TW: UMY, PWP, non-human anatomy, Gargoyle Ross/Elemental Smith (though the latter is less obvious)

Despite having a body made up of a slightly denser material than human beings, Ross finds that his movement is not something particularly loud or overly conspicuous. Once he had hazarded a guess that because he had been created mostly in the image of a human being he was therefore a lot more like one than the usual run-of-the-mill battlement gargoyle. Not to mention the fact that he had originally started out having only two dimensions, thanks to being originally created out of shards of brightly coloured glass.

All things considered, as a mythical being whose stories revolved around being chased by Satyrs - fucking gross little goats - sneaking up on Alex should have been hard to do. However, when Ross' glistening tail of royal blue and cerulean curls around his chest Alex is ashamed to say that he jumps. Fighting back age-old instincts trying to force him to turn into a more destructive, fiery, and significantly less-human form, Alex easily suppresses his surprise and turns his voice into a low purr as his fingers come up to caress the solid, sentient glass. Although he is just about used to the curiously warm temperature of the glass areas of Ross' body, the wonderment of how smoothly and soundlessly his tail moves is not lost on Alex.

"What've I told you about sneaking up on me, mate?" Alex turns when he feels Ross pressed up against him, raising his eyebrows and spreading his cocky grin when he finds him bare chested. Alex's fingers shine as though wet when they come up and run over the deceptively smooth planes of Ross' shoulders, feeling the slide of the heel of his right pass over a particularly deep shard of indigo glasswork at the jut of Ross' collarbone.

"I dunno, Smith," Ross growls, sandpaper scrape undertone to his voice when dropped so low. His tail curls tighter around Alex's waist, the tip tracing the few curls of hair at the nape of Alex's neck in a way that makes him shudder. Chest flush against Ross', feeling the diamond hard solidity of Ross' body, Alex savours the abrasion that comes of lightly brushing his nose against Ross'. "Probably not important, though, else I would've remembered," Ross' speech echoes the sound of the chisels that made him, and the way that it travels down Alex's spine into his jeans is nothing new.

As always when the slow prologue edges into the second act it does it with fury; Alex smashing his mouth forwards against Ross' in a way that - given the compacted state of Ross' flesh - will most certainly bruise. Sure enough when both male's lips part Ross can taste the addictive metallic tang of Alex's blood spill onto his tongue from where one of Alex's teeth had cut into his lip upon impact. Grip tightening on Ross' shoulders, doing more damage to his fingernails than anything else, Alex moans when Ross presses hard against his front and pulls him close with his tail, essentially trapping him.

It doesn't take long for Alex to fall into the moment; hips pressing heavily against Ross' and moans of desperation barely muffled by Ross' mouth. The smooth glass interior of Ross' mouth squeaks and burns a little when Alex drags his tongue along the roof, and when Alex drops one of his hands to toy with Ross' tail in a way that is most definitely meant to mimic the soon-to-come touches for a different glassy appendage, the sound that rumbles in Ross' throat is closer to a rockslide than a growl of pleasure.

Slowly, deliberately, Ross pulls away - teeth pulling on Alex's bottom lip and barbs on his tail tugging at Alex's t-shirt as it drags back to curl in the air behind Ross' legs. Walking backwards, the glass of his eyes a striking indigo, Ross passes a window on his way to Alex's bed a few feet behind him and the moonlight which filters through a gap in Alex's modern Venetian blinds flashes silver off of the azure horns jutting from Ross' brow. Momentarily, Alex finds himself mesmerised by the multicoloured, geometric splashes of glass fitted into Ross' marble flesh; each one the equivalent of a human scar left by a wrong turn during one of their misadventures.

Sitting down at the end of the bed, smirking bemusedly at Alex's awe-filled expression, Ross leans back on his hands and licks his lips.

"Well, come on then." Alex needs no further invitation, his pace hurried as he shuffles towards the bed and pulls his t-shirt over his head en-route. There is an odd shine to his skin, as though oily; a contrast to the dry roughness of a majority of Ross' own. However, when Alex moves to straddle Ross he finds himself obstructed by a hand on his chest, the fingers sliding over his shoulder and steadily pushing him downwards. Ross' smirk is lazy, his knees parting as he guides Alex to sit between them with his hands and curls his tail around to trace Alex's jaw with the arrowhead tip.

"Good boy, Smith," Ross purrs, words rolling smugly off of his tongue, and when Alex's eyes flick up to glare up at him bitterly Ross can clearly make out the way that their colour seems to ever shift and swirl, as though they are filled with the ocean. Nevertheless, Alex runs his hands up the insides of Ross' thighs, matching Ross smirk-for-smirk when his fingers stroke the bulge in the front of Ross' jeans and make him moan throatily.

Eyes following the trail of jutting sapphire shapes leading from Ross' navel into his jeans, Alex only lifts his gaze from his fingers deftly unfastening Ross' fly, despite their slippery texture, when he finds Ross to be lacking in underwear. The subsequential smile carved into Ross' features makes Alex's heart skip, a shudder passing over him even as he tears his eyes away to instead focus on the contents of Ross jeans as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down to Ross' thighs.

Its warmth seeping into Alex's palm, Ross' arousal seems almost translucent as he curls his fingers around it; his breath fogging the surface ever so slightly when he leans forward in forethought of taking it into his mouth. Cast in the kind of blue that meant Alex could not see Bristol glass without blushing, Ross' length responds to teasing just as well as Alex's own, despite its solid appearance. So when Alex pushes up on his knees, strokes his hand down to the warm sleek base of Ross' cock, and takes the head languidly into his mouth, Ross' moan tips his head back and makes his fingers tighten; one hand still on Alex's soft shoulder, the other in the bedsheets at his side.

"Oh, Gods," Ross groans, shifting his hand along Alex's shoulder and up into his hair in a vain attempt at pushing his mouth further down his arousal when he feels Alex's tongue swirl and flatten and press against his unrelenting skin. Ross bucks his hips involuntarily, causing Alex to wince a little when hardened glass knocks against a tooth in the midst of taking Ross deeper. Nonetheless, Alex's tongue smooths easily over the four large ridges trailing along the underside of Ross' glass cock and makes him moan deeply.

Ross' stomach jumps in pleasure, a shard of glass near his pubic area catching Alex across the tip of the nose and making him moan in a way that vibrates wonderfully against Ross' arousal. When Alex focuses his mouth on the head and his hand takes over stroking and circling the rest of the length, Ross gives himself over and moans freely in response; smearing Alex's name with curses from every era, in every language that he had heard during his time as a piece of religious artwork.

Eventually, tight pleasure bubbling in his abdomen, Ross has to use his tail to press at Alex's chin and pull him away. A slippery sound accompanies this, unnoticed by them both, and Alex is quick to get to his feet and bend to openly kiss Ross with the heat of added pent-up frustration, hands cupping either side of Ross' jaw and thumb stroking over a thin line of chartreuse glass in his cheek. All the while, Ross too wastes no time in reaching blindly for Alex's jeans - moaning into the nymph's mouth when he feels the fantastically natural heat of his cock through the thick denim.

"Hurry up," Alex whines, momentarily breaking their deep kissing to speak as Ross fumbles with his fly, "Please I need this I- fuck," Alex curses in a breath when Ross' rough fingers find skin, made slick with both precome and Alex's natural biology, and immediately starts to swiftly stroke the head.

A few simple, almost systematic movements and Ross instead grabs at Alex's hips, his forehead falling into the crook of Alex's neck as he has to reach to push Alex's jeans and boxer-briefs down to his thighs. Blindly kissing Ross' temple, Alex backs away a little to rid himself of his own clothing and trails his mouth over Ross' forehead until his lips catch the cool glass of Ross' horns. Ross' fingers immediately tighten in the place on Alex's chest, and squeeze gently, unintentionally, at the base of Alex's arousal - a small moan slipping over his lips.

Alex smirks, both because he feels his clothing dropping to his ankles, but also as a prelude to what he does next. Bringing his hand to cup the side of Ross' face, angling him just right, Alex flicks his tongue out and curls it around Ross' horn once before taking the pointed glass into his mouth. Ross groans below him, panting and whispering Alex's surname in pleasure as Alex licks and sucks at the horn.

Relishing being in control for once, Alex feels he should have expected it when Ross grabs harshly at his hips and pulls him down into his lap with a growl; pads of his fingers grazing Alex's skin a little as he does so. Ross nips and tugs at Alex's lips with his teeth, eyes glazed over when Alex moans loudly and their arousals press together between them; hot malleable skin against warm, smooth glass.

Alex's precome smears prettily over Ross' arousal, his mouth barely managing to kiss Ross' between moans as he rubs himself easily against him. Though it causes his fingernails to pull against their beds, Alex's mind is too far flooded with pleasure as he grabs and claws at Ross' back with the tense and release of sexual bliss.

Ross is not far behind, burying his face in Alex's shoulder and moaning through his teeth as his hips buck erratically and his tail thrashes and flicks noisily on the bed behind him. Hands grip forcefully at Alex's rear, at Alex's thighs; anywhere soft enough to be able to get a good hold and continuously pull Alex into the same rhythm as Ross amongst the creak of the bed and the unabridged moans of each other's names.

Alex yelps when Ross' teeth graze his collarbone, when Ross' tongue flicks over now broken skin and his lips suck a love bite into Alex's flesh. Scrabbling at Ross' body, feeling a pressure pulling at his lower half and clenching within his thighs, Alex cries out and slams his hips forward as he forewarns Ross; "I'm coming, Gods I'm close!"

"That's it, Smith, come on," Ross responds through his teeth, barely audible against Alex's chest, but Alex hears it all the same and, as always, does as he is bid - grunting softly and coming opalescent and thick onto Ross' stomach, Ross' cock. Panting and lightheaded, Alex shuffles back on Ross' thighs just enough to be able to eagerly close his hand around Ross' arousal; stroking swiftly and dipping his head to kiss Ross' moans into muffled expulsions.

Warm, completely clear come spills over Alex's fingers as Ross whimpers and moans and jolts his hips forwards into Alex's touches. The liquid that lands on Ross' own skin seems to be immediately absorbed, as though becoming part of him again, but this goes unseen by Alex who chooses instead to lean his forehead against Ross' temple with a faint smile.

The two sit, breathing heavily for a few moments. Despite the stickiness of Alex's climax neither of them are uncomfortable, as accustomed as they are to each other's sexual aftermath. Slipping easily out of Ross lap, stretching his arms above his head until he hears a quiet click from between his shoulder blades, Alex's smile is catlike as he grins lazily down at a still switched-on looking Ross and drags his gaze down from Ross' steadfast eyes to where his cock stands, still hard between his legs and glistening with trails of come.

"Good thing I don't take too long to recharge, mate; you and your fucking multiple orgasms." Alex's voice, gravelly with past moans, only drives Ross to raise an eyebrow and slide off of the bed to kneel in front of Alex. Already half hard before Ross even moves, it doesn't take long until Alex is moaning roughly and bucking his hips into Ross' hand applying light pressure and stroking easily so that Alex still pays attention to what Ross is saying.

"I guess I'm just always hard for you, Smith," Ross murmurs, smirking into the juncture of Alex's hip before sucking gently on the sensitive skin and still carefully stroking Alex's length.

"God that's so fucking cheesy," Alex's voice breaks into a moan, hand coming down to comb through Ross' short hair and breath hitching when a horn grazes the inside of his wrist. Ross brings his mouth over Alex's cock, hollowing his cheeks around the head and pressing over the very tip with his tongue. As Alex tips his head back and moans raucously above him, Ross drops a hand into his lap and runs a solitary finger up and down the smooth ridges on his cock - quivering with pleasure. Round two was always ten times better.

Credit to Smushfaace on Ao3