Swoksaar is an asshole.
It’s a fair statement, considering Wei Chen is an asshole and his avatar is a reflection of himself. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to be bent naked over his own damn desk by what’s essentially a figment of his imagination. At least he’s in his bedroom and not his office. He’d never get the last of his work done if he had to sit in the exact same place he got fucked the night before.
At least, it would be a problem if that asshole Warlock would fuck him rather than just talking about it.
A hard object—Swoksaar’s staff, and he wishes that was a euphemism—kicks his legs apart, sending his hips crashing into the edge of the desk. The staff digs into his back and a voice as rough as his own says, “Stay down, and I might let you come this time.”
“Fucker,” Wei Chen mutters, and shifts his weight onto one leg, kicking out backward as hard as he can.
Swoksaar dances out of reach and Wei Chen’s foot hits empty air.
He curses. Again. “Asshole. All talk and no action, just like in last week’s match.”
The pressure on his lower back doesn’t let up but it can’t be the staff, not with Swoksaar that far away. It takes him a moment to realize why he can’t move. (Give him a break, he’s naked and hard and only human, unlike some fuckers.)
It’s magic. He’s using fucking magic.
And okay, fine. Wei Chen isn’t an idiot, despite what Fang Shijing says every time he takes over the paperwork. He knows when he’s beat. He isn’t a Brawler or a Witch or a goddamned Battle Mage. He’s the captain of an esports team. Winning a magic fight isn’t exactly on his resume, even if he does know every spell and weapon in Swoksaar’s arsenal.
He also knows a good thing when he sees one.
Wei Chen wiggles his ass. “You gonna fuck me or not, magic boy? Come on, before I fall asleep here.”
Swoksaar hisses through his teeth. Carefully, he sets his staff down and stalks back towards where Wei Chen is spread over the table. “I’ve killed people for lesser insults than that.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Wei Chen fakes an obnoxiously loud yawn. “My dick gets softer the more you talk.”
Beneath the table, his traitor dick bobs, hard as a fucking rock.
Swoksaar must be hard and aching too, because he doesn’t call him out on his bullshit. Instead, his elegant fingers spread Wei Chen open, prodding at his hole. His ass is clenched tight, has been since the moment Swoksaar pinned him down. The tip of Swoksaar’s finger barely goes in.
“This will be easier if you relax,” Swoksaar says, circling Wei Chen’s rim but not trying to push in again.
“You saying I’m easy?” It’s a crappy comeback considering Wei Chen is in fact easy. Why else would he be bent over a desk begging for it in the most obnoxious way possible?
His only response is a rough cadence of chanting spoken in an unintelligible tongue. The lights in the bedroom flicker. When Swoksaar stops, his finger is slick and the room is lit in a dim glow once more. He slides his finger into Wei Chen’s body in one smooth, easy push.
Wei Chen’s hips jerk but there’s nothing to rub against beneath the desk, only empty air. He wants more than a finger, but Swoksaar is taking his sweet time. Wei Chen vents his annoyance with his voice, the trash talk coming easily thanks to years of practice. “I can’t believe there’s a spell for that. Why don’t you bring that one out the next time we're in competition, huh?”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you.”
Swoksaar shoves another finger into Wei Chen’s ass, his hand and his magic keeping him prone over the desk. The fake wood is warmed to skin temperature and he slides around a little in his own sweat.
His hands aren’t restrained but they may as well be for all the good they’re doing him. He can’t fight the magic or reach Swoksaar, he can’t even reach his dick with the way he’s bent over. He can only wait for Swoksaar to finally stop teasing and make a goddamned move. Which could be a while. Wei Chen knows from his own experiences behind the keyboard that every Warlock worth their salt relies on the benefit of patience and timing. Swoksaar is the best of the best for a reason.
Also, Swoksaar is an asshole. And he keeps fucking talking, which isn’t helping Wei Chen’s boner.
“Very well. The next time I get Dazzling Hundred Blossoms backed into a corner, I’ll lube up and show everyone what a Warlock can do. I’ll let them all know I practiced on you first.”
Wei Chen twists his neck, straining to look over his shoulder. Swoksaar stands tall behind him, still fully clothed in his robes, his hair a cascade of immaculate silver spilling down his shoulders. The markings on his face make him look otherworldly. Wei Chen commits it all to memory.
Swoksaar looks untouchable. Unfuckable.
A smirk teases the edge of Wei Chen’s lips, and he quickly turns back to hide the expression. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s pulling untouchable douchebags back down to earth. All he needs is the slightest fault line of an advantage and he can crack it wide open.
Rolling his hips against the table, Wei Chen spreads his legs wider. The fingers inside him shift, and fuck that’s good. Ignoring the spark of heat, he uses what little leverage he has to push back onto Swoksaar’s fingers. Since his hands aren’t doing anything useful, he puts them to good use, reaching behind him to spread his ass cheeks wide.
He feels like a twink filming a home porno but the hitch of breath from behind tells him everything he needs to know.
This is his favorite part, riling Swoksaar up, cracking him open until he loses his precious patience.
Swoksaar likes to pretend he’s some poised, upstanding Warlock, but the truth is he shares a heart with Wei Chen. It took nearly a year for the two of them to form a player connection strong enough for him to manifest in the real world, but in that time, Wei Chen discovered that their resemblance doesn’t stop at physical looks. Under the pretty exterior, Swoksaar is as filthy as they come.
Wei Chen takes one of his hands off his ass and reaches in front of him towards where Swoksaar’s account card is still active in the card reader. He lets his fingers hover above the card but doesn’t pull it.
Behind him, Swoksaar goes still.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Wei Chen gloats. “You want to stay here, you get on with it. Otherwise, you can go the fuck home and I’ll do me myself.”
Wei Chen knows the answer before Swoksaar makes a move. A few minutes ago, Swoksaar might have yanked the card himself just to make a point that Wei Chen could—literally—go fuck himself. But now...he knows Swoksaar’s body, the shifts of his muscles and his breath and the taste of his magic swirling in the air.
He has that bastard hook, line, and sinker.
The pressure of magical restraint disappears from his lower back, replaced by the weight of Swoksaar’s body. Harsh stubble scrapes against Wei Chen’s ear as he leans in close.
“It took you long enough,” Swoksaar says, his breath tickling Wei Chen’s cheek. “I thought you were going to roll over and take it this time.”
Wei Chen laughs. “Never.”
And Swoksaar, that cheating, dirty-playing fucker, sweeps Wei Chen’s hair aside and bites the back of his neck. Fucking bites it. Wei Chen nearly comes all over the bottom of his desk, except all that crap about knowing what makes Swoksaar tick goes both ways.
A hand squeezes tight around the base of Wei Chen’s dick. He jerks against the weight keeping him down, desperate to get a hand on himself and fucking finish it, but he can’t. He can only shudder in Swoksaar’s grip, so close but unable to do anything to help himself.
He bites his lip to keep from shouting. The last thing he needs is Fang Shijing banging on his door to investigate. His old friend knows about the connection that lets Swoksaar manifest in their world, but what he doesn’t know is that Wei Chen is more interested in Swoksaar’s dick than his opinion on Wei Chen’s playstyle. (That’s only partially a lie. They talk tactics plenty of times, and some of those times even occur when neither of them are naked.) Regardless, he doesn’t want Fang Shijing finding out about this. Mostly because he’ll immediately put the pieces together about what Wei Chen’s been getting up to with his avatar this entire time, and Wei Chen doesn’t need that particular brand of judgement in his life.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, squirming, but there’s no leeway, not with Swoksaar keeping him pinned from hip to chest. His lip is a mass of raw, throbbing pain, but it’s nothing compared to the inferno in his dick.
When he’s no longer teetering on the edge, Swoksaar releases him with a last teasing swirl over his slit. Wei Chen barely has time to slump against the desk when a hand fists in his hair and pulls his head back. “I like you like this, it’s a good look.”
At this angle, Wei Chen’s eyes catch the mirror on the opposite wall. It’s high enough that he can’t see himself, but he can see Swoksaar, staring straight ahead like he wants Wei Chen to look. Even in the dim light, he’s every inch the proud, commanding Warlock.
No matter how many times they’ve done this, Wei Chen is always drawn to the purple glint in his eyes, set in a face that otherwise looks like his own. It’s a stark reminder that Swoksaar isn’t human. He looks like Wei Chen, acts like Wei Chen to an extent, even has the same grating sense of humor as Wei Chen (the one that makes people want to kick him in the nuts rather than talk to him).
But he isn’t Wei Chen.
Sometimes Wei Chen thinks he’s going to push this familiar yet strange Warlock too far, and he doesn’t know what’s waiting for him at the bottom of that abyss. If he’s honest with himself, which he tries not to be too often, chasing that edge is why he keeps coming back. Fuck, he’s going to miss this.
He glares at the reflection in the mirror. “I’ll look better with your dick inside me. What’s wrong, can’t get it up? Do you need to go to the little Warlock’s room and give yourself a hand? Here on this side of Glory, we have medication for that. Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“If I was having problems, it would only be because you looked too pathetic to be appealing.”
Wei Chen shoves himself backward and finally has enough leverage to get some fucking movement. He stretches his hand back and finds what he’s looking for. Swoksaar’s dick, thick and hard beneath his robes. Behind him, there’s a huff of what could maybe be laughter. Scratch that, it’s definitely laughter.
He squeezes Swoksaar’s dick, pleased when the laughter turns into a gasp. “That’s more like it. Now say ‘please’ and we can get on with it.”
“You’re so annoying,” Swoksaar says, thrusting into his hand even though the angle is crap and there’s a layer of fabric between them. “Why do I put up with you?”
He never actually says ‘please,’ but he finally puts his dick inside Wei Chen, so—feeling magnanimous and very fucking satisfied—Wei Chen doesn’t tell him it takes one to know one.
Some people might think it’s weird to get fucked by a guy that looks like you, but those people have never been split open by a Warlock who doesn’t know the meaning of half-measures. Wei Chen closes his eyes and lets everything else fall away. All of it. His responsibilities, his team, the looming shitshow of his life. None of it matters when he’s so full of dick he could burst.
Wei Chen loves Swoksaar’s dick.
He likes the rest of him too. The gleam he gets in his eyes before he strikes; the way his hands move, rough and elegant at the same time; how he draws all the attention in a room straight towards him by sheer bullheaded arrogance. But he really likes his dick. And no, that’s not a boast.
Okay, it’s a little bit of a boast, considering Swoksaar shares more than just his face, but contrary to all the speculation on the newly minted Glory fan forums, they don’t have the same junk. It’s similar enough but Swoksaar is a little thicker than him and not as long. There’s also their differing hair colors down there. Manscaping clearly never caught on in Glory-land, or whatever the hell Swoksaar calls his home dimension.
Wei Chen deliberately doesn’t call it the Glory-hole when Swoksaar is balls-deep inside him.
He made that mistake once, and Swoksaar went and pulled his own card from the reader in a huff, leaving behind a loose cage of magic around Wei Chen’s soft dick. The damn thing didn’t dissipate for days. In the end, Wei Chen jacked off near constantly for an entire goddamned day once he was finally able to get off again.
Whatever, the point is that the carpet matches the drapes and there’s a lot of silver down there. Not that Wei Chen is judging—he can barely go in for a haircut when it starts curling around his shoulders, you think he’s styling his dick hair? Fuck no.
Anyway, Swoksaar doesn’t even bother to get undressed before he pulls his fingers out of Wei Chen's ass, wipes them on the sweaty skin of Wei Chen’s thigh, and impales him on his dick. It’s too much too soon, and Wei Chen practically arches off the table. Or, he would have, if Swoksaar hadn’t put a hand between his shoulder blades and kept him face down.
“Fucking finally,” he mutters, once Swoksaar gets a good rhythm going.
“What was that?” Swoksaar’s hand reaches between his legs, tugging at his balls hard enough to make him whimper but not enough to do him any good.
Wei Chen rocks back onto his dick, gratified when it pulls a groan from Swoksaar’s throat. “I said you’re a good fuck.”
Swoksaar rolls his balls between his fingers, a tease and a warning. “You’re lucky you’re entertaining.” His other hand idly strokes along Wei Chen’s spine down to where his ass is spread open.
“Yeah that’s me, a whole fucking circus,” Wei Chen says, pushing up to his toes so that Swoksaar’s grip pulls at his balls some more. He moans loudly, deliberately. “Yeah, do me just like that.”
Swoksaar kicks his legs back down, shoves his hand onto his back to keep him still, and fucks him harder. Wei Chen fights him every step of the way for the sheer pleasure of being put down again and again.
Fang Shijing is never this rough with him, always so careful to go slow and not hurt him. Fuck that. Wei Chen wants to feel the stretch, wants to ride that line between good pain and bad pain until he doesn’t have to think anymore. No thinking about how he’s getting old, no thinking about the future, no thinking about—
Has he mentioned he loves Swoksaar’s dick.
Swoksaar thrusts into him again, so hard the desk scrapes against the floor. Wei Chen lets out an embarrassing grunt. Fuck, he’s gonna have bruises on the tops of his thighs when this is over.
“Touch the rest of me, you bastard,” Wei Chen grinds out through his teeth. He’s so hard it hurts, each long drag of Swoksaar’s dick lighting him up like a fucking skyscraper. The table beneath his cheek is damp, and he’s not sure if it’s sweat or if he’s so far gone he’s been drooling. He hopes it’s the first one.
“Say ‘please’ and we can get on with it.”
His own fucking words. Wei Chen clenches around the dick stretching him wide, feeling vindicated when Swoksaar’s rhythm stutters. The hands gripping bruises into his hips clench tighter, sharp pinpricks of pain flaring like starbursts on his skin. His hands scrabble at the bottom edge of the table, but the angle is all wrong and he can’t touch himself.
His wrists are grabbed and he’s too distracted by his dick to fight when Swoksaar folds them behind his back so that he’s grabbing his own forearms.
“Stay like that and I’ll touch you.” Swoksaar’s voice is rougher than usual, wrecked.
“Fuck you,” Wei Chen spits out, but he doesn’t fight. The throbbing of his untouched dick is so hard he can feel it down in his toes, far stronger than his pride.
He wishes he had the leverage to turn his head and see if Swoksaar’s face is flushed or if his hair is a wild mess. He sounds like a wreck and Wei Chen wants to see him undone. But he wants his fucking orgasm more so he tightens his fingers around his forearms and stays put.
“You know what they say about fighting a Warlock,” Swoksaar says, his hand running through Wei Chen’s hair, almost gentle in his care not to catch in the tangles. He’s not nearly as rough as before, not now that Wei Chen has gone complacent.
Wei Chen can’t help the way his body leans into the touch. He already knows what Swoksaar is going to say next, he’s said it to his opponents more than once while playing Glory. He’d thrash around and curse at him some more but he’s tired and he aches and he wants to fucking get off already.
“When facing a Warlock, if you’re not careful, you’ll end up under his perfect control.” As if in demonstration, Swoksaar smooths his hands down Wei Chen’s neck and over his shoulders. The light touch follows the bend of his arms to where Wei Chen is still holding them in place at the small of his back.
Wei Chen has some choice words about who’s getting what they want as opposed to being the chump doing all the work, but Swoksaar finally—finally—touches his dick, and anything he might have said is lost to the livewire of his body. He feels more than a little ridiculous, bent over his own desk, stark ass naked with his arms awkwardly twisted behind him. It doesn’t help that the position doesn’t let him steady himself and so he slips back and forth across the surface each time Swoksaar thrusts into him.
There isn’t a damn thing he can do but take it, and that’s exactly what he does.
Fuck, it’s good. It’s so fucking good. He tilts his hips, trying to get more out of Swoksaar’s hand. Maybe it’s because he’s playing along that Swoksaar gives it to him, gripping his dick tighter and stroking him faster and harder and fucking perfect. They’ve been doing this long enough that Swoksaar knows what he likes. A grip on the wrong side of too tight, the twist of fingers around the head, a finger pressed up hard against his slit. He rocks into the warmth of it, uncaring that the stupid noises filling the room are coming from him. He doesn’t give a shit, he just needs it not to stop.
Swoksaar strokes him faster, setting a driving pace. The world narrows down to the drag of calluses on his dick and the stretch of his ass each time Swoksaar takes him. He plants his feet and does what he can to meet the rhythm but he’s mostly along for the ride. With each thrust, his chest rubs against the desk like a firm hand dragging against his nipples. He presses himself down harder to get more of it.
Behind him, Swoksaar is a mass of grunts and heavy breathing and indecipherable words, nothing like the composed Warlock from earlier in the evening. The tips of his hair tickle Wei Chen’s thighs.
Wei Chen is close, he’s so fucking close. All he needs is—
Swoksaar leans over his back, his hair falling over Wei Chen’s arms and his neck, and whispers, “You can come now.”
And fuck that, Wei Chen doesn’t need permission, he’ll come when he damn well pleases. Except his body has a different idea. He’s already spread out where Swoksaar wants him, holding his arms immobile like Swoksaar instructed, jerking into his hand at Swoksaar’s will.
You can come.
His body listens, shuddering into the tight grip of Swoksaar’s hand as he works him through it, the rough notes of his voice steady in Wei Chen’s ear as he comes his brains out.
By the time Wei Chen goes still, he’s utterly drained, like he fucked the last of his energy out his dick. He barely notices when Swoksaar’s thrusts speed up once more, both his hands on Wei Chen’s hips now that he doesn’t have to touch his dick anymore. He can feel the slippery warmth of his own come sliding over his skin, until Swoksaar finally gives a last jerk of his hips and slumps over Wei Chen’s back with a fucked out sigh.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room is their breathing and the thud of Wei Chen’s heartbeat in his ears. From the corner of his eyes, Swoksaar reaches for his staff, bathing the room in a reddish light. How the hell he has the concentration for magic after that, Wei Chen doesn’t know. Must be a Warlock thing.
He’s still catching his breath when he feels hands on his wrists, gently tugging his fingers from his forearms and guiding his arms back to his sides. Fuck, he’d forgotten about that. He’s a little stiff but doesn’t let it show as he peels himself off the desk on unsteady legs and tries not to think about how he’s gonna have to clean all this shit in the morning.
“I’m too old for this shit,” he mutters, rubbing at the side of his face that was squashed against the desk for way too long.
A huff of amusement draws his attention to Swoksaar, who’s holding out his outer robe in a silent offer.
Wei Chen swaggers over to him, but instead of taking the offered clothes, he presses his body against him, uncaring about the come still streaked on his stomach and running down from between his legs. Swoksaar’s face twists, like he’s considering throwing Wei Chen off him, but doesn’t protest when he’s pulled into a kiss by his long shiny hair. Swoksaar kisses like he fucks, hot and demanding and taking what he wants. Wei Chen gives it all back and then some.
If it’s rougher than usual, a little more teeth than tongue, Swoksaar doesn’t call him out on it.
He’s warm in Wei Chen’s arms, solid and real, his lips swollen and his face flushed. There’s something soothing about having him close, a familiar presence that’s been with him for years. Swoksaar is far from safe. If anything, he’s a little bit feral, but he’s dangerous in a way that’s known and comfortable.
The aura of his magic brushes against Wei Chen’s naked skin. It’s usually under tight control but Wei Chen likes these moments when Swoksaar is too fucked out and pliant to keep his power contained. A little purple tendril of magic escapes and wraps around Wei Chen’s wrist.
Swoksaar frowns and the tiny bit of magic dissipates into the air.
Wei Chen’s entire body hums with the afterglow. His dick and his ass throb in time with his heart. He feels more present in his body than usual, the way he only does after a good fucking. He’s not usually the cuddling type (what’s the point, other than prolonging the inevitable) and so he bites down on the offer to stay the night. Maybe if things were different, if there was more time, but Wei Chen’s on a schedule.
He does, however, finally take the offered robe. It’s a lot less scratchy than it looks, and it smells like Swoksaar. Also, it’s nice and warm from his body heat.
Walking over to the faintly glowing card reader, he grips Swoksaar’s account card with his thumb and forefinger, the plastic warm to the touch. He doesn’t tug it free, not yet.
In the middle of the room, Swoksaar is unmoving except for his hair swaying in a gentle breeze that doesn’t exist. Fucking magic. Fucking Warlocks, always having to be the most dramatic assholes in the room. Or maybe it’s not a Warlock thing, maybe it’s a Wei Chen thing. It’s not like Wei Chen knows a lot of Warlocks to make the distinction.
He wonders what Swoksaar will be like next. If he’ll still be the same Swoksaar that fucks with a smirk on his face and a playful insult on his lips. If he’ll still be a Swoksaar who fights with the fury of a scoundrel and always plays to win, no matter the means or the cost. Or maybe he’ll be a Swoksaar who takes things slow, who’s kind to everyone, respectful and gentle.
Wei Chen doesn’t want to know. He wants to remember him like this. Proud. Arrogant. Beautiful.
Swoksaar straightens what’s left of his clothes. “Until next time.”
He looks regal even with part of his fancy outfit missing, which isn’t fair considering he’s every bit as much of a grade-A asshole as Wei Chen. Those fancy marks on his face are just better at hiding his true nature.
If he wouldn’t get laughed out of every bar in Guangzhou, Wei Chen would consider buying some makeup and giving it a try. Whatever. Maybe he’ll have better luck elsewhere. New start and all.
“Thanks for the good time,” Wei Chen says. There’s no point agreeing to next time.
He yanks the card free before he can think better of it.
When he blinks, the room is empty except for himself. He thinks he feels a light breeze but it’s only the air conditioning. He’s still wearing Swoksaar’s robe. Dropping the account card into the top drawer of his desk, he sits in his chair and finishes the letter he started drafting earlier.
“Fang Shijing to decide the team roster as appropriate.”
If he pauses every once in a while to fist his hand in the robe and breathe in Swoksaar’s lingering scent, there’s no one to call him on it.
The next day, he takes the team out to dinner and leaves Blue Rain for good. It’s not a completely clean break; he still finds himself scrounging for rare materials and knows deep down that he’s not searching for himself. It isn’t clean but it’s the best he can do. He thinks of the kids who will inherit his legacy and wonders if he’s making the right decision.
He never touches Swoksaar again.
Wei Chen is a lying asshole with a penchant for dramatics, just like his former avatar. He does see Swoksaar again but it’s not for many years. When they meet next, Wei Chen is different. Older and on a new team and not the same person he used to be, but it’s not terrible because Swoksaar is different, too.
It’s weird that he no longer has Wei Chen’s face, but Wei Chen supposes he’s hardly the poster child for deciding what’s weird or not, considering all the things he used to get up to with Swoksaar.
“Do you remember me?” is the first thing he asks once they’re alone. It’s a stupid question, but no one’s ever accused him of not being stupid.
Swoksaar purses his lips like he’s giving a silent ‘what the fuck’ at such a dumb question. “We don’t lose our memory when our player changes. You’ve been playing long enough to know that.”
His disdainful expression is so much like his Swoksaar that the smartass response dies on the tip of Wei Chen’s sharp tongue. He doesn't say, 'I missed you,' but he thinks Swoksaar hears it anyway.
Seeing him doesn’t hurt as much as he feared. The new Swoksaar is gentle and kind in a way Wei Chen would have once been horrified to see, but underneath all those manners, he’s every bit as ruthless as the Warlock from Wei Chen’s early adult years.
He discovers this when, less than five minutes into their reunion, Swoksaar looks down the bridge of his nose and declares, “Your temperament and judgment are far younger than your face.”
Wei Chen laughs so hard his stomach hurts. “You asshole...and by the way, you’re a dumb, ugly, immature fucker, too,” he gasps out between heaves of air.
Swoksaar smiles, as quiet and unmoved as a lake on a clear, cloudless day. If Wei Chen hadn’t just heard him speak a perfectly pleasant insult, he’d swear the foul language flew over his pretty naive little head entirely.
Yeah, still a raging bag of dicks.
Wei Chen is delighted. They talk for hours, though they don’t fuck. Not this time. Maybe not next time, but who knows. The future is a brighter place than it once was. He makes a note to buy Yu Wenzhou something nice as a thank you gift for arranging time for him with his old avatar. A good wifi-enabled cock ring or whatever it is the kids like these days. He’ll ask Qiao Yifan for recs later. That kid seems sweet but Wei Chen bets he fucks like a banshee.
When their time is up and he pulls Swoksaar’s account from the reader, it doesn’t hurt like it did all those years ago. And now, there’s another asshole Warlock waiting for him back home. Windward Formation isn’t as arrogant as Swoksaar used to be but he’s every bit as proud and even more of a dick.
Wei Chen wouldn't change a thing.