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“I don’t care, Wilde!”
“Yes, thank you Grizzop, I’m entirely aware that you consider me only a burden. My apologies for continuing to inconvenience you with my existence, I believe a number of parties have tried to resolve the issue but I’m just too damn awkward to die.”
“No that’s not- I can’t- I don’t care that we’re stuck here like this. I don’t care that I got caught. It was the right decision to come and get you and we will get out of here. Even if I have to personally execute every one between here and the door.”
His teeth wrap round the words like he’s chewing something bitter and Wilde looks up with interest.
“Grizzop?”
The goblin flushes, grey on grey but no less clear for it. He closes his mouth, snapping it shut with a decisive click, swallowing awkwardly, the noise loud in the close walls of the cell they find themselves in.
“I th- I think they might’ve… given me something.”
“Something dangerous? Grizzop if you’re poisoned we have to get out now, there’s no way to heal you in here, is it a-“
“Wilde shut up.”
“Grizzop, you are-“
“I said shut up. It isn’t poison. They were trying to get me to talk. I think it’s some sort of… truth potion… shit. Stabbed it into my leg. Didn’t work of course, wasn’t gonna give ‘em shit, just shut my mouth and spat at them, but if we’re talking…”
He trails off awkwardly and kicks the dirt with his boot, letting his head thunk back against the wall.
“You’re afraid you’ll let slip something you don’t want me to know?”
Grizzop nods miserably, glancing across to where Wilde sits on the threadbare mattress they’ve been provided, the bed a simple platform jutting from the wall. He looks thoughtful, not the expression of unbridled glee he’d expected but a quiet contemplation, as if Wilde’s working out a puzzle, turning it over in his mind.
“Interesting.”
“I’m not a fucking novelty toy Wilde.”
“Not what I meant. In order to escape we’ll likely have to lie, and to lie you can’t be under the influence of a truth potion, so how do we test when it’s worn off?”
Grizzop blinks at the observation, surprisingly astute from a man he tells himself daily, hourly, is only good for picking up the paperwork. Just because he’s not believed it for months doesn’t mean he can’t keep up the charade.
So he keeps telling himself.
“What about straight forward questions? Simple facts. What happened when I first met you.”
“You were an arse and I threatened you.”
“Okay that’s a start but not a surprise. Hmmm. What’s something you’d like to lie about but wouldn’t want to tell me?”
A horror dawns on Wilde’s face as he realises he’s asked it as a question, not the rhetoric intended.
“I haven’t hated you for months and I want to know what you look like when you come.”
His mouth gapes like a goldfish. Or Grizzop assumes it does. He closes his eyes the second the words are out of his mouth, cringing inwardly. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, feel the squirm of his cock between his legs as he burns with the humiliation of what he’s just let loose in the world.
As he waits for Wilde to mock him.
The minutes tick by unbearably.
Grizzop never did have much patience. It doesn’t take long for him to crack open an eyelid, blinking up over his arms to see what reaction might be written across Wilde’s features, to decide what way he’ll kill him when he turns this against him.
Wilde’s face is blank, impassive, neutral and bland like a fresh sheet of paper.
Apart from the soft pink blush that sits high on his cheeks.
Huh.
“Wilde. Say something.”
“Grizzop I’m so sorry that was unforgivable of me. I was merely talking through the problem and I can simply pretend I never heard it. I’ll- I’ll- I’ll see if I can come up with a solution.”
Wilde didn’t do flustered. Cocky? Yes. Arrogant. Yes. Unbearable? Insufferable? Patronising? Lewd? Yes, yes, yes, yes. But flustered? No.
“Wilde…”
“Look, it’s been a very long week, involving drugging, kidnapping, some very unpleasant torture and some truly appalling food. I am not at my best, Grizzop, please, I’ll say no more.”
“What if I wanted you to say more?”
Wilde freezes, mouth still slightly ajar. He pulls it up to chew on his bottom lip, eyes flicking over to Grizzop, breath catching a little in his throat. Grizzop’s whole life is about observation. About hunting, tracking, worshiping his goddess through competence and perception.
He can see the way Wilde’s eyes are blown, pupils wide.
He can see the tick of his pulse in his throat, thumping against his skin enough to jolt it.
He can see the way Wilde shifts, the way he twists to alleviate the pressure of his trousers.
Can smell the sharp scent of Oscar’s arousal.
“…Oscar?”
He lets out a little moan, barely there, possible to mistake for a hard breath if one wasn’t looking for it. If one wasn’t observing the man like a predator watching his prey.
“Yes, Grizzop?”
It’s a little strained, a little too tight in the small space.
“Did you want me to keep telling you the truth?”
“I… would not be opposed to the continuation of your line of thought.. no…”
“You want this?”
“Grizzop, I am a man of easy tastes, beautiful, unusual, powerful, all adjectives I’d use to describe what I like. I’ve never met an individual who is quite so in control of their own path as you and it’s intoxicating. To have your desire ripped so cruelly from your throat feels…. Tasteless.”
He stiffens, pulling himself up to lean against the wall next to the bed, still cold stone but affording him at least the illusion of dignity.
“If you were to tell me of your own volition that would be quite a different matter.”
His eyes flick once again to Grizzop’s, the sharp calculation of them replaced by hunger.
Grizzop rises slowly, pushing himself off the floor and stalking closer, approaching cautiously like one might approach an animal. Their heights aren’t as pronounced like this but Grizzop’s never been one for slow so he vaults onto the bed, landing lightly in Wilde’s lap, grinning wide at the little gasp the action pulls from him.
“You’re the most irritating man I’ve ever met.”
He yanks at Wilde’s collar, the thin shirt he’s been left with nearly tearing under his claws as he pulls him in for a kiss that bites, lips smashed together, teeth clacking savagely. He pulls back to observe. Wilde’s hair is mussed, his lips red and a little swollen, he lets out a shaky breath.
“Not quite what I was expecting.”
“Shut up.”
He kisses him again, just because he can, just because he wants to, licking into his mouth this time, tasting him in a way he’d only dreamed he’d ever get the chance to do. As he pulls away this time he presses his hand to Wilde’s throat, claws digging in lightly either side of his voice box.
“You’re irritating, you’re vain, you’re obnoxious and rude and I want to make you writhe with pleasure you infuriating idiot.”
He leans in and starts to kiss his way down Wilde’s neck, biting little teeth marks with pinpricks of blood, sucking deep bruises as he passes.
“I want to mark you so that everyone who sees you knows you’re mine, knows you’re taken and claimed and all your flirtation means nothing because if I say heel you’ll come running.”
Wilde groans, rocking his hips upwards, seeking friction for the hardness Grizzop can feel through his trousers. He grinds down hard, drawing the noise out as he makes a mess of his collarbone.
“Take this off, and these, want to see you naked. Want to hear you beg, Oscar.”
“Yes, Grizzop, anything you want.”
He strips himself efficiently, not a showy flourish, just a desperate yank of the shirt over his head, getting it caught on his chin, smearing the little bloody trails that litter his neck across it. He turns at the laces of his trousers, hand brushing against Grizzop’s cock as he goes, shoving them down to bite into the meat of his thighs.
“Good, Oscar, well done.”
The flush on his cheeks deepens as Grizzop stands, undressing with a speed that surprises neither of them until he settles back across Wilde’s lap, naked, cock unfurling beneath him.
“Wanna watch you come, wanna see if your stupid face looks as good as it does when I’ve imagined it.”
He braces once hand against Wilde’s torso, dropping the other between them to wrap around his cock as far as it’ll go. His hand is small and Wilde is a large man, proportionate with it in a way that Grizzop thinks will feel so fucking good when he eventually decides to take him.
For now though, he strokes his palm up and down Wilde’s length as his own cock slips from its slit, dripping with fluid and seeking the pleasure of a mate. He shifts forwards, revealing in the high whine that he draws from the man as his cock wraps around Wilde’s, as stray tendrils crawl lower to slip into the furl of his asshole, trailing slick, slipping into the slit of his cock to tease him from the inside.
It doesn’t take long to have him bucking against Grizzop’s hips, not with the way his hand comes up to play with his nipples, plucking, teasing, hooking around his neck for kisses that leave them both panting.
Grizzop feels the moment the tension starts to trip inexorably over the line, to make Wilde shudder as he comes, spurting through the tendrils of Grizzop’s cock to coat their stomachs, their thighs.
He is beautiful as he does so. Like he was made for pleasure and nothing else, neck curved like a bow, body like a statue, a moment frozen as muscles clench int he certainty of release, face screwed up in ecstasy.
It’s a sight Grizzop wants to see again and again and again.
He drops his hand to his cock, tugging at himself as the tendrils withdraw from Wilde, writhing in their combined slick. He squeaks indignantly when he finds himself pushed backwards, Wilde dropping off the bed, covered in his own come, trousers tight around his knees. He kneels between Grizzop’s legs, without ceremony he leans forward and takes the whole of his cock into his mouth.
“Fucking Gods Oscar”
He gets no reply, instead feeling the movement of Wilde’s tongue against his cock as it explores his mouth, probing out his teeth, tickling at his throat. Wilde works him thoroughly, licking, sucking, teasing at the slit at the centre until Grizzop flies forward, clutching at Wilde’s head, curling around him and tugging hard on his hair as he comes, pouring fluid into Oscar’s mouth.
He swallows, of course he does, sucking Grizzop through it and taking as much as he can. He doesn’t get it all, his lips, his chin coated in the viscous fluid, but he looks just as beautiful, just as perfectly debauched. Ruined.
“Fuck.”
“Very nearly.”
“Shut up, Wilde.”
“You know, I don’t think I will. You called me Oscar before.”
“Yeah well, don’t go getting used to it.”
“Oh but Grizzop I am so very hopeful for a repeat performance.”
He looks up from where he sits on the floor, head cocked to the side, resting lightly on Grizzop’s thigh, filthy but gorgeous for it.
“Well. We’ll see if you’re good.”