Disclaimer: I do not own Vindictus or any of the characters in it.
Warning: This has explicit slash (male/male). Please do not read if that upsets you.
Lann gets the note while in a meeting. It's a meeting about how many weapons they have, how many weapons they need, and how the person whose job it was to create the weapons was slacking. In fact, Fergus HAS been pretty busy lately, and running the new recruits wild asking for brandy and leather and screws. He hasn't even scheduled any… meetings with Lann to get over his…swords.
Aodhan shakes his head and taps his finger on the report in front of him. "I'm just saying, if we can make each new recruit team higher quality weapons instead of these crapper ones-"
"That would completely screw up our funding for months," Ceara objects.
"Yeah, but we not having much of a choice," he says, pointing again to the page with complicated graphs Lann can't even begin to make out.
"We're having regular supply runs-" Gwynn interjects
"Not regular enough."
As they bicker, Lann glances at the messenger that has just walked in. The poor kid looks nervous as he glances around his superiors and, as he spots Lann, hurries over. He quickly shoves a piece of paper in his hands, salutes, then scurries out once more.
Lann raises an eyebrow at the weird behavior and opens the note.
"Lann,
15:15 in the usual place. Bring lube. Don't be late.
- F."
Lann feels desire coil in his stomach and his mouth goes dry. Fergus never gives him time to prepare, just springs it on him. It drives Lann crazy. Last time, Lann had run straight from a meeting with Gallagher, and had arrived flushed and panting 3 minutes late. He had been punished for it.
"Mk guys, I'm gonna break this up," Lann says, closing the note back up and sticking it in his bag. Turning the attention to the people in front of him he speaks, "Aodhan, why not you just go ahead and do that thing you do with your own team; let us know how it goes."
Aodhan rolls his eyes at that, Gywnn smirks. Lann can't focus on them too much as he already feels Fergus's cock in his mouth. Already anticipating the low burn he will feel when it's all over.
It doesn't take long to postpone his other meetings and assignments or to stop by his room in the Inn to grab the lube, so he shouldn't be late this time. He can't quite tap down the shiver of anticipation of what's going to happen, what Fergus is going to do to him.
He walks into their usually room, a storage room in the back of the shop, there's no one there. Maybe he hasn't arrived yet. Everything's in its usual place, the packages moved to the sides, the middle of the room padded with thick polar bear fur. But a large machinery was also in the center, bulky and new. Was this why the shortage of weapons-
Lann goes to inspect it closer when Fergus's voice suddenly disrupts the quiet in the room.
"Take of your clothes Lann."
Lann starts, startled and squints in the darkness to try and see him.
"Did I make myself unclear?" the voice rumbles across the space again.
Lann takes a deep breath, well this is certainly different.
"No sir."
Lann closes his eyes, Fergus gave him no damn time anymore, no time to adjust, to get himself in this space where-
"Then do what I told you do."
Lann stalls for a moment, then undoes his thick belt and takes off his pants. He bends to get his boots off, his socks, then shoves his trousers and underwear roughly down his hips. He can feel himself blushing, angry at Fergus for starting this without even letting him see him.
He pulls off his shirt and Fergus says "Good."
Lann's disappointed, he was hoping for Fergus's cock, his body, but it looks like it was going to be blindfold sex basically. Which is fine.
"I know what you want," Fergus says, chuckling a bit. "You want me to come over there and fuck you."
Lann breathes, naked and alone in the middle of the room.
"Don't you? Answer me."
"Yeah," Lann says, and licks his lips, trying to figure out what Fergus wants. "Yes. Please." He shivers, but not because there's no fire going.
"I'm not going to."
Lann closes his eyes. "What do you want?"
"I want you to get your fingers in your ass," He responds immediately, his voice a soft murmur.
Lann does, bracing himself on his knees and one hand while he presses lube into his asshole with the other. His dick, which has been hardening ever since he got Fergus's note, twitches as he stretches his hole open with two fingers. He grunts and arches his shoulder further back, tries to get his fingers a little further in.
"That's nice," Fergus says, low and appreciative. "Put on a show for me."
Lann groans and shoves his ass back against his fingers: it's too little pressure, not wide enough, not deep enough, but it still feels good, so good. He arches his spine a little, leans his head back, exposing the line of his throat.
Lann's arm is starting to get tired, but Fergus said /wet/, so he gets more lube and switches hands, makes sure to get the outside of his hole wet and gleaming before dipping fingers back into himself.
"That's perfect, Lann," Fergus's saying. "You're so good, this is going to be so good." The praise makes him feel strange, too hot and too tight in his own skin. His cock is hard and heavy now, thick with blood and starting to leak. He wants to touch it – wants to wrap his hand around himself and fuck into his own fist – but he knows he's not allowed.
Words escape anyway. "Fergus," he pants. "Please."
The sound of Fergus's breathing is loud in the room, but he doesn't speak, so Lann says it again, sweating with the exertion and the sensation.
"Please Fergus."
"I made you- Goddess, Lann. I made you something." There's a cranking noise behind him, and Lann pulls his fingers out of his ass in order to turn around to see what it is. The machine he forgot was there was being cranked by Fergus's shadow and different parts of it were moving.
Lann recognizes some of the parts from things Fergus was supposed to be making new weapons of. And he sure as hell recognizes the dildo placed on a piston, Fergus has used it lots of times, molded from his own in fact. His breathing picks up. Fergus wants to fuck him with this thing, this machine.
"Fergus, I don't-"
Fergus doesn't snap or yell; the command is gentle, easy. "Quiet."
And just like that, he can see with perfect clarity what's going to happen: Fergus's going to do what he wants, and Lann's going to take it.
Lann doesn't say anything else, not yet; just gives Fergus time to do what he has to do.
Slowly, so slowly, Lann turns back around, away from the machine, and braces himself on hands and knees against the thick fur. His asshole is still wet and slick with lube, and it feels cold, exposed to the air like this. He forces himself to calm down a bit, to take a few breathes, letting his head hang down and letting his chest expand with air.
After a moment, Fergus speaks again, his tone gentle and admiring. "You're so beautiful like that," he says. "Such a good boy." And Lann shuts his eyes tight as the object nudges at his hole.
Lann is already on his shoulders, holding his cheeks apart. The dildo rubs against the hole for a minute, stupid and mechanical. Then suddenly it starts to push in, blunt and thick, spreading Lann suddenly, and it starts to burn.
"Shhh," Fergus says, and he sounds rough too. "It's okay, I'm controlling it, just relax-you can get back up on your hand's and knees if you want."
Lann does, shifting slowly, bringing his arms down to the floor again while pushing his ass back.
Fergus must see that too, from his place by the machine, because he moves the machine a little faster, pushing and pushing until it's all the way in, pushing it into Lann slow and inexorable: constant speed, constant force. He thinks he can't take any more, but the thing keeps nudging in further, and then a little further. Lann opens his mouth and pants. Then he realizes that it's pulling back, that Fergus's pulling the thing back, that it's moving out of him braces himself, forearms shaking, for the next thrust.
The machine pauses, halfway out. Lann can hear the mechanical parts whirring and clicking behind him, loud, and he thinks that maybe Fergus wanted it loud, that maybe he built it loud so that Lann couldn't forget exactly what it was that he was allowing to fuck him.
"You're going to take it harder now." It shocks him, reminds him that Fergus is watching all this, watching Lann on his knees, taking it in the ass from this thing, bending over for it, greedy for it, utterly exposed. He starts to moan, hot and embarrassed, but then his moan turns into a shout as the machine behind him pistons faster, fucking into him unforgivably, uncaringly, ramming him hard, filling him up.
Lann makes a noise, low in his throat, like a whine. His ass is stretched wide, his cock hard and hot and swollen. The machine just keeps fucking him, hard and fast, rattling his teeth. "I need," he gasps, "Fergus, I need –"
There's a pause. Then Fergus asks, in that same hoarse voice, "What do you say, Lann?"
"Goddess" he grates out, "Goddess, Fergus, please, please, let me, please –"
"Touch yourself," Fergus says, and it's a gift: Lann moves to support himself on one arm and gets his other hand on his cock and it's a gift, it's all a gift, Fergus letting him have this, Fergus letting him fuck his own fist. He can't help the noise he makes as he finally gets friction against his dick.
It keeps shoving into him, keeps pushing faster, harder: it's more than Lann can take, and he speeds up his hand on his dick to keep up, sobbing as the pleasure ratchets through his body, as it coils and tenses in his balls, as it starts to rush through him –
"Are you coming?"
"Yes," Lann says through gritted teeth, "Yes, yes, god, I'm coming, fuck –" And he does, nearly blacks out as the dildo continues to push into him, over and over, riding him through his orgasm. Lann comes and comes, splattering himself and the floor with sticky fluid, comes so hard that he's on the edge of pain, his dick spasming in his hand.
As he comes back to himself, he feels the machine slowing down, Fergus must have stopped too, then pulling back and slipping out of him. When it stops, Lann can hear the gasping breaths that Fergus always takes after he comes.
"I'll clean up here," Fergus pants into the space, hot and intimate. "You wash up and get back to work."
Lann lets himself have a moment, just a moment, his head still hanging down between his arms. Then he levers himself up, wincing at the soreness in his arms, his thighs, his ass.
He walks back over to the bench where he left his armor. He feels used, muscles still twitching with exertion, covered in sweat and semen. He reaches out with shaking hands to pick up his boxers, blinking and trembling as he pulls them on.
The machine has stopped clanking.
Fergus gets to work on those weapons.
Lann goes back to work.