#steban: uli i am so very tired | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weepylucifer · 6 months

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4 or 48 for steban/ulixes?

4. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

Steban sighs and stares down at his desk. His unfinished essay stares back at him, accusing. Really, the only thing he still needs is a strong conclusion, but he's never been good at these, and he's tired. Then the draft will need to be edited. Steban considers the vast arry of edits that likely needs to be made, and contemplates going missing.

His wrist is cramped from writing. His shoulders ache from having sat hunched over the desk for hours. His eyes are disgustingly sticky with exhaustion. Vaguely, he notes that it has grown dark outside, most probably a while ago.

"Are you about done?" Ulixes asks, shattering the silence.

Uli has been so quiet, Steban almost forgot he's there. But all evening he's been on Steban's bed, a small pile of books close to hand, doing research for an essay of his own.

"I want to walk into the pale," Steban tells him.

"Succumbing to the pale constitutes defeatism, which is the enemy of the cause," Ulixes says, which, Steban has learned to identify in the two years they've been friends, is an Ulixes Joke.

He's too tired to laugh, though, so he just says, "Yeah. Good reminder." He rubs his aching wrist, trying to coax some life into it. It doesn't really help. Besides, he's starting to feel a tension headache coming on. "Alright, let's get it done."

Ulixes cocks his head like a curious creature. "I didn't mean to imply... you don't have to finish it right now. Take a break?"

"I'll fall asleep." He tries to relax his shoulders. Something crackles ominously. "Ouch. This chair might be really bad for my back."

When Steban cranes his neck to look back, Uli has sat up straighter on the bed. "Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

It's sweet, Steban thinks, how Uli wants to look out for him, but he startles so quickly sometimes. It reminds Steban of when he tried to raise his first plant: he'd plied it with attentions, completely overwatered it, and when it inevitably died, he'd lied on the floor and reproached himself for hours. Okay, the metaphor is getting away from him a little. It reminds him of somebody who's been tasked with safeguarding a fragile, precious thing, who has no experience with fragile, precious things.

"I'm fine," he says, "just tense."

Ulixes fidgets a little. Then he asks, "Do you… well… I mean… I could give you a massage?"

This is so unexpected, it snaps Steban clean out of his fatigue. It's not that he has a problem with the suggestion, but... Uli doesn't really touch people, in general. "Do you know how to do that?"

Ulixes blushes faintly, for some reason, and admits, "I read a manual. From the bookstore." He gestures in the rough direction of the bookstore. Before Steban can ask why he did that, Uli adds, "I thought it would be edifying to... acquire a set of diverse skills. You know, like Nilsen."

Steban nods. "Ah. Of course, that makes sense." Wanting to emulate Nilsen... it checks out. "Well, if you want a test subject for your new skill, here I am."

For a moment, Ulixes seems hesitant. Eventually, however, he approaches. "I haven't done this before," he says. "I can't guarantee it will be good."

Steban smiles at him, because Uli starting a hobby that is something else than reading about war crimes, debating war crimes, or sitting very quietly and thinking about war crimes must be encouraged. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

Slowly, skittishly, Ulixes moves to put his hands on Steban's shoulders. "Um... may I...?"

"Hmm?" Will he just start already, Steban thinks.

"Your hair."

"Oh. Right. Of course." He feels Ulixes brush his hair off to one side, and then, finally, Uli's hands settle on his shoulders. He expects Uli to squeeze way too tightly, but this doesn't manifest - his touches are light, gently prodding, checking for tension points. Testing the waters, almost. Eventually, he begins to rub his shoulders, still so lightly, like he doesn't trust himself with more.

"Go on already, I can barely feel it," Steban mutters. Then - and he doesn't quite know where that thought came from, only that it makes him feel a strange thrill, "Actually, should I take my shirt off?"

Uli makes an odd sound, like he just swallowed his own tongue. His voice sounds choked when he says, after a beat, "Yeah, okay."

Steban shrugs off his shirt, folds it neatly and puts it on the desk. He's not squeamish about this stuff, and Uli has certainly seen him shirtless before in the summer, when he just overheats so terribly, but there is a sense of heightened intimacy to it when Uli actually touches his skin. That hasn't happened before, as far as he can recall.

Is he imagining it, or does Uli's breath hitch minutely at the touch?

Then Uli's hands settle finally on his shoulders, and his long, clever fingers begin a kneading motion.

It's surprising how much it hurts - "Oof, you've got some knots here," Uli mutters, and Steban has to gasp mutely as his knuckles dig into a tight, tense spot along the back of his neck - but it's a good pain, benevolent, cleansing, and when it fades, it leaves behind... lightness. Ulixes is squeezing that sore and heavy feeling out of him, and Steban almost gets teary at the intense pressure followed by intense relief.

"The manual said this could hurt a little," Uli explains, and Steban shakes his head and breathes, "You're good. It's all good" as he, his head a little swimmy, has to imagine how it would feel if Uli's hands were on him everywhere like this, stroking and pressing, traversing every inch of him until no part of his body remained unmarked by touch. If he reached around from his back to his chest, palming his nipples, then down his stomach where he's been accumulating just the slightest sliver of softness since mums started sending all those care packages, then down his thighs and up again...

A shivery little sound of pleasure escapes his lips, almost a moan, but Steban can't bring himself to feel embarrassed by it. It simply feels too good to be touched by Ulixes, his comrade, his dearest friend. Alight, elated, he doesn't even mind that he's getting hard, shifting surreptitiously in his seat to build up friction. He hopes Ulixes doesn't see it, but it's a detached hope, and he can't even dredge up the wherewithal to be genuinely apprehensive about it. He bites his lip and contemplates, hazy and needful: he knows Ulixes focuses intently when he's immersed in a task, maybe, if his focus is deep, he won't even notice if Steban cums quietly in his pants, and that'd be that taken care of... he's just not sure if he can cum quietly. Already, he's making all kinds of small noises without wanting to that he can only insufficiently muffle or hold back.

No, undoubtedly, if he doesn't get himself together, Uli will notice, will look him over properly, concerned, and see the bulge in his pants. And that'll likely be the end of this, or maybe... maybe he will see the need in his lap and lean forward, reach down there and take him in hand, cup him in those slim, pleasing hands and draw heights of pleasure out of him...

...Nn-no. That's a little too much. He can't expect that of his friend, nor ask it... Uli has done him a great kindness today already. It would be uncomradely to exploit it, or even entertain the thought. With a great mental heave, Steban jolts himself back to reality.

"Okay," he says when he thinks he can trust his voice to come out relatively firmly, "that was... good. I think... enough, for today."

Ulixes takes his hands away. A part of Steban is relieved, another part wants the touch back. "Did..." Uli clears his throat. There's something odd about his voice. "Did I do okay?"

"Of course." Now, Steban reflects, he only has to get out of this situation somehow with his dignity intact. Maybe he didn't think this whole thing through.

Trying to shield his still-unflagging erection from view, he attempts to half-turn towards Ulixes, heeding too late Uli's startled cry of "No, wait!". He takes Uli in like seeing him clearly for the first time in a while: his hands still raised, his flustered expression, the flush on his face, the... quite sizeable tent in his pants.

"Ah. Hah. Well." Steban is keenly aware that his attempt at an urbane laugh just comes out... weird. He can feel his face heating up. But surely this isn't... well... they both understand these things, don't they. They're progressive, forward-thinking individuals, men of the world really, and as such enlightened intellectuals, they don't make a big deal out of it when they get hard touching their best friend. Right? Certainly.

...they're not men of the world, actually.

Steban realizes he stands at a crossroad: they can either try to politely ignore this situation, clumsily make light of it, and allow awkwardness to permeate the space between them. Or they can come together, press against each other, unite in a glorious, hungry kiss.

Steban makes a choice.

#answer'd #sorry this took so long! i had a shit ton of things to do and then i caught this gnarly cold etc #okay this was all the drabbles!! i do kinda want to do more so i may reblog another list of prompts soonish #writings by me

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