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fortheloveofarchons · 17 days

Text

The aftermath between Caelus and Sunday's lovemaking

C.W. - Suncae Smut - Aftercare - Top Sunday - Bottom Caelus - Healing sex - Religious trauma - Implied / reference to abuse - Sunday has sensitive wings

For what felt like a few days, all they ever did in the room was rest, rail, bath, and repeat.

So much so that Caelus’s mind is in a constant blur.

What time is it?

When’s the last time he’s eaten?

How does the Halovian man have the stamina to go on for so long?

Caelus could still remember how his toes curl onto the table cloth as Sunday thrusts him inwards, how both of their breaths rise in visible puffs during every session, how Sunday’s wings behind his ears would hug Caelus’s neck, how Sunday would always put his weight onto Caelus in a mating press, and Caelus’s fingernails would scratching onto Sunday’s shoulders and back while Sunday rails him hard.

Caelus could still remember that his ass is red with Sunday’s gloved handprints, from all of the spanking that he had endured and enjoyed, and how Sunday’s kisses, both rough and soft, leave Caelus’s brain in short-circuit each time– breaking his body, rewiring his thoughts and blurring his consciousness.

As Sunday made Caelus eject out his seed onto his stomach and thighs, Caelus’s body quivers and his lips could only let out whimpers after Sunday is finally done for the day.

Sunday leans in, leaving warm kisses on Caelus’s body. One on his neck, one on the chest, and the last one on Caelus’s lips, tasting him. Sensing his lack of response, Sunday holds Caelus’s body tight, adjusting his head on a cushion for him to rest on the table, wrapping their bare, naked bodies from the tablecloth like a blanket.

“That was… the most I’ve ever worked out in my life.” Sunday whispers in his ear.

“What…? You’re telling me that you’ve never even worked out?” Caelus manages out a cocky laugh from his lips, breathing heavily. “Not even a sweat?”

Sunday pinches Caelus’s nose with his fingers.

“Ow! Okay, okay– I’ll stop making fun of you!”

Sunday stops pinching Caelus’s nose. “Really?”

“Yeah!”

“...”

“...Feather-head boy– OWWW!!!”

The room was cast in a gentle hush, with only the faint glow of the chandelier light up in the ceiling, painting the scene in a soft, muted palette. As Caelus feels himself being embraced by Sunday, he looks down to find the soft pair of wings, ones that were hidden under Sunday’s suit, were unfurled and enveloping him in a cocoon of feathered comfort.

Sunday’s deep, midnight feathers absorb the dim light, creating an almost ethereal glow.

Why would he hide them…? Is what Caelus was thinking. As far as he knows from what Dan Heng has told him about the Halovians, the only thing he remembers was that they were intellectual creatures who were killed by the “Cancer of All Worlds” during the Stellaron Disaster, and it is said that Sunday and Robin were the last remaining Halovians when they were taken in by the Dreammaster.

Did Sunday hide them because he was worried others would see him as an endangered being?

Did he hide them because he didn’t want anyone to find out about this specific physical trait they have?

None of the questions made any sense, since Sunday and Robin have floating halos on their heads, and light-coloured wings behind their necks, which were an obvious sign that they were Halovians since the beginning.

Maybe the wings were hidden out of convenience?

But, as Caelus’s glances at Sunday’s wings, something caught his eye that made his heart skip a beat.

One of the wings was clipped.

The feathers on Sunday’s right wing were shorter, jagged, and uneven, a stark contrast to the flawless expanse of the other wing. It looked as though a section had been roughly severed, leaving the once-pristine wing marred and incomplete.

It only made matters worse when Caelus glanced at Sunday’s back to find healed gashes on his body, ones that looked like they were being whipped and beaten up.

Caelus’s heart tightens at the sight.

A fury kindles in Caelus’s belly, directionless and unhinged.

He reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly, and gently touches the damaged feathers. Sunday’s body tenses slightly at the contact, but then relaxes, turning to meet Caelus’s gaze. Their eyes locked, and he could see a glint of pain and vulnerability mirroring Sunday's eyes, emotions that he had never seen on his face.

“Hey, what happened?” Caelus starts softly, his voice lace with concern. His fingers continue to trace the clipped wing, his touch tender and filled with empathy.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Came the reply, but the wavering tone betrays the words.

“Nothing?” Caelus echoes, shaking his head slightly. “This looks serious. How did this happen? Who did this to you? Does it hurt? Does– Does anyone know? Does Miss Robin know?”

Sunday hesitates with his words, the silence thick with unspoken fears. Yes, Caelus more than deserves the most detailed of explanations, as he is a part of the Astral Express.

But Sunday isn’t sure it is the right time to give Caelus that much information, not right now. And, worse, he’s never explained this to anyone, never opened up about this to anyone. Isn’t sure how to explain this to someone— a vessel of a Stellaron— to Caelus, whose opinion of him matters a lot despite the short encounter.

“I… It’s hard to explain.” Sunday’s wings behind his ears cover his eyes. “I don’t think I can tell you this much, not right now.”

Caelus feels a surge of protectiveness and worry swell within him. He scoots closer, wrapping his arms around Sunday’s torso, being careful not to jostle the injured wing. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “Is there anything I can do to help? Please, anything.”

Sunday’s wings slowly droop, revealing his soft golden hue eyes, and a faint, appreciative smile touches his lips.

“It’s alright. Your presence is enough.” he whispered, leaning into the embrace. The clipped wing settled gently against him.

“Sunday,” Caelus puts his hands on each of Sunday’s cheeks. “Do you think that just because I look young, I seem like a guy who only wants to hug and kiss?”

A pink hue escapes Sunday’s ears, and he instinctively covers his eyes with his small pair of wings.

That only made Caelus pout. “I’m a man too, y’know…”

“That I know.” Sunday is well aware of it. Despite the trailblazer’s odd behaviour such as finding the Lord Trashcan or when he would run around the place like a lost child, or even when he was acting silly to the walking billboards– by leading them out only to have them get crashed by a car.

But deep down, Sunday knows that Caelus has always been serious when it comes to his goals and to those he cares about. Had Caelus been a part of The Family, perhaps… Perhaps things would be very interesting in Sunday’s life, and Robin’s life too.

Sunday’s mind wanders to a hypothetical situation, one where the trailblazer– Caelus, is a part of their family, specifically in the Oak Family. He imagines that Caelus would be hired as a bodyguard or a lackey of some kind that’s being transferred from the Bloodhound Family, and that Caelus would have an awkward first meeting with Sunday by stumbling onto the ground or something like that.

He imagines that the two would, gradually, hit it off as Sunday would work his duties as Head of the Oak Family while Caelus would stand beside him, protecting him from danger despite that Sunday has the power of Harmony.

He imagines that Caelus would get along well with Robin as they discuss and chat about all of the galaxies Robin has explored and travelled with a cup of tea and some cakes, and Caelus would even take the time to expose those filthy scalpers that tried to sell Robin’s records with a much higher price.

Perhaps, things would’ve been so interesting with Caelus by his side.

Perhaps, the two of them would have developed their relationship further.

Perhaps… Sunday could’ve been saved.

Caelus bends his lips to Sunday’s. “You’re really gorgeous, like– bible and pious and ethereal type of gorgeous.”

“You mean biblical?” Sunday, who was not expecting any kind of praise– genuine praise, coarse or poetic, simply breaks apart. He shudders when Caelus lifts Sunday’s hand to his mouth and licks his own spend from Sunday’s skin. Still shuddering when Caelus kisses him again, Caelus’s own taste on Sunday’s lips.

“Mhm...” Caelus hums in response, clutching onto Sunday’s shoulders with his muscles. “Exactly what I said.”

“Let’s just stay like this.” Sunday murmurs, his voice coaxing and gentle. “Just for a little while, hmm?”

Sunday then holds Caelus’s waist and brings him up to his thighs, rocking their hips together, a slow bump and grind. Electric pleasure sparks down Caelus’s spine from Sunday’s actions, and he gasps. His hands curl tighter around Sunday’s arms, his lips parts and his gaze unfocused...

#ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #honkai star rail sunday #caelus hsr #caelus #sunday hsr #suncae #sunday #caelus x sunday #star rail smut #honkai star rail #star rail fanfic #aftercare #implied healing sex #religious imagery #religious trauma

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fortheloveofarchons · 23 days

Text

Caelus meets up with Sunday

C.W. - A Caelus / Sunday ship - Religious themes and imagery - Mind control - Dubious consent - Hurt / comfort - Pining - Kiss and make out - Implied healing sex - Aventurine, Robin and Firefly mentioned

“Let’s make it quick!”

Caelus summons his galactic baseball bat, and swings it directly at one of the Dreamjolt Troupe’s Bubble Hounds. Originally a delivery robot of SoulGlad, it appears that they went out of control due to the emotional interference in the Dreamscape. Even after losing its sole purpose, it is still dispensing sweetness, inviting everyone to taste this delicacy, its sickly-sweet scent of soda that fills the air, a harbinger of the creature's foul nature.

With a loud smash, Caelus destroys the hounds with his baseball bat!

The hound howls in pain as Caelus found its mark, a small crack opening on its stomach. But to Caelus’s horror, the noxious flood of soda gushes forth from the hound’s belly, spraying outward in a fizzy torrent.

With a deafening roar, the hound collapses to the ground, its form dissolving into a puddle of sticky, syrupy liquid, one with a golden hue.

But as Caelus was about to strike another one at his six o’clock, he was suddenly engulfed in a blinding haze of sticky, soda spray.

“My eyes!! It stings!!”

Caelus staggers backwards, his vision obscured by the sugary mist, his senses reeling from the oncoming onslaught. For a moment, he stood helpless, his mind clouded by the fizzy deluge. Then, he was knocked down by one of the hounds from his back, causing his grasp on his baseball bat loose, falling to the ground with a loud clunk.

“It’ll take… more than that.”

Blinded by that sudden, fizzy strike, Caelus’s world becomes a realm of darkness and pain, his senses overwhelmed by the carbonated liquid that blinded him. He stumbled and faltered, his movements clumsy and erratic, as he groped blindly for some semblance of orientation.

“My baseball bat… where is it?”

Just as despair and the hounds threatened to overwhelm him, something– or perhaps, someone appeared, their presence merely a whisper in the chaos of battle.

“Enough.” The voice calls out, but not to Caelus.

Amidst the darkness, Caelus could only hear the sounds of battle fade into the background as whoever fought. Before his vision was recovered, the mysterious saviour was nowhere to be found. The hounds’ mechanical bodies all disintegrated into ashes, gleams of blue and white light casting out of its body.

“Hello?” Caelus calls out to them. Just then, he hears a sound coming from behind him. He turns his body to find the golden halo that encircles around the precious, blue-gold treasure, dissipating in the air. The treasure unlocks itself, revealing the goods. That serious look of his changes instantly.

“Great! The more the better!”

Caelus gleefully runs over to the chest, and slowly opens it, revealing some world currencies and relics. Just then, he remembers that someone had saved him.

“Uh… Thank you for saving me!” Caelus calls out to the air, but is only met with silence.

“Huh?” He notices something on the floor, one that looks like a card. He picks it up immediately, seeing this fancy blue-gold card in his hands. “What’s this…?”

~~~~~~

“Oh, it seems that you have received one of the invitations.” One of the Head Hound Guard takes a good look at the card in Caelus’s hand. “How lucky, not many citizens of Penacony would receive such a gift to have a chat with the leaders of The Family.”

“I… Suppose I am lucky.” Caelus could only reply like this.

But… I didn’t receive it, I found it.

“Anyways, allow me to escort you to him. He’s just in his office.” The guard opens the door, and Caelus walks into the Dreammaster Hall. The place is spacious, as the main hall of the residence is filled with five orange lounges, each with their own family crest, a place where the leaders of the five major lineages regularly gather to discuss the situation and plan for the Dreamscape.

A finely crafted city sandpit is placed at the centre of the hall, one that is modelled after the Dreamscape, made in the image of Penacony with a 1:100 ratio to the real deal.

“Wow…” Caelus wanders off to have a look at the sandpit, admiring how every single detail is made: From the npcs models, to the giant wine glass displays, to even the pinball machine mechanics.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” The tall, buff guard with his sunglasses and rugged arms folds his arms. “Unless I have a lot of money to pay for it.”

“Sorry…” Caelus quickly takes a step back, and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly while giving the guard an awkward smile in return. The two of them resume walking, and they finally stop at a grand door. Before the guard could even open the door, Caelus could hear a faint voice coming from the other side of the room.

“Please, for the love of all that is Halovian,” The voice seems muffled… and familiar. “Just keep an eye on that gambler.”

Before Caelus could hear it, the guard opens the grand doors and invites him inside. Caelus enters the room, and is enveloped in an atmosphere of quiet reverence. The walls were covered in rows and rows of towering bookshelves, their wooden frames laden with tomes of knowledge and wisdom, their spines illuminated by the soft glow of lamplight.

In the centre of the room stood a large, round table, its polished surface gleaming in the natural light. Around it, the chairs were arranged in a perfect circle.

But it was not the sight of the room's furnishings that captured Caelus’s attention; rather, it was the figure that stood at its centre, bathed in an ethereal aura that seemed to emanate from within.

Caelus’s eyes widened in wonder as he beheld the sight before him: A familiar figure with angel wings behind his ears like a mantle. Smooth wavy greyish-blue hair, a bright, bronze halo behind his head, representing his Halovian heritage.

Sunday.

Caelus’s heart skips a beat as Sunday turns around to greet him, his smile warm and inviting as the first time they met at the hotel, his eyes sparkling with a wisdom that seemed to transcend mortal understanding. Next to him, a male assistant quickly bows his head and quickly walks off the room.

So does the guard, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

With a graceful bow, Sunday beckons Caelus forward, his demeanour serene and welcoming.

"Welcome, trailblazer." Sunday said, his voice soft yet commanding, carrying with it a sense of profound reassurance. "I have been expecting you."

Caelus’s pulse quickens with anticipation as he approaches the table, his gaze never leaving the enigmatic figure in front of him. Something about Sunday's presence made him feel awestruck and reverent, as if he were in the presence of a powerful being.

Caelus then takes his place at the table, and sits down on a chair.

Sunday does as well, sitting just next to Caelus.

“How was your trip so far in Penacony?” Sunday initiates the conversation. “I trust that everything is alright.”

“Well…” Caelus looks down on the table. As much as he enjoyed wandering the land of dreams, where he could eat unlimited cones of ice-cream, splurge on a lot of unique products, and even get to meet the Lord Trashcan, the negative memories outweigh the positive ones.

The enigmatic meme back in the Memory Zone, one that is believed to be a manifestation of people’s fear of death and murder. With its piercing purple and pink shades, along with its squirmy body that looks like a centipede, it sends a shiver down Caelus’s spine.

He could never forget how it pierced into Firefly’s chest, causing her demise.

He could never forget how her last words were an apology.

He could never forget how the luminescent blue-pink goop explodes Firefly’s body, splattering onto the floor, his clothes, and his hands.

Even if we had only met for a few hours, still…

“I… No, not really, to be honest.”

Sunday’s eyes widened slightly, the realisation hitting him.

“My apologies for asking such an insensitive question.” He places his hand on his heart. “I understand what happened to Miss Firefly, and I would like to ask for my condolences. But rest assured, we are still investigating this matter, and I promise you that we will find the truth about this. Again, as stated before, no one can be harmed in the dreamscape.”

Just then, a memory brings Caelus back to someone.

Robin.

He could never forget how Robin laid, fully clothed, submerged in the Dreamscape’s bathtub, her body limp and lifeless, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that had once animated her every movement every time she’s on stage singing and dancing to her audience.

He could never fail to recall the large gash that marred her chest, a glowing scar that pulsed with an otherworldly pink-blue light.

He would never, ever forget how Robin began to dissipate in front of his eyes, her form dissolving into a cascade of iridescent bubbles that shimmered and danced in the air, her essence fading into nothingness as if she had never existed.

As the last of the bubbles dissipate into thin air, nothing remains but an empty bathtub and a lingering sense of unease.

Sunday’s words were overshadowed by the weight of the revelation that had just been dropped into Caelus’s lap.

Sunday’s sister is… gone, just like his close acquaintance, Firefly.

The same tragic fate, the same cruel twist of fate had taken away both of their loved ones. And here he was, face to face with someone who was going through the same pain and loss that he had, not so long ago.

As the weight of the revelation sinks in, Caelus felt a pang of empathy tug at his heartstrings, a deep sense of sadness for Sunday's plight. He could see the pain etched in the lines of his face, the raw emotion simmering beneath the surface, ready to spill over.

Is that why he called for me? Caelus thinks it through in his mind. No, I still need to wait. Maybe it’s for something else.

“You are quite easy to read, trailblazer.” Sunday’s words cause Caelus to reel himself back to reality. Just then, he notices how Sunday’s stare intensifies slightly in interest. “You can confide in me, if you wish.”

“Sorry,” Caelus lets out a chuckle, trying to reduce the tension in the room. “I was just.. Thinking of all of those innocent people who were… gone. Just like that.”

“I know.” Sunday’s wings slump around his neck. “I’m still… trying to not get it into my head. A leader should have a clear head if they want to get things done, after all.”

As much as Caelus wants to reach out to Sunday, to put his hand on Sunday’s shoulder in a gesture of silent solidarity, he could sense that asking or saying anything about Robin’s situation would be unwise.

He retracts his hand back into his lap.

“Mr Sunday, I know we only met twice. Once, at the hotel lobby, and the other time when I fell down at the Golden Hour.” Caelus says easily. “But, as an Astral Express member, I would like to extend my help to you. If you ever do need any kind of assistance, big or small, I’m here for you. We all will. You can count on me.”

Wow, that’s probably the most mature response I’ve ever said! Caelus thought to himself and smiles.

Meanwhile, Sunday's heart aches for a minute, because he so desperately wants to be taken care of.

But he is the Oak Family's leader and a representative of The Family of Penacony. Allowing someone else to care for him in any capacity would reveal a weakness he cannot admit to himself. He must always uphold the integrity of his position.

“I do not need to be taken care of,” Sunday says, managing to keep his tone gentle, almost neutral. “But I appreciate your offer, nonetheless.”

“Of course not.” Caelus rubs the back of his neck, thinking how lamely his words must have sounded.

“But, sometimes,” Caelus continues. “It’s better to take a break and let someone close to you help you out, especially to those you can trust.”

Sunday is not a fool. Never is, never was, never will. He catches the underlying genuine kindness in Caelus’s words, and his instincts scream at him to accept. To hug Caelus in his arms, to lay himself in Caelus strong and capable hands–

No.

Penacony cannot afford Sunday’s divided attention. A pawn under the Dreammaster or not, the result remains the same: Sunday has maintained Penacony, and, now, must maintain it even more. He cannot allow himself to be distracted, especially when Robin– his sister, the only one he can trust, his only kin, the other remaining survivor from the aftermath of the Stellaron Disaster, disappeared without much clues.

Asking someone else from The Family to fill his papers would be absurd.

A leader should never be weak.

He cannot rely on anyone but himself.

Yet… the wings behind his ear inches forward, wishing for salvation for someone’s touch and comfort, even if he only met the trailblazer for the third time.

“Oh, by the way. I found this card, and I think it belongs to you.” Caelus takes the card out of his jacket pocket, and hands it to Sunday.

Pulling himself back to the conversation this time, Sunday takes a glance at it, and shakes his head. “Keep it, you should have it instead.”

“Oh, is that really… okay?”

Sunday's touch on Caelus's hand was gentle and tentative, as if he was afraid to intrude on the trailblazer’s grief, but wanted to offer some small measure of comfort in his time of need.

Wait, his hands are so elegant.

A kind thought. Caelus allows himself an indulgent smile— as much in response to the thought as the way Sunday holds his hand above Caelus’s hand, allowing Caelus to adjust his hold. “Of course, you are part of the Astral Express after all.”

I can’t believe how perfect his hands are. So slender and delicate…

This obsession with Sunday’s hands is a curious thing. Caelus cannot help but wonder about his wrist—

“Were you wondering why you have that invite card on you?” Again, it seems that Sunday, the Halovian man’s words, would always reel Caelus back to reality, lulling him in.

Caelus blinks in confusion, then the cogs and gears turn into his head.

“Right! The card, I found it after I got attacked, and–”

Realisation dawns on Caelus as Sunday releases his grip on Caelus’s hand, rubbing his thumb and middle finger into his temples as he sits back at his seat.

“...You’re the one that saved me.”

Sunday lets out a soft chuckle, one that sounds smooth– like warm and sweet vocal cords. “Indeed, I was the one that rescued you. But, no need to worry too much. I have also dealt with the other monsters from the surrounding area.”

“Thank you so much for saving me,” Gratitude swims in Caelus’s heart. “Mr. Sunday.”

“Just call me Sunday.” Sunday smiles warmly. “No need to be formal with me.”

“Then, Sunday– ”

Sunday did not realise how need and desire braids together in his gut the moment someone like the grey-haired trailblazer calls out his name, how achingly sweet it sounds.

“How did you defeat them?” Stars twinkle in Caelus’s eyes, pumping his fists in excitement. “I want to know!”

Sunday ponders in his seat for a moment, then looks back at Caelus, his expression inscrutable. “Well, it’s all thanks to my power.”

“Is it really that powerful?”

Sunday considers his words carefully, his face giving nothing away. “Powerful? Yes, it’s powerful. But it can be a double-edged sword, capable of great strength, but also great danger.”

“Danger to who, exactly?” Caelus asks another question.

Sunday’s eyes flicker with a dark intensity. “To those who wield it, it is a great responsibility. If misused, it can lead to corruption and destruction.”

“Well, with someone like you,” Caelus gives him a soft smile. “I’m sure that you won’t do anything bad to it.”

Sunday gives a single, sharp nod.

“Yes, it’s not a power to be taken lightly.”

“Then, what kind of power is it? Can you use it right now for demonstration?” Caelus asks again.

Sunday pauses for what felt like a minute or so, studying Caelus with an intense gaze. “Are you sure you wish to know the power I wield for the Family?”

Caelus, as oblivious as he can be sometimes, nods eagerly in response. “Well, it would be cool to know! Maybe I can learn a few tricks from you and that I can defend myself and my companions more!”

“...If you say so.”

Before Caelus notices how Sunday’s smile looks much wider, Sunday chants out the prayer out loud.

Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, please sear his tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows. Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore THEM to shed THEIR light, and I’ll ask you questions on THEIR behalf.

The feeling of unease creeps over Caelus like a shroud, suffocating him. His gaze is locked with Sunday's, as he is drawn inexorably into the depths of Sunday's yellow irises with purple pupils.

A shiver runs down his spine as he feels a strange sensation wash over him, as if tendrils of smoke are weaving their way through his mind, clouding his thoughts and obscuring his perceptions. It was as if he was being dragged into a trance, his willpower crumbling under the weight of an unknown force.

His body feels heavy and sluggish, as if he were moving through molasses, each step a herculean effort. He could feel the colours swirling around him, vibrant and chaotic, a messy wet painting of colours that dances around his eyesight in a dizzying display.

“What is this…?” Caelus asks out a whisper to Sunday, who reclines in his armchair, legs crossed.

His hand moved in a circular motion, causing the red liquid to swirl in the glass in his hand. In the dimly lit room, his eyes glowed like molten gold as he stared intently at the scene in front of him.

Sunday was truly the epitome of elegance.

“Sunday, answer me– Ugh…” Desperate to break free from the grip of whatever power the Halovian man held him captive, Caelus tries to shake his head, to resist the hypnotic pull that threatened to consume him whole.

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