Chapter Text
After Telamon started dating Brighteyes, Builderman picked himself up and went to a bar. He found a guy there—tall, lean, suspiciously similar to Telamon—who took him home. They actually didn’t have sex together. He woke up with a note saying the guy knew who he was beneath some hangover medicine. Embarrassed, Builderman paid him and ran off to go to work. He was giddy and slightly jumpy that morning, alerting Telamon’s sharp gaze.
Later that evening he found a scrap of paper in his jeans with a number. The guy's, presumably. Biting his lips, Builderman dialed and was met with the smirking voice of the mysterious man. Not wanting to start another friends with benefits situation, he outright said he was still interested in someone else. The line was silent before the man softly said they didn’t have to do anything drastic and it didn’t need to be official. He left a final message stating Builderman could find him at the bar on Fridays.
Builderman reluctantly agreed and decided to trust him. A couple of weeks later, he went down to the bar, meeting the man again. For the longest time, their relationship was anything but physical. They hung out, went on movie dates, cooked together, and shared their woes. Weeks drifted to months, Builderman happy that he found himself a close friend and companion. In the midst of his glee, though, was Telamon’s growing suspicion that Builderman found a replacement for him.
During one of their nightly hangouts, Builderman’s friend gave him a hickey as a joke. Builderman, drunk, didn’t realize this and came to work with it clear as day on his neck. The other admins noticed and whistled appreciatively, happy that Builderman finally got someone. Telamon was less amused; his suspicions confirmed.
A storm was brewing over Robloxia, dark clouds hanging over headquarters. Finally, Builderman noticed Telamon’s mood, the god letting himself in Builderman’s office. It sat at the crux of HQ, the whole floor practically cleared of employees other than high-ranking admins. Telamon hovered in front of him for a while, face obscured by his hood, jaw clenched. There was an aura of restrained violence ringing from his tense posture—obviously Telamon was upset.
Builderman didn’t know why.
Before he could even react, Telamon swooped in, cupping Builderman’s chin, licking possessively into his mouth. The sheer force of his movement caused Builderman to be pulled forward onto his desk, the papers, forms, and agreements scattered to the floor.
He was pretty sure his nose and lips were bruised, tasting both the metallic blood and Telamon’s tongue ravenously devouring him. His mind was hazy—heated—humming with confusion, shock, and arousal. But it cleared and Builderman pushed Telamon back, wiping the spit off his mouth.
Telamon was looking at him fully now, golden hawk-like eyes narrowed to slits, still and hard. Like predator to prey, Builderman thinks, an involuntary shiver running up his back. The floor to ceiling windows behind them rung forcefully with the storm’s gusts, rain starting to pelt against glass. The wind howled. Telamon stalked forward.
“Hold on Telamon. What's—What’s going on?” Builderman shouted over the swirling sound of sirens and violent air, voice shaking. He was scared now. Telamon never acted this way before. Sure, he was prone to hiss fits and angsty moods, but he was never aggressive—not against him.
You know what you did. An emotionless voice rang out in his head.
The more Builderman backed up, the more Telamon closed the space between them until he felt cold glass on his neck, Telamon’s talons gripping his arms in a vice, his head down turned, eyes boring into Builderman’s.
“No I don’t,” he bit back, hackles rising, defensive. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Telamon raised a single finger, sliding up, up, up his neck to the—the hickey.
Shit. Builderman realized, eyes widening.
Telamon's usually sardonic grin was a straight line now, his other hand pulling Builderman closer, robed leg between his thighs.
“Wait—stop. Stop,” Builderman tried to squirm out of his grip, to no avail. Telamon’s leg pressed up further, massaging his hardening dick. Builderman’s face flushed, mortified.
Telamon dropped his head down, mouth grazing Builderman’s ear. Why do you even bother with someone else when you act like this with me? The voice rang out again, carrying Telamon’s sarcastic drawl.
The god’s hands split in two, one possessively massaging Builderman’s nape, the other holding his waist—fingers crawling up the bottom of his hoodie. Telamon’s wings were flared out behind him, the full span wrapped around them like a dark cocoon.
After he finishes, Telamon slouches over Builderman like a puppet—very much a deadweight. Builderman is loose underneath him, mind blank, body still twitching. Assuming Telamon will leave him again (as is protocol), Builderman remains quiet, still, waiting for the eventual coldness to settle into the room.
Surprisingly he doesn’t; the god is draped over him still. Telamon’s cock is half-hard, plugging up his hole. Uncomfortable, Builderman thinks, wanting to push him off but restrains himself.
Finally, he hears the ruffling of robes, wings fluttering open. Telamon adjusts himself slightly, eliciting a soft moan from Builderman. He quickly bites his lip as the god continues to move above him, cock staggering in and out of his hole. He feels Telamon mouth over the hickey again, his molars indenting them—overwriting the mark. A particular hard bite causes him to shout, body jerking to the side. Telamon’s talons grip him tighter. The god continues to mark his neck and shoulders, drawing blood, hot breaths spilling across the crook of Builderman’s neck.
“Ugh—Telamon—,” Builderman grits out between breathless sighs and groans, his flagging cock hardening once more. A rough hand latches onto it, rubbing the head in slick circles.
An obscene moan escapes Builderman; body pulled tight, stomach curling with arousal. Telamon thrusts deeper into him, his pace quickening, a strong arm hoisting Builderman’s leg above his shoulder. Each drive punches the air out of his lungs, his entire torso shaking with the feverish pistoning of the god’s hips. The humid, dirty smell of sex fills the air, liquid slick coating the floors beneath their feet. The wet slapping of their lovemaking reverberates around the room.
The whole floor can probably hear. Builderman closes his eyes, not wanting to imagine his employees’ reaction seeing their co-founders in this state.