[ ... Suddenly, things make a great deal more sense.
Ratio had not heard of anyone who had personally experienced the operation, but Aventurine's distaste for it is all the more applicable now from experience. Natasha had not mentioned anything about those kinds of side effects, and it does give him a brief moment of hesitation, of wondering, and his eyes flicker for a moment before he tries to school himself, to slide behind his mash.
He wishes he had brought it with him.
Complicated feelings emerge inside of him, making him twitch, and he resists the urge to tap a finger or his foot like some kind of petulant child. He is better than this. ]
I am... Sorry, that your experience was less than stellar.
[ To say the least.
Moving back into the room, wanting a little more privacy for this despite the implication, he shakes his head. ]
There is no need.
[ A hand, pressed to his forehead. Irritation and grief, all at once. He does not want to speak of it, to have his mind changed when he was so certain of his course. ]
( It would be easy to follow him in, but Aventurine... doesn't. He hovers at the door, though he does open it further with his foot -- not wanting the other man to hide completely. He's just lucky that he's forgone his plaster mask. It's easier to catch the small changes that let him know where to push, to pull that gives him the answer he's desperate for. Feeling guilt for manipulating others has never been one of his many, many issues, but he does feel a small twinge at doing it to Ratio.
It'll be worth it, he reminds himself. For the both of them. )
It was a long time ago. It'd hurt more, I'm sure, if I could remember being in love with him. ( But he can't, so. Onto Ratio's own idiotic decision. ) Alright, so I'll work through it for you.
( Aventurine leans up against the doorframe, counting on his fingers with a slight flourish. )
One -- you got mad at me for suggesting that you were getting this done because you didn't want to love me. ( Which: he still can't quite believe that Ratio isn't doing this because he doesn't want to, but that has more to do with the fact that Aventurine can't possibly imagine anyone loving him. That somehow, in spite of all odds, Ratio does is... well. It's something, alright. ) Two -- you decided to do all this without telling me. Which makes me think that the issue isn't with what you feel, but what you think I feel. Or don't feel, in your estimation.
[ Ratio hates being surrounded by idiots and simpletons.
He finds it difficult to sit and listen to them speak, the listless, aimless dialogue that grates on him and makes him feel as though he might snap - plebeian, baseless, spineless, in many cases, without knowledge or evidence to support their idle chatter. It makes him feel as though he is getting a migraine whenever he is around them, both with the urge to snap their heads with his book and the urge to educate them properly, as though to grade their oral examinations with his chalk.
It has never felt so with Aventurine, for all that Ratio might call him a fool. Despite appearances, despite how he might act around others, the other man is wise. Sly, like a fox, yes, but with a wisdom and intelligence below it that betrays the facade that he might portray. It is what makes him so appealing to someone like Ratio, who longs for someone who can speak to him, understand him, his mindset, his focuses.
Scowling, he looks away, gazing at the window leading out into the cool, flickering daylight. It's warm inside, but he feels as cold as the weather itself.
Why did Aventurine have to see through him so easily? ]
Aventurine slides into the room, kicking the door shut with a practiced swing of his foot. Ratio is going to have to physically pick him up and throw him out of the window to get him to leave now. And while he's not against the overt display of the fact that the brain isn't the only muscle Ratio works on (He's going to file away that joke for later, Aventurine thinks, because it's terrible and it'll make Ratio roll his eyes at him.) there are way better uses for his upper body strength. Like pinning him down on the bed, or gripping the sheets as he keeps the good doctor under him.
He is putting the cart a bit before the horse here, though. They can get to that later. )
Did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same? For all that your brain might be one of the best in the universe you can be horribly obtuse.
( As tempting as it is to reach out to the other man, Aventurine hangs back -- a hand stuffed into his pants clenched as tight as it can be. Aventurine is a gambling man, yes, but rarely with his emotions. He likes keeping those uninvolved; it makes things messy when you eventually have to backstab someone for the job. But Ratio knows his job, knows what sort of person Aventurine is, and puts up with him anyway.
Veritas Ratio is a hard man to love, but he's sharp witted, exacting, and exceptionally delightful to tease. And, perhaps best and worst of all: Aventurine trusts him. There's not a lot of people he can say that about in his line of work. )
[ Of course it didn't, why would it ever have occurred to him?
People in his life do not like him. He understands why, of course, because he dictates their ignorance to them, scolds them for their foolishness, for their idiocy, is harsh and sarcastic and irritating and all the other terms that he has heard over his life. There are people who might tolerate him more than others, and Aventurine had always been among the few able to be in his company for long periods of time, but Ratio had assured himself it was because he was useful.
He had a role to play in Aventurine's schemes, he had a connection with the IPC that could not be ignored, and thus they came together like the sun and the moon in an eclipse: in tandem, not outshining.
Unable to turn his head, unable to look at the man standing in the middle of his hotel room, Ratio does little more than lift a hand to press over his heart, beating too fast. A side effect of the rush of adrenaline, the sudden burst of want and desire that overtakes him and leaves him wishing for something he had already been sure he would be denied.
So sure that he would risk his own life on it.
Swallowing, he stares out the window, unblinking, afraid of the emotion. ]
I analysed the situation. I came to the conclusions.
[ Or did he fail at the final hurdle and allow emotion to cloud logic? ]
( He is useful. But somewhere along the way putting up with Ratio because he was useful gave way to enjoying his company, and that just evolved into affection and attraction until he can't deny that he does, in fact, love Doctor Veritas Ratio. That he happens to be a great many other things besides is a happy little bonus.
"Analyzed," "came to the conclusions." It's just like Ratio to fail to consider anyone else's human heart in the matter -- logic and reason blinding him to the fact that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a hopeless case. The smile drops from his face in favor of something warmer, softer, more genuine than the smiles he flashes for whoever he needs to use. )
Even you can't be right all the time. Though you could stand to be a little more appreciative of the fact my luck hasn't run out just yet, seeing as I caught up with you before you did something reckless and idiotic.
( He steps closer, waving away the last remnants of his nervousness and doubt. Right now, in this moment, even if the idea of being in love, of being loved in return, is enough to make him want to pinch himself in uncertainty and doubt -- he's going to enjoy it. If Ratio, somehow, still wants to go through with it then at least he'll know he'd done his best. Given it his all. )
C'mon, the least you can do is kiss me after I ran here and everything.
[ He does not want to admit to hope, of course - the idea of it is uncomfortable for him, trying to wrap his mind around it all. Not once did he imagine that Aventurine would return his affection, partly because it felt illogical but also because he did not want to have the urge: he did not want to admit his own desire for any kind of romantic entanglement. If Aventurine did not desire him, it made his own situation easy to bear.
He is not a man born for relationships. He is a man born for science. For learning, for education. Not love, nor lust, nor passion.
Turning his head, he looks at his companion, feeling an ache in his heart. He both wants and does not want this, the hypocrisy of it making him feel - unanchored. Adrift. His eyes close as he grits his teeth and forces himself to breathe in and out sharply. ]
Your running here does not inspire me to do anything.
[ But he does turn to look at Aventurine, his eyes dark - wanting, desperately, but not quite having the determination to reach out and do it. ]
( Aventurine is made for want and desire. All the Avgins were, though it was more of an accidental side effect rather than an effort as a species to look beautiful. Physical desire is, at times, just as useful a tool as a weapon -- he knows that, too, and knows what playing into the universe's idea of what he should be can be used for. Not so, Veritas Ratio.
He's charmed by that, by the new ground that Ratio must be finding himself on because of him. And not because Aventurine pulled the strings and arranged the cards for him to fall in love, but because Ratio did it in spite of himself. That means more to him than he can possibly ever say, and not just because finding the right words would be difficult, allowing himself the vulnerability to admit so nearly impossible. )
The image of me, hot and sweaty on your behalf, doesn't do a thing for you, huh? ( It's a warm tease to fill the air as Aventurine decides to put it all on the line -- stepping forward to close the distance between the two of them, an arm snaking around Ratio's neck. ) That's alright, Ratio. We can do whatever you want, even if it's just sitting around and reading. But if you're in the mood for something a little more captivating, well--
( Aventurine is far more desperate for this than he'd like to admit to, for Ratio to want him just as much as he wants to free himself from the constrains of illogical behavior. He won't press, of course, he couldn't-- whatever Ratio wants to give should be given freely. )
[ The problem is that, unfortunately, he does want. He is filled with it, a desire that encompasses him and makes him want to collapse into the body of the man before him. It isn't fair, that after all the effort he put into destroying this emotion, the sickness cloying and vile inside of him, flowers staining the bathroom after he wakes up each morning. He had been prepared to give up on it all for the possibility of surviving into a better future, and now...
All his calculations, all his beliefs had been turned upside down, and he doesn't know how to cope with it at all.
Carefully, his arms wrap around Aventurine's waist, holding him gently. He can feel the coughs rise up inside of him, wanting to choke him, steal his words, but he breathes out a hoarse, shaky noise instead. Whatever he wants, Aventurine says, as though it is that simple, that easy, to give into it all and let himself feel that to begin with...
Leaning in, he touches their foreheads together. ]
Aventurine... This is a fool's choice. [ But their mouths are so close, and the taste of blood on his tongue has been foul for so long. ] You should not wish for it.
Not for the reasons that Ratio thinks, but because Aventurine isn't allowed to wish and want for things like this. To be loved and wanted in return is impossible -- it's why he'd been so certain that he hadn't wanted to be burdened by the fact he was in love with Aventurine. That he is, that the headaches and backtalk hasn't made him want to be rid of it is...
He wishes for it. It might make them both fools, but if he's allowed to have it, then he's going to have it and hold fast with both hands until it's torn from him or Ratio thinks twice about it. )
As someone who's turned down an invitation from the Fools themselves, I should think I'm well acquainted with what counts as foolishness. Moreso than the man who eschews the very concept of idiots. ( He breathes deep, steeling his nerves for what's to come. A hand clutched behind his back, fist tight to stop it from shaking. But the warmth of his hands on his waist, the brush of breath and the promise of finally, finally kissing whatever insult the other might levy at him is enough to push through. ) Ratio--
( And it's all he manages to say before Aventurine is kissing him, eagerly and with unmistakable desperation. This is what he wants, this is what he's going to have. Likely not forever, but for now.
Ratio is aware of it even as the lips press against his own, even as he draws Aventurine closer and tilts his own body into him, leaning down to slide their mouths together at a better angle. It's filled with desperation, of finally getting what has been wanted after months of yearning, of suffering alone with flowers burning his lungs and threatening to steal his life. He's ached for it, and he can feel that desire flare up inside of him, desperately and wantonly.
How is he meant to resist this, when he has wanted it for so long? Aventurine has brought so much colour to his dreams, filled him with an earnest desire that he had never felt before, enough to steal the life from his lips. The idea of rejecting this now fills him with an angst that he can't fathom, no logic supporting it. If he can have what he wants, why shouldn't he take it? Why should he not continue his selfish streak?
The sound he makes against Aventurine's mouth is needy, desperate, and he clings to him, pushing into the kiss and deepening it, all his walls torn down, his defences laid bare, desperate for what only this man can give him, almost shaking with his want and desire. ]
( Fuck. If Aventurine knew that Ratio was going to sound like this when he kissed him, he would have kissed the doctor months ago just to enjoy swallowing it. Hearing it, and his hands curl into the back of Ratio's suit -- to pull him closer that he can be flush against his chest.
Sure, he's standing on his toes, and that's going to be uncomfortable eventually. But for right now he's memorizing the way Ratio's lips feel against his, his tongue in his mouth, what and how much pressure causes Vertias Ratio to shake. He's indulging it, making it last as long as possible. Maybe he can lick some petals out of his mouth while he's at it, cure Ratio's stupid disease by loving him too hard in return.
Aeons.
He's really in it now, isn't he?
By the time he has to separate to breathe his cheeks are flushed, ruddy and splotchy. But there's a smile hovering around his lips all the same, and he hides whatever embarrassment he feels by pressing his face against Ratio's substantial chest. Who knew a scholar could be so... jacked. There's a huff of laughter, muffled, and Aventurine buries more into his chest. )
If I asked if you'd let me fuck you would you make me use three syllable words before you said yes?
[ This is more than he had ever permitted himself to dream of - because Ratio is not the kind of man to daydream, he is the kind of man who theorises, plans, considers. He does not get lost in idle fantasies, only permits himself to indulge in the thought of science and planning. To let his mind drift to thoughts of a gambling man, soft blond hair and a smile just for him... It would never have been permissible before.
The disease in his lungs had changed a great many things.
Longing for more kisses, desperate for more of the taste of Aventurine's tongue, the warmth of his body, the tilt of him as he lays heavily against Ratio's own, he groans softly when they pause to breathe. It's no lie to say that he has indulged in intercourse before, but he's never felt so needy for it, so wanting, feeling his body respond in a way that it so rarely does.
Tilting his head, he leans down to press his forehead against Aventurine's, licking his own lips. He does not imagine they will go further, even with the filth coming from the other man's mouth, and he could not blame him. It is not often that many men choose to continue relations with him, and he does not intend to let himself be harmed by another dismissal. Aventurine might claim to love him, but love and lust are not so often intertwined.
Rejection sensitive after coming so close to bliss, Ratio turns his head away, cheeks warm and expression tight, eyes dark and expression pinched with grief, a sharp contrast to the way that he was kissing the other man moments before. ]
Your eloquence and use of linguistics would not persuade me one way or the other, certainly not if you intended to use acquired knowledge for the sole purpose of fucking.
[ Not able to look him in the eye, Ratio swallows. ]
Permit me to inform you now, before you get too ahead of yourself. I was not born with all the parts that would... Define my sex, and - [ He grits his teeth. He expects to be turned away.
Another loss. ]
- I do not expect you to be desirous of it.
[ Taking Aventurine's hand and, because it is easiest, shoving it between his legs, where there is quite obviously... No penis. ]
( Ratio's struggle with both emotion and desire only makes Aventurine want to incite it in the other man more, to see what limit he can push him to that will make him forget to find embarrassment in anything the two of them could get up to together. )
What--
( His brows knit together in a moment of confusion before Ratio oh so graciously shows him, allowing his brain to catch up to the words. Oh. Well, that's not something he expected, but nor is Aventurine bothered by it. So Vertias Ratio has a cunt instead of a dick, it's not as if he has a mass of tentacles down there with teeth that could rip both his cock and his face to shreds if he tried anything. And even if he did, Aventurine would figure something out. He loves this idiotic man to destruction.
His hand moves lower, palm pressing assuredly against the apex of Ratio's thighs. )
Veritas. ( Rolling the name in his mouth, dragging it out as if it were the best thing he's ever said -- and it is, it really is. ) You keep making assumptions that make you look like one of your beloved idiots. Really, you should know better by now.
( And, because Aventurine has ever been one to push his luck: ) Come to think of it, considering I left all my lubrication ( He drags the word out, teasing. ) back at Pier Point, this makes things so much easier for the both of us.
[ The utter relief he feels shouldn’t be so heady, shouldn’t make him want more of this - the sly way Aventurine speaks, the way his hands grab at him, to touch him… It makes him think of other things those fingers might do, the other things he could urge that delicious mouth into, and experienced or not there’s no denying the way pleasure thrums at the idea of the man you love taking you.
Painful relief is stark against the irritating level of arousal he feels, flooding him a little.
Making him want and yearn.
There would be no logical way for him to ever think that Aventurine would want this, but he’s glad to be proven wrong for once. Glad that his calculations and endless knowledge somehow glossed over this reality, that a man so smitten with him (loved him?) might love him for all his pieces and not just parts.
Sighing softly, Ratio tilts his head back, prepared to sink into the moment when… It is, of course, ruined by Aventurine being himself. A typicality he should’ve known to be aware of. ]
Must you taint each and every shared moments with debauchery and a foul tongue? A simple comment that it was inconsequential to you would’ve proven enough to soothe my lingering concerns!
[ Irritated, annoyed, he grabs the front of Aventurine’s jacket and kisses him, all teeth and tongue and desire curled into one angry shape. ]
( His bout of laughter is cut off by Ratio's angry mouth; there is nothing he's discovering that he likes more than the delight of being shut up by being kissed by a man who loves him. Ratio, who puts up with him through all their missions, who waited three hours for him when Aventurine just wanted to see how long he would be there for, for the hope of his company. Passion is what he wants; be it gentleness or roughness -- as long as Ratio is consumed with it, he'll be satisfied.
If this is what being in love is like, of knowing what it feels like to have it returned, there is a part of him that mourns for what he never knew. He can recall the warmth of his sister, the words of his mother, but Ratio's affection burns away the parts of him that he's used to hide. Maybe, he thinks, maybe-- there's a chance for something real here, between them.
Something that he thought he'd forgotten, left behind on the bloody sands, left behind with the corpse of his 'master'.
Aventurine pushes, threading his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Ratio's neck, the hand other other hand had moved to his crotch remaining there -- palm and fingers pushing against the fabric, careful to catalogue any sort of reaction he can pull from him. One day he'll be able to make a guide to Ratio's body based on those alone, if he's given enough time, and he'll be able to play him like he can play any card game. )
You're the one that fell in love with me. ( He points out, the grin that graces his face wide enough to stretch his cheeks. Though he goes back to kissing kissing him in fast, furious pecks and recovering his own breath. ) You know what I'm like, Ratio. There's no take backs now.
( There is, but his heart wouldn't be able to take it. )
[ Love is not something rational, not something that can be put onto paper and graded, not something that he can wrap into a neat little box and tuck away aside - it's not something that can be studied with footnotes and bibliographies. Dr Veritas Ratio is a man that is smart, a height of intelligence that few across their world could ever hope to meet, but even he cannot wrap himself around the notion of romance and tenderness, the way his heart blooms (literally) in the wake of the way it has hit him like a weapon.
Aventurine, of all people. A man who is as irritating as he is coy, clever as he is foolish, using luck and skill to get what he wants where Ratio uses his mind and his connections. He seeks to rid the world of the pain of ignorance, wanting nothing more than to bring that to the world and see it heal, but it is not the same. He does not know how to unburden himself of it, how to handle this, not when he is wanted in return.
Distraction comes, and Ratio moans into the mouth against his own, shivering as he forces himself to try and stay strict and secure, to not let himself fall to pieces. ]
It is not as though I chose this course. [ It was stolen from him, ripped from him, forced upon him, in a way, but he has accepted it. It burns through him, and to have that reciprocated, to have that given to him in return... He breathes out a sharp noise, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.
The fingers feel... Good. Bullied, and harsh, and he chokes a little noise as he covers his mouth. ] I could - simply leave. What would you be able to do in that instance?
[ Eyes closing, his fingers drop to wrap around Aventurine's wrist - not stopping him, just holding. Yearning. ]
( The words have Aventurine pause, though he's careful to note that roughness gets a far more enjoyable response from Ratio than he thought possible. Good to know, good to know--
But... the question.
It's a question that deserves an answer. The rawness of what escapes him threatens to pull down the walls he's built to keep himself safe, keep himself alive. He can't let them crumble -- he is still Aventurine, and he has a role to play and a job to do. But he can't offer Ratio much of anything else other than the truth when he deserves it of him. )
Nothing. I would let you. If that's what you wanted.
( There's something vulnerable, the specter of rejection hovering around Aventurine's features until Ration confirms that he won't. )
Though, after all this, I do reserve the right to drink myself comatose for an evening if that's your plan.
[ A difficult thing to admit, when his heart feels so weary - months of self-inflicted pain and torture, and for what? An outcome he could never have predicted, from a man as capricious as Ratio is desperate for the carnal pleasure of knowledge. Want and desire have been subservient to him for so long that the idea of giving into it is something that is impossible to manage, but at the same time...
It makes him thrum with pleasure. The fact that even something as simple as this tough could have him completely deconstructed, out of his element, is testament to how deeply his feelings run. A menacing feeling inside, that creeps through his bones and sinks into his lungs.
Leaning in, Ratio presses his forehead to Aventurine's, breathing out a soft noise, close to a wheeze. The intimacy of it has his hands shaking and his lungs aching, and that's more than enough for him to wish for more. ]
( Ratio is close enough, touching enough of him to feel the way Aventurine shakes until the words are out. Any vulnerability is hidden in his expression, but the other man knows him enough to know.
(And that scares Aventurine almost as much as the idea of his luck running out. People don't know him. They might be bribed with credits or smiles or promises on a big payoff later, but they don't know him. Ratio knows more than most, more than anyone has since he'd murdered his way to freedom.)
But he doesn't want Aventurine to go, and the shaky breath that he lets go he attempts to hide by kisisng Ratio again. Slower, this time, but no less desperate. He wants to map out every reaction, every sound, and if he's not going to go through with that idiotic surgery then Aventurine has time to do so.
His hands go up to cup Ratio's cheeks, thumbs running over impressive cheekbones as he tries to will himself not to shake apart. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he muses, he needs to regain some sort of upper hand so he can really drive home what a stupid idea ridding himself of love is. )
Do you want me to see if I can guess what is, doctor?
[ It is difficult to rationalise to himself the way that he feels, if only because he wonders how much of Aventurine he actually knows, trying to deduce if this is a game or a gamble, to ensure that Ratio remains as loyal as possible to the IPC. Cynical of him, perhaps, but he didn't earn what he had managed without a little questioning of a gift horse, as it were, and he doesn't want to fall into a trap.
All of this, however... It feels bitterly genuine, and he wishes to give into it, even as he feels himself getting warm and flustered, his irritation covered by the warmth on his face and the way his hands reach out to grip at the other man, to hold him as close as he can get himself to be. He wants this, yearns for it, even if it will result in pain in the end.
Like academia, truly. ]
You would attempt a gamble, even now? Nil point.
[ But he is leaning up, to press their mouths together more, desirous, rocking his hips forward a little absently, longing. Wanting. ]
( There are people Aventurine would sell out for another chance at a gamble, yes. There are times that he has used all available tools to him in order to get the job done, yes. There's no shame in that, to Aventurine -- all for the Amber Lord, after all. But there are some things, there is this thing that makes him feel greedy and selfish because it will be his and no one else's. He has money, he has a job he's good at, and now he'll have the chance to make the man he loves forget himself. He'd better not waste a single second of it.
And he would never use this fragile thing between them for the IPC. Aventurine doesn't know the right words to say that, to have it be an indisputable truth like Ratio loves. But he's sure of one thing: it is the truth.
Though it doesn't stop him from huffing a laugh against Ratio's lips, breaking into a smile he knows the other man can feel. )
What can I say? I'm incorrigible. ( Although-- ) You're not really going to score us having sex, are you?
( Aventurine's hands travel down to Ratio's hips, hooking in the belt loops and thanking the Goddess herself that the other man hasn't decided to wear that ridiculous outfit of his. It allows him to keep the man in place as he rolls his own hips forward, cock hard enough for Ratio to feel through the layers. )
Because if so, Doc, you better let me know what you're grading off of.
[ Ratio's heart feels too full, and he wonders how much of it is from affection and how much of it is from the flowers curling in his lungs and giving him breathing and respiratory issues as a result. Being this close to the person he is in love with must be having side effects, and he hasn't quite deduced whether those effects are positive or negative. He's still adjusting his theories with the new evidence. It feels as if he ought to be in a court of law, debating the realities.
He does not, though. Instead, he watches Aventurine with dark eyes, wanting to lift his legs to slide them around his waist, to rock into his body, to see if he can chase the sensation of a dick pressing against him, making him want more and more...
He breathes out instead, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to ignore the way he can picture that smile perfectly. ]
No. I do not have a rubric for the - the completion of sexual intercourse. I doubt many scholars intend to use it for any kind of assessment.
[ If they ever get close enough to being fucked for it to matter, of course.
He can feel it, Aventurine's cock, and he groans softly, low and a little hoarse. ]
I know you enjoy the sound of your own voice, but do you intend to continue?
( Aeons, there is nothing about Ratio that isn't intoxicating to Aventurine. Every sound he makes -- it just makes him want to press himself as close as possible, until Veritas can't think to separate himself from Aventurine. )
Only if you agree to never say "the completion of sexual intercourse" again.
( Aventurine huffs, trailing kisses down from Ratio's jaw to his neck, tugging down his collar just enough so that when he bites and sucks on the pale skin there to leave a mark, Ratio will at least be able to hide it. Aventurine isn't particularly possessive when it comes to leaving traces of himself across the skin of his partners, given what is permanently branded on his neck, but he wants to give the good doctor a reminder of the night that will last slightly longer.
After all, they have their own jobs, their own lives. They'll be apart for days soon enough. Aventurine won't ask Ratio to change that (and he wouldn't know what to do if Ratio asked him to, because why would he?) just for him. )
[ He has a PhD in medicine, he cannot be faulted for the way he speaks, even if he may be doing it with a touch of deliberation to it - wanting to irritate Aventurine just a little, to try and get him as riled up and filled with emotion as Ratio himself is. The fact that he can feel Aventurine's cock is not enough: he wants to see the other man break apart, want to see his desperation, to taste it on his mouth.
It has been months of longing. Has he not earned the right to permit himself something like this? To tease and press, to nudge, to see Aventurine's face twisted in irritation and pleasure?
Tilting his head to the side, he sighs softly, the pleasure obvious before he's reaching out and pushing the other man away. Stepping towards the bed, he begins to remove his clothing, tugging the layers off without pause. ]
Rid yourself of your clothing. Swiftly, if you please.
[ Yes, he wants to be fucked. No, he is not going to be polite about it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Ratio had not heard of anyone who had personally experienced the operation, but Aventurine's distaste for it is all the more applicable now from experience. Natasha had not mentioned anything about those kinds of side effects, and it does give him a brief moment of hesitation, of wondering, and his eyes flicker for a moment before he tries to school himself, to slide behind his mash.
He wishes he had brought it with him.
Complicated feelings emerge inside of him, making him twitch, and he resists the urge to tap a finger or his foot like some kind of petulant child. He is better than this. ]
I am... Sorry, that your experience was less than stellar.
[ To say the least.
Moving back into the room, wanting a little more privacy for this despite the implication, he shakes his head. ]
There is no need.
[ A hand, pressed to his forehead. Irritation and grief, all at once. He does not want to speak of it, to have his mind changed when he was so certain of his course. ]
no subject
It'll be worth it, he reminds himself. For the both of them. )
It was a long time ago. It'd hurt more, I'm sure, if I could remember being in love with him. ( But he can't, so. Onto Ratio's own idiotic decision. ) Alright, so I'll work through it for you.
( Aventurine leans up against the doorframe, counting on his fingers with a slight flourish. )
One -- you got mad at me for suggesting that you were getting this done because you didn't want to love me. ( Which: he still can't quite believe that Ratio isn't doing this because he doesn't want to, but that has more to do with the fact that Aventurine can't possibly imagine anyone loving him. That somehow, in spite of all odds, Ratio does is... well. It's something, alright. ) Two -- you decided to do all this without telling me. Which makes me think that the issue isn't with what you feel, but what you think I feel. Or don't feel, in your estimation.
( A small, sharp smile. )
Tell me if I'm getting warmer, Doc.
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He finds it difficult to sit and listen to them speak, the listless, aimless dialogue that grates on him and makes him feel as though he might snap - plebeian, baseless, spineless, in many cases, without knowledge or evidence to support their idle chatter. It makes him feel as though he is getting a migraine whenever he is around them, both with the urge to snap their heads with his book and the urge to educate them properly, as though to grade their oral examinations with his chalk.
It has never felt so with Aventurine, for all that Ratio might call him a fool. Despite appearances, despite how he might act around others, the other man is wise. Sly, like a fox, yes, but with a wisdom and intelligence below it that betrays the facade that he might portray. It is what makes him so appealing to someone like Ratio, who longs for someone who can speak to him, understand him, his mindset, his focuses.
Scowling, he looks away, gazing at the window leading out into the cool, flickering daylight. It's warm inside, but he feels as cold as the weather itself.
Why did Aventurine have to see through him so easily? ]
Your five minutes is up. You will leave, now.
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Aventurine slides into the room, kicking the door shut with a practiced swing of his foot. Ratio is going to have to physically pick him up and throw him out of the window to get him to leave now. And while he's not against the overt display of the fact that the brain isn't the only muscle Ratio works on (He's going to file away that joke for later, Aventurine thinks, because it's terrible and it'll make Ratio roll his eyes at him.) there are way better uses for his upper body strength. Like pinning him down on the bed, or gripping the sheets as he keeps the good doctor under him.
He is putting the cart a bit before the horse here, though. They can get to that later. )
Did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same? For all that your brain might be one of the best in the universe you can be horribly obtuse.
( As tempting as it is to reach out to the other man, Aventurine hangs back -- a hand stuffed into his pants clenched as tight as it can be. Aventurine is a gambling man, yes, but rarely with his emotions. He likes keeping those uninvolved; it makes things messy when you eventually have to backstab someone for the job. But Ratio knows his job, knows what sort of person Aventurine is, and puts up with him anyway.
Veritas Ratio is a hard man to love, but he's sharp witted, exacting, and exceptionally delightful to tease. And, perhaps best and worst of all: Aventurine trusts him. There's not a lot of people he can say that about in his line of work. )
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People in his life do not like him. He understands why, of course, because he dictates their ignorance to them, scolds them for their foolishness, for their idiocy, is harsh and sarcastic and irritating and all the other terms that he has heard over his life. There are people who might tolerate him more than others, and Aventurine had always been among the few able to be in his company for long periods of time, but Ratio had assured himself it was because he was useful.
He had a role to play in Aventurine's schemes, he had a connection with the IPC that could not be ignored, and thus they came together like the sun and the moon in an eclipse: in tandem, not outshining.
Unable to turn his head, unable to look at the man standing in the middle of his hotel room, Ratio does little more than lift a hand to press over his heart, beating too fast. A side effect of the rush of adrenaline, the sudden burst of want and desire that overtakes him and leaves him wishing for something he had already been sure he would be denied.
So sure that he would risk his own life on it.
Swallowing, he stares out the window, unblinking, afraid of the emotion. ]
I analysed the situation. I came to the conclusions.
[ Or did he fail at the final hurdle and allow emotion to cloud logic? ]
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"Analyzed," "came to the conclusions." It's just like Ratio to fail to consider anyone else's human heart in the matter -- logic and reason blinding him to the fact that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a hopeless case. The smile drops from his face in favor of something warmer, softer, more genuine than the smiles he flashes for whoever he needs to use. )
Even you can't be right all the time. Though you could stand to be a little more appreciative of the fact my luck hasn't run out just yet, seeing as I caught up with you before you did something reckless and idiotic.
( He steps closer, waving away the last remnants of his nervousness and doubt. Right now, in this moment, even if the idea of being in love, of being loved in return, is enough to make him want to pinch himself in uncertainty and doubt -- he's going to enjoy it. If Ratio, somehow, still wants to go through with it then at least he'll know he'd done his best. Given it his all. )
C'mon, the least you can do is kiss me after I ran here and everything.
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He is not a man born for relationships. He is a man born for science. For learning, for education. Not love, nor lust, nor passion.
Turning his head, he looks at his companion, feeling an ache in his heart. He both wants and does not want this, the hypocrisy of it making him feel - unanchored. Adrift. His eyes close as he grits his teeth and forces himself to breathe in and out sharply. ]
Your running here does not inspire me to do anything.
[ But he does turn to look at Aventurine, his eyes dark - wanting, desperately, but not quite having the determination to reach out and do it. ]
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He's charmed by that, by the new ground that Ratio must be finding himself on because of him. And not because Aventurine pulled the strings and arranged the cards for him to fall in love, but because Ratio did it in spite of himself. That means more to him than he can possibly ever say, and not just because finding the right words would be difficult, allowing himself the vulnerability to admit so nearly impossible. )
The image of me, hot and sweaty on your behalf, doesn't do a thing for you, huh? ( It's a warm tease to fill the air as Aventurine decides to put it all on the line -- stepping forward to close the distance between the two of them, an arm snaking around Ratio's neck. ) That's alright, Ratio. We can do whatever you want, even if it's just sitting around and reading. But if you're in the mood for something a little more captivating, well--
( Aventurine is far more desperate for this than he'd like to admit to, for Ratio to want him just as much as he wants to free himself from the constrains of illogical behavior. He won't press, of course, he couldn't-- whatever Ratio wants to give should be given freely. )
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All his calculations, all his beliefs had been turned upside down, and he doesn't know how to cope with it at all.
Carefully, his arms wrap around Aventurine's waist, holding him gently. He can feel the coughs rise up inside of him, wanting to choke him, steal his words, but he breathes out a hoarse, shaky noise instead. Whatever he wants, Aventurine says, as though it is that simple, that easy, to give into it all and let himself feel that to begin with...
Leaning in, he touches their foreheads together. ]
Aventurine... This is a fool's choice. [ But their mouths are so close, and the taste of blood on his tongue has been foul for so long. ] You should not wish for it.
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Not for the reasons that Ratio thinks, but because Aventurine isn't allowed to wish and want for things like this. To be loved and wanted in return is impossible -- it's why he'd been so certain that he hadn't wanted to be burdened by the fact he was in love with Aventurine. That he is, that the headaches and backtalk hasn't made him want to be rid of it is...
He wishes for it. It might make them both fools, but if he's allowed to have it, then he's going to have it and hold fast with both hands until it's torn from him or Ratio thinks twice about it. )
As someone who's turned down an invitation from the Fools themselves, I should think I'm well acquainted with what counts as foolishness. Moreso than the man who eschews the very concept of idiots. ( He breathes deep, steeling his nerves for what's to come. A hand clutched behind his back, fist tight to stop it from shaking. But the warmth of his hands on his waist, the brush of breath and the promise of finally, finally kissing whatever insult the other might levy at him is enough to push through. ) Ratio--
( And it's all he manages to say before Aventurine is kissing him, eagerly and with unmistakable desperation. This is what he wants, this is what he's going to have. Likely not forever, but for now.
Aventurine will be satisfied with that. )
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[ This is not a good choice for either of them.
Ratio is aware of it even as the lips press against his own, even as he draws Aventurine closer and tilts his own body into him, leaning down to slide their mouths together at a better angle. It's filled with desperation, of finally getting what has been wanted after months of yearning, of suffering alone with flowers burning his lungs and threatening to steal his life. He's ached for it, and he can feel that desire flare up inside of him, desperately and wantonly.
How is he meant to resist this, when he has wanted it for so long? Aventurine has brought so much colour to his dreams, filled him with an earnest desire that he had never felt before, enough to steal the life from his lips. The idea of rejecting this now fills him with an angst that he can't fathom, no logic supporting it. If he can have what he wants, why shouldn't he take it? Why should he not continue his selfish streak?
The sound he makes against Aventurine's mouth is needy, desperate, and he clings to him, pushing into the kiss and deepening it, all his walls torn down, his defences laid bare, desperate for what only this man can give him, almost shaking with his want and desire. ]
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Sure, he's standing on his toes, and that's going to be uncomfortable eventually. But for right now he's memorizing the way Ratio's lips feel against his, his tongue in his mouth, what and how much pressure causes Vertias Ratio to shake. He's indulging it, making it last as long as possible. Maybe he can lick some petals out of his mouth while he's at it, cure Ratio's stupid disease by loving him too hard in return.
Aeons.
He's really in it now, isn't he?
By the time he has to separate to breathe his cheeks are flushed, ruddy and splotchy. But there's a smile hovering around his lips all the same, and he hides whatever embarrassment he feels by pressing his face against Ratio's substantial chest. Who knew a scholar could be so... jacked. There's a huff of laughter, muffled, and Aventurine buries more into his chest. )
If I asked if you'd let me fuck you would you make me use three syllable words before you said yes?
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The disease in his lungs had changed a great many things.
Longing for more kisses, desperate for more of the taste of Aventurine's tongue, the warmth of his body, the tilt of him as he lays heavily against Ratio's own, he groans softly when they pause to breathe. It's no lie to say that he has indulged in intercourse before, but he's never felt so needy for it, so wanting, feeling his body respond in a way that it so rarely does.
Tilting his head, he leans down to press his forehead against Aventurine's, licking his own lips. He does not imagine they will go further, even with the filth coming from the other man's mouth, and he could not blame him. It is not often that many men choose to continue relations with him, and he does not intend to let himself be harmed by another dismissal. Aventurine might claim to love him, but love and lust are not so often intertwined.
Rejection sensitive after coming so close to bliss, Ratio turns his head away, cheeks warm and expression tight, eyes dark and expression pinched with grief, a sharp contrast to the way that he was kissing the other man moments before. ]
Your eloquence and use of linguistics would not persuade me one way or the other, certainly not if you intended to use acquired knowledge for the sole purpose of fucking.
[ Not able to look him in the eye, Ratio swallows. ]
Permit me to inform you now, before you get too ahead of yourself. I was not born with all the parts that would... Define my sex, and - [ He grits his teeth. He expects to be turned away.
Another loss. ]
- I do not expect you to be desirous of it.
[ Taking Aventurine's hand and, because it is easiest, shoving it between his legs, where there is quite obviously... No penis. ]
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What--
( His brows knit together in a moment of confusion before Ratio oh so graciously shows him, allowing his brain to catch up to the words. Oh. Well, that's not something he expected, but nor is Aventurine bothered by it. So Vertias Ratio has a cunt instead of a dick, it's not as if he has a mass of tentacles down there with teeth that could rip both his cock and his face to shreds if he tried anything. And even if he did, Aventurine would figure something out. He loves this idiotic man to destruction.
His hand moves lower, palm pressing assuredly against the apex of Ratio's thighs. )
Veritas. ( Rolling the name in his mouth, dragging it out as if it were the best thing he's ever said -- and it is, it really is. ) You keep making assumptions that make you look like one of your beloved idiots. Really, you should know better by now.
( And, because Aventurine has ever been one to push his luck: ) Come to think of it, considering I left all my lubrication ( He drags the word out, teasing. ) back at Pier Point, this makes things so much easier for the both of us.
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Painful relief is stark against the irritating level of arousal he feels, flooding him a little.
Making him want and yearn.
There would be no logical way for him to ever think that Aventurine would want this, but he’s glad to be proven wrong for once. Glad that his calculations and endless knowledge somehow glossed over this reality, that a man so smitten with him (loved him?) might love him for all his pieces and not just parts.
Sighing softly, Ratio tilts his head back, prepared to sink into the moment when… It is, of course, ruined by Aventurine being himself. A typicality he should’ve known to be aware of. ]
Must you taint each and every shared moments with debauchery and a foul tongue? A simple comment that it was inconsequential to you would’ve proven enough to soothe my lingering concerns!
[ Irritated, annoyed, he grabs the front of Aventurine’s jacket and kisses him, all teeth and tongue and desire curled into one angry shape. ]
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If this is what being in love is like, of knowing what it feels like to have it returned, there is a part of him that mourns for what he never knew. He can recall the warmth of his sister, the words of his mother, but Ratio's affection burns away the parts of him that he's used to hide. Maybe, he thinks, maybe-- there's a chance for something real here, between them.
Something that he thought he'd forgotten, left behind on the bloody sands, left behind with the corpse of his 'master'.
Aventurine pushes, threading his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Ratio's neck, the hand other other hand had moved to his crotch remaining there -- palm and fingers pushing against the fabric, careful to catalogue any sort of reaction he can pull from him. One day he'll be able to make a guide to Ratio's body based on those alone, if he's given enough time, and he'll be able to play him like he can play any card game. )
You're the one that fell in love with me. ( He points out, the grin that graces his face wide enough to stretch his cheeks. Though he goes back to kissing kissing him in fast, furious pecks and recovering his own breath. ) You know what I'm like, Ratio. There's no take backs now.
( There is, but his heart wouldn't be able to take it. )
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Aventurine, of all people. A man who is as irritating as he is coy, clever as he is foolish, using luck and skill to get what he wants where Ratio uses his mind and his connections. He seeks to rid the world of the pain of ignorance, wanting nothing more than to bring that to the world and see it heal, but it is not the same. He does not know how to unburden himself of it, how to handle this, not when he is wanted in return.
Distraction comes, and Ratio moans into the mouth against his own, shivering as he forces himself to try and stay strict and secure, to not let himself fall to pieces. ]
It is not as though I chose this course. [ It was stolen from him, ripped from him, forced upon him, in a way, but he has accepted it. It burns through him, and to have that reciprocated, to have that given to him in return... He breathes out a sharp noise, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.
The fingers feel... Good. Bullied, and harsh, and he chokes a little noise as he covers his mouth. ] I could - simply leave. What would you be able to do in that instance?
[ Eyes closing, his fingers drop to wrap around Aventurine's wrist - not stopping him, just holding. Yearning. ]
But I will not.
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But... the question.
It's a question that deserves an answer. The rawness of what escapes him threatens to pull down the walls he's built to keep himself safe, keep himself alive. He can't let them crumble -- he is still Aventurine, and he has a role to play and a job to do. But he can't offer Ratio much of anything else other than the truth when he deserves it of him. )
Nothing. I would let you. If that's what you wanted.
( There's something vulnerable, the specter of rejection hovering around Aventurine's features until Ration confirms that he won't. )
Though, after all this, I do reserve the right to drink myself comatose for an evening if that's your plan.
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[ A difficult thing to admit, when his heart feels so weary - months of self-inflicted pain and torture, and for what? An outcome he could never have predicted, from a man as capricious as Ratio is desperate for the carnal pleasure of knowledge. Want and desire have been subservient to him for so long that the idea of giving into it is something that is impossible to manage, but at the same time...
It makes him thrum with pleasure. The fact that even something as simple as this tough could have him completely deconstructed, out of his element, is testament to how deeply his feelings run. A menacing feeling inside, that creeps through his bones and sinks into his lungs.
Leaning in, Ratio presses his forehead to Aventurine's, breathing out a soft noise, close to a wheeze. The intimacy of it has his hands shaking and his lungs aching, and that's more than enough for him to wish for more. ]
Don't leave. That is not my desire.
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(And that scares Aventurine almost as much as the idea of his luck running out. People don't know him. They might be bribed with credits or smiles or promises on a big payoff later, but they don't know him. Ratio knows more than most, more than anyone has since he'd murdered his way to freedom.)
But he doesn't want Aventurine to go, and the shaky breath that he lets go he attempts to hide by kisisng Ratio again. Slower, this time, but no less desperate. He wants to map out every reaction, every sound, and if he's not going to go through with that idiotic surgery then Aventurine has time to do so.
His hands go up to cup Ratio's cheeks, thumbs running over impressive cheekbones as he tries to will himself not to shake apart. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he muses, he needs to regain some sort of upper hand so he can really drive home what a stupid idea ridding himself of love is. )
Do you want me to see if I can guess what is, doctor?
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All of this, however... It feels bitterly genuine, and he wishes to give into it, even as he feels himself getting warm and flustered, his irritation covered by the warmth on his face and the way his hands reach out to grip at the other man, to hold him as close as he can get himself to be. He wants this, yearns for it, even if it will result in pain in the end.
Like academia, truly. ]
You would attempt a gamble, even now? Nil point.
[ But he is leaning up, to press their mouths together more, desirous, rocking his hips forward a little absently, longing. Wanting. ]
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And he would never use this fragile thing between them for the IPC. Aventurine doesn't know the right words to say that, to have it be an indisputable truth like Ratio loves. But he's sure of one thing: it is the truth.
Though it doesn't stop him from huffing a laugh against Ratio's lips, breaking into a smile he knows the other man can feel. )
What can I say? I'm incorrigible. ( Although-- ) You're not really going to score us having sex, are you?
( Aventurine's hands travel down to Ratio's hips, hooking in the belt loops and thanking the Goddess herself that the other man hasn't decided to wear that ridiculous outfit of his. It allows him to keep the man in place as he rolls his own hips forward, cock hard enough for Ratio to feel through the layers. )
Because if so, Doc, you better let me know what you're grading off of.
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He does not, though. Instead, he watches Aventurine with dark eyes, wanting to lift his legs to slide them around his waist, to rock into his body, to see if he can chase the sensation of a dick pressing against him, making him want more and more...
He breathes out instead, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to ignore the way he can picture that smile perfectly. ]
No. I do not have a rubric for the - the completion of sexual intercourse. I doubt many scholars intend to use it for any kind of assessment.
[ If they ever get close enough to being fucked for it to matter, of course.
He can feel it, Aventurine's cock, and he groans softly, low and a little hoarse. ]
I know you enjoy the sound of your own voice, but do you intend to continue?
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Only if you agree to never say "the completion of sexual intercourse" again.
( Aventurine huffs, trailing kisses down from Ratio's jaw to his neck, tugging down his collar just enough so that when he bites and sucks on the pale skin there to leave a mark, Ratio will at least be able to hide it. Aventurine isn't particularly possessive when it comes to leaving traces of himself across the skin of his partners, given what is permanently branded on his neck, but he wants to give the good doctor a reminder of the night that will last slightly longer.
After all, they have their own jobs, their own lives. They'll be apart for days soon enough. Aventurine won't ask Ratio to change that (and he wouldn't know what to do if Ratio asked him to, because why would he?) just for him. )
C'mon, Doc. Let me take you to bed and fuck you.
( See? Much better. )
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[ He has a PhD in medicine, he cannot be faulted for the way he speaks, even if he may be doing it with a touch of deliberation to it - wanting to irritate Aventurine just a little, to try and get him as riled up and filled with emotion as Ratio himself is. The fact that he can feel Aventurine's cock is not enough: he wants to see the other man break apart, want to see his desperation, to taste it on his mouth.
It has been months of longing. Has he not earned the right to permit himself something like this? To tease and press, to nudge, to see Aventurine's face twisted in irritation and pleasure?
Tilting his head to the side, he sighs softly, the pleasure obvious before he's reaching out and pushing the other man away. Stepping towards the bed, he begins to remove his clothing, tugging the layers off without pause. ]
Rid yourself of your clothing. Swiftly, if you please.
[ Yes, he wants to be fucked. No, he is not going to be polite about it. ]
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