#if I open this tomorrow morning and reread it and think it sucks im going to die

[finnpeach]

Home - Vash

hm are any of us surprised i churned this out at 1 am because i binged this show and couldn’t sleep? no? me neither

Anyway, *SPOILERS* ahead for Trigun Stampede (I’d say if you’ve seen episode 8 you’re safe), but nothing too crazy. This takes place in one of the random 150 years of Vash’s adventures. Enjoy Vash finding out he’s allergic to lavender and being the best boy ☺️

Also, sorry if some of these characters don’t act very canon. I’ve only seen Trigun Stampede and not the original or the manga and thus am kinda guesstimating how these characters would act in this scenario

Vash hasn’t visited Home in nearly twenty years. Even though time doesn't really have any meaning to him, it does to the people he cares about, so he can’t help but feel a little guilty as he approaches the ship. He knows he should come by more often to visit, and that Brad and Luida and the rest of the Home team would love to see him, but he can’t help but feel like a burden every time he does.

His cybernetic arm is hanging by little more than a thread, torn apart in a recent brawl over yet another plant that he’d only narrowly managed save. He’s exhausted. His arm hangs uselessly at his side, only jolting with the occasional shocking twitch.

To his luck, Brad and Luida are out of cryosleep and both wrap him up in a warm embrace as he walks through the ship’s doors, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Vash!” They both cry. Warmth spreads through Vash’s chest as Brad ruffles his hair and Luida buries her face in his shoulder. He remembers the days when he used to look up at them as a child, but now he towers over them.

“How have you been? Are you all right? We were hoping to see you this time when we woke up,” Luida says. She looks older, maybe in her late 40s now, and Brad looks about the same. Their hair is beginning to become streaked with white, and deep wrinkles have already set across their faces. It’s part of the reason he hates coming back here, to see them getting older while he stays eternally young.

“I’m okay, I missed you both. Have you been well?” Even though his arm is killing him, he doesn’t want to bring it up yet. He’s too wrapped up in the feeling of being welcomed home and seeing friendly faces, seeing the pride and affection and love in their eyes. If only he could bottle up this feeling and take it with him.

“Yes, we’ve been— Christ, Vash, what’ve you done to your arm this time?” Brad finally takes notice when a spark of electricity spikes off his arm. He gently picks up the appendage, turning it over in his hands with a practised grace.

“Ah-ha, well, about that…” He grins sheepishly, cheeks burning red as he scratches the back of his head. “I saved the hand this time, though!”

Brad rolls his eyes and starts walking towards his room, waving him along. “C’mon, I’ve got my tools in your room, as usual. Luida, we’ll be done in time for dinner.”

“Don’t take too long! I want to catch up with Vash too!” Luida calls after them. Vash turns to give her a beaming smile and a wave goodbye before following Brad down the hall.

It feels so good to be Home.

A couple of hours later and lots of admonishing from Brad, Vash’s arm is beginning to regain feeling again.

“You should go out into the garden and see the new flora that Luida has been working on,” Brad tells him as he’s bent over his forearm. He’s just putting on the last of the stabilising touches to make it “Vash-proof”, as he calls it.

“There’s this new one called lavender. It’s got a long, thin stem and purple bunches of petals at the top. The humans on Earth used to use it for its calming effects. Smells great too. Go check it out, but make sure you’re back in time for dinner.”

One more flourish with welding tool, and he’s done. Brad pushes himself out of the chair, swiping his palms together. “And take better care of that arm!”

Vash chuckles, flexing his left hand. The joints feel better already. “Thank you, Brad. I’ll go take a look.”

He slides into his coat and follows Brad out of the room before making his own way down to the garden. The path is so familiar to him, he could do it with his eyes closed.

The garden looks gorgeous as it always has. It’s sunset now, creating a golden, rose-tinted shadow across the flora. He walks down the stone path, taking note of the new blue flora popping up, a new tree that's grown, before he finds the lavender that Brad had been speaking about.

Huh, Vash hadn’t expected it to look like that. It looks more like a bush or a tumbleweed than an actual flower. He bends down to get a closer look.

The purple petals are so stunning that he almost doesn’t notice the itch blossoming in his nose. He reaches his hand out to touch the stem, then feels the soft petals with the pad of his finger. Ah, that’s the scent that Brad mentioned. He loves it. It smells light and clean.

He rubs at his nose as he bends closer to the plant. He doesn’t dare break off a stem to get it closer to his face, so instead he crouches into a squat to lean forward and smell it.

It does feel calming. Vash can see why the humans on Earth liked it so much. Craving more, he inhales deeply through his nose just as the itch becomes too much to bear—

“Hih’iTSHhh! Hh.. H’TSCHhh!” The two sneezes catch him by surprise. He has to catch himself on the ground to avoid losing his balance.

Shaking his head, he sniffles and paws at his nose, which is beginning to take on a pink flush. How strange, he thinks. Must be something in the air. Usually only dust and the desert sand makes him sneeze, but there’s none of that in here.

He wants to sniff the lavender again and reaches out to feel the petals, but the itch has buried itself deeper in his nose. His breath catches in his chest, his aquamarine eyes slipping shut as his lips draw back over his teeth—

“H’TSH’itsch! Hh.. hihh— h’ITSCHhh’ue! Hh’eHTSSHhh’iu!” The last sneeze is so forceful that it makes him lose his balance. He falls back on his ass and tumbles flat on his back. His glasses are askew on his pink, irritated nose. Allergic tears fill his eyes as he stares up at the rose sunset sky.

Can he be allergic to flora? Or perhaps it’s this one in particular? He’s never had such a reaction to flora before, even in Rem’s garden.

Vash sniffles and rubs at his nose, which has now started to run. Instead of abating the itch, it only serves to set him off again— “H’ITSHhhiew! Haah.. heh-hh! H’ihdTSShh!”

It must be the lavender that's causing this. He can’t help but feel a bit sad, because he had really liked the scent of the lavender. Maybe Luida will have some medicine to offset the symptoms.

He lays there on the ground for a while, staring up at the sky, feeling a swirl of melancholy and happiness in his chest. Those two emotions seem to be the familiar, funny feeling that he always carries with him, even when he's back on the ship.

He stays there, sneezing occasionally and sniffling, until Luida calls for him for dinner. She chides at him for laying on the ground and says he’ll catch a cold like that, which makes him grin. He lets her shoo him inside and down the corridor towards the dining hall. Vash can’t help but revel in the tenderness he feels at her gentle reprimands, the way she fixes his hair or dusts off his coat or gives him one last hug before they enter the dining hall, because it all feels like Home.

[rohdutch]

Interrupted pt. 2

Pairing: Elias Samson x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: lots of feelings of the upcoming wedding day, mainly elias'

A/N: uh. I honest to God do not remember how long ago I wrote this but I just randomly found it in my drafts and I think I had originally wanted to add more to it but never did? But I reread it and I kinda like it as is so I'm gonna leave it alone and not edit. God, it's been so long, but here we go ig (also shout-out to past me for already linking part one bc present me did not feel up to searching for it lmao)

Tag list: (im just tagging who I remember) @team-elias @sixdegreesofsamson @sophiagriff @calwitch @thirstiswet @logicstates12

Part One

-

"How do they fit?"

"Perfect. What about yours?"

Elias stood up and took a few steps, getting used to the feel of the shoes he'd be wearing for the wedding. He shrugged. "They'll take some getting used to, but they feel good."

You let out a soft sigh, smiling as you walked over to Elias, your heels making soft 'thumps' against the carpet of your bedroom. "Great," you breathed out, running your hands down his clothed chest, "finally something for this wedding works out on the first try."

Elias couldn't help but smile at that, reaching out to wrap his arms around you and pull you to him, resting his head into the crook of your neck. You were right, and he was grateful for at least one thing working out so far, even if it was something as small and simple as your wedding shoes fitting perfectly the first time you tried them on.

Elias had originally thought that planning the wedding would be easy—not extremely easy, but more so than things he had experienced before. Instead, planning your wedding had become one of his worst nightmares. He could say, without a doubt, it had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done and he was grateful that in a few days it would be over. He had been counting down the days until your wedding with a burst of happiness every time he could cross off a day. Now, it was almost time for not only the two of you to be done with planning your wedding, but also for the two of you to finally get married after so long.

The whole process had been tedious and long, full of too many problems to count. Elias had been fully prepared to throw himself into planning, ready to tackle the whole thing with you and the very large binder you had filled with tons of different wedding things, all neatly organized. At first, things went as planned and everything came together pretty well. It wasn't until it was time to start really setting things up—figuring out venues, decorations, your dress and his tux—when things began to get chaotic.

Suddenly, the two of you were running around everywhere, calling back when the venue you wanted had been double-booked and you had to find somewhere else and when the dress you had picked out had magically disappeared when it was sent out to be adjusted. The invitations you had picked out had gotten lost in the mail after being sent out, the caterer quitting after everything for dinner had already been decided. It seemed that everything that could go wrong did go wrong and Elias felt terrible most of the time when he had to leave for work, leaving you with the messiness that had become your wedding preparations.

Slowly, though, everything started to come together. Things were figured out, and thank god, your dress was found and actually came back fitting perfectly.

Now, with a few days left before the wedding, Elias was glad that at least one thing had worked out so easily, especially after the chaos that had been the rest of the planning process. And even though this one thing had worked out on the first try, he wasn't convinced that the next few days before the wedding would turn out the same.

-

Elias watched you move around the room, grabbing different things as you went and dropping them off on the bed where he was sitting next to a suitcase, carefully packing everything you grabbed. There was two more days until your wedding and so far, nothing else had gone wrong since the two of you had broke in your wedding shoes. Elias wanted to let himself relax in what seemed to be another easy two days before the wedding—two days where all you would be doing is packing for your honeymoon—but he couldn't seem to let the tension in his shoulders out. He was paranoid that something else would go wrong; something was bound to go wrong. He was sure of it.

"Will you at least try to relax?"

Elias looked up to see that you had stopped moving around the room and were now standing in front of him, your hands placed firmly on your hips. "What?"

"Relax," you said slowly, "I want you to relax. Just for a little bit, please? I'd like for my future husband to not be so tense on our wedding day."

Elias let out a light laugh at that, and he rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to appear somewhat loosened up even though he still felt entirely too paranoid. "Better?"

"No." You smiled at him as you moved to sit in his lap, looping your arms around his shoulders. "I know you're still not relaxed, but thank you for trying," you told him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I've tried to relax, it's just-"

"After everything we've gone through with planning, you're worried something else is going to go wrong?" you asked, and Elias' shoulders dropped as he nodded. "Honey, I know. I'm a little worried too, y'know, but soon it'll all be over and we'll be married and go on a nice honeymoon where I'll get to spoil you for a week straight. At least then we won't have to worry about anything for a while."

"Sounds wonderful." And Elias meant it. He thought that he might actually be a little more excited for the honeymoon rather than the actual wedding (but maybe that had something to do with the fact that the honeymoon had taken a lot less planning than the wedding).

"Alright, c'mon," you said with a sudden enthusiasm, "two more days before we're outta here for a week so we have to finish these bags up by tomorrow."

Elias nodded and smiled as you began moving around the room again, grabbing everything the two of you would need for you week-long adventure.

-

Elias looked down at his polished shoes. Today was the day, and even though he thought that the day he asked you to marry him had been the most nervewracking day of his life, his mind had quickly been changed when he woke up that morning.

The only day more nervewracking than the day he proposed to you, he decided, was today—the day he was going to marry you. And the fact that there had already been so many problems today only added to his nerves.

So far, in just that morning, the chairs for the ceremony had run short, one of the rings had been lost (only to be found hidden under a couch a short while later), and now the main concern was the supposed oncoming rain.

Elias was not only nervous, he was frustrated. He thought that after all the rigorous planning he and you would get to have a nice little wedding, one that both of you could easily enjoy, but now the two of you were running around trying to calm at least a little bit of the mayhem.

Elias sighed as he stood, brushing his hands over his suit. He hadn't wanted anything too extravagent when it came to his wedding outfit, but he did at least want something that would be memorable.

You had been more than happy to help Elias get exactly what he wanted with his suit, while still making sure that you never saw the actual outfit. ("It's bad luck to see each other in our wedding outfits before the ceremony," you had told him from the very beginning, even though the two of you had already seen each other's wedding shoes.)

The suit was fairly simple in design, the jacket and pants a casual black; it was the shirt that pulled the entire outfit together. The shirt, one that had been specially made for Elias per request, was a crisp white with a simple black and white flower design along the collar and the ends of the sleeves that cuffed over the ends of the jacket sleeves. It was easy to believe that the flower designs were what pulled the whole thing together.

With one last brush of his clothes, Elias left the room and made for the one down the hall, the one he knew you were getting ready in. He knew about the tradition you wanted to keep, but he didn't have any plans on actually seeing you now before the ceremony. He only wanted to speak to you beforehand.

Just as he reached the door, raising a fist to knock, it opened and your sister appeared in the doorway, clearly about to leave the room.

She only held a look of shock for a moment before looking back and shutting the door partially, most likely to make sure neither he or you saw one another. "You're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony," she scolded quietly, looking back to Elias.

"I know. I just want to talk to her before we begin everything," Elias explained and your sister's face softened.

"Okay," she said, sliding back into the room for a moment. He could hear her talking to you, but didn't know what was being said. A second later, your sister reappeared, this time leaving the room with the door cracked a bit. "If you two see each other before you go down that aisle, I'll personally kick both your asses."

Elias smiled and nodded, watching as your sister walk away. Once she was gone, he heard rustling from inside the room, and then your voice.

"Lias?"

You were right on the other side of the door, he realized. It would be so easy for him to push it open and see you all dolled up for your big day, but he resisted that urge. "Hey, honey."

"God, it's so good to hear your voice," you breathed out, " today has been so chaotic and knowing that you were here the whole time and I couldn't see you really sucked."

"Well," Elias found himself brushing up against the door, but not enough to open it, "whose fault is that?"

"I know," you groaned. "It's tradition, though. And I don't think we need anymore bad luck."

Elias could hear someone down the hall worrying out loud about the weather report. "We definitely don't need that."

Elias jumped slightly when he felt the door shift a bit, thinking you were about to forget everything you said about traditions and open the door, but it only cracked open enough for you to stick your hand out. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and squeezed.

"I'm sorry, Eli," you spoke softly, "I know this whole thing has been hard and just, so, so chaotic, but we're almost there."

Almost there, Elias thought as you gripped his hand tightly. The two of you were so close, almost to the end of all of this and the beginning of something new, something hopefully less chaotic.

"Almost there," you repeated.

"Almost there," Elias echoed.

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

-gently kicks thru the door- how did i only now find ur blog hot dang. hey if ur still doing requests or prompts.. consider... a thing where jack takes care of rhys. just like in whatever way u might want to take that. im thinking like rhys is sick and is 2 pitiful to take care of himself but u can totally... smut that up to ur own tastes should u so desire. yes the first time i interact w/ u its to ask for smut and no this is not out of character for me sdjgskhhffh im so srry

It’s a big internet out there and this blog is only 3 years old…. it happens heheheh xD And you caught me in an excellent mood SO:

This labeled as Assistance. Also on my ao3 here :) My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

–

Rhys was frustrated.

Not just because he’d tripped over his own damn feet bringing Jack his morning coffee, nor from the resultant fracture to his left hand that the doctors told him to absolutely not use for the remaining two weeks as it healed nicely, and not even from the fact that his right hand needed recalibration after the embarrassing face-plant in front of the CEO’s desk.

No, he was frustrated because Jack– for all his teasing and braying laughter- was actually being nice about Rhys’ clumsy fall, had shunted off the majority of hand-intensive work to his secretary, and was being extra considerate and handsy with him in the office in ways that set Rhys’ heart beating faster.

In the very sense of the word, Rhys was getting desperate, and desperation lead to… creativity.

His cybernetic arm was a mechanical wonder of technology, yes, but even without the calibration it so sorely needed, it wasn’t quite the same– or welcoming- as his flesh hand.

He’d considered asking Jack to recalibrate it for him- more than a few times- but the idea of letting his boss into his subsystems and opening up his hardware was…. Well… Jack had a questionable attention span already, and coupled with his brilliant mind, Rhys was worried about what he could possibly put in there. Spyware. Weird voice commands. Or worse, with the connection to his echoeye, he might encounter all the very-specific searches Rhys had done about the man on the echonet.

Not worth it, in his opinion.

His right hand was… usable, yeah, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t what he’d call ambidextrous, and the lag in how his fingers worked– imperceptible to others but frustratingly off to him- made even the most enthusiastic jerking-session a lesson in persistence.

He was horny was the thing. Crazy horny. Unable-to-ignore and stressed-out-of-his-mind-and-required-release horny. Release was good, the relief itself a blessing, but he wasn’t satisfied. And the fact that his insanely-attractive boss almost seemed to be touching him more than normal in encouragement, watching him more keenly than usual in case he needed assistance, wasn’t helping matters.

Of course he could have just been being paranoid, and Jack himself was more observant than he was given credit for. But if Rhys didn’t figure out some way to get himself off that wasn’t shamefully sticking it in a sock and fucking between the mattress, then he was probably going to end up short-circuiting something.

And then he’d be out two hands and up one easily-encouraged boner and he could just kiss his professional reputation goodbye.

Not that he didn’t feel he was doing that already.

Jack had given him half days to rest– or more like half-weeks. Rhys spent some days working from the couch in his apartment– or his bed when feeling particularly lazy- and other days spent in the office with the CEO doing not much else than fetching coffee or looking pretty when Jack yelled at people.

He was doing that now, actually, listening to music and working remotely with his echotablet from bed to organize things for Jack’s meeting tomorrow.

Well speak of the devil. A notification popped up on his echoeye; the personal chat Jack had had him install mainly so he could write snarky comments to the younger man during meetings. Though it also proved very useful to quickly communicate since Rhys’ hands weren’t doing what he wanted them to these days.

→J4ckRule5: ive got some shit I need you to personally look through→J4ckRule5: stuff for 2morrow these idiots didnt send in the brief

Crap. What timing.

←Rhy5winz: Do you need me to come in?→J4ckRule5: nah ill drop it by your crappy little apartment after work→J4ckRule5: been meaning to see if that part of helios needs fumigating again :p←Rhy5winz: >>:|←Rhy5winz: Thanks for your kindness and consideration, sir.

There was a pause, and Rhys smirked to himself. Jack was probably laughing at his own jokes, but even more at Rhys’ overly polite response. They were hardly this courteous to one another anymore after working together so long, and his own way of handling his boss made him grin. Jack’s response met his expectations entirely; probably bored with nothing better to do than bug him.

→J4ckRule5: U mad? (:

Rhys smirked.

←Rhy5winz: I don’t know what you mean, sir.←Rhy5winz: Please take care when coming down here.←Rhy5winz: Don’t want any vermin biting our CEO.

Rhys was amused as he waited for Jack to get back to him, the CEO typing for ages it felt, when Rhys realized something.

Shit. He was getting hard over Jack’s playful messages. Really? Over a few innocent texts from his boss about work? Seriously? That’s what was getting him excited nowadays? Jesus he needed to take the edge off ASAP because this wasn’t just embarrassing, but downright insulting. Not to mention what it said about him to be getting all hot over Jack’s denigrating teasing.

Rhys stared at his tented boxer briefs with judgment as Jack’s response was overlaid right over the tip of his dick.

→J4ckRule5: dont get ur panties in a twist there pumpkin ;D

Rhys’ dick twitched at that.

Fuck.

Even as he was disappointed in his cock’s lack of taste in what was erotic, he was already palming himself through his underwear with his metallic hand. Maybe he could make this work.

→J4ckRule5: if u even own panties

Rhys’ brows shot up in interest and a spike of undue alarm at the thought that Jack knew what he was doing went through him– and made his cock harder.

→J4ckRule5: speaking of which:→J4ckRule5: do u own panties? (;

Rhys actually laughed, a husky sound as his cock liked this conversation very much so, and didn’t give much thought as to the appropriateness of the topic.

←Rhy5winz: You can’t bring up a topic and then say ‘speaking of which’, Jack.→J4ckRule5: i just did ;p→J4ckRule5: dont change the subject

Rhys’ chewed on his lips, his breathing deep and hips moving just a little of their own volition against his hand. He freed his cock from its confines and stroked himself, cursing the lag and responsiveness of his hand, but making do.

←Rhy5winz: Wouldn’t you like to know→J4ckRule5: i would ;D→J4ckRule5: answer the question kitten. im really bored here

Rhys allowed his mind to wander, to fantasize over any possible subtext. Bored. Right. The idea that Jack was bored and jerking off in his chair gave him a little thrill. That he was talking to Rhys of all people while possibly doing so made him very excited indeed.

←Rhy5winz: Sorry sir, that is classified information.←Rhy5winz: You don’t have access :p→J4ckRule5: brat→J4ckRule5: and how does one gain access? ;D

Okay, this was some next-level flirting for Jack; playing along and furthering the teasing. And that response was fast. He was either super bored and having a laugh at Rhys’ expense, or he was passing the time by playing a little five-on-one.

Good idea or not, Rhys wasn’t the one writing his responses to the older man so much as his cock was, and all the thoughts of Jack’s hands on him in the office– little innocent but overly familiar touches- was adding to the novelty of the experience.

←Rhy5winz: This is pretty privileged information←Rhy5winz: I don’t know. Maybe you should work harder→J4ckRule5: OH believe me cupcake im the hardest worker on this station

Rhys made a little noise at that, now certain Jack had his dick in hand and taking out his boredom at Rhys’ expense. Well, teasing the CEO back was probably safe at this point, right? He knew Jack appreciated some good word play, and though it was risky, he decided to let the older man know he knew what he was up to. It wasn’t like Jack didn’t make dirty jokes in the office constantly. Turnaround was fair play.

←Rhy5winz: I have no doubt you are ;)←Rhy5winz: Sucks having to take matters into your own hands

Jack was typing for several moments, Rhys’ heart beating and his cock pulsing as he awaited the response. It was shorter than all that typing lead him to expect, making him curious what the older man might’ve sent instead.

→J4ckRule5: ur killin me here cupcake

Rhys snickered at the response, waiting for more, but none came. Huh. Well, that was anticlimactic, though it was useful as he was harder than ever (or as hard as he’d been since the injury) and he quickly forgot about their conversation in lieu of inflating it for masturbation fantasies.

It was going pretty well, actually, and he’d have to thank Jack (in some roundabout way, of course… maybe a cheese and sausage basket to be funny) because he knew it wasn’t going to be a goddamn nightmare trying to get himself off this time. No lubed-up and ruined socks– which was a crime in itself- nor errant twitching of uncalibrated fingers to throw off his delicate movements on his poor neglected cock.

No, rubbing himself against his thighs was actually working pretty nicely, and the smooth metal of his fingers warmed with his body heat actually felt really good. Imagining Jack at his desk imagining Rhys was doing it for him, and rereading their conversation from earlier only added more substance to his fantasy.

So when Jack himself stuck his head around the corner of Rhys’ doorjamb, the younger man thought he was just getting really good at visualizing what he wanted– for approximately a quarter of a second.

Rhys made an impossible sound between a gulp and a squeak– impressive in Jack’s opinion- as he quickly pulled a pillow over himself, face crimson and speechless that Jack was in his apartment, let alone his bedroom.

“Heeeeey cupcake… Whatcha doin’?”

The dirty leer on Jack’s face told Rhys the older man knew exactly what he’d been doing. There was no way out of this, and Jack looked about as pleased as anyone finding someone else jerking their dick possibly could.

“H-How– How did you get in here? Why are you in here?!”

“Was gonna deliver that stuff to you but forgot it halfway after those dirty texts you sent me, kitten. Not to mention, the door locks on this level are ridiculously easy to hack.”

Jack’s grin was predatory, shark-like, and it did funny things to Rhys’ stomach, and furthermore, his cock beneath the pillow.

“This how you’ve been using these work-at-home days? It’s not like I’d stop you if you wanted to do this at the office, kiddo.”

Rhys whined, embarrassed, frustrated, tired, and goddamn horny and just wanting a little relief. His damn cock was still hard beneath the pillow.

It had flagged a little, yeah, but with the object of his fantasy right goddamn there and the way Jack was leering at him, well… Rhys’ cock was a dirty goddamn traitor and he wasn’t getting out of this situation gracefully.

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?”

Jack’s eyes were darting between his face and the pillow, interest and amusement there both but not yet moving closer, and Rhys was so close yet not, and so goddamn fucking frustrated he didn’t even care at this point and rambled quickly to the older man. “…I’ve had a rough week and shit timing and no sleep and I hate this damn cast and being useless and I can’t sleep-” he repeated, “-and nothing is working how it should and I can’t even do my job right and I feel useless here.”

“That it?” Jack asked smugly, still looking expectantly at the pillow.

Rhys knew he was not going to drop the topic, so he internally said fuck it and just blurted out: “…and I’m just really pent up and this isn’t fucking working and if I don’t get off I’m going to strangle someone… with someone else’s hands,” he growled.

A pleased shiver went up Jack’s back as a smirk took his face, and he moved closer as if his personal assistant’s dick wasn’t out and leaking beneath a Hyperion-branded pillow. “Babe, kitten, is that all? If you were horny you could’ve just said so. I’d have been down here ten minutes ago.”

Jack sat down next to him, a hand starting at his thigh and disappearing under the pillow. He heard the way Rhys’ breath hitched, the younger man’s face becoming less red with embarrassment and more pink with arousal, and his whole body very aware of the path Jack’s hand was taking. When it made contact with his shaft, Rhys made a mumbled sort of whimper in his throat, eyes shutting tightly as Jack’s big hand wrapped around his cock and gave him a gentle squeeze. Rhys whined pathetically, and Jack cozied up into his space to whisper smugly into the younger man’s ear.

“Baby,” Jack said, breath hot on Rhys’ skin as he allowed his face to touch Rhys’ own just barely. “I’m always up to get you what you need. Even if all you need is to get off.” He gave him a stroke and Rhys’ hand shot out to grab Jack at the man’s shoulder, bending a little at the waist towards Jack as it felt so damn good and was just what he needed and god he wanted Jack to stroke him.

Jack pressed his lips to Rhys’ neck where the younger man’s flesh was exposed to him, grinning and feeling his own cock rallying in his jeans as he played with Rhys.

The pillow was flung away, and Jack wrapped one arm around Rhys’ waist, the other giving him long, tight strokes that passed over his cockhead every few. It was rougher than Rhys was used to– but he was so on edge and it was so goddamn satisfying and it was Jack doing it to him- and he came relatively quickly with pleased little cries over the older man’s hand.

Jack wiped his hand on Rhys’ sheets before hooking a hand behind his neck and kissing the younger man senseless. It totally blew Rhys’ mind.

Sex was one thing, kissing was another, and Rhys was thrown through so many loops and twists and turns of defied expectations that he threw caution to the wind and wrapped his arms around his boss, the Handsome Jack, and kissed him back for all he was worth.

Jack’s heavy breathing and the way the older man’s kisses turned to nipping bites was already rallying Rhys’ cock for a second time, but he pulled away when Jack broke it, a filthy look of desire on his face that Rhys’ attention was only stolen from by the older man’s tented pants.

“Jack, I-I want to– to– fuck,” he cursed, wanting more than anything to return the favor and get his hands on his boss’s dick like something out of one of his fantasies. Neither of his hands were up to the job and the last thing he wanted to do was have the CEO think he was shit at handjobs, but the way Jack was tenting his own jeans was nothing to tease about. He’d done that to the CEO, and dammit, he really wanted to do something memorable to it.

“Maybe next time, sweet pea,” Jack laughed at Rhys’ words, a big hand on Rhys’ thigh as he bit at the younger man’s neck. “When you’re all healed up and I don’t have a meeting with distribution in an hour. Maybe in my big yellow chair, mm?”

Rhys’ eyes widened as he looked at the older man. Next time? Wait… he wanted to fuck him?

Jesus Antwerp Christ, Rhys must’ve actually fell on his head and not his hand, and he was having a coma-wet-dream right now, because that was right up there in his impossible bucket-list of imaginary jerk-off material.

“In the meantime baby, you don’t need your hands to give a blowjob, right?”

Rhys swallowed and his mouth watered, and at this point he didn’t give a shit about Jack’s smug look that said he knew he was going to get what he wanted, or that insufferable grin that knew how much Rhys wanted to give it to him.

No, the younger man slid off his unmade bed, cock still out at half-mast, to eagerly get between Jack’s knees while the older man chuckled with arousal and undid his belt and fly to remove his cock from his jeans.

It wasn’t the best blowjob he’d ever given, or even in the top five, but the way Jack moaned his name, carded fingers through his messy hair, and talked dirty to him as Rhys sucked him off definitely ranked it among the most memorable of experiences to boot. The strangled curses that left the older man’s lips as he’d come down Rhys’ throat was the best of all, and knowing he was one of the few privileged enough to know the sound of Handsome Jack being thoroughly wrecked was enough to get him through this hellish period until he got full use of his hands back.

“Jesus kiddo, if that’s what you can do without your hands, I can’t wait until you’re all fixed.” He swiped a thumb under Rhys’ swollen lower lip, teasing it over his mouth before applying the barest of pressure. Rhys sucked the digit into his mouth with a pleased hum, and Jack just chuckled, pleased. “Damn buttercup, you were pent up, huh baby?”

Rhys just nodded in agree– would agree to just about anything Jack said right now- and hopped back up on the bed when Jack patted it.

The older man kissed him into the mattress, hand already back on his cock which surprised Rhys enough to make a noise about it, and Jack just laughed until he’d jerked him to full hardness and through another orgasm.

Rhys’ sheets were a ruined mess, and he was more or less feeling the same. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as Jack tucked his own spent cock back into his pants, redid zip and belt, and told Rhys his work for the day was excellent. It made them both laugh, and Jack moved to leave until he gave one last look at the younger man laying there, the very picture of contentment.

“Forget something?” Rhys asked, voice teasing but dripping with satisfaction.

“Yeah, I did.”

Jack came and bent at the waist to kiss him again, moving to his neck where he sucked and bit at the younger man. It felt good until Rhys yelped, and Jack rose with a laugh, moving Rhys’ hand that had moved to the spot where he’d bit him. There was a pretty decent hickey there. Rhys bruised up nicely.

“What the hell, Jack?”

“Just making sure you don’t forget about me, cupcake.”

Rhys gave him a frown. “We work together.”

“So, so well, sugar pie.” The glare Rhys sent his way had zero effect on the older man. “Okay pumpkin, see you tomorrow, bright and early. Same old same old. Or maybe not so much.”

Rhys snorted. His neck smarted, but he was already excited about work tomorrow, clear this little liaison was going to be continued, and pleased as fucking punch about it. “Lock up after yourself, will you? Don’t want any vermin getting in. There was a big rat in here that just bit the shit out of me.”

“You little brat,” Jack laughed, himself feeling ready for the dullery that was distribution, his own edge without his pretty PA well taken off. “But guess I don’t want anyone else taking a bite of my cheese.” Rhys snorted. “See ya babe.”

Rhys laid in bed for a while after, replaying everything in his head all giddy as hell. Dream come true? Yes please and thank you for seconds if you don’t mind.

He got up later with interest as his doorbell rang, wondering if it was Jack and if the older man had remembered his manners.

A special delivery from one of Helios’ most expensive boutiques was instead waiting for him to sign, the Hyperion-yellow lace of expensive panties inside with a note that said ‘Mystery solved -J.’

Rhys told himself he was going to spite the older man by not wearing them to work tomorrow, but Jack’s pleased laugh of surprise when his face was in Rhys’ lacey-crotch the next day was worth it.

With Jack’s special deliveries and their new work ethic, Rhys found that fracturing his hand wasn’t so bad in retrospect, and for every stormcloud, there was a Hyperion-yellow laced-lining to look forward to.

kofi | ao3