#cassius bellona x male reader

[thesevro]

[cassius bellona] sit, goodman

Cassius Bellona/Male Reader Smut Word count: 2.7K words Minor Light Bringer spoilers below the cut.

CW: Sex (i.e., oral sex, exchanged masturbation), vulgarity Reader constraints: Gold-born, an engineer of the Rising

Lyria, literally filming every horny interaction between you and Cassius with the audio: “If you don’t let me suck your dick, I’m going to kill myself. Take your pants off right now, or I’m going to pull the trigger!”

——

The days on the Archimedes have settled to take on a daily rhythm of hustle between every member of your crew. Cassius watches you weld a piece of scrap in making a miniature ship engine from scratch. He acts as an ostensibly ‘innocent’ supervisor of this engineering endeavor by his favorite engineer (he can’t even build a rubix cube via holo). Lyria knows he isn’t because you are half-naked and every bit of your skin is built with toned muscle that ripples with each movement. And you’re sweating like hell. Cassius hasn’t ever made you sweat like this in bed, not even when you’ve had him up against the wall. Lyria knows because he has told her all about his grand adventures withyou. In appropriate detail of course.

Lyria secretly films Cassius’s hungry eyes. If you don’t let me suck your dick is a line from the audio playing on her datapad. It fits perfectly with the way Cassius’s face changes as you move away from the miniature engine to heave a huge lump of scrap over your head to carry it towards the engine. Take your pants off right now, or I’m going to pull the trigger is the line that plays as Cassius swallows, desperation finally catching in his eyes as (Name) sets the scrap piece down with a hard grunt. 

Cassius calls out encouragement in what might be defeatist attempt at pulling himself together. “(Name), you’re doing well! Be careful to let the crankshaft anneal properly, lover.”

He sounds like he still has two functioning and so not-horny brain cells, at least. You give a measured nod without even looking back at Cassius. The only things you’ve ever been so enamored by aside from Cassius are engineering machine parts and numbers. The level of the focus flow you have sunken into must be staggering.

When his professional Engr. Husband has finished, Cassius moves toward you and tosses you a towel. You mutter your thanks, barely audible to Lyria, and sigh. A soft groan leaves you as you stretch your neck and the muscles there pop. Soon as the sound leaves your mouth, Lyria leaves. She knows what comes next, especially after seeing Cassius’s hungry eyes on you.

“Tired?” Cassius asks in a low, quiet voice. Damn near sensual. He’s turning on the charm, but you don’t notice. Even when he gives you that cocky smile, all smug with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You only continue to stretch your sore muscles, using the grip you have on his shoulders to contort your body into long stretches.

You give another sound of relief as the tight joints in your shoulders pop. A sound that goes straight to Cassius’s loins. This, you know. This, you use against him. There are times when acting sexually stupid provides some of the most satisfying rewards. Today, you will be rewarded with Cassius lifting you up the wall by your ass to spread you open and show you what he really wants and what he really means by that hooded look he’s giving you with his pretty golden eyes. Oh. No, he’s giving you the ‘I’m getting on my knees for you’ look. 

You wonder if you’ll taste a little better with the briny sweat beading all over your body, like he does after training with Darrow. 

“A massage will do you a lot better than hanging onto me like a baboon,” he jokes. You laugh. 

Then you go serious after three seconds of laughter. “Don’t call me a baboon.” 

“Yes, sir. Now sit.” He pulls away from you to move a chair and push you into it. You fall with the intentional force of his hands. “You ought to relax. You keep working yourself to death like this and you’ll end up like Darrow with his twelve dozen knee surgeries.”

He sounds sincerely concerned. Knowing your schedule, you’ve barely done half the work Darrow has in three years. “Cassius. I’ve fought in forty-eight hour long corridor fights with thirty minutes of sleep in between. This is less than a walk in the park.” 

“Hm.” For a moment, he looks discontent. You observe him. Your words are a reminder, you find, of all he chose not to be of help in. Again, he chooses to be unfair with himself and his heart. “Close your eyes. You won’t be fighting for even a minute with me around or while we’re here, lover.” 

You do as he says. You hear the shift and rustle of fabric as he moves. You feel his hands slide over your bare torso. You heard no footsteps, so he must still be in front of you. Cassius’s rough palms caress the V-lines of your pelvis then under the bulge of your chest muscles. Beneath his touch, you shiver. 

“Cassius,” you sigh. “Bit sore around the thighs. Been squatting, carrying—”

“240 pounds of metal. Nothing for you, or me, but do it enough times and anyone would get tight muscles.” He clucks his tongue, and oh gods do you love it when this man starts taunting you. Your eyes open and you peer down at the man on his knees before you. He shakes his head. No. You don’t want him to be disappointed in you. You’d do anything to please him. “You start listening to me when I tell you to rest.” 

Your pants are suddenly very tight.

“Are we clear?” he says. You nod. 

“Crystal, Cassius.” You smile. “Will you help me through it, husband?”

Cassius rests his head against your thigh. “In many of the ways I love to.” 

At his mercy, you submit. He gives you a wolfish grin. “Should I help with the biggest muscle first or the others?”

“I need you, Cassius.” You know how good that gets him. And you’ve always been an easy catch when it comes to him. You pull Cassius’s hand into yours. With your grip over the top of his hand, your thumb splayed over his knuckles, you brush his palm over the hardness in your pants. You shudder at the fleeting touch, at the way his gaze morphs into something darkly predatory. “I need you to touch me here.” 

Without hesitation, he slips your pants down your knees and off your feet, raising you up with a hand on your hip to get it all off. You sit naked on the chair, knees apart as he sighs with satisfaction at the glory of you.

He’s been waiting all morning, so he chooses to give into instinct and swallow your cock whole. You melt like butter in your chair, body softening up as you slide over to the edge to angle your cock deeper into his throat. Contrary to the universal belief of all who know Cassius, he is nothing short of a lascivious Pink who moans like the most erotic star in a holo-film. 

You’ve always refused Pinks' advances and services before, but you are familiar with their sounds. Cassius has made you more so because he sounds so much like one any time you touch him. He takes your cock so deep in his throat, all with purpose, so that he gags and the muscles in his mouth seize. He moans each time saliva pours from his throat and onto your cock to coat you slick with his spit. He makes audible gagging noises that sound fit for some ero-film saved on his datapad. 

“On the tip,” you gasp softly. “Please focus—please, on the tip!”

Cassius relents. Pulls back from your cock, sighing all the way as he slides your length from his mouth. His tongue slips out to catch at leftover precum that drools from your cockhead. When he closes his eyes, savoring the flavor—maybe the tang of your sweat or of your cum or both and kisses the tip of your cock affectionately, you feel the fullness in your balls culminate. 

And much like a Pink, unfortunate given their forced circumstances of course but a blessing for you with Cassius as a living god of sex, your husband leans further forward once more to press open-mouthed kisses to your length. In salacious tandem with his lips, his tongue kisses your cock in suckling strokes. Cassius moans lewdly against the swath of your cock, heady with satisfaction as he looks up to measure if his ministrations are up to his standards based on how wrecked you look. You can see the gauging measure in his gaze. You can’t help but take your bottom lip between your teeth at the weight of his eyes. Naked on a chair in the repair room on his ship, with your friends walking around and at least one of them on the cameras, you—

“Cassius oh shit, someone’s on the cameras right now—”

He pulls back from you. “Already took care of it (Name). Commed Aurae in an hour ago, we’ve been dark since I started eating you up with my eyes. Which you probably noticed.” Reaching up, Cassius sets a hand on your stomach and pushes you back into the chair. He keeps it there, serving almost as a command for you to let him lead. And you know you are a man at his mercy.

Your head falls to rest on the back of the chair as he returns to giving you the best head a man with a history rife with sexual exploits can give. In truth, it’s the best kind of head. Cassius moves his tongue under your foreskin to tap it into your frenulum with all of the pink muscle, has you shuddering as the warmth of his mouth swallows your length whole once more. 

Miraculously, you last five minutes under his relentless assault, moaning ‘Cassius, Cassius!’ with absolute abandon while favoring with choice approval the praises Cassius murmurs into the skin of your cock. 

Taste like a dream, (Name). 

Fuck you’re so thick. Need you inside me.

You feel the clench in your balls. You twitch in the seat. Breathing with a hard shudder as you collect yourself to offer fair warning to Cassius, all until he gives a disgruntled noise and pulls off your cock.

“...Cassius?”

“Slag this.” Cassius pushes the chair and you toward the wall and makes space for his knee on the seat, right next to your thigh. Then he slips his pants down, spits thickly into his hand, and presses his length to yours as it springs from his underwear. Something inside you gives, gorydamn near breaks and a hot, noisy moan tight with surprise leaves you. 

“Ungh!” You only squirm as Cassius grips your cock and his in a powerful, rough hand. “Cassius! Oh gods, please please please I’m gonna—”

Already lubed with his spit, the slide of your cock against his is slick. Sticky. Your moans leave you as cries as the ache tingling right at the base of your cock thickens. You reach up, grasping for purchase with a hand around his hard bicep as you writhe against him, cornered in your chair between his body and the wall as he fucks your cocks together with his strong hand. Cassius bends down and nudges his lips to your ear, panting there as he whispers for you to cum. 

“Come on, lover,” Cassius encourages. “Baby. Mm. Yes, just like that. You’re throbbing against my cock.” 

You jolt in your seat at the description. Gasping for breath, you lay your hand on top of his and squeeze his hand, telling him to grip you at the tip. He follows. Deftly, his fingers maneuver around your cockhead. Cassius rubs his thumb into the slit spilling precum on your aggravated cockhead and fingers around the swath of your tip. Gods he knows where you’re most sensitive. 

His hips move to thrust his frenulum, sitting at the underside of his cock, into yours in small movements. At this he moans softly in your ear. Your name falls from his mouth as a strained moan, “(Name).”

Your back arches off the chair. The muscles in your stomach convulse as your body follows, cock spurting cum all over Cassius’s stomach. With your Gold genetics, the force of your orgasm has your cum hitting Cassius’s toned abdomen with thick noises that, if you were in a humorous mood, you would rightly call akin to the sound of boots on metal. But all you can call it is the hottest sound of your life.

You lose the sensation of Cassius’s breaths in your ear and know he’s watching you. Your orgasm curls to a heightened inflection as you feel your cock pulsating against the skin on his own length, and when you open your eyes your gaze finds focus on a shot of your cum falling flat onto Cassius’s cockhead. Your cum slips down his cock to slicken up the way of your cock sandwiched against his. Cassius groans, deeper than you’ve ever heard him, panting at the sight of your cum sliding down his abs and trickling down his cock to leave his length coated in your seed. 

It takes you two minutes to finish. You squirm against Cassius as he continues to pump your lengths together. Pant into his mouth as he reaches for you and presses your lips together with his. 

“Not prepped for you,” he says, almost whining with disappointment. “Can’t take you inside.”

“Cassius, I don’t know if I can…”

“You can take me,” Cassius says as he tilts your head to level his gaze with yours, his fingers on your chin. “(Name). As I will take your cock inside me.”

He melds his mouth to yours as he pumps your cum over his cock and yours. You revel at the throb of him against you, a telltale sign that he’s close. But he pulls away as you weakly push at his tongue. Wracked by oversensitivity and a long orgasm even for your Gold genes, you watch him with a cock that has only begun to twitch up towards your stomach as he licks your cum off his fingers. Cassius watches you in the same starved way while the bitter flavor of your seed floods his palate. Thing is, your cum belongs anywhere except outside him. So he will take the taste and cherish it as it slips into his system.

“Think you can walk to our room with that in your pants?” you ask. Measuring, and teasing.

“Let’s not beat about the bush.” Cassius reaches out to you with a clean hand. You take it and stand, cock hanging as you stand in the machine shop naked as the day you were born. Your husband doesn’t mind at all and eats you right up with his eyes as he speaks, “I’ll dress you. Don’t leave me hanging, though?” 

You glance downward, to his cock spilling out from between the open seam of his pants and pushing at his underwear. His balls are hanging out and every inch of his length is wet with your cum. If he weren’t hung like a Sunblood, you would laugh. “When have I ever done that, Cassius?” 

He contemplates this seriously. “Hm. Yes, well, you never have. Not even when I was milking you dry throughout our honeymoon.” 

“Wonder why you take it so good then?” you ask, pulling him towards you. Cassius is almost fully clothed, his tight shirt only riding up towards his chest, his pants clearly revealing why exactly he lets you fuck him. Naked against him, you feel the fever of his lust burgeon. Soon, he will be a man entirely at your mercy. 

For a moment, he savors what it feels like to have you pressed up against his body. You without clothes. Your cock at half-mast, hanging just below his line of sight—he can only feel it nudging against his thigh. And when you pull him into a kiss, he releases his lust as a soft moan into your mouth.

“My pants are hanging by the engine,” you tell him. He rushes over. “Darrow and company have never minded me naked, but you think they’ll notice these baby-tracks?” Bits of cum are drying on your stomach. Most of it dries on Cassius’s stomach beneath his shirt.

“They won’t so hurry it up. Hah. Baby-tracks. You’ve left quite a path inside me throughout the years,” he says and leans back, overtaken by a loud laugh at his own joke. For a moment, he stands golden, this moment solidifying as amber in your memory as he shines with his laughter. Then he hands your pants to you and heads to the door. You dress yourself with a private smile and follow him, holding the door open for him. You lead him outside with a hand on the small of his back. Until you get to his bedroom, you’ll be a man of grace.