#yayen's ask box

[allegedlyanandroid]

Pairing: Reed900 Prompt: Warmth, Denial Types: Angsty that leads to fluff then NSFW for that good balanced flavor XD AU: Sugarbaby/Escort Au

This ask barged into my house, slammed my face into the wall and forced me to write... and I wouldn’t have it any other way uwu. Hope you like it dear @yayen-chan!

Gavin usually stays away from entering exclusive contracts. Usually being the key word. This client however had been a semi-regular customer for almost a year, besides… he’s both strangely sweet and very respectful of Gavin’s boundaries.  

“So,” Gavin asks haltingly, feeling quite out of place sitting in the sleek, modern office Niles spends most of his time in. Hell… they would have turned him away at the door if Niles hadn’t shown up like a knight in shining armour to guide him away with a telling arm slung low on his waist. “What exactly do you want out of this?”

“Experience,” Niles says. Prim and proper as always. He’s wearing a tailored suit, likely more expensive than a year’s pay for a regular mortal, with not a single hair out of place. Broad, tall, every wet dream Gavin’s had rolled into one and… a man who shouldn’t need to rely on hiring an escort in order to get laid.

“Experience?”

“Not- it’s all in the contract,” Niles says with a slight tilt of his head. A small flicker of embarrassment passes over his face before it smooths out into neutral indifference once more. “You can have your lawyer go through it with you and if there’s anything you’d like to modify I’m open to negotiation.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow and sprawls back in his seat, throwing his feet up on the polished glass, before pulling the papers into his lap. Niles’ eye twitches slightly though he remains stoically silent as he returns to his work. The quiet clattering of keys picks up in the background when he skims through the contents. Nothing strange. An NDA to sign should he agree, a requirement to provide a clean bill of health, the usual. The only time he does a double-take is when he sees the monthly payout, twenty-five thousand dollars, plus a hefty severance package should either of them wish to terminate the contract for any reason.  

And that’s discounting the reimbursement for additional time spent together outside the allocated three days a week.

“So, let me get this straight,” Gavin says, effectively pulling Niles’ attention back to him. “You want me to teach you how to be a good boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

Gavin nods. It’s hardly the strangest request he’s had. “I have one rule.”

“Which is?” Niles wonders.

“One you know already; I don’t kiss people on the mouth.” He waits for Niles to nod in acknowledgement before he scrawls his signature on the dotted line. It should have been an indication, with the way his heart flutters at the sight of Niles’ small smile, that this is a bad idea.  

-

‘The lord is testing me,’ Gavin thinks. He stares down at the box of pasta in his hands before he looks up at Niles and then back down again. Suppose that’s what he gets for asking a multi-millionaire to buy groceries. All Gavin wanted was to teach him to make a home cooked meal and this is how Niles repays him?

Gavin slowly inches his way towards the sink and taps his knee to the lower cabinet to make it swing open. Making direct eye contact with Niles, he dumps the entire box in the garbage and pushes it closed again with his foot. “Looks like you’re out of pasta. Shame. Get your coat on, we’ll need to buy more.”

Niles’ affronted look melts off his face halfway through Gavin’s rant about the abomination that is penne pasta though Gavin is too preoccupied to notice. He rants on the way to the corner store located a stone’s throw from Niles’ penthouse apartment. Continues it while choosing between fresh and dried pasta before just dumping them both in the basket. He grumbles curses over the lack of ridges being awful for making sauce stick to them while batting Niles’ hands away to pay for the groceries himself and then switches to cursing at Niles when he can’t hold his laughter in any longer on the way home.

‘Asshole,’ Gavin thinks while he examines the small dimples he hadn’t noticed laid into Niles’ cheeks. They seem to appear only when he smiles broadly and Gavin dutifully ignores the intrusive thoughts telling him to try and kiss them away.

-

Gavin is not in-fucking-love with his client because that would be stupid. There are no butterflies in his stomach, no warm feelings when he thinks over the moments they’ve shared, no urge to stay after their trysts to cuddle up to Niles’ side and exchange lazy kisses. None. Nope. Nu-uh.

Niles looks up from fiddling with his hands when the waiter guides him towards their table and Gavin nearly melts on the spot. Warmth floods him and it’s not the wicked heat of lust he’s grown familiar with. It’s soft and all-encompassing, like a heavy blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a snowy day, and Gavin forces a smile to match Niles’ own.  

He’s not in love.

-

Niles apologises in advance for dragging him to one of his work events where Gavin had spent the night being judged by every fucking person there. Sure, he’d been dolled up in expensive clothes, courtesy of Niles, but putting riches on a ragged thing like him is hardly enough to make him blend in. It had been humiliating the few times Niles left his side and people spoke to him in that arrogant, holier-than-thou way he hated with a passion.  

As if he was dirt beneath their shoes or wholly unworthy of their attention.

Niles apologises on the way home too and then again by pressing delicate kisses over every part of Gavin he’s allowed. He murmurs regretful words against his skin while worshipping every small imperfection littered over Gavin’s body. His scars and moles and freckles, over stretch marks and strange discolorations, not a single one of them remains untouched when their evening draws to a close.

“Your empathy and kindness are what sets you apart from them,” Niles whispers to him when he thinks Gavin is asleep, “-and they can’t see how beautiful that makes you. You’re worth more than all of them combined.”

Gavin shifts as if in sleep and Niles quiets down, holding his breath. With his face now buried in the pillow, Gavin can smother the smitten smile there instead of against Niles’ shoulder.  

-

Niles is too close. Gavin can barely stand it when they fuck like this, face-to-face. Ever since coming to terms with his feelings it borders on too intimate and it’s difficult to see Niles like this when Gavin knows he doesn’t feel the same way.  

Their faces are close, lips a hair's breadth away from touching, so Gavin puts his finger up between their lips to stop Niles from breaching the last unmapped space between them. “Kisses cost extra, remember?” he says quietly, like a secret shared between them.  

Niles stares at him with a considering tilt of his head. “How much?”  

“A thousand.”  

Such a ridiculous sum. Any other client wouldn’t even have gotten that, but… he’ll make an exception for this one. Though, he won’t go down without the illusion of a fight.

“Each?” Niles asks and when Gavin nods continues: “Better make them count then.”

He drags the offending appendage away, the one blocking him from tasting Gavin’s lips, and uses that one hand to coax both of Gavin’s arms above his head with a tight grip on his wrists. One last look, searching for something, before he leans down and takes Gavin’s lips for his own. The sweet pressure forces Gavin’s eyes shut. The only other option would be to cry and Niles sure as hell doesn’t need to see that. Not when Gavin is an ugly crier and so damn idiotic for not failing to separate love from obligation.

Pathetic.

An envelope rests on the bedside table in the morning and Niles’ spot on the bed has long since grown cold. Gavin opens it and he feels sick to his stomach when it reveals a forty-three thousand dollars check tucked neatly inside the crisp white envelope. The penmanship is immaculate, clean, impersonal. Gavin writes a note of his own using the hotel’s complimentary notepad, stuffs it in next to the untouched check and re-seals it.  

He drops it with the front desk secretary at Niles’ workplace and menders off towards home. It’s a far cry from the life Niles leads but it’s home, it’s comfort. Tabby slinks over to him in gleeful hope of receiving treats and allows Gavin to pick her up with little complaint. When the tears begin to fall, he figures that it’s alright. There’s no one here to see him but his cat and she won’t tell a soul.

-

Loud knocking wakes him at ass o’clock in the evening and Gavin rubs his red-rimmed eyes with the back of his hand while he stumbles to open it; poised to give the person on the other side a piece of his mind. The words die on his tongue when Niles reaches forward to cup his face with his hands and kiss him with ferocious desperation. Gavin stumbles back, still lip-locked with his former client-turned-employer, while Niles does his damn best to meld the two of them together.

“What-?” Gavin gasps the moment he’s able. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” Niles says, never one to beat around the bush. “And I didn’t want to break the contract because- because I didn’t think you felt the same way and I selfishly wanted to keep you for myself.” He wets his lips with his tongue and his lip quivers for a moment before he gets it under control. “Your letter- did I read too much into it? Or were there things you left unsaid hidden in-between the lines?”

“I let you kiss me,” Gavin laughs wetly. “What more do you want?”

Niles leans down and kisses him again, and again, and again, until they both lose count. Gavin guides them towards the bedroom, walking backwards the entire way, until he can flip them around and push Niles onto his bed. He looks like he belongs there, splayed out on the messy sheets, pale skin contrasting beautifully with their dark colour. Gavin falls after him to wrestle Niles out of his clothes and Niles eagerly returns the favour with equal passion.  

“I love you too,” Gavin says and Niles keens below him, drawing his lover closer to kiss him senseless again. Their frantic pace slows somewhat when Niles presses lube into Gavin’s hand and spreads his legs wider apart. It’s not unprecedented, just rare, to have Niles like this, open and vulnerable. With a last lingering kiss Gavin opens him slowly, gradually increasing the number of fingers stretching him, until Niles is a writhing mess begging for more, for him, through frustrated tears.  

Gavin delights in kissing him silent.

He slides inside with little resistance and Niles wraps his legs tightly around his waist to draw him as close as can be. They set a gentle pace. It’s a slow rocking of hips, to press Gavin as deeply inside as possible. Gavin slips a hand between them and works it over Niles’ cock, firm and quick, in stark contrast to their lovemaking.  

Niles arches his back with a cry, clutching at Gavin’s broad shoulders. It’s a lot to process and Niles slowly loses himself in the sensations; the fullness inside, the steadying weight of Gavin pressing him into the mattress, the warmth pooling low in his abdomen.  

When Gavin kisses him again, fierce and wanting, Niles falls over the edge. He cries out, a sound barely muffled against Gavin’s lips, and he clenches hard around the length moving inside him. It draws a whimper from Gavin’s lips and he pushes impossibly closer when he reaches completion himself.  

They lie together, a sticky sated mess of limbs, while catching their breaths. Niles slides his palm up underneath Gavin’s to measure them, a cute little furrow between his brows while he concentrates, and finds the difference in size proportional yet they fit together perfectly when Niles’ fingers fall in the empty spaces between Gavin’s own. “We’re pretty dumb, aren’t we?” Niles murmurs with a small smile.

“Your face is dumb.”

“Well... your face is dumber.”

“You fucking take that back,” Gavin says, mock-indignation colouring his tone, and Niles tries hard to fight his smile growing wider.

“Don’t worry, I still love you.”  

“Well... “ Gavin drawls with a shit-eating grin, “I love you more-er.”

It’s not funny, not really, but it drags a tittering giggle from Niles either way and Gavin is helpless to resist chasing it with his lips

#allegedly answering asks #dbh gavin #gavin reed #dbh rk900 #rk900 #reed900 #sugar baby au #dbh #detroit: become human #detroit become human #mini fic #my writing #nsft

[allegedlyanandroid]

Pairing: Allen60 Prompt: Cold Types: Found Family, Fluff AU: Angels and Demons, Sixty as the little devil he is, and Allen just being human.

I am so late 😅 I wrote an entire thing before realising I hated every word of it and started over from scratch. Anyway... excuses aside, I hope you like it @yayen-chan <3 `(‾◡◝)´ 

“Okay, bookshelves first,” Allen mutters, following the intricate maze of arrows and concrete as he tries to navigate the local IKEA. “Or rugs. That works too,” he sighs when he glances up and finds himself in the wrong part of the store. Looking through the copious amounts of different rugs Allen rapidly finds himself overwhelmed. He tries reading a few of the ridiculously complicated names, stuttering over them when trying to read them out loud. “Ra- raskmol- mölle?”  

Giving up on the fifth time trying to pronounce it correctly Allen rolls the grey-and-black striped fabric up and tosses it on the cart, already dreading trying to find the rest of the items on his list. There’s only one really but when passing through the plant-section he stops to pick up a potted plant. The other one is beyond salvaging from lack of water. “Ilex, foreeneling? För-enlig. What are these names?”  

After another dead-end and some frustrated grumbling, he does find the bookshelf he needs. Honestly… this trip alone solidifies why he’s never getting a puppy. The one he took in to foster was a sweet thing but very demanding and unaware that he weighed quite a lot for a pup. He’d knocked Allen’s bookshelf over, thus breaking it, and also had an accident on his rug. If being petless meant never having to go here again then that’s a price he’s willing to pay. At least the shelter had found a family for him quickly and, while he did miss the little rascal, the puppy was undoubtedly in better hands.  

“Kallax, hemnes... gersby?”

Too caught up in his own head he doesn't notice the strange scent of warm brimstone and ash filtering through the air nor does he notice the young “man” standing behind him, a man who seemingly appeared out of thin air, until he hears the sound of a throat clearing. Allen jerks his head up from wrestling with the cardboard box and offers an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Or, you could tell me why I’m here and spare me the mundane small talk you humans seem so obnoxiously fond of.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man squints. “You summoned me.”

Allen pauses to take a good look at the man. He’s tall with black, artistically tousled hair and endless amounts of freckles. A few moles are scattered across his skin and his brown eyes are filled with irritation. Dark jeans with a long-sleeved shirt tucked into it, a black overcoat ending at about mid-thigh and a purple scarf hanging unknotted around his neck. Allen thinks long and hard yet finds no recollection of ever seeing this man before in his life let alone speaking to him. “I have no idea who you are.”

“You-” the man pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply and slowly let it out before starting again. “You read the incantation to evoke me and you what… didn’t even realise it?” he asks and receives nothing but a blank stare from Allen in return. “Ugh, humans.”

In the blink of an eye the man transforms. Horns curve with the shape of his skull, producing from close to his temples, before ending in sharp tips that blend in with his raven hair. A black tail is wrapped around his leg which ends with a jagged spear-like point. The tips of his fingers look like they’ve been dipped in charcoal, fading into dark grey about halfway up his fingers, with claw-like black nails top it all off. They tap against the metal shelf next to them as the demon slowly advances.  

Too shocked to move, Allen’s jaw is taken in a firm grip and when the demon smiles his teeth are pointed blades. “So… are you going to tell me what it is you want?”

“You can let go of my face for a start,” Allen says, adding a quick “thank you,” when the demon does as he’s told. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Sixty.”

“Sixty,” Allen repeats. “No offence but I quite like having my soul intact. I’m sorry for dragging you from… whatever circle of hell you reside in, but I’m not interested in making any sort of deal with you.”

“Sucks to be you then because I’m not leaving until you do,” Sixty says and from his tone of voice alone Allen knows he’s a hundred percent serious.  

‘Fucking IKEA.’

-

“Really? You couldn’t have chosen to live somewhere a bit warmer?” Sixty asks with disdain, thankfully back to looking human. His feet sink into the four inches worth of snow dusting the ground and he can already feel the cold seeping in through the gaps in his clothing. “Or somewhere nicer in general.”

“No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“No one’s forcing you to live here.” A pause. “Or if they are, I am more than willing to kill them for you free of charge.”  

Allen sighs.

-

Having a demon for a housemate isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sixty mostly keeps to himself whenever he isn’t trying to get a rise out of him or complaining about the cold or putting things on tall shelves like the little shit he is. Until Sixty gets bored that is.

Because when Sixty gets bored trouble ensues.  

-

Emerging from his office after a long day of meetings to see his demonic housemate casually chatting with parts of his team in the breakroom is a bit out of left field and the sight of Sixty’s mischievous eyes boring into his own is enough to quicken his pace. “What are you doing here, Si- Silas?” he asks, forcing a smile on his face.

He hates how no one else can look past the innocent brown eyes and syrupy grin to see the smugness beneath. “I thought we were supposed to eat lunch together? Did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” Allen hastens to say, ignoring Willis and Clark’s knowing grins, as he wracks his brain for a response. “Though I distinctly remember asking you to wait outside.”

“It would have been rude of me to decline Julie’s offer of getting coffee,” Sixty replies and raises his mug as if to show it off.

“No need to be jealous, boss. We just wanted to get to know the guy better,” Julie says.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’ve ever seen you hang out with anyone outside of work apart from Reed,” Clark pipes up. “We got curious.”

“I’m not jealous!” Allen tries to defend himself, latching on to the word, but the agitated tone does nothing to help his case. Sixty smirking behind the rim of the coffee cup like a cat who got the cream isn’t helping to improve his mood either.

“You are the pettiest asshole I’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting,” Allen says when they’re safely away from prying eyes.

Sixty snickers, knowing full well the amount of endless curiosity and ceaseless questions he’s unleashed on the human. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

The fistful of snow he gets shoved in his face shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

By the time he manages to blink the melting snow out of his eyes Allen is too far away to retaliate, though that doesn’t stop Sixty from trying.  

-

Despite his best efforts Sixty’s irritation with being unceremoniously dragged into the mortal plane dissipates after the third week of staying with Allen. By the time he’s been there for a month and a half, Allen’s team have adopted him as one of their own and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. They genuinely care about his well-being and often invite him along on outings. As someone whose family is… overbearing, their light-hearted ribbing is a nice change of pace. Their easy dynamic is the very opposite of stifling. No one ever pries when he declines to answer a question. No one touches him after he made it clear he dislikes physical contact. No one quizzes him about his every movement.

It’s… nice.

The next team building exercise and subsequent photo op, proudly displayed on the communal fridge, includes him and Sixty doesn’t cry even a little bit upon seeing that.  

Not at all.

-

In the end, the shift in their relationship is near seamless ‒ from reluctant roommates to friends to something more.  

What hits him first is the metallic scent of fresh blood and Sixty is halfway across the room before he can even process rising to his feet. He gathers Allen up in his arms and leads him to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Part of his dark shirt is tacky with blood and Sixty feels no remorse when he shreds it to get it off as quickly as possible. Something, a bullet or knife, must have grazed his side. It’s bleeding sluggishly though it thankfully isn’t deep. Sixty takes the ruined shirt and presses it against the wound. “Keep putting pressure on it.”

Allen doesn’t answer and in the end he’s the one who has to move Allen’s hand to take over while he dashes to the bathroom for the medkit. Sixty plunks it down on the floor and fills a bowl of lukewarm water to put down beside it before fetching a clean towel. He kneels down between Allen’s legs and cleans meticulously around the area, noting the patches of skin where bruises are slowly forming. Swiping over the wound with antiseptic earns him a bitten-off hiss and Sixty puts a hand on Allen’s sternum to steady him after the first involuntary flinch.  

He keeps it there, soothed by feeling the steady thrum of Allen’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, until he needs the use of both his hands. In its absence, Sixty’s tail comes up to wrap loosely around his thigh for comfort.  

Butterfly bandages instead of sutures, his tail instead of his hand. Allen doesn’t say a word about either choice though he is smiling down where they’re connected once Sixty chances a quick peek.

There’s nothing left for him to do after covering the wound with gauze, taping the edges down, yet Sixty finds himself lingering there regardless.  

It’s easy to trace around the gauze with the very tip of a claw and when he catches Allen’s dark eyes the urge to lean down to place a gentle kiss over it wins out. Allen sighs quietly and coaxes Sixty up to kiss him properly ‒ a chaste press of lips against lips followed by a sincere thank you.  

Sixty blushes and knocks his forehead against Allen’s, mindful of his horns, in a silent show of affection.

-

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Because I literally stepped in the door a second ago?” Allen laughs and pulls Sixty in for a quick kiss.

“Excuses,” Sixty sniffs and steals another kiss, one that quickly devolves into a dozen pecks being pressed all over his face until Allen plants a last lingering one to his lips.

“I love you,” Allen says when they break apart for real.  

The shy smile spreading over Sixty’s lips is one he’ll never tire of seeing.

#slowly but surely working my way through these #sorry it's taking so long #dbh allen #captain allen #dbh sixty #rk800 sixty #allen60 #dbh #detroit: become human #detroit become human #allegedly answering asks #mini fic #my writing #that awkward moment when you're in an ikea and accidentally summon a demon