Angel's Library

Chai steps out of the shower humming along to the upbeat rock song currently playing. He quickly dries himself off. Hanging his towel up, his attention shifts to his clothes, which are in a heap on the floor. He considers them, lips pursing. Picking up his t-shirt, he sniffs it. A frown immediately spreads across his face.

Yeah, no. They don't smell that bad, but he doesn't really wanna put them back on. Unfortunately, he doesn't have any other clothes to wear on account of the fact that he hadn't thought to grab any before coming over to Macaron's yesterday.

Chai sighs. For a moment, he considers just sucking it up. But then he remembers that Macaron and CNMN left to go do...something. It was probably work related, which means they likely won't be back for a while.

So, he picks up his dirty clothes and heads over to the little closet the washer and dryer are in. He tosses them into the former, pours some laundry detergent in, and turns the machine on. Now all he has to do is wait.

It takes about a beat and a half for him to get bored.

He looks around the empty apartment thoughtfully. For a moment, he considers practicing a song he's been working on—before he remembers his guitar is back at the hideout. It'd probably be uncomfortable to play it while naked, anyway. Hmm. Maybe he could play games on Macaron's computer. Wait, no, messing with someone else's PC is a bad idea. Chai learned that the hard way.

He runs his hand through his hair. After another moment of thought, he shrugs. Guess I'll just take a nap.

Heading back into the bedroom, he flops down onto the bed. As he moves to pull the blanket over himself, Chai notices that Macaron left some of his clothes out. Must've forgot to put them away before leaving.

He finds himself staring at the shirt that’s laid out, lips pursed. It’s just a dark magenta t-shirt. There’s nothing particularly special about it.

Still, he keeps staring at it. His fingers twitch against the comforter.

…He kinda wants to wear it.

It’s a surprising urge. Chai’s never really been the type of guy to do cute, mushy things like that. Yet, here he is, sitting in Macaron’s apartment on his bed wanting to wear one of his shirts.

He sits with that for a single beat.

And then, he grabs the shirt and pulls it on.

It’s soft. And huge. He’s basically swimming in it. But that was expected. Chai pulls the shirt up, so that it covers the lower half of his face. He inhales deeply. It smells (vaguely) like Macaron. A warm feeling blossoms in his chest. Smiling, he nuzzles the fabric, burying his face in it.

Thoughts of Macaron flood his mind. How sweet he is; he’s such a genius; he comes up with the best puns. Quick thinker. Patient. Loving. He’ll listen to Chai’s rambling. He laughs at his jokes. Always sends a good morning and good night text. Gives the best hugs and is great to cuddle with. Not to mention an amazing kisser. And super strong; Chai weighs about as much as a handful of grapes to him.

Whenever Macaron picks him up, he gets all flustered. It’s hard not to. Chai can’t help but stare and think about how hot he is. Not even just his arms—all of him. His muscles, his fat, his hair and hands and eyes and mouth and chest and nose and legs and ass and cock.

Chai inhales shakily. A wave of Macaron hits him. The warmth in his chest slowly spreads throughout his whole body. He rubs his thighs together. A quiet sound escapes from the back of his throat. The music gets a little louder.

The beat pulses through his body. His dick throbs in time. Chai swallows thickly.

Macaron and CNMN won’t be back until later. He’s got plenty of time to take care of this—and be as loud as he wants. Although, Macaron probably wouldn’t really mind. It’d…maybe even turn him on.

Letting out a quiet noise at the thought of that, he puts his hand between his legs. He rubs himself through the fabric with his palm. Chai inhales sharply. Pressing down a little harder, he shuts his eyes. A soft moan escapes him.

Maybe Macaron would…watch. He’d—he’d open Chai’s legs so he could see better. Tell Chai how good he looks, wearing his shirt and touching himself while thinking about him.

Chai’s face burns. He rolls onto his back and spreads his legs. The tempo speeds up. His hand quickens with it. Groaning, his head tilts back, pressing into the pillow.

“I want to see you.”

Macaron would slip his hands under the shirt, pushing it up as he caressed Chai’s body. He shivers. Once he would’ve made his way up to his hips, Macaron would press his thumb against the tip of his cock, circling it to spread the leaking precum there over the head. He whimpers.

“Can I?”

Chai nods. A part of him feels a little stupid for it; he knows he’s alone. The rest of him is too caught up in the scenario to give a shit.

Shimmying the shirt up, he pulls it over his dick, exposing it. The cold air hitting it makes him inhale sharply.

“Look at you, Chai. So handsome…”

The bass gets louder. It rumbles through his body. The sensation makes goosebumps spread across his skin. Chai gasps, eyes fluttering open.

Quickly, he sits up and grabs the lube from the bedside table’s drawer. After pumping some onto his hand, he flops back down and shuts his eyes. He spreads it around as best he can with his fingers.

The thought of Macaron watching him with bated breath makes the music go up on octave.

Finally wrapping his hand around it, Chai gives himself a few tugs. As he pulls up on one, he stops at the head and squeezes it, thumbing the tip. He moans.

“You’re beautiful.”
He whines.
“Such pretty sounds…”

Chai’s hand speeds up as he groans. The tempo quickens at the same time. The bass’ reverberations get stronger. His dick pulses with them.

At the end of a downstroke, he moves down to his balls, fondling them for a few beats. One of his fingers slides even further, pressing against his taint. His cock twitches. He exhales loudly, pressing his head back into the pillow. Legs stretching out a bit, they fall further apart.

“So open for me...”
“Macaron… fuck …”

He lifts his hips up a bit so he can press his fingers against his asshole. The position isn’t exactly comfortable, though, so he only holds it for a couple beats longer.

“You want me to fuck you?”
Chai whimpers.

He wishes he had brought his toys over. Unfortunately, all he has is his hand.

Guess he’ll just have to make do.

After pumping some more lube onto his fingers, Chai flips onto his stomach, his cock trapped between him and the bed. He turns his head so only the side of his face is pressing into the pillow. Sliding his legs apart, his face and chest burn.

"Gorgeous...my pretty lil’ rockstar."
He takes a shuddering breath in.

Reaching back, he rubs his fingers against his hole. He circles it twice, then presses one in, making a soft sound in the back of his throat. As he starts curling it around, he hums quietly. His muscles twitch around it in time.

A guitar melody washes over him. Each note reverberates through him, like he’s some sort of echo chamber. It makes him shiver. He clenches around his finger.

Chai adds another after a few beats. He feels around, pressing against his walls as he makes his way towar—

He moans loudly. There we go.

Starting to thrust his fingers in and out, he keeps hitting that same spot. He groans. Slipping a third finger in on the next, Chai shifts to push back against his hand. The movement gives his dick some friction. He cries out.

There’s a tempo change to allegro at some point, his movements quickening to be in time.

He pulls his legs up a bit so he can slide back easier. His cock and balls drag across the bed with each thrust. Precum and lube get smeared on the sheets. Macaron’s shirt clings to his skin.

Imagining Macaron sitting behind him, watching and jacking off makes him get a bit noisier; thrust a little harder.

“So good…you’re stunning.”

He’s trembling and moaning and panting.

“Music to my ears…”

Chai’s just another part of the song. As the music crescendos, so does he.

The rumbling of the bass makes his muscles shake and flex. Pressure’s building. The guitar’s hollering accentuates each move with particularly punchy notes. Pleasure’s surging. The beat thunders, loud and sharp. Heart’s racing.

“Macaron,” he groans between breaths.

“Chai…?”

Macaron’s actual voice cuts through everything within half a beat. It stops all at once.

Sounds like someone just unplugged the amps. Feels like Chai just got punched in the gut. He thinks he might’ve died and gone straight to hell.

He pulls his fingers out with a small wince and sits up. Yanking the shirt down to cover himself despite it falling and doing so on its own, he looks over his shoulder at Macaron, but he can’t meet his eyes. A big, fake, wobbly smile spreads across his face.

“H-Hey, Mac! I-I, uh—didn’t think you’d be back so soon!” he says with a nervous laugh.

He has this shocked, sort of…horrified(?) expression on his face. It’s not making Chai feel any better about the situation. In fact, he kind of feels like curling into a ball and dying right about now.

His face is on fire from the humiliation. It’s an uncomfortably familiar feeling.

When Macaron doesn’t say anything, Chai looks away.

The beat’s still thumping loud and fast. And he’s still hard. Painfully so. Somehow. Ugh. He’d been hoping it would’ve just…gone away from the pure embarrassment. But of course, nothing can ever be easy for him. Now he has to try and deal with this, and have an awkward conversation afterwards.

He sighs. At least it wasn’t CNMN…

“I—um—” Chai starts to move towards the edge of the bed so he can waddle into the bathroom. “—I’m just gonna…go. Deal with this. And then, uh, we can—I’ll…explain.”

It’s as he’s going to stand up that Macaron finally says something.

"Wait!"

Chai freezes.
Slowly, he turns to look at him, eyes wide.

He has one foot forward. One arm’s lifted up and extended partially. His expression still looks surprised, but there’s…something else lurking underneath it.

"...Would...you like some help?" he asks.

Chai’s jaw drops. He blinks. Am I dreaming? This is a dream. It has to be. It definitely is.

“You’re serious?” he asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He feels like he just died and went to heaven. His face is still on fire—but in a good way now.

Chai scoots away from the edge of the bed and spreads his legs a little.
"Well…I wouldn't mind," he replies, voice low.

It takes half a beat for Macaron to shut the door, start taking off the external parts of his implants, and begin making his way over to the bed. His gaze never strays from Chai.

Chai shifts. He grabs at the sheets. The bass picks back up, a low rumble through his body. He shivers.

The mattress dips under Macaron as he climbs onto the bed. Eyes still locked on Chai intently, he reaches for him. His touch is gentle as he grabs his chin. Tilting his head up, Macaron leans down to kiss him. Chai makes a soft sound as their lips meet.

It's too brief for his liking, as Macaron pulls away after a few beats. His hand moves down to Chai's side. His gaze is focused downward, either eyeing how Chai looks in his shirt or looking at his somewhat obvious erection.

Wetting his lips, Chai rises up, onto his knees. Throwing his arm around his neck, he pulls him into a firm kiss. Macaron makes a quiet noise. He’s still looking at him; Chai can feel his stare. He’s not sure what to make of it. The extra bit of attention doesn’t feel bad, though.

His grip on his side tightens a bit. He grabs his ass with his free hand, making him gasp and pull away a little. Macaron quickly closes the gap, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Chai moans into him.

Pulling him forward, into his lap, Macaron’s hand slides from his side to his back. His other hand slides down the back of Chai’s leg. He hums as Macaron slips it under the shirt, making his way back up to his ass. Or, at least, that’s what Chai thought he was doing—until he moves around to graze his cock, making him let out a low whine, hips bucking. The bass is roaring.

They break apart for air.

Macaron keeps staring at him. He sweeps his thumb across his back. His hand is so close to his dick it’s killing Chai a little. But something about his gaze, the way his eyes continuously roam across his body makes it more bearable.

"Like what you see, huh?" he says between pants.
"God, yes," Macaron answers, voice low.
His eyes widen slightly. He laughs breathlessly after a few beats.

Macaron starts pressing kisses to his neck. Chai tilts his head back to make it easier.

“Y-Yeah? I—” He cuts himself off with a groan as Macaron sucks a mark onto his neck.
“You look so good,” he murmurs against his skin.

As he says that, he gently wraps his hand around Chai. He starts stroking him. A high-pitched moan of relief comes out, eyes rolling back and falling shut.

“Sound good, too,” Macaron states.
He whines, his hold on him tightening.

A few beats pass before Macaron speaks again.

“You know, when I heard you, I was a little worried at first. Especially when you called my name.”

Chai opens his mouth to try and respond, only to gasp out, “ Fuck, Macaron,” as he squeezes the head of his cock, thumbing the tip and smearing precum and lube over it.

“But then, I saw you were fine. Uh, more than fine. I was…surprised, at first. But you’ve always been full of surprises.” He kisses his neck again. “And…this is a pretty good one to come home to.”

“Oh yeah…?”
“Mhm.”
“Well— ah —you were a— hoh —nice surprise, too.” After the shock and embarassment, anyway.
Macaron chuckles.

He goes back to kissing his neck, beard tickling his skin. His hand speeds up. Chai groans. The pressure inside starts building up again.

The hand on his back moves down and under the shirt. His breath hitches when Macaron’s fingers slide between his asscheeks, pressing a finger against his hole. Circling it a few times, he sucks a mark onto his shoulder. Chai whimpers.

His finger slips into him easily. Squirming it around, Macaron pushes it deeper inside. Chai moans his name loudly. Macaron inhales sharply against his skin. He puts another finger in. When Chai lets out a low hum, he starts pumping them, making him cry out, his hips twitching. He doesn’t know whether to thrust down or forward.

Macaron leans back a little, looking at him. His pupils are wide.
“You’re breathtaking, ” he says, low and sweet.

Chai falls forward, face pressing into his still clothed chest. He lets out a whine that turns into a groan.

The bass is loud. It resonates through him, making his trembling worsen. Every breath is hot and harsh. A fuzz guitar riff winds its way through his body. Sixteenth and eighth and quarter notes. There’s so much pressure—he feels like he might—

“Mac—I-I’m gonna— oh fuck —”
“I’ve got you—cum on, my lil’ rockstar, cum.”

Chai barks out a laugh. And then Macaron’s fingers hit his prostate, and he presses up against the underside of his dickhead, and the music rises to a crescendo, and—

Cum rockets out of him. It gets all over Macaron’s hand and the inside of his shirt. He clenches around his fingers. The long, loud moan that escapes him is accompanied by the rude screeching of the guitar, alongside the roaring of the bass.

Macaron strokes and fucks him through his orgasm. He kisses the top of his head, slowing down his movements.

The song diminuendos and the tempo slows to a steady lento.

Chai sits limply in his lap, catching his breath. He grunts as Macaron gently pulls his fingers out. Him wiping them off on the back of his shirt makes Chai acutely aware of the sticky mess pressed against his front. He grimaces.

With a deep breath, he pushes himself away from Macaron’s chest so he can pull the shirt off. Chai then uses it to clean the cum off of himself and the hand Macaron jacked him off with. He earns another kiss on the head for it. He gets a chuckle when he proceeds to toss the shirt-turned-cumrag haphazardly over his shoulder.

Looking up at Macaron, Chai smiles. “Thanks, big guy,” he says, his voice a little hoarse.
“It’s no problem, little guy,” he replies, returning the smile with one of his own.

Chai’s focus quickly shifts to his hard-on, which has been pressing up against his thigh for the past…however long. He stares down at the tent it’s partially pitched in Macaron’s khakis. A few beats pass.

Slowly, his gaze slides back up to meet his. Macaron shifts. His dick rubs against Chai, causing him to make a quiet sound.

“...Want some help with that?” Chai asks.
He looks away, lips pursing. Eventually, he responds with, “How about a shower?”
His brows go up. Then, he smirks. “Sounds good. I could use another one.”