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thermalflower · 3 days ago

Text

What the Vent Sees

this is also posted on my ao3 lilac_ashes

minors dni

Warnings: afab reader, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, pronouns for reader are not specified, just specifically the genitals that are referred to.

He spent days watching you, going about your daily routine, working, and more. Even the times that would normally be private, you couldn’t see him, didn’t know he wasnt “just” an air con unit, that he was more and desperately in love with you, despite himself knowing it could never be requited. So he settled with watching you.

Watching you as your hands run down your body, caressing yourself on your bed unaware he was there, these were the times he was also ashamed for watching you through. Watching as you give yourself pleasure, a pleasure which he would rather give to you somehow.

Sometimes, just sometimes, you would pause for a moment and glance in the general direction of the vent in your room, unknowingly briefly making eye contact with Hector. Some part of you could feel his gaze but the logical side of your brain was telling you there’s no one there. Then, you would carry on like you hadn’t just made Hector’s heart leap out of his chest and his dick throb within its confines.

And then one day you got the glasses, you discovered the other objects and who they really were. Soon enough you found Hector in the vents, you reciprocated his flirting, showed positive responses to his words. Never once did you pressure him to show himself before he was ready.

The only difference, you hadn’t touched yourself in a few days since discovering all of this, adjusting to the knowledge, getting to know all these people you never knew were in your own home took the energy out of you so when it came to the time you might have masturbated, you didnt. You slept.

Until one day you didn’t, you had lightly tapped on the vent first, no special glasses on, but you knew it would get his attention. He had recently admitted to having watched you masturbate, told you how it affected him, and the way that had affected you after hearing those descriptions? You hadn’t been able to stop thinking of it all day. So you made a plan, to give Hector a show that he could see without feeling ashamed of it.

Before you had tapped on the vent you had slipped a note inside that simply said “watch me” with a heart drawn next to it.

Once you felt like he should be there watching you started slowly slipping out of your clothes, piece by piece, running your hands up and down your body slowly. Grabbing at your breasts before tossing the top you were wearing to the side, facing the vent and teasing yourself, squeezing them and rubbing over your nipples slowly, all for him to see.

Next you moved onto your shorts, turning around and slowly taking them off, bending at an angle that would hopefully give him a view of the wet patch on your underwear. A simple hand gesture pointing at that patch and then towards the vent, a silent way of saying “You did this to me”, a message he understands very very quickly. He restrains himself for taking his dick out to touch himself, this show is for him after all, he doesnt want to touch himself at least until you’re touching yourself first.

You play with your clit through your underwear, gradually making the wet patch bigger as youre still bent, leaning onto the bed for support as you do. Slowly rubbing and lightly pinching at it, your breathing becoming uneven before eventually turning into soft quiet moans. You move your fingers under your underwear, slipping two inside your wet pussy, slowly pumping in and out.

He watches as you finger yourself while he starts to palm the tent in his underwear, a dark patch becoming visible through them from his pre cum. You change position so you’re now lay back on the bed, legs bent and feet balanced right at the edge of it and quickly slip out of your underwear. It’s even more noticeable just how wet you actually are now as he can see it glisten on your pussy.

Your hand is quick to slip back inside you, 2 fingers pumping in and out of you. Another hand starts playing with one of your nipples again when you feel a sudden gust of cold air coming from the vent, making both your nipples stand from the cold. “Enjoying yourself?” You ask, knowing you won’t get a verbal answer but another short gust of cold air confirms it for you, he’s watching and enjoying everything he sees.

Watching your fingers pump in and out over and over has him stroking his dick at the same pace, staying at whatever pace you set for youself. Hearing your soft moans has his dick throbbing and leaking more pre cum, himself holding his own sounds back simply to hear you. Every sound and movement you make has him captivated at every second, his eyes glued to yours, your own locked onto the vent whenever you have them open.

You spread your legs a bit wider and take the hand that was playing with your nipples and start using it to play with your clit again instead, your moans becoming louder as your pace increases, occasionally a moan of Hector’s name will come out, the sound being music to his ears and also something that has him pause for a moment simply to prevent himself from cumming right then and there. He won’t cum, not until you do, he wants to match the timing of it as best as he can.

Your legs start to tremble a bit, pace becoming a bit uneven and faster as you get closer to your release, you shift position again, opening your legs as far as they’ll go so Hector gets the best view he can have from the vents. His own pace increases matching your own, being careful not to cum before you, so he can enjoy all you have to show him, and for the first time he’s able to enjoy it without that feeling of shame he used to get before the glasses. Oh how grateful he is that those glasses came into your life when they did.

He can tell you’re close, you know you’re close. You try to keep your pace as even as possible, pushing yourself closer and closer to cumming. Another moan of his name, a spasm of your body as you push yourself over the edge and he’s following suit. He loves this, loves you, and one thing he didn’t expect to hear tonight, from your lips, is something he does hear, you, breathlessly saying “I love you” while looking straight at the vent, this time, with the glasses on. From the vent you hear a quiet “I love you too, goodnight y/n” before you take the glasses off, move yourself up the bed and get under the covers to sleep.

One day he’ll be able to be the one giving you the pleasure, one day when he’s comfortable showing you himself, but for now he’s more than happy with this.

#date everything #date everything hector #date everything x reader #hector valentino airnesto condicionado

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thermalflower · 3 days ago

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Based on actual events

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thermalflower · 3 days ago

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i cannot stop thinking about using mateos blanket to get off, i know in my heart and soul nothing would get him hornier than just the fact you are feeling pleasure. imagining having the plush blanket rolled up under you, half squeezed between your soft thighs to desperately hump your sex against while you have your arms wrapped around the top half in an almsot crushing hug. he could honestly probably get off just by the feeling of your wet pussy dragging against the fabric while you attempt to muffle your sounds by biting onto the part under your head. ohhhh how hed wish he could wrap his arms around you and fuck up into you but having you rut against him like this, legs bending up towards your ass to help put more pressure where you need it most, is almost as good as actually being inside you.

when you finally cum, writhing around ontop of him with the prettiest moan of his name, its probably one of the hottest moments of his life. he will not let you wash him just yet tho, the fact and feeling of your slick cooling against the fabric could be considered porn to him.

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thermalflower · 3 days ago

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Frostbitten, Forbidden.

Hector Condicionado X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: another one shot with my favorite cretin. he's so lovely, i just want to eat him in one bite. hope you enjoy reading this!

Tags: dub-con, p in v, creampie, lots and lots and lots of dirty talk, sensory deprivation (eyesight)

Wordcount: 1.1k

Hector would do anything for you. He made it abundantly clear. From the moment you met him, or rather, from the moment he saw you, he knew he would make any sacrifice, any oblation, just to make you happy. No, he didn't want to make you happy—he wanted to keep you happy. A constant state of pleasure and contentment, all due to his own efforts.

If you were tired, he would build you a bed frame with his bare hands. If you were bored, he would come up with a story to rival the telling of Shakespeare on the spot. Sad? Paw at his vent and tell him all about it.

Fuck, he would slice his own palms and use the blood to write one of his novels for you if you wanted to do some light reading.

The only thing he couldn't do for you right now was turn up the heat. His only purpose, his one job, he simply couldn't do. Whether there was some sort of blockage in the air filters or a malfunctioning motor, nothing seemed to be working.

Dead winter and not a single puff of air to ease your pain.

It tore him up inside more than you would ever know, watching you toss and turn in bed, layering yourself in blankets that hardly helped. He tried for days to fix it himself. He borrowed tools from Tony, but hell if he knew what he was doing. Bang a wrench against the grate? Plead with the thermostat to co-operate?

He felt like mold. Worse, actually. At least mold gave the world penicillin. What was he giving his beloved? Hypothermia?

Your poor, freezing legs kicked under the thin covers in discomfort. He knew he had to do something, and he had an inkling of where his mind wanted to go, but it just seemed risky.

Then again, he'd take any risk to satisfy you.

Your body was shaking inconsolably at this point. You were miserable. Days of straight ice and still air were starting to get to you. Truly, you were convinced it was colder outside your home than in it, but you wouldn't run the chance of finding out. You wanted nothing more than to drift into sleep, but it was too cold to even hope for a good night's rest.

Just as you began to give up, you felt the bed dip beside you. That wasn't right. You lived alone.

You tried to scream, but a quick hand covered your mouth. Was this the end? Jesus, why you?

"Hush, my love, it is I."

Oh.

You slacked in Hector's grasp. You had heard his voice many times, and although it sounded a bit different outside of the vent, you still felt its comforting tones wash over you. That didn't change your confusion. Why was he out of the vent?

As if he could hear your thoughts clicking, he answered, "I couldn't stand to see you like this. Suffering, when I can do something about it."

You hummed against his palm in understanding. Your eyes flicked across the wall in front of you as you laid on your side. You wanted to flip over and see him. You tried to resist the urge, to respect his privacy, but your body acted on its own.

Hector quelled your movements sharply, firm hand turning your head to face the wall again.

"You know I cannot have that." His calloused hand covered your eyes instead. He cupped his palm over them to keep you both literally and metaphorically in the dark about his appearances. "Don't focus on anything but my warmth. Let me help you, amor."

He hastily fidgeted with his belt, popping the buckle with overly eager hands.

"Let me make everything up to you. Please."

"Don't you know what it does to me to have this power over you?"

Hector had gotten much more into this than he thought he would. Obviously, a chance to get this close to you, to touch you, was heaven, but to have complete control?

This was the stuff of fantasy.

Total domination, zero vulnerability. An opportunity to act on all the depraved things he had said to you in the vents without the fear of being judged for his looks? Sign him up.

"To have you at my mercy? To have all of your trust?" He bottomed out, pushing your face into your pillow. Gentle, as to not hurt his precious girl. "I've wanted this for so many moons. So much wasted time—god—if I knew it could be like this..."

You moaned a strangled little noise into the fluffy pillow. He hated not being able to hear the full extent of your pleasure, but there would be time for that another day.

"That's right," Hector said, voice syrupy and warm as he spoke to you, "I would've taken you much earlier."

His hands gripped your hips and forced them upwards. He dreamed about this. It nearly felt like deja vu, seeing as how he thought of bending you into these nasty positions many times before. It was almost too good to be true.

"Maybe I would have snuck out of the wretched vent early in the morning to visit you."

What a tease.

"Or maybe late at night. Late when you think nobody hears you, touching yourself in the dark." His hips stuttered. He didn't want to cum yet, not until you did. He wouldn't forgive himself if he messed up yet again. "I hear you. I hear every sound, every little noise you make. I turn the air up. Make it nice and loud, so nobody else gets to enjoy the show you put on."

Despite the slight uncomfortableness of the angle he put you in, you could see why he did it. He was hitting deep. Deep and purposeful. It was too much for you to handle, especially with his teasing.

"If only you would have asked me for help. I would've been out in a heartbeat."

A sexy, but flagrant lie. The sweet vent-dweller took to hiding deep in the vents when you masturbated, stroking himself recklessly while trying to silence his breathing. He was far too nervous to actually do anything about it and far too ashamed of eavesdropping.

"Next time you need pleasure," he choked out, feeling your gummy walls flutter around him, "call for me."

If he had any shame in the current moment, he'd be horrified at how quickly he came after you. He was simply waiting for your body's permission before he blew.

"I'm always here for you, love."

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thermalflower · 3 days ago

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💌 — Changing Yourself?

Hector / Gn Reader ; fluff , dying your hair , curious hector , worried hector , post love route with hector

Type — Drabble ; Inspired by me starting at the vent above my head in our bathroom when i was dyeing my hair

Not proofread! Sorry for any mistakes

——————————————————————

“What are you doing?” A familiar, concerned, voice came from above your head. Eyes and hands poked out from the air vent above your head, and despite the intrusion, you gave Hector a bright smile.

“Dying my hair.” You said simply, turning to look at him more comfortably.

“But… Why?” He sounded concerned and confused, like he truly couldn’t fathom why you’d be doing this. You didn’t think he didn’t understand the concept of dyeing your hair though, just why you specifically would be doing it.

“I just felt like a change.” You smiled at him but he didn’t even seem to register.

“B-But! You don’t need to change! Why would you ever need to change, your perfect as you are…” His voiced raised just enough for you to see how concerned he was.

It wasn’t that Hector was against change, it was scary to him yes, but he understood it had to happen, what he was against is the idea that you had to change yourself. The thought that you felt the need to change, when he saw you as something so perfect as you are made his heart break.

You gave him an affectionate look, heat rising to your cheeks at his admission of finding you perfect. It was so Hector to be caught up in something like this.

“It’s not like that, Hector.” You started, thinking of the best way to word your thoughts.

“I wasn’t unhappy with the way I looked before, I just thought it would be fun to do something different.”

Hector paused, fiddling with his hands in thought. The silence worried you, and without thinking you spoke again.

“Will you feel differently about me if i change…?”

Hectors eyes widened and he literally jumped out of the vents so he could see you face to face.

“Mi Amore, changing your looks would never make me feel any differently about you. You are… You… and as long as you’re still you my love for you will only continue to grow. Nothing in this world could change that.”

He reached out for you but stopped before he touched you, silently asking for permission to hold you, to feel you. You grabbed onto his hand and moved it to your face, making sure to steer him clear of your hair. He caressed your cheek ever so gently, and you both sat there quietly for a moment, basking in the comfort of each other.

“Why were you so quiet before…?” You asked hesitantly.

Hector looked away, like he was ashamed, but he quietly answered you. “Truthfully… I do not like change… It scares me. What if something goes wrong, what if this small change leads to something bigger, what if the changes take you away from me…”

You laughed, not in a mocking way, in a gentle affectionate laugh.

“Nothing could take me away from you Hector.”

“You promise…?” His eyes were pleading, desperate to hear you say the word.

“Promise.” An affectionate smile spread across your face as his relaxed for the first time since he showed up.

You brushed your knuckles against his cheek, a gentle, affectionate gesture. He gave you an awkward smile, but his eyes were filled with love and adoration that was unmistakable.

“Do you want to keep me company?” You asked.

Hector beamed and nodded his head. The rest of the time was spent enjoying each other’s company. Hector even helped you rinse the dye out of your hair. And he was honored to be the first to see it, and the first to say how stunning you looked too. Who knows, maybe one day Hector would let you dye his hair.

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thermalflower · 3 days ago

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Ok NSFW but Hector is ABSOLUTELY into temperature play. Blindfolding his partner and then playing with ice cubes/hot wax on their body, watching goosebumps form and their skin flush... And since it's basically an extension of his toying with the temperature of the house, he'd be a natural at it 🙂‍↕️

Edit: Now includes versions with she/her, he/him, they/them pronouns. Anatomy specified accordingly!

LMFAOAOA the literal HVAC being into temperature play is so fucking funny but makes so much sense. i mean, he literally tells us as much, albeit him admitting so in much more... flowery language.

okay but also imagine his partner wanting to demonstrate what it's like being on the receiving end of his kink?

hope you don't mind i'm hijacking this ask for my thoughts!

descriptors of Hector's physical appearance down below!

>>>mdni

She/her version:

The bedsprings squeaked, metal rattled, and to any onlooker not clued in, they might assume the man cuffed to the bed and blindfolded was undergoing a torture of the highest cruelty; his limbs writhing against the sheets, black coils turned to tendrils on his salty brow, groans hissed through a clenched jaw. However, they'd be mistaken. Hector was right where he wanted to be. With the person he wanted most. And they were on top of him, like a huntress savoring the last throes of her quarry, rapt with his every twist, salivating over what exquisite depravities she could extract from him next.

Her fingers, raking him over like talons, dragged the ice down his pebbled pecs, then his stomach, swirling below his navel, provoking another tender gasp from his heaving chest. He arched, skin turned gooseflesh. A hot pang rolled through her belly. Her lips curled into something wicked.

With a smile that could rend steel, though she boasted no fangs, she leaned in, whispering, "See? This is what it feels like, Hector: what you feel like to me." Her deft hands arabesqued his thigh, traveling up, up, up, a pinky catching on the hem of his boxers, threatening to invade further. And despite how she wished to plunge deep into his underwear, to feel him, febrile and velvet, pump his hardness with the same rapacious hunger compelling her to spill his belly and sink her teeth into his muscle, she held her ground, breath bated, eyes fixated on the man her heart ached for. She wanted the ache. She wanted him. But, not yet. Their game wasn't over.

Hector keened against the restraints, the bar between his plush lips muffling a shaky cry, teeth baring leather. He pretended like he wanted to get away, but his tip beaded a dark blot against the cotton. His brows wrinkled, the corners of his mouth went upturned, then quickly corrected to that helpless wince. Her laugh was all smoke and suede, without an ounce of remorse.

"Hector," her fingers edged an inch deeper below the fabric, chiding him in a sultry and low coo, "we both know how good you are with your words." Another inch. He flexed. She hummed. "But..."

She whistled cool air against his red-tipped ear. "No more words." she said, her fingers brushing his fraying curls, tucking a black loop into place. "Speak with your body, amorcito. Show me what you want."

The pretenses were gone, the inferno of his sweltering desire vaporizing them. Hector bucked his hips, seeking friction. His voice, sweet, desperate, begged unintelligibly. Her pussy throbbed. He debased himself so... easily, so willingly. She couldn't help but pant at the sight of him. Her fingers found her wetness then slipped under his boxers, all while praising that he was being so good for her, painting his hardened length with her sticky want, wrapping her fingers round him, squeezing, strangling. Her other hand spilled the burning candle's wax on his chest and he sobbed, suddenly becoming shy and facing away from her. She chuckled but didn't let up on her ruthless pace. She needed him to feel every ounce; to understand what he'd been doing to her all this time from his vents.

Her lush mouth found his nipple and she sucked, tongue laving him, teeth nibbling. The red wax hardened. His breath labored and his abdomen tensed, cock throbbing in her palm. He was close, and she knew it, so she slowed, lording her authority over his feverish state. She hoped he'd beg, shake his hips against her hand, but instead, he slobbered against the gag censoring him, attempting to say something. Concerned, she relieved him of the bar, and he sucked in a gasp.

"Is everything alright, Hector?" she asked, cupping his cheek.

He nodded. "It's just..." His head hung low, face flushing bashfully, blindfold visoring his eyes. She listened intently, suddenly full of worry.

"I—I want you, I love you, I need you. So please, kiss me. I'm so close, just, please, kiss me— "

Her mouth crashed into his, surprising him, and they sighed together. It was all breath and hunger, whimpers so saccharine she forgot she was the aggressor and he her prey, lost to the tang of him and his slippery feel. Her hand started up again, gradual, then marauding. He twisted, pressing against her eagerly. Between the squelching and tremors of longing wracking her lonely pussy, she speared her hand into his hair as if to search for more of him — for some other part of him she hadn't yet discovered. She needed him. Every mole, scar, wrinkle, it was hers. He belonged to her and she commanded so, greedily devouring his kiss-bruised lips, her hand pumping his twitching cock. Hector moaned and she worked him in earnest, guiding, loving.

At the most final moment, she pulled away, saliva trailing between them, springing his length free from the confines of his underwear, and she took his miserably erubescent head into her mouth, cheeks pitting, warmth sliding over the entirety of his cock. He winced, calling her name as his climax flooded her mouth.

At the head of the bed, Hector breathed raggedly, her drawing every last bit of him out from his half-hard cock. When she finished, she wiped her mouth and curled up next to him, a quiet adoration fuzzing her core. Discarding his blindfold and unfastening the cuffs, they looked at each other, their sex-mussed hair, their sweaty bodies, their glazed eyes, and they laughed. She tucked her head against his chest, on top of the wax, it smelling of jasmine, and Hector welcomed her, pulling her in, but it was clear there was something else.

She asked what he was thinking. She felt the rumble of his voice as he spoke.

"Well," his hand rubbed her shoulder, "your thighs, they're wet, and they're... touching me."

Before she could recoil, embarrassed over the state of herself, his arms caged her, strong and unrelenting. With a confidence she rarely glanced from Hector, he turned her chin up to him, both of their faces ablaze, and kissed her, holding her there, soft and delicately.

His other hand sank to the swell of her hips, tentatively as though waiting for her to stop him, but she didn't.

When she broke their embrace, she told him that she loved him, and he placed his lips on her forehead. His fingers finally met her there, brushing past a tuft of hair, then probing, curious and feeling rough against her drenched sex.

"After all this time, you have no idea what hearing you say that means to me. Please, let me show you."

He/Him version:

The bedsprings squeaked, metal rattled, and to any onlooker not clued in, they might assume the man cuffed to the bed and blindfolded was undergoing a torture of the highest cruelty; his limbs writhing against the sheets, black coils turned to tendrils on his salty brow, groans hissed through a clenched jaw. However, they'd be mistaken. Hector was right where he wanted to be. With the person he wanted most. And they were on top of him, like a hunter savoring the last throes of his quarry, rapt with his every twist, salivating over what exquisite depravities he could extract from him next.

His fingers, raking Hector over like talons, dragged the ice down his pebbled pecs, then his stomach, swirling below his navel, provoking another tender gasp from his heaving chest. He arched, skin turned gooseflesh. A hot pang rolled over his groin. His lips curled into something wicked.

With a smile that could rend steel, though he boasted no fangs, he leaned in, whispering, "See? This is what it feels like, Hector: what you feel like to me." His deft hands arabesqued Hector's thigh, traveling up, up, up, a pinky catching on the hem of his boxers, threatening to invade further. And despite how he wished to plunge deep into his underwear, to feel him, febrile and velvet, pump his hardness with the same rapacious hunger compelling him to spill his belly and sink his teeth into his muscle, he held his ground, breath bated, eyes fixated on the man his heart ached for. He wanted the ache. He wanted him. But, not yet. Their game wasn't over.

Hector keened against the restraints, the bar between his plush lips muffling a shaky cry, teeth baring leather. He pretended like he wanted to get away, but his tip beaded a dark blot against the cotton. Hector's brows wrinkled, the corners of his mouth went upturned, then quickly corrected to that helpless wince. His partner's laugh was all smoke and suede, without an ounce of remorse.

"Hector," his fingers edged an inch deeper below the fabric, chiding him in a sultry and low coo, "we both know how good you are with your words." Another inch. Hector flexed. He hummed. "But..."

He whistled cool air against his red-tipped ear. "No more words." he said, his fingers brushing his fraying curls, tucking a black loop into place. "Speak with your body, amorcito. Show me what you want."

The pretenses were gone, the inferno of Hector's sweltering desire vaporizing them. He bucked his hips, seeking friction. His voice, sweet, desperate, begged unintelligibly. Seeing Hector like this, his own cock ached. He debased himself so... easily, so willingly. His lover couldn't help but pant at the sight of him. He took his fingers into his mouth then slipped under Hector's boxers, all while praising that he was being so good for him, painting his hardened length with his sticky spit, it mixing with Hector's dribbling want, wrapping his fingers round him, squeezing, strangling. His other hand spilled the burning candle's wax on Hector's chest and he sobbed, suddenly becoming shy and facing away from him. He chuckled but didn't let up on his ruthless pace. He needed him to feel every ounce; to understand what he'd been doing to him all this time from his vents.

His lush mouth found his nipple and he sucked, tongue laving him, teeth nibbling. The red wax hardened. Hector's breath labored and his abdomen tensed, cock throbbing in his palm. He was close, and his lover knew it, so he slowed, lording his authority over his feverish state. He hoped Hector would beg, shake his hips against his hand, but instead, he slobbered against the gag censoring him, attempting to say something. Concerned, he relieved him of the bar, and he sucked in a gasp.

"Is everything alright, Hector?" he asked, cupping his cheek.

Hector nodded. "It's just..." His head hung low, face flushing bashfully, blindfold visoring his eyes. He listened intently, suddenly full of worry.

"I—I want you, I love you, I need you. So please, kiss me. I'm so close, just, please, kiss me— "

His mouth crashed into his, surprising Hector, and they sighed together. It was all breath and hunger, whimpers so saccharine he forgot he was the aggressor and Hector his prey, lost to the tang of him and his slippery feel. His hand started up again, gradual, then marauding. Hector twisted, pressing against him eagerly. Between the squelching and blood rushing to his own lonely cock, he speared his hand into Hector's hair as if to search for more of him — for some other part he hadn't yet discovered. He needed him. Every mole, scar, wrinkle, it was his. Hector belonged to him and he commanded so, greedily devouring his kiss-bruised lips, his hand pumping Hector's twitching cock. He moaned and he worked him in earnest, guiding, loving.

At the most final moment, he pulled away, saliva trailing between them, springing Hector's length free from the confines of his underwear, and he took his miserably erubescent head into his mouth, cheeks pitting, warmth sliding over the entirety of his cock. Hector winced, calling his name as his climax flooded his mouth.

At the head of the bed, Hector breathed raggedly, his partner drawing every last bit of him out from his half-hard cock. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and curled up next to him, a quiet adoration fuzzing his core. Discarding Hector's blindfold and unfastening the cuffs, they looked at each other, their sex-mussed hair, their sweaty bodies, their glazed eyes, and they laughed. He tucked his head against Hector's chest, on top of the wax, it smelling of jasmine, and he welcomed him, pulling him in, but it was clear there was something else.

He asked what Hector was thinking. He felt the rumble of his voice as Hector spoke.

"Well," his hand rubbed his shoulder, "it's... poking my leg. And it feels so... hot."

Before he could recoil, embarrassed over the state of himself, Hector's arms caged him, strong and unrelenting. With a confidence he rarely glanced from Hector, he turned his chin up to him, both of their faces ablaze, and kissed him, holding him there, soft and delicately.

Hector's other hand sank to the swell of his hips, tentatively as though waiting for him to stop him, but he didn't.

When Hector's lover broke their embrace, he told Hector that he loved him, and Hector placed his lips on his forehead. His fingers finally met him there, brushing past a tuft of hair, then probing, curious and feeling rough against his burning sex.

"After all this time, you have no idea what hearing you say that means to me. Please, let me show you."

They/them version:

The bedsprings squeaked, metal rattled, and to any onlooker not clued in, they might assume the man cuffed to the bed and blindfolded was undergoing a torture of the highest cruelty; his limbs writhing against the sheets, black coils turned to tendrils on his salty brow, groans hissed through a clenched jaw. However, they'd be mistaken. Hector was right where he wanted to be. With the person he wanted most. And they were on top of him, like a hunter savoring the last throes of their quarry, rapt with his every twist, salivating over what exquisite depravities they could extract from him next.

Their fingers, raking him over like talons, dragged the ice down his pebbled pecs, then his stomach, swirling below his navel, provoking another tender gasp from his heaving chest. He arched, skin turned gooseflesh. A hot pang rolled through their belly. Their lips curled into something wicked.

With a smile that could rend steel, though they boasted no fangs, they leaned in, whispering, "See? This is what it feels like, Hector: what you feel like to me." Their deft hands arabesqued his thigh, traveling up, up, up, a pinky catching on the hem of his boxers, threatening to invade further. And despite how they wished to plunge deep into his underwear, to feel him, febrile and velvet, pump his hardness with the same rapacious hunger compelling them to spill his belly and sink their teeth into his muscle, they held their ground, breath bated, eyes fixated on the man their heart ached for. They wanted the ache. They wanted him. But, not yet. Their game wasn't over.

Hector keened against the restraints, the bar between his plush lips muffling a shaky cry, teeth baring leather. He pretended like he wanted to get away, but his tip beaded a dark blot against the cotton. His brows wrinkled, the corners of his mouth went upturned, then quickly corrected to that helpless wince. Their laugh was all smoke and suede, without an ounce of remorse.

"Hector," their fingers edged an inch deeper below the fabric, chiding him in a sultry and low coo, "we both know how good you are with your words." Another inch. He flexed. They hummed. "But..."

They whistled cool air against his red-tipped ear. "No more words." they said, their fingers brushing his fraying curls, tucking a black loop into place. "Speak with your body, amorcito. Show me what you want."

The pretenses were gone, the inferno of his sweltering desire vaporizing them. Hector bucked his hips, seeking friction. His voice, sweet, desperate, begged unintelligibly. Their sex throbbed. He debased himself so... easily, so willingly. They couldn't help but pant at the sight of him. They took their fingers into their mouth then slipped under his boxers, all while praising that he was being so good for them, painting his hardened length with their sticky spit, it mixing with Hector's dribbling want, wrapping their fingers round him, squeezing, strangling. Their other hand spilled the burning candle's wax on his chest and he sobbed, suddenly becoming shy and facing away from them. They chuckled but they didn't let up on their ruthless pace. They needed him to feel every ounce; to understand what he'd been doing to them all this time from his vents.

Their lush mouth found his nipple and they sucked, tongue laving him, teeth nibbling. The red wax hardened. His breath labored and his abdomen tensed, cock throbbing in their palm. He was close, and they knew it, so they slowed, lording their authority over his feverish state. They hoped he'd beg, shake his hips against their hand, but instead, he slobbered against the gag censoring him, attempting to say something. Concerned, they relieved him of the bar, and he sucked in a gasp.

"Is everything alright, Hector?" they asked, cupping his cheek.

He nodded. "It's just..." His head hung low, face flushing bashfully, blindfold visoring his eyes. They listened intently, suddenly full of worry.

"I—I want you, I love you, I need you. So please, kiss me. I'm so close, just, please, kiss me— "

Their mouth crashed into his, surprising him, and they both sighed together. It was all breath and hunger, whimpers so saccharine they forgot they were the aggressor and he their prey, lost to the tang of him and his slippery feel. Their hand started up again, gradual, then marauding. He twisted, pressing against them eagerly. Between the squelching and tremors of longing wracking their lonely sex, they speared their hand into his hair as if to search for more of him — for some other part of him they hadn't yet discovered. They needed him. Every mole, scar, wrinkle, it was theirs. He belonged to them and they commanded so, greedily devouring his kiss-bruised lips, their hand pumping his twitching cock. Hector moaned and they worked him in earnest, guiding, loving.

At the most final moment, they pulled away, saliva trailing between them, springing his length free from the confines of his underwear, and they took his miserably erubescent head into their mouth, cheeks pitting, warmth sliding over the entirety of his cock. He winced, calling their name as his climax flooded their mouth.

At the head of the bed, Hector breathed raggedly, them drawing every last bit of him out from his half-hard cock. When they finished, they wiped their mouth and curled up next to him, a quiet adoration fuzzing their core. Discarding his blindfold and unfastening the cuffs, the two of them looked at each other, their sex-mussed hair, their sweaty bodies, their glazed eyes, and laughed. They tucked their head against his chest, on top of the wax, it smelling of jasmine, and Hector welcomed them, pulling them in, but it was clear there was something else.

They asked what he was thinking. They felt the rumble of his voice as he spoke.

"Well," his hand rubbed their shoulder, "I can feel... it against me. And... it's so warm."

Before they could recoil, embarrassed over the state of themself, his arms caged them, strong and unrelenting. With a confidence they rarely glanced from Hector, he turned their chin up to him, both of their faces ablaze, and kissed them, holding them there, soft and delicately.

His other hand sank to the swell of their hips, tentatively as though waiting for them to stop him, but they didn't.

When they broke their embrace, they told him that they loved him, and he placed his lips on their forehead. His fingers finally met them there, brushing past a tuft of hair, then probing, curious and feeling rough against their aching sex.

"After all this time, you have no idea what hearing you say that means to me. Please, let me show you."

yeah so hopefully this delivered. i'll also write hector being in a more dominant position eventually, but this is what came to me most immediately upon reading your ask! anyways, comments and reblogs bring me life. let me know what yall think ^^

spot any typos? please lmk so i can edit. i swear i read my writing a million times and something always manages to slip through the cracks lolol

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