning?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to listen to some music while I washed my car,” he explained, even though he knew his car was clean and it was pointless to try and wash it when it was supposed to rain that night, anyways. Patton’s eyes narrowed with a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

“You’re going to play music, aren’t you?” he proclaimed, twirling around and pointing at Logan with one finger and a sly smile as though he was a detective who had just solved the most difficult case ever presented to him. “Oh, I knew that look meant something! You looked so starry-eyed when we were talking about Virgil!” Logan blanched as he gasped in indignation.

“I did not look starry-eyed! He’s not even my friend, he’s just my neighbor!”

“A neighbor who you call on every Wednesday night,” Patton teased as Logan brushed past him with a groan of frustration, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

“It’s his fault, Patton, he’s the one who plays punk rock from the 2000s and 70s and 80s pop songs played on what I think might be an organ louder than a plague of cicadas at ten-thirty at night.” Patton could only laugh at Logan’s description as he made his way into the kitchen and opened the fridge, already making himself at home.

“Sure, Logan.” Patton’s brow furrowed as he surveyed the fridge and its contents. “How many jars did Mom give you last time?”

“I counted twenty—wait, don’t change the subject, Patton!” Logan chastised. Lola spoke—or, rather, barked—up, woofing at the brothers as if to say, “stop talking about your neighbor and feed me.”

When at last Lola was fed and Patton had dropped his suitcases down in the guest room, it was nearing ten a.m.; he was finally able to step outside and stretch in the sun. Out of habit, he glanced at Virgil’s house, half expecting to see strobe lights flashing wildly behind the curtains, and saw nothing. He paused, his thoughts turning to the speaker still sitting abandoned on his porch. Was Virgil still asleep? An evil grin split across his face as he pulled out his phone, finding the song easily.

“I hope you like the taste of your own medicine,” he mumbled as he pressed played. Immediately, sound poured out of the speaker, the lowest notes tapping a familiar rhythm on his heart. He could just barely hear the sounds of confusion in the other house, following by the door slamming open as Virgil stumbled out in his pyjamas.

Well, he couldn’t really call them pyjamas. Virgil was covered—thankfully, of all the bad habits Virgil partook in, sleeping in the nude was not one of them—but just barely. He wore grey boxers beneath a violet tank top at least two sizes too big for him, and not much else. And perhaps Logan blushed furiously at the sight of sunshine on Virgil’s lanky arms and pale legs, but it was just from the heat. Just the heat.

Not that any of that mattered. Logan was too busy watching Virgil nearly trip over his feet as he shambled about in his lawn, momentarily blinded by the sun, to think any more about Virgil’s limbs. As his eyesight adjusted, Virgil noticed Logan standing in his own yard, then saw the speaker blasting music, and put two-and-two together.

“Do you know what time it is?” Virgil groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Logan snickered.

“It’s nine-fifty-two a.m., which is a more reasonable time than ten-forty-five at night,” he shot back. Virgil snorted before covering it with a cough. “Even if you wake up late, you should at least go to bed at a reasonable time. A good bedtime is crucial to a healthy life,” he lectured as Virgil raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“Oh, getting worried about me, now? Careful, teach, or someone will think you’ve caught feelings for me,” Virgil chaffed, his eyes bright now in the daylight, intelligent and unrelenting in their mirth. Logan spluttered, unable to form a proper response. “Beware, Logan Guiscard. You’ve opened up a Pandora’s Box now.” Virgil’s voice was deep and full of laughter—like Logan was missing out on the funniest joke ever told. “I hope you like punk rock.”

He couldn’t stop himself from saying, “It’s you’ve been playing, how could it ever get old?” This time, Virgil snorted for real, chuckling uncontrollably as he backed away towards his house. Logan knew he wouldn’t get that sound out of his head for weeks. Virgil paused as he reached the doorstep of his home, glancing back over his shoulder.

“…I was finishing a report for my theoretical astrobiology class, by the way. I finished a little past midnight. Sorry for wanting to sleep in. I’ll make sure to let my professor know next time that I wasn’t able to finish my paper because my neighbor cared about me.” Logan physically stepped back, stunned. Virgil was taking university classes? And astronomy-related classes at that? Sweet heavens. Somehow, Logan’s face grew even more heated in the August sun.

Too bad Virgil had already left before Logan could find out more.

It wasn’t like Virgil hadn’t warned him. Logan could clearly recall him referencing Greek mythology (which another one of his passions that just so luckily gave him an advantage in astronomy) as he swore to wreak havoc on Logan’s life. Now, perhaps he hadn’t used those exact words, but it was exactly what was happening at nine p.m. on a Tuesday night in the middle of his late-night astronomy class. The class was too far gone now to be reigned back in, the music was still pouring in through hidden speakers, and all Logan could do was stare at Virgil like his whole world had been shattered as his neighbor laughed with his whole body, the sound loud and full of life and shaking Logan’s very core.

He had been in the middle of explaining which constellations appeared during which seasons—it was the beginning of the semester and he had learned the hard way to always begin with the basics—when the music first started. He had been so envirgorated in his explanation of the importance of the North Star that he hadn’t heard it until one of his students asked if whoever was listening to Fall Out Boy would please turn the volume down. Logan had stopped in his tracks, eyes snapping back to reality with a sinking feeling of déjà vu, and listened.

Unfortunately, his dread was well-met. The sounds of Fall Out Boy’s “Thnks fr th Mmrs” were pouring in from all sides of his classroom; Logan scowled, already searching for the familiar pair of inky eyes that bedeviled his dreams and late-night musings. “Virgil Savage!” he yelled, praying that the incident was actually Virgil’s fault and not some poor student who just happened to have the exact same music interests as his neighbor. “You better show yourself before I make you!”

The laughter was more of a giveaway than anything else. Virgil slumped in the doorway, his smirk so infuriating yet charming all the same. He gave a two-fingered salute to the professor as he held up his phone, waving in his trademark teasing manner. Virgil paid no mind to the students staring at the occurrence with rabid curiosity; his focus was on Logan as he bit his bottom lip and held out the phone towards the professor as though inviting him closer.

“You want the music off?” he asked, his deep voice gliding out of his mouth and wrapping itself around Logan’s body like venti of the ancient age. Logan nodded silently and unceremoniously, unable to think of a good retort. “Come and turn it off yourself.”

That was what had sent his class into chaos. One of them had yelled “Dance party!” immediately after, jumping up from his seat and flailing his arms around in what Logan could only assume to be dancing—an attempt at dancing, at the very least. Logan glared at Virgil as he stalked slowly towards the interloper, the sounds of students nothing but background noise at this point. He leaned closer to Virgil, his eyes full of wrath.

“Turn that music off right now,” he hissed.

“You’re staying up too late. If I can’t sleep in, you can’t stay out,” was Virgil’s only response. Logan stuttered.

“You—I—I am teaching a class!”

“And I’m not turning the music off,” Virgil continued. “I told you, if you want it off—” Virgil other hand grabbed Logan’s waist, pulling him into a dip as the professor yelped in surprise and the students cheered Virgil on. “—you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

It took a full five seconds to pass before Logan’s brain rebooted, shutting down the moment Virgil’s warm touch had met his starved skin. Once his reason returned, he wrangled himself out of his neighbor’s arms with several muttered swears and all but ripped Virgil’s phone out of his hands, turning the music off quickly and shoving the device back towards his neighbor. He glared daggers at the interloper for good measure as he retreated back into the comforts of his classroom with a scowl on his face.

“You’re not getting enough sleep either, teach. What was it you said? Yeah, I remember now: ‘a good bedtime is crucial to a healthy lifestyle.’” Virgil smirked as he watched Logan try to reign in his class, to no avail, those dark irises of his eyes holding something mysterious Logan would love to unravel if it weren’t for the classroom of fifty students in the process of losing their minds. “Of course, not letting loose every once in a while and refusing to humor your everloving neighbor really takes a hit on you, doesn’t it?” Logan glanced at Virgil as he paused from removing a recording phone from particularly stubborn student, focusing on the annoyance swirling through him instead of the rapid, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wave of warmth that overcame him at the sight of Virgil’s eyes, half hooded by his black-painted eyelids and full of curiosity—curiosity for Logan. That particular feeling he shoved back into the recesses of his mind.

“Virgil Savage, escort yourself out of this room or I will have security do so. We will continue this at a later date.” Virgil only grinned wickedly as he saluted once more and slinked behind the door frame, disappearing in the myriad of hallways.

“How about we continue it tomorrow at Bourbon Coffee? I hear they make great croissants!” Virgil shouted back. Logan stopped dead in his tracks, his head whipping towards the door in shock. But in true Virgil fashion, he was gone before Logan could find out more.

His only hope to gain another piece of the puzzle that was Virgil Savage was to meet him at Bourbon Coffee tomorrow morning.

He prayed he would survive their encounter.

Logan woke up to the mouth-watering smell of french toast the next morning, a smile already on his face. He found his brother in the kitchen, slipping Lola little bites of bacon as he cooked.

“What is all this for, Patton? Don’t you trust me to make my own breakfast?” he asked as he patted Lola, who showed off her canines with a beam.

“One of Emile’s former patients is one of your students. They told a little story on Twitter, and Emile found out and told me!” Patton swiveled around, almost whacking Logan in the face with his spatula. “How come you didn’t tell me you were going on a date?” Logan huffed, swiping a slice of bacon from the plate where they were cooling.

“It’s not a date,” he argued. “This might be my only chance to actually deal with Virgil besides throwing a pillow over my ears.” Patton chuckled, leaving the conversation as he finished cooking and slid two slices of french toast onto a nearby plate and handing it to Logan, throwing a smaller slice on the floor for Lola to wolf down. He continued his points as he ate. “Besides, I wouldn’t even call our relationship a friendship—”

“Alright, first off, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Patton interrupted as he maneuvered them both to sit at the dining room table. “Second of all.” Patton waited until Logan looked up at his brother, holding his gaze. “Do you want it to be a friendship?” he asked gently, knowing the look that was growing in Logan’s eyes.

“…Truth be told, Patton… I do. Virgil…” Logan sighed, unsure how he could ever explain his interest in Virgil if he couldn’t explain the greatest mysteries of the universe, which were far more comprehensible than the mind and soul of his neighbor. “…Virgil is unexplainable. I try to understand him. But I can’t… Am I wrong to want to understand him?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Patton’s lips as he regarded his brother. “No. Not at all.” Patton’s grin turned mischievous. “But date or not, I still get to be excited! You never go out, it’s nice to see you having fun for once.” For once, Logan did not respond to Patton, allowing himself to genuinely grin.

Fun…

It wasn’t a foreign word in his dictionary, but its page wasn’t dog-eared the way other words were. It didn’t have the significance of ebullience (bubbly enthusiasm—it reminded him of his brother), it didn’t have the importance of syzygy (the alignment of celestial bodies—he always found some way to weave it into his lectures), it didn’t roll across his tongue with the same effortlessness of hiraeth (homesickness for a place that never was or cannot be returned to—plus, it tied into his efforts to learn the Welsh language). Fun was not an unknown word, but it was not one mulled over like wine as he pondered his place in the universe.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t reintroduce it to his vocabulary, relearn the way it sounded, the way it felt running along his vocal cords.

Patton could tell what was going through his brother’s mind. He sat back lazily as he ate his breakfast, his smile just barely concealing his pride. “It’s almost nine, by the way,” he added. “You should get ready soon.” Logan nodded, only a little disappointed that they had to end their moment of peace so quickly.

Far too soon, he found himself ready to go, with the exception of a stomach that wouldn’t stop churning. Logan had no idea why he was so nervous—at best, he and Virgil would get coffee and talk without tearing each other’s head apart, and at worst they would just continue their feud like normal. It wasn’t like things going wrong would ruin his life irreversibly—so why did Logan feel the need to impress Virgil, to make things go perfectly?

He pushed those musings to the back of mind for later analysis. He headed outside to be met with the uncomfortable heat he was so used to yet hated all the same. Wearing a black cotton button down did nothing to relieve the suffocating heat against his body. Silently, he cursed the sun as he glanced about, wondering where Virgil was. It hit him that they had never agreed to a specific time. For all Logan knew, Virgil could already by at the coffee shop waiting for him.

Swallowing thickly—he didn’t know why, he had no reason to be nervous—Logan walked over to his neighbor’s house and rapped his knuckles against the door, tapping his foot incessantly as he waited.

The door opened to reveal… not-Virgil. Logan vaguely recalled him as the drunken man who had popped up behind Virgil the first time he had given his neighbors a visit, though he could not remember the man’s name for the life of him. The man yawned, staring at Logan.

“You’re that teacher Virgil’s obsessed with, right?” he asked.

“…Yes?” Logan wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that, even if his heart did flutter a little bit at it. “Is he inside? We’re supposed to meet at Bourbon Coffee, but he failed to give a time. I thought it would be logical to go with him so we arrive at the same time.”

The man at the door chuckled. “Virgil’s got a date, eh?”

Logan flushed against his will. “Alright—first of all, it is not a date, and second of all, would you please just tell me where he is?” he pleaded. The man nodded with a lopsided grin, glancing behind him.

“He’s still asleep. Probably thought the date would be a late one,” he drawled, laughing at the way Logan grumbled at the continued use of the word “date.” The man stuck out his hand, at last (re)introducing himself. “I’m Roman. Nice to properly meet you.” Logan took his hand politely, shaking it as he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as he looked inside the house to hopefully see Virgil.

“I’m Logan Guiscard. Pleasure to meet you as well,” he said, biting back his frown when he couldn’t see his enigmatic neighbor. He drew his hand back with an awkward sigh. “Well, please let me know when Virgil wakes. I would rather go with him to the coffee shop than wait for him.” Roman nodded, saying he would, and closed the door to leave Logan standing on the porch with a heavy heart, though he decided it was better not to analyze why he felt disappointed that he wasn’t able to see Virgil.

Logan felt his phone vibrate and saw a text from his brother. Are you there yet? it read. He texted back a quick response, smirking devilishly when a notification from his music service popped up, giving him a positively evil idea. He tapped on the notification, opening the app, and scrolled until he found a song Virgil would adore waking up to.

��Would you mind if I listened to some music while I waited?” Logan asked Roman as innocently as possible. The neighbor shrugged. He bit back his sly grin as he subtly turned his volume all the way, connecting to his speaker, which remained on the porch from their last morning encounter. He pressed play, and let himself smile at last as chaos erupted to the sound of My Chemical Romance’s “Planetary (GO!)”.

The first thing to happen was Roman bursting into laughter as he realized what was happening. The second thing to happen was a series of shouts from inside Virgil’s house. Two people emerged from the shadows—someone Logan had yet to meet, and Virgil. He felt himself smile without thinking at the sight of his neighbor. Virgil’s eyes were hooded and full of exhaustion, bent on the murder of whoever woke him up so early. They cleared upon seeing Logan, lighting up like fireworks, but quickly narrowed as he put two and two together and realized Logan was behind his early wake-up.

“Y’know, if it weren’t for the fact that I love this song, I would be throttling you, you damn player,” Virgil mumbled with a tired laugh. He was murmuring along to the lyrics, holding out a hand to the teacher. “Come on, aren’t you going to dance with me?” For a moment, Logan felt like he had landed on an alien planet, because in no galaxy would this ever happen, but the moment passed as soon Logan realized, foreign planet or not, there was no way he would ever refuse.

He took Virgil’s hand with a sheepish smile, a silent apology for his lack of skill when it came to the aesthetic movement of his awkward limbs. Virgil didn’t seem to mind as they danced—well, to call it dancing would be pushing it. It was more like what Patton had once described as “moshing”, a frantic but energizing thrashing of arms and legs with no regards of what others thought. It was fun. Logan found that he actually liked it—or perhaps it was only because Virgil was dancing with him, and in a few minutes they would be grabbing coffee together like a real couple… of friends.

When at last the song ended, both of them were gasping for air as they laughed like the idiots they were. Logan was grinning so hard it hurt, but he found he didn’t care. I like him. I really like him a lot.

For once, the thought didn’t scare him.

“I’m guessing you want to head to Bourbon Coffee?” Virgil was asking him. Logan nodded wordlessly, unable to speak as he regained his breath. Virgil smiled softly. “I’ll go change, then. I’ve shown up wearing pyjamas too many times, they’ll probably kick me out this time.” Virgil hurried inside to change out of his night clothes, leaving Logan alone with Roman and the new person.

“We haven’t met before, I’m Logan Guiscard,” he introduced, holding out a hand to them. Their eyes flickered over Logan for a moment.

“Desmond Inoni. Call me Dee. You’re the teacher Virgil’s obsessed with,” the man stated cooly, amused as Logan blushed furiously, spluttering incessantly. The teacher was unable to voice his objections further, as Virgil came running out, hopping on one foot as he shoved a black sneaker on. “You two have fun,” Dee called as they set off. Virgil flipped him off playfully over his shoulder as Logan motioned for him to get in the teacher’s car.

In ten minutes, they were sitting down in the cafe with their hot coffee. Logan had gotten a simple black coffee, with about a bucket of added sugar, and Virgil had ordered some complex drink the bartender seemed to have had memorized. They sat in a corner booth by the window, enjoying the company of some calming, though probably fake, spider plants. Logan tried his best to be inconspicuous as he studied Virgil Savage, the mystery himself. He studied the way Virgil bobbed slightly to the cliché electro swing, the way the sunlight lit up the dusk in his eyes, the way his lips curved when he smiled as he spoke about his short-lived endeavor to become a musician to pay his way through college.

“What about you?” Virgil inquired. “How did you pay for college?”

“I won a scholarship by writing about astronomy. Being a teaching assistant helped to pay for the rest,” he explained. “I had to work quite hard to keep my scholarship, so I never had as many chances to make relationships—platonic or otherwise.” He caught Virgil’s gaze as he mumbled, “This is actually the first time I’ve been out with someone besides my brother and his partner…” Virgil’s eyes visibly widened in disbelief.

“Never?!” Logan shook his head, less melancholic than the last time he had mused over the young adulthood he never had. Somehow, sharing his woes with his neighbor lessened their meaning. Virgil took a sip of his drink before continuing, looking out beneath his thick eyelashes. “…I’m glad you thought my company was worthy enough for you, Logan.”

Logan knew he would treasure the way Virgil said his name for eons, forever and ever until the final star burned out and left the universe dark. He would always remember the way his heart skipped a beat, something slotting into place. Even if nothing came of this experience, even if by some reason he never saw Virgil again, even if the world ended right that moment and he was the last being alive, he would know that he had fallen in love with Virgil Savage.

But his neighbor was not meant to be his soulmate. Virgil didn’t love him.

“Logan? You okay?” Virgil was waving his hand in front of his face, worry swimming in his eyes. “You kinda disassociated for a moment. Don’t worry, I do it all the time.” Logan almost chuckled at Virgil’s small blush. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he promised. “Just… glad you think my company is worth an early rise.” Virgil cracked a smile with a huff, shaking his head.

“Don’t think this changes things,” he warned. “I have a whole playlist you’re going to fall asleep to.”

“That would sound adorable and affectionate if I didn’t know what a scoundrel you truly are,” Logan fired back with a smirk of his own. “I promise I’ll have my own songs to share with you in the early morning hours.” Virgil laughed loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

They sat and talked for what must have been hours, trading anecdotes, questions, and life advice. He learned that Virgil had grown up half an hour away in the backwoods of suburbia, that his favorite color was violet, his favorite animal was a bird of paradise because their dances were beautiful and stupid at the same time, that his parents were divorced but were still friends, that his biggest wish as a young, dumb kid was to be an astronaut and die among the stars. In return, he told Virgil about himself, how his mother had died when he was nine but he loved his stepmother just as much, how his adoration of space began when an astronaut came to his school, how his favorite article of clothing was an old baggy sweatshirt from his first year teaching.

Yet all good things must come to an end, and eventually Virgil had to ruefully apologize that he had an appointment he needed to go to, and had to leave.

He watched Virgil leave wistfully, stirring what remained of his coffee with a cheap plastic stick as he let his thoughts wander over mountains and meadows. Somehow, by some chance, he was in love with Virgil Savage.

Even if Virgil never loved him back, he would make sure to cherish him. He would love and he would lose, yes, but he knew it would be better than to love and to imagine what could have been.

The climax to it all came about a week later, after many continued meetups. Virgil had been hinting at some big finale to it all for the past few days, and Logan was both incredibly excited and incredibly terrified of what his neighbor was planning.

It happened on a clear October night, just as Logan was winding down from a particularly tiring day. Patton was packed and ready to leave tomorrow morning, already sleep despite the early evening hour, and as much as his puns and jokes exasperated Logan to no end, he was going to miss his brother.

The teacher was sitting at the dining room table, finishing up reading a student’s paper. He rubbed at his fluttering eyelids, trying to keep himself from falling asleep as he took another sip from his water, determined to have all his papers graded before he went to sleep. He glanced at his watch every few minutes, chastising himself for checking so often as though he were waiting for something, quickly righting his course of focus back to his yet-to-be-graded papers.

He was about to call it a night and resign himself to an early morning finishing yesterday’s work when it happened. Through the window, which he had left open so he could enjoy the sounds of the night, came the telltale beginnings of trouble, a faint rumble Logan had come to recognize as a bassline emanating from his neighbor’s house.

As he began to hear the lyrics, he tipped back his head with a groan that couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be exasperated or amused. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me…” he muttered as he pushed away from the table to stumble to the window and stand bewildered at the apparent absence of life in the Savage household. Not even a bedroom light was on inside, and it seemed either Virgil had fallen asleep to The All-American Rejects, or this was Virgil’s finale. He knew it was the latter.

Sighing, he pushed away from the table with a clatter of his chair. Running a hand through unkempt tangles of hair, Logan all but shoved the door open and walked out into the brisk night, letting the overwhelming intensity of the song wash over him and take all worries of the papers on his kitchen table away from his mind. Then he noticed movement from one of the windows, and Logan knew to prepare himself for an overly dramatic performance that would have cemented his love for his neighbor if the secret space enthusiasm and the wistful eyes hadn’t already done so.

Logan’s hypothesis proved correct when the bridge of the song began, and people poured out of the house, just like in the music video—which he had watched dozens of times, in a long playlist titled “virgil’s favorites -- memorize!!”, because if he was going to be in love with the man, he might as well know more about what he liked.

And, just like in the music video, they began chanting the ever-plaguing verse as Virgil, playing the role of Tyson Ritter, strutted slowly and calmly down the steps to the teacher’s driveway, where Logan was waiting for him, an exasperated smirk greeting his neighbor.

As soon as Virgil was within an earshot, Logan called to him. “Is this your finale, then?” Virgil’s eyes lit up with playfulness as he stood toe to toe with the teacher, his grin bigger than a full moon.

“Was it too predictable for you?” Virgil retorted with a glimmer of affection in his voice.

“Perhaps,” Logan replied in the same dramatic air as Virgil. “Though I’m beginning to think maybe it’s because I’m rubbing off on you.”

“And maybe it’s because I’m letting you rub off on me. Maybe I like it,” Virgil laughed as he stepped but an inch closer. Logan could see the little discolored speckles in Virgil’s eyes now, from how close they were. Almost close enough to kiss, his brain supplied (un)helpfully.

At once, Logan’s entire demeanor changed. They were close enough to kiss, weren’t they? He’d been fantasizing about it on more than one occasion, though Logan always classified them as nothing but. Nothing but fantasies to tuck away for reminiscing. But here, under starlight, with Virgil looking like a Lunar Queen, with those mesmerizing eyes trapping his, those fantasies seemed more like memories.

“Logan,” Virgil whispered. And like that, the spell was broken. Logan broke from his dreaming to hear a silent night once more, the song having ended without his notice. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Virgil beat him to it. “Look up.”

And, oh, wasn’t that a sight.

“I was wondering why you weren’t outside watching the meteor shower, and when I texted Patton, he said you were grading papers. Can you believe it? Missing the coolest thing in the world for a couple of dead trees?” Virgil was saying, his voice soft and gentle as a blanket.

Logan, of course, was too busy looking to hear him.

Not looking at the meteor shower—oh, no, no. As gorgeous as the black-blue-purple swashes of paint across the heavens was, as breath-taking as the falling stars were, as inspiring as the night sky captured in pure happiness was, none of it compared to the beauty he was so enraptured by—the beauty, of course, being the look of pure awe in Virgil’s eyes as he watched the meteors shoot across the sky.

Without thinking, Logan leaned over, and kissed him.

It was brief, but as soon as he pulled away, he said, “I think I love you.” Just to cement it, of course. To make sure Virgil knew.

The man in question stared at Logan, his eyes wide with surprise, and lips parted in an unspoken gasp. Virgil said nothing. He only grabbed the back of Logan’s neck and pulled him for a second, better kiss.

Two shooting stars crossed the sky together above them, as if in love.

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