#he likes to rib danny and tbh danny is really warming up to him too - now that the gross stinky ecto is starting to filter out

[og-danny-dorito]

s u n l i g h t : a follow-up but it's smut

{ A/N:

   Hey! The lovely @victoryfroststarlight, whom is very nice and v sweet and you should go follow them cause their blog is wizard and I love it. I'm really sorry about this one, it didn't exactly live up to my expectations for what I wanted it to be tbh. Basically Duke istressed and he's not good at talking so, as I said in the other Cullen x Duke fic, he rails him because he doesn't know what else's to do. I feel like I lacked in serious ambience and that I didn't get the characters correct, so for that I'm sorry. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I may sorry again that this sucks big ass. Also, should I start putting ratings on my stuff? I feel like I should but I may not sure. Eh, I'll figure it out.

- Danny ✌🏼👽 }

 A rush of emotion was always a typical image Cullen could imagine when he thought of Duke. A surge of feeling, of passion remaining unknown by the people around him like a storm shut out by a black curtain on a rainy day. A silently known surge of meaning that could be felt through the thickest tension, and yet constantly shielded by the blanket of thick composure.

  But as everything does, he had layers. Layers that were capable of being peeled back and exposed, ones that could be revealed under safe pretenses. And yet, you will only hear the important things behind closed doors or in a crossfire of raining bullets. Duke tended to lean towards quieter, more subtle means of endearment. Like for instance, a whisper of 'I love you' as you lay next to each other in bed. A grace of fingertips against the face of one's hand while standing side by side. A look in one's eyes that only someone close could recognize.

  He hadn't wanted it to be this way. No, he would much rather it them be safe and able to express themselves openly to the world. He was proud of Cullen, why hide it? Why hide what made him happy? To avoid vulnerability. And as the days, weeks, months and years went on, he grew more aware of this reasoning and understood it to his fullest. Of course, being attacked by enemies wanting to hit a vulnerable point was always a concern, and so was the social aspect, but this perfect life he had structured to be stable and even on the surface and unable to penitents had grown to tire and dissatisfying him from time to time. So did the soft whispers, the lingering graces, and the cryptic looks.

  Every once and a while it called for a new form of endearment, a demonstration of a affection and release of emotions unable to be voiced out by the human tongue. A clear example of this demonstration would be their intimate wrestling on the living room floor that was almost drowned out by the loud city of Gotham just outside the apartment window. But the apartment wasn't a fool to this, it felt no shame in making their quiet- sometimes loud -gasps of desperation audible.

  By this point only Duke was shirtless, exposing a scar on his lower right ribs and one on his collarbone to create what looked like a rift of tawny brown over the two areas. Cullen had heard of the first; a childhood accident where he swiped ribs-first into a metal table while just getting out of a pool. The second was an accident with a villain where his collarbone was broken so badly he needed to be taken to get surgery, hence why there was a very neat scar there that looked as if it was reduced to what it might've been if not put together carefully opposed to the jagged lines of the rib scar. 

  Of course there were other small ones- like ones that looked like slashes on his biceps and another few that were a little too close to Duke's neck than his liking, but in his own vision he found them attractive, and made an effort to grace his hands over them when he could. Duke was on top like he almost always was, with Cullen’s legs spread just enough to fit his own and his chest inflating and deflating rapidly as he hurriedly roamed his own hands over his body.

   He felt warm, uncomfortably so, although the feeling was of no stranger to him. They moved as one, although Cullen’s own movements seemed to be much less fluid and planned as Duke's. He always hated when he tried to get control of things. With a moan he felt him grind against his crotch, causing a shock of tight arousal to form in his abdomen. His counterpart groaned, his shoulders shaking a bit to act as a sort of absorbent of the shock. He wasn't slow at all, in fact, quite eager.

  "Tease-", Cullen breathed, letting a gasp leave his lips. Duke made no move to speak but he saw a glimpse of a smile as he moved to suck purple bruises on his neck. They were close now, almost close enough for Duke to feel Cullen’s heart beating against his own. Quickly, he yanked his hips closer to his own, pulling on the loops of his jeans like that was going to get them off quicker. In turn, Cullen snaked a hand down to the growing erection that was probably growing uncomfortable, earning a hitch of breath and another twitch of his shoulders.

  With a squeeze, Cullen released his hand from Duke's side to unbutton his own jeans to help out a little, which caused Duke to sit up and place his lips on his lower chest. Descending, he made sure to place kisses as he moved as quick as he could, pulling down his jeans and briefs to let his member spring free. It made Cullen tense a little in response to the cold air, but it was muted as soon as Duke's eyes closed and his whole length was enveloped by a moist warmness that released a groan from the back of his throat.

  There was a tight silence as he felt a warm, abrasive surface slide up the bottom of his length, causing a hitch in his throat to ensue and a genuine sound of surprise to erupt from his throat. A moan, a gasp. He had heard these sounds before, all confronting in their familiarity. Their consistency. He was glad he was able to please one person without fail.

  "Duke if you don't start I might just start fucking you down your throat." Cullen’s half-gasped statement made Duke chuckle, rolling his eyes and proceeding to bob his head to an unheard rhythm. It left a distant but evident wet sound to echo in the room, and as a car roared past the back alley of the apartment window he watched with fascination as Cullen’s head rolled back and his right hand came to press gently on the side of his face, urging him forwarded continue. He was quiet, focused as his own dark eyes hazed over to meet Cullen’s own.

Why were they doing this?

  Countless hours spent alone in here, watching tv or doing some other miscellaneous task. And what was the difference? How was this any different? It didn't feel different, no, it had become a part of routine, a part of a schedule. One of them got depressed and didn't talk about it, then they fucked, then the upset one spilt everything after they were good and tired out and unable to form rational thought. It felt like getting high, in one way or the other, although he had only done it once and out of pressure from people around him. Was this any different to being intoxicated?

  He didn't feel drunk on love, not how the movies said. He didn't feel infatuated, he felt as if he was part of a system of something that had decided to keep its course a long time ago. Of course this all lead up to a casual sex situation where they were the proprietors of a scandalous sort of romance. Of all the thing he'd thought he would be doing, this wasn't exactly it. But he didn't mind it, and the heat on his body was undeniably suffocating. There was something only Duke could provide to Conner and only Cullen could provide to Duke. This just happened to be it.

  There was a moment of hushed silence as he managed to grip harder on the base of his shaft, Cullen letting out a moan that was drowned out by another passing car. His head was bobbing, but all he could feel was the overwhelming shock waves that were pulsing down his spine. He could feel his arms shaking a bit as he came close, but Duke suddenly popped off without a moments hesitation and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  A desperate whine rang through the area as he arched his back, his eyes closing tightly as he begged quietly. He hated it when he edged him like that, making him almost tip over the edge just before catching him and firmly planting him back off the ground to come down from his high. But what followed was usually satisfying enough to shut up any coherent complains for a good while, and Duke's quiet "I'm not gonna leave you hanging." left him nervously awaiting what he knew this was coming up too. He was removing his clothing as quickly as he could, and in the dim lights of the room, he could tell Duke was just as desperate- if not more.

  There was a few seconds of him stroking himself with what he assumed was spot, although he wasn't entirely sure and didn't exactly care. He moved to be closer, although Cullen didn't need any help getting in position. In fact, he was already laying with his legs open on the ground, leaning up on his elbows. "I'm going in." The statement made Cullen fall back, laying flat against the ground with his arm over his eyes. Slowly, Duke slipped in, seeming to edge every bit in as slowly as possible. It filled him up like water in a lake, and sure enough he felt himself panting quite heavily as he adjusted to the length.

  No matter how many times he did this, he always felt overwhelmed with so much at once. It never failed to amaze him how he could be made so breathless all at once, although he evidently had the same effect on his partner in the ordeal. Duke was on his knees, seeming to lurch over Cullen like an overgrown tree and just sit there for a moment, his eyes clenched shut as he spit curses under his breath. He could feel pulsing around his length, the heat combined with Cullen’s wriggling keeping him constantly on edge. Being this desperate almost never held benefits, and being this close to finishing with minimal movement alone was proof enough of his condition.

  "F-fuck..." Duke's voice was soft and breathless; characteristic of the situation. He started moving after a few seconds, a moan ripping through his throat that threatened Cullen’s eminent release onto himself and Duke. He clutched at the carpet beneath him as Duke followed suit on his hips, the impact from each thrust seeing to tear through them in waves of shock with a moan.

  And so it began. And went on for a few minutes before each of them were moving rapidly with hopes for release and the building impression that an end would approach. As soon as it did however, and the heat dissipated to a calming post electric shock an drew both were left panting, there was quiet. The cars had stopped moving outside. Neither of them were making much sound. It was quiet, and for the first time in a long time, Duke uttered coherent words that sounded apologetic.

“I'm sorry.”

   But there wasn't a response, and Cullen’s mouth hung open loosely from his law as his breathing shallower to an even pace. Sleeping, of course. And right when's he was about to get emotional. But he paid no mind to it. 

   Duke paid attention to the way his eyelids twitched when he slept, his hair falling from his face to the ground in fell swoops of dark black. The shape of his face always looked nice in defining lights, and although he never much liked the color blue, the outside advertisement billboard was casting an awfully pretty look on his face. Like an angel, he thought, fallen from grace.

   There was silence, and soon enough, Duke was shallowly breathing as well, his body curled up on Cullen’s.

[sassyshoulderangel319]

Notes: This isn’t part of my Sanders Sides merfolk story that I’ve been writing. TBH I’m not 100% sure where this came from. @puns-and-patton @eequalsmcscared (Tagging you two because you’re my friends!)

“OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MOOOOORRRNNNING! OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAAAAAAY! I’VE GOT A BEAUTIFUL FEEEEEEEEEELING! EVERYTHING’S GOin’ my waaay!” Roman sang as he and his roommates piled their beach stuff out of Logan’s car and onto the asphalt in the parking lot so they could take it down to the beach.

Virgil rolled his eyes. The only compromise for the warm weather that he’d made was a purple T-shirt under his hoodie rather than the thick, dark, long-sleeved shirt he usually wore and a pair of violet plaid swim trunks with black sandals. His hood was still up over his purple hair. “The morning isn’t that gorgeous, Your Highness,” he snarked sarcastically, glancing up. “The clouds are gonna roll in soon and we might have to evacuate early---”

“Oh hush, Debbie Downer,” Roman retorted.

“Isn’t it Danny Downer for a boy?” Patton asked, hefting three beach towels, two huge umbrellas, a bag with their clothes, and a cooler into his arms and hands.

Logan shrugged, adjusted his sunglasses over his normal glasses, and picked up another cooler and his own towel. “Does it matter? Let’s go,” he said.

The four of them picked their way down the sandy, grass-lined path to the beach. It was a secluded spot that people rarely went to. It wasn’t an uncommon belief in their town that this stretch of sand was haunted. Older people would swear up and down that on some nights they could hear the most ethereal singing coming from this particular beach. Virgil loved listening to the tales, even if he didn’t believe any of them. Patton did too, mostly for the sake of a fun story. In fact, Logan was the only one who listened with irritation. He didn’t believe in ghosts---much less ones that sang.

Logan believed the rumor that the beach was haunted came from the fact that the Sirens’ Shoals was nearby---a shallow shoal that had wrecked many speedboats when the drivers weren’t careful. Nicknamed thus because sirens used to wreck ships and drown sailors.

When the four of them reached the beach, it was as empty as they expected. No one else ever came here. But the young men didn’t mind. They liked the privacy. They could be as loud as they wanted and no one could bother them.

They reached a spot near the rocks on the beach and started to set up. Patton put up umbrellas and Logan spread out towels. Roman slathered everyone in sunscreen---especially Virgil and Logan because they burned easily---while singing Broadway songs.

Patton was enjoying Roman’s performance. Virgil wasn’t. He put his earbuds in his ears and lounged back on one of the folding loungers they’d brought.

Though Roman’s singing was loud enough to be heard through the earbuds.

After a few minutes, Virgil rolled his eyes and got out of the chair, deciding to walk along the beach to the edge where the hill started again.

He stooped every so often to pick up broken pieces of seashells. The broken ones were his favorite. Reminders that not everything in life had to be perfect to be beautiful.

Virgil stopped walking as a monster wave washed up on shore and quickly receded. He could hear his roommates crying out in surprise and scrambling to get their gear out of reach. “The highest point of high tide is not supposed to be for another three hours!” Logan shouted.

Virgil didn’t even turn around to look at them.

He was too fascinated by what the wave left behind---more than wet sand.

A person with long hair flowing down to their hips. Though their hips and legs were buried under a layer of sopping wet sand. “Uh, pardon me, uh...” Sir? Miss? Was there a polite gender-neutral honorific that he was unaware of? Captain? Your Highness? “Pardon me? Are you alright?” he finished, deciding to forego the honorific altogether.

No response.

Virgil took a cautious step closer. The person was face-down so everything was hidden. Their face, their mouth---he hoped they could breathe---and anything that would indicate whether or not they were even alive.

Were they dead? Was that common? Was that why this place was thought to be haunted? Dead bodies washing up on the shore? How grim. He kinda enjoyed the thought. Another careful step towards the person. He should probably have called out for Patton and the others...

“Hello?” he pressed quietly.

The person sat up with a deep gasp, eyes wild and mouth open wide. They were covered in sand and panting. They seemed to present femininely, but Virgil decided not to preemptively assume anything.

They stared at him for several moments, still panting, as something dawned in their---remarkably dark---eyes. Which flicked up and down Virgil. Then focused on his legs.

Then another gasp. The newcomer scrambled toward the sea with their arms. Virgil noticed the legs dragging through the sand, still buried under a layer so he couldn’t see them well. Virgil didn’t even know what to do so he just stood, rooted to the spot, and watched them try to make it back into the water. The monster wave had washed them up pretty far though.

The person stopped. There was a moment of stillness. They slowly sagged back down onto the sand.

Virgil heard them crying.

He approached again---but only a few steps. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Those dark eyes turned back to look at him. The crying continued.

Okaaay... other people crying was really out of Virgil’s comfort zone. He really needed to call for Patton...

No need.

“Great Odin’s eyepatch!” Roman exclaimed from two feet behind Virgil’s left ear. He jumped and smacked his boisterous roommate’s arm. “Patton! Get over here!”

Running in sand was difficult but Patton managed to reach them in good time. “Oh sweetie!” he whispered, looking heartbroken that this person, half-buried in wet sand, was weeping. “It’s alright. We’re not going to hurt you. What’s wrong?”

The person hiccuped. “I... I can never go home,” they murmured quietly.

“Aw. Why not?” Patton pressed, approaching gently, hands out to show he meant no harm. He crouched next to them.

They threw their arms around Patton. “I lost my tail! And now I can never go home!”

Huh?

Virgil scrunched his eyebrows. “Your tail?”

The person nodded and wiggled their hips. The wet sand slid off their lower half---

To reveal a scaly fish tail. Long and elegant. Shimmering turquoise in the sunlight with a hint of silver on the edges. The fluke was wide and gracefully draped over the sand.

“By Persephone! You’re a mermaid!” Roman gasped. He caught himself. “I mean---I didn’t mean to presume. What I meant was---you’re a merperson. A member of the merfolk, if you will---”

The newcomer waved their hand dismissively. “Don’t hurt yourself. Mermaid is fine. I’m a girl,” she said.

Patton kept his hand on her shoulder. “Doesn’t look like you lost it to me,” he said comfortingly. “How come you can’t go home?”

She sniffed and wiped her nose. “I got caught in a fishing net. Pulled into a fishing boat. Once I was out of the water, my tail turned into legs.” As she spoke, a shimmer that resembled heat off a hot road passed over her long tail, revealing a pair of short, thin legs and a skirt of scales. “In my pod, if we lose our tail to legs for even a moment we are no longer welcome home.”

“How come?” Patton asked gently.

The mermaid girl’s eyes hardened. “Because humans are a disease to the planet and it’s a disgrace to walk among them.”

Roman made a noise that sounded what, “???” felt like.

Virgil grunted, arms folded over his ribs.

The girl broke down again. “And now I have to walk among them for the rest of my life or return to the ocean podless!” She buried her face in her hands and cried even harder. “Merfolk can’t survive without a pod. Not even me.”

Virgil crouched in front of her, relating to that sentiment. Much as his roommates got on his nerves at times, he didn’t know where he’d be without them. Certainly in a less-happy place than he was currently in.

Patton and Roman looked thoughtful for a moment.

And then Logan finally joined the party. “What’s all the hullabaloo abou---oh.” He stared at the girl. “Where... did you come from?” he asked.

“That big wave washed her up,” Virgil supplied.

“Ah. I see.”

Another wave washed up on the sand, Roman danced out of the way but Patton let it wash right over his lower body so the mermaid girl could continue to hold onto him. The wave hung on the sand for a moment and then receded back to the sea. Clumps of wet sand slid off the girl’s tail---which had reformed with the water.

Logan stared at her tail. “That’s not... that’s not possible!”

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Virgil muttered. “It’s literally right in front of your eyes.”

“But Virgil---mermaids aren’t real.”

“We are too,” the girl retorted, getting over her sorrow for a moment to drown it in sass. “We just don’t like humans so we don’t contact them.” She gave him a sarcastic grin.

“Hey, we never caught your name,” Patton pointed out.

The girl bit her lower lip. “It’s, uh, it’s kinda hard to say in English. Hmm. Uh... you can call me... Aaralyn,” she said.

“Aaralyn. How about you come home with us for a couple days?” Patton suggested. “We’ll help you figure everything out.”

“Uh... why?” Logan put in.

“We’ll explain in a minute,” Virgil said. He turned his attention back to Aaralyn. “Yeah kid. We’re pretty chill. We can give you a couple pointers on human life.”

She shook her head. “I really couldn’t ask you---we’re practically strangers---”

“That’s okay. You need help,” Patton pressed.

“Not to mention you’re a mermaid,” Roman added, looking awestruck.

“Which is not the point,” Patton chastised.

“Nah. Just a bonus,” Virgil put in, arms still folded over his chest.

“How about this, kiddo. We came to the beach to play and hang out. How about you stay with us till it’s time for us to go home and then make your decision?”

Aaralyn nodded. “I can do that,” she said.

Patton beamed. “Wonderful!”

Virgil watched Patton and Roman have a water fight in the waves with a disinterested expression on his face. Logan was reading a book on his foldable lounge chair. When Virgil glanced at said book, he expected it to maybe be a mystery novel---Logan’s favorite type of novel to read. Nope. Logan was legitimately sitting on a lounge chair reading a chemistry textbook.

“Didn’t you graduate college, like, six years ago?” Virgil asked.

“Yes,” Logan said blandly.

“So how come the textbook?”

“It’s fascinating.”

Virgil blinked. “Right,” he said.

“What’s a textbook?” Aaralyn asked from where she had quietly been sculpting the sand into a coral reef.

“It’s a type of book meant to teach,” Logan said. “Most often used for school.”

“Correction: only used for school by everyone except you,” Virgil joked. “You’re the only person I know who reads textbooks for enjoyment.” Logan shrugged and turned his page, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“PATTON!” Roman shouted. “PATTON THAT’S A RIP!”

The three heads of those on the beach whirled to see Patton fighting against a current, struggling to make it back to shore.

Aaralyn sprung to her feet and bolted into the waves. Virgil jumped up as well and ran to the edge, only able to watch as she dove in with perfect diving form. After a moment the fluke of her tail smacked the top of the water as it disappeared under.

There were several tense moments of silence while Patton fought the riptide before Aaralyn’s head appeared behind him. She wrapped one arm around his chest and pulled him onto his back. Roman, Logan, and Virgil watched tensely as she gently pulled him out of the riptide, off to the side, and then back to the beach. Patton washed up gracelessly, coughing and crawling onto dry sand on all fours.

Aaralyn washed up looking even worse, tail flapping uselessly in water too shallow to swim in and hair hanging in sopped clumps on either side of her face. Both of them were panting, sagged in the sand and not getting up.

Patton regained his feet first and went over to Aaralyn, offering her his hand. She took it and let him help her back to her face once her tail vanished.

Virgil would never tell Roman, but Patton was the strongest of the four roommates. Patton liked going to the gym and working out so he was strong enough to take care of his friends---and give the absolute best hugs.

One of which he immediately bestowed upon Aaralyn. He wrapped her up in a powerful hug. “You saved me,” he whispered.

Virgil ran and wrapped his arms around both of them. Aaralyn flinched but didn’t retreat.

Roman trudged out of the sea and he joined the group hug. Logan hung back, not particularly fond of physical affection.

“Thank you, Aaralyn,” Virgil said quietly.

She nodded. “Of course,” she replied.

“Are you going to let us help you learn to be human now?” Patton asked. “Come stay with us so we---well, I---can repay you?”

Aaralyn sighed. “You owe me nothing, Patton,” she said.

“Yes I do.”

“We all do. Patton is the heart of our little... band. We’d be lost without him,” Virgil said.

Aaralyn “Hmm”ed and rocked back and forth in the sand. “Oh. Well... alright,” she agreed. “Just for a little while.”

Patton beamed. “Yay! This’ll be fun!”

#Sanders Sides #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders