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The first thing you notice about him are his eyes.
Gorgeous things; his irises a brilliant shade of green smattered with flecks of blue and pink. The sight itself was iridescent, comparable to staring into a shimmering gemstone, its colours changing depending on how the light touched it. The man carried an air of elegance with him as he moved, even with the heavy armour that clanged with each step he took. He sat two seats away from you at the bar, resting his arms on the smooth surface. He finds your gaze for a moment, those gorgeous eyes of his settling on your form, a bottle of whiskey haphazardly raised to your lips, and he chooses then to grace you with a smile so beautiful you’re still unsure if it wasn’t just the dim lights playing tricks on you.
Long, wavy red hair falls over plated shoulders and the bar top and you realize quite quickly there’s nothing more you’d want than to take this handsome stranger home.
You find out his name is Argenti. It’s regal - rolls off your tongue in a way that has him glimpsing over your head, his shoulders, but you don’t really mind. He talks a lot but you don’t care about that either, more than happy to listen and entertain his musings as he sings praises about the bar’s interior and ambience, and the lush, vibrant greenery of your water planet. It doesn't take you long to realize his words are all genuine; his cadence never changes, each syllable carrying the same weight as the one that came before it.
He’s not one to lose his composure with a few drinks, either, easily downing the three you bought him before refusing any more.
Knights, you suppose. You hope Idrila doesn't mind your less than subtle attempts at stealing her devotee’s attention.
Argenti watches you toss back the last of your whiskey, a contemplative expression marring his delicate features as he speaks again.
“I suspect there is an… ulterior motive to your forwardness, yes?” He asks, in that rumbling tone that makes you wonder just how high you can make it pitch. The bar has long since emptied. The night wanes and now it’s only you, your amicable companion, and a few other patrons who are either drunk out of their minds or too hung up to clear out. They’re not your problem, though, not when Argenti leans forward, waiting for your answer.
You grace him with a smile that makes the corners of your eyes crinkle. “You caught me,” you drawl, loose and antsy. You move your hand to tap the back of his own. Metal sings underneath your nail. You desperately want his armour off of him. “I hope you don’t think I’m too strange, I just can’t help wanting to take you home.” You smile at him, hoping it conveys your sincerity. “You really are very, very beautiful. I’d be disappointed in myself if I didn’t even try to ask.”
You expect Argenti to do a lot of things with your admission: to blush, to frown, to stand up in disgust and offense and leave you alone in an almost empty bar. Argenti does none of those things, actually. Instead, he laughs, a hearty but gentle sound that warms your chest and makes your mind all fuzzy.
“I’m flattered,” he tells you, beaming. His smile loses its edge for a bit, gaze averted. The tip of his finger traces the condensation on your empty whiskey bottle. “And I… don’t quite have any reason to refuse, not now.” When his eyes meet yours again, there is something curious and excited swimming in those gorgeous irises of his.
“So, please,” he finishes, standing with a flourish. “Lead the way.”
—
You’re on him the moment the door closes, swallowing whatever complement he was about to voice with your mouth.
You’ve never been happier to keep track of your connections, sliding the barkeeper an extra fifteen credits before you all but drag Argenti up the stairs to one of the overnight rooms. Your fingers are in his hair almost immediately, your hips pinning him in between you and the door, and he can’t do much but stutter in confusion as your lips skim across his jaw.
“Sorry, baby,” you say with another one of those lazy smiles. “I should’ve asked - are you alright with kisses?”
He blinks a few times as if he needs to process what you’re saying. Then, “Yes,” he says, finally, and so you reward him with another kiss, this one longer, warmer, than the one that came before it. It takes Argenti a brief moment to figure out what he wants to do with himself, your fingernails near digging into his scalp as his hands hover uselessly by your waist. This won’t do, not at all. You shrug off your coat before covering one of his hands with yours, pressing it against your side and easing it under the hem of your shirt. You have to stop yourself from grinning when he hums against your lips, surprised.
You part from him reluctantly, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth and chuckling when he tries to follow you.
You smooth your hand over his glistening breastplate.
“I want this all off,” you tell him, and he nods, distant, before kissing you again.
It’s much more chaste and gentle compared to the kisses you initiated but you don’t mind at all (you’re making a lot of exceptions for this handsome stranger, you notice). He fumbles with his armour, removing it and resting the pieces by the door in between kisses.
You lead him away from the pile, gently maneuvering him towards the bed in the room. It’s not small for you but it might be for someone of his stature. Not that he cares, though, grabbing your hands and resting them on his delicate waist once he was free from his protective metal plating.
“Happy now, I presume?” He smiles, leaning down to kiss you again, and you almost feel bad. Argenti was just so sweet and genuine. Had he known what you wanted to do to him, it might send him running. You return his smile when you feel his touch fluttering across your shoulders, your back, before tentatively coming to settle on your hips.
“Very,” you say against his mouth. And you can’t lie. In a tight-fitting black turtleneck and leggings to match, you very much appreciate the view he gives you, giggling into your kisses when he gasps at the feeling of your hands on his ass, tugging him towards you so that the space is almost negligible.
You would appreciate his attire even more, however, if he was underneath you.
Argenti is a good listener, you find, easing him against the sheets. They’re not soft but they’re not coarse either; you hope he doesn't mind. You couldn’t care less but his comfort means the world to you right now. You wonder if he knows how attractive he is, you think, obliging his wandering hands as he wraps them around your neck and pulls you down towards him again. He locks his ankles behind you once you’re settled in between his legs, as if he has every intention of keeping you there.
The thought makes you smile. You don’t think you’d hate that.
You allow him the false pretense of controlling the kiss you share, gentle, but only for a moment: your patience is quickly wearing thin.
You swallow his startled gasp when you pierce his lips with your tongue, prying them apart to taste the whiskey and rum that sticks to the roof of his mouth. There is a rush of pleasure that rushes through you when he grunts, your eyes open to watch the way his brows furrow. There is a subtle shift in his hips that has you slotting your leg in between his thighs. You pull away from him then, a string of spit connecting the two of you. Not that you notice, you’re too busy looking at his face, more than obsessed with the cherry flush that colours his cheeks and ears, smooths down the column of his neck and under his shirt.
You want to know how far it goes.
You think he wants to know too with how he starts to pull his shirt up and over his head.
Gorgeous red hair spills around his head, his face, chest heaving as you begin to mouth at the underside of his jaw, his collarbone. He eases his fingers into your hair, careful not to put too much pressure on your scalp, but the attempt is quickly forgotten as you move down to his chest, pushing him back down against the bed as you go, a keening whine ripped from his throat as he grinds against your thigh. The action makes you smile around the bud in your mouth.
He pulls on your hair, unsure if he wants you closer or not, but his confusion is lost on you; it just means you drag his nipple with you.
You run your tongue over the reddening skin and relish in the low moan he offers up as a reward.
You wonder if he knows he’s rutting against your thigh, the fabric of his trousers stained with his arousal. He’s so effortlessly handsome, you think, with his mouth hanging open and his hair sprawled in a tangled mess. He’s so beautiful, you know it with how he mumbles under staccato breaths, his fingers weakly pulling at your hair—
You watch his eyes fly open in shock, disbelief, and what you hope is desire when your hand slips under the waist of his leggings.
“Idrila, have mercy,” Argenti hisses, his hands now fisted in the sheets underneath him.
You smile, the corner of your mouth tugging up in amusement as he pants. “She’s not here right now, baby,” you coo, and you lick your lips when he whines. “But is this alright? Are you okay?” You ask, to make up for the lack of words between you two, to make up for the hurried breaths that make up the air you share.
“Yes,” he replies, and you’re so proud of the breathless tone in his voice. It means you’re doing well.
You wrap your hand around his cock and watch his composure crack once again. It’s so rewarding watching his carefully crafted persona shatter. Where has your chivalrous knight gone? The one who refused to quiet in his genuine appreciation for the world around him? Where has he slipped off to and who is the writhing mess that has replaced him? You barely know the man but you consider it a feat anyway. You didn’t give Argenti the pleasure of your name, but you think it’s okay. You assume it is when he starts begging - for what, you’re not sure - but it means he’s less than aware when you pull his leggings down to his knees.
Pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, you give him absolutely no time to react as you lick your lips before wrapping them around the flushed head of his cock.
“Ah—!”
You hold his hips down with one of your hands, the other covering what you can’t - or rather, refuse - to take into your mouth. It wasn’t your intention to suck him off but you couldn’t resist. He looked so pliant and pretty; you might as well give him some semblance of control before you properly ruin him… Though you don’t think your generosity has been understood, his thighs tremble around your head as you tease him with your tongue, with the drag of your teeth.
He comes with a moan that would put even the most talented singers to shame, back arched, toes curled, as warmth fills your mouth. You don’t mind, don’t care, take pride in the filthy endeavour as you lick the rest of his spend off his dick, careful not to waste what you had so painstakingly earned. He practically hauls you up to him once you’ve pulled away far enough, slamming his mouth against your own. It makes you happy to know he doesn't mind the taste of himself on your tongue.
“Please,” Argenti says against your mouth, pawing at your shirt, at your trousers. You wonder if he’d rip them off. You wonder if he could. You’re positive he can.
“Please, what?” you ask in kind, barely parting from him to slip your shirt off your torso. He buries his face in your chest immediately, kissing the skin there, and you sigh, content, as you wrap locs of his hair around your first. Instead of replying to you, he showers your skin with praises that you don’t believe you deserve, flowery sentences strung together so quickly but so carefully you’re positive if he wasn’t a knight he could make a living off of poetry.
His tongue teases you as you did to him not too long ago, and you quickly realize he has no intention of offering an answer, the tips of his ears red enough to rival his hair.
This won’t do, you think with a fond sigh, not at all.
And so you do what you do best as you sit astride his lap, his arms wrapped around his waist with his lips on your sternum. You ignore his growing arousal in favour of watching his face. His eyes look up at you from underneath red and white eyelashes. You grace him with a gentle smile before tightening the fist in your hair and pulling.
What greets your ears is a gasp and a cry that tapers off into a sound you like even more, tears clinging to those tantalizing eyelashes of his as the pale stretch of his neck is bared to you. He looks at you, scandalized, with his mouth agape.
You consider him for a moment.
“Did you like that?”
You relax your hold on his hair, allowing him to move his head as you lazily card your fingers through heavy, red locs.
There is a bout of silence, as if Argenti is weighing his words. “...It would be wrong of me to lie and say I did not,” he says carefully, but he doesn't miss the grin that splits your features.
“Well, would you like it if I did it again, baby?” you ask, leaning into his space until your lips are nothing but a hair’s breadth away.
“Yes,” he whispers, and you latch yourself to his throat when you rear his head back again. You’re positive it stings, how can it not when you feel his full-bodied shudder, how can it not when his hips buck uselessly, a low groan pulled from his chest, still unsatisfied. You mark his neck until it is mottled and angry, a flurry of red that will blossom into purple bruises come tomorrow morning. Not that you care, of course, all you wanted was to take this handsome stranger to bed.
“Argenti,” you say thoughtfully, nipping at the hickeys that cover his skin. He flinches but he doesn't move, his gorgeous hair still wrapped around your fingers. “What do you want from me now? I’ve got nothing but time but I’ll be a little disappointed if we don’t do something with it, hm?”
He nods quickly, and you almost smile at his crestfallen expression when you detangle yourself from him to stand.
Your knight looks like a mess from here, flushed from head to toe, bare save for the leggings that cling to his ankles. He’s a meal begging to be devoured, you muse, but you won’t be doing much of anything if he doesn't open his mouth and speak. You’ve never been patient but if you could stretch this out for your amusement, you most definitely will, a wry grin pulling at your lips as you procure a small bottle from the jacket you discarded.
It never hurts to be prepared.
Argenti is kicking off his leggings when you look back at him, very unlike the careful knight he was earlier, and crawls to the edge of the mattress. It’s a sight that makes you forget your plans for a split second, breath hitched in your throat at the earnest expression wrought across his gorgeous, reddened features.
He looks up at you with those shimmering eyes and your composure almost - almost - snaps.
“I want you to—” a forlorn sigh. “I want to—” You watch as his features warm. The poor thing is embarrassed.
You cradle his jaw and tilt his head upwards, smoothing your thumb underneath his eye, his eyelashes tickling the tip of your finger.
“What do you want, Argenti?”
He nuzzles your palm, brilliant green eyes fluttering shut, and you find yourself wondering how a man could be so beautiful.
“I want you,” the knight says finally, the words near-muffled by the skin of your palm.
It’s definitely enough: he’s told you what he wanted, but you can’t help but want to push for more, watching as he lets you guide him back down once more, until his back is flush against the sheets and you’ve slotted yourself in between his thighs. He looks up at you as if you were something to be revered. You, distantly, hope his goddess isn’t jealous as you spread his legs further apart. After all, you would be having a man as gorgeous as Argenti looking at you like that.
“Are you sure you want me and everything I want to do to you?” You ask. You make sure he watches as you pour the lubricant onto your fingers, rubbing your fingers together to ensure they’re properly covered. You drag him towards you, it takes some effort with the muscle of him, but you’ll do your damnedest with how he nods, like a moth to the flame. “I’m more than positive that once I’m done with you I would have ruined you for everyone else,” you tell him, watching his face go lax as you work one finger into his warmth. “I want you to remember me for weeks once you leave here on that cute ship of yours. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and remember who did this to you.” His legs tremble with your administrations and your face twists almost wickedly when you push in a second along the first. The throaty whine that leaves him is worth it.
“You don’t even know my name and look at you - begging for something I’m not even sure you’ll be able to handle.” You kiss his hairline then, letting your lips linger for a moment, and you ignore the intimacy of it all as he tilts his head up in a desperate attempt to find your mouth, his hips working tirelessly against your fingers.
You watch him for a moment, watch his mouth fall open in breathless pants, his chest heaving in an effort to keep up with his desperation. His hair is a knotted mess, his forehead lined with sweat, but he doesn't care and neither should you.
“Are you sure you want me?” You ask finally, as if this is the last chance for his escape. You don’t want him to go anywhere but you have to make sure he wants you and everything you want to give him. “I’m going to treat you like the whore I think you are,” you add, your thumb teasing his rim, and he shudders, moans, cries.
You think with a little more he might’ve come again.
Instead, Argenti subverts your expectations and wraps his long legs around your waist, letting go of the sheets to grab at your arms.
“Tonight—” he gasps. “Tonight I will be yours. I will… I will repent in the morning, but, please, do not leave me like this.”
Your face twitches into a poorly concealed grin.
You’re going to make him regret that.
—
When you wake up in the morning, the first thing you notice are his eyes, gorgeous things that shimmer in the blue light. His eyelashes tickle his cheeks and his red hair nearly obscures his profile, but he seems to sense your gaze on him because he finds you not even a second later.
He’s half dressed in his underclothes from last night, appearing to have given up on his armour if the way pieces of it lay spread across the floor of the room say anything at all. He stands with a bit of a struggle, rising from his knees, and you’d offer to help him but you can’t stand either, feeling rather smug as you watch his thighs tremble as he strides over to you.
You’re undeniably proud of that one, you think.
“Morning, darling,” you coo, and he sinks into your arms the moment you turn over to welcome him into your embrace.
He noses your neck. “I feel used,” he says lightly, but there is no malice in his tone.
“I know, baby,” you reply with a smile. “I fucked you real good last night, didn’t I?”
You feel him smile as he rests his head on your naked chest. “Yes, yes you did. I could barely return the favour.” He shifts his hips, a slow grind that grabs your attention. “But you said I did well and that’s all that matters. As long as I made you feel as good as you made me, I'm satisfied.”
You hum thoughtfully, carding your fingers through that gorgeous red hair of his.
In no more than an hour, Argenti will be dressed and leaving your planet without much of a second thought. While the thought brings a disappointment that settles deep in your gut, you can’t help but be happy for the brief time you did have with him, twining red locs around your fingers.
“I hope Idrila is proud of you, Argenti,” you tell him, earnestly, and you smile when he laughs tiredly. “I know I would be, having a handsome stranger like yourself flying all over the galaxy for my namesake.”
(you pray the stars send him your way soon)
FIN