@ohlookmoonstones commissioned me for some Rhysquez nsfw :0 featuring trans!Rhys, oral sex, dubious consent and some light stuffing kink. Enjoy it if that’s your thing!

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It, like all the other annoying things in Rhys’ life, had stemmed from an argument with Vasquez.

Rhys couldn’t exactly pinpoint what annoyed him so much about the older man, considering there was just way too much wrong with him. The greasy hair and beard combo that he thought looked good. The wimpy golden pinkie. That deadpan, smarmy voice.

And now, the fact that he tried claiming he was a gourmet chef to Rhys’ face.

And Rhys had laughed, of course, because the idea of Vasquez being actually good at anything was just that farcical. But to his displeasure, Vasquez hadn’t let up at the merciless teasing, and insisted on Rhys coming to his house for a home-cooked meal so he could prove his talents. And while that sounded about as appetizing to Rhys as a dinner of raw spiderant meat, he’d eventually agreed, if only to get Vasquez to shut up.

Rhys hated that he bothered dressing up at all to a dinner with his arch-nemesis, but he’d rather be dead than caught in something unfashionable and sloppy, so he’d put on his silk shirt and blazer—business casual, basically, nice enough but not too ornate to betray that he put too much effort into it. Didn’t want Vasquez getting any ideas.

When he finally arrived, Rhys groused a bit inwardly at the fact that Vasquez’s apartment was nicer and cleaner than the one he shared with Vaughn. The decorations were fairly tacky though, with plenty of potted plants and gold leaf and framed pictures that looked like the stock image that came with purchase. At least Rhys had photos up of himself and his friends and family.

The entire place was filled with the aroma of cooking dinner that only got stronger as Vasquez led him towards the dining room. It smelled pretty good, honestly, but Rhys wasn’t about to let Vasquez know that, especially not before he’d actually gotten a chance to try the food. Sure, the smell was nice, but for all Rhys knew it could still taste like garbage, and he could still rub Vasquez’s crappy cooking skills back in his face.

The dining room looked serviceably elegant, but Rhys was still impressed, considering he hadn’t been expecting elegance at all. The table was dressed with a pure-white cloth and topped with glossy black plates and glinting silverware. Vasquez had even placed a centerpiece in the shape of a Handsome Jack statue, encircled with flowers, between the two bell-shaped wine glasses set up on opposite sides of the table.

“This…this is a lot more…more than I thought it’d be.” Rhys gestured in a vague circle around the whole setup. Vasquez smirked, hand resting on Rhys’ shoulder as he guided him towards his chair.

“Well, the deal was I needed to impress you. And I intend to impress all of the senses, not just taste and smell.” He chuckled as Rhys glared at him. He sat down, scooting his chair in as Vasquez lifted both plates and retreated to the kitchen to serve their dinner.

Rhys unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, snorting at the decorative way it’d been folded atop his plate. Seriously, did Vasquez think his living room was on par with a five star restaurant here? Was he really that desperate to impress Rhys?

It really did smell good though.

He’d started to get a little antsy when Hugo finally returned with the laden plates in hand, laying one delicately on Rhys’ gilded placemat.

His eyes went wide.

A perfectly molded cylinder of mashed potatoes accompanied a neat bed of chopped golden beets, shallots, and herbs, where a perfectly broiled, golden brown game-hen sat perched like it must have when it was still alive. The presentation was delightful, the entire affair was drizzled in a unctuous, maroon sauce artfully swirled around the dish in lavish strokes.  

Rhys had to admit it looked positively exquisite.

“Wow…”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Vasquez’s smile curled with unbearable smugness that Rhys wanted to slap right off his hairy mug.

“Well, I’ve seen better. Been to a looot of super fancy places. But I guess this isn’t that bad.”

“Oh? Well, just wait until you taste it.”

Rhys grimaced as Vasquez flounced down into his chair, tucking his own napkin into the collar of his shirt. He picked up his fork, wondering if they were real gold or just plated. He picked at the meat with the prong, furrowing his brow. It seemed less and less likely that Vasquez’s cooking was going to end up being completely terrible with all of this fanfare and the decent sights and smells, but he held out hope that this dinner—and Vasquez’s ego—would fall apart around him the moment Rhys touched the food to his tongue.

Unfortunately, as soon as he put the morsel in his mouth, his hopes were dashed. Damn it.

Rhys couldn’t stop the pleasant little murmur from eking out between his lips as he chewed the deliciously moist, tender meat.

“So?” Vasquez leered from across the table. “What do you think?”

“Don’t talk to me while I’m eating,” Rhys growled as he swallowed down the meat, not giving voice to his unexpected pleasure. Vasquez chuckled and shook his head, but didn’t press the issue as he started on his own meal.

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Rhys realized a little too late that everything Vasquez had prepared had been drenched with a thick wine sauce which, on top of the large pitcher of strawberry-basil punch he kept using to refill Rhys’ glass whenever he finished it. Before he realized what was happening he was feeling tipsy and rapidly speeding towards full-on drunkenness. But at the same time, he couldn’t stop eating, the food was so good, and as he ate more and more of the salty game-hen and potatoes he couldn’t resist washing it down with more alcohol.  

Finally, he scraped the bottom of his plate, scooping up the last scraps of meat in the sauce and slipping it into his mouth. He groaned as he leaned back in his chair, alcohol numbing his inhibition as he openly rubbed his middle. He licked the savory oils from his lips, reaching out one last time to take the last sip from his glass. The sweetness of the alcohol barely cut through the heavy taste of the dinner, both of which now left him feeling overly full and sleepy.

“Hmm. So, how bad is my cooking, again?” Vasquez smirked from across the table. Rhys distantly heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as his nemesis rose, his hand resting against the back of Rhys’ chair as he rounded over to him.

“Um…” Rhys responded dumbly, trying to gather his thoughts. He jerked, thinking he felt something brush against the back of his head. He heard Vasquez chuckle above him.

“It’s so good you can barely speak, huh? Or is that just the alcohol?” Vasquez leered down at him, his hand patting firmly against his shoulder.

“I guess….both?” Rhys tried to answer, confused as to why his host was even asking. Vasquez didn’t bother responding, merely chuckling as he rubbed Rhys’ shoulders in a way that sent a shiver up his spine.

Eventually, Rhys let Vasquez pull him to his feet, though he swayed and stumbled, resting most of his weight against the older man’s substantial bulk. He dropped his head against Vasquez’s shoulder, his feet moving numbly as he led Rhys through the apartment, away from the brightly lit dining room and into the darker hallway that branched off towards the bedroom.

It smelled different as they got further away from the kitchen, where the scent of braised meat had taken over everything else. Rhys closed his eyes and sniffled, managing to pick up on the scent of mahogany and cloves through the fog over his senses. Was that Vasquez? Rhys hadn’t notice that he’d been wearing any cologne, but he hadn’t exactly been paying attention to anything other than the food up until this point.

Vasquez shut the door behind them as they enter the bedroom, pushing Rhys towards the bed with slight roughness. The young man felt heady from the drinks and slow from the food he’d been stuffed to the gills with. He panted and groaned as he sat heavily down at the bed, one hand cradling his full belly as he sat back on his other hand and looked dazedly up at Vasquez. The older man fiddled with his yellow tie, carefully undoing it and tossing the garment casually onto the bed.

“Are…are we gonna go to bed now?” Rhys asked dumbly, even as Vasquez shrugged off his suit jacket with a chuckle.

“Not quite yet. I’m not exactly through with you.”

Rhys blinked rapidly, furrowing his brow as he watched Vasquez slowly undress. White fabric quickly parted around a broad, brown chest, as Vasquez popped off the buttons, leaving the shirt to hang loosely off of his body. Rhys tilted his head, fascinated at just how much bulk Vasquez kept hidden underneath his typical Hyperion suit. In his drunken state, he wanted to reach out and touch the other man’s body, trace the muscles he could see standing out in Vasquez’s chest and forearms.

Rhys hiccuped suddenly, the taste of alcohol and salted meat quickly surging back up into his mouth.

He laid back against the bed, groaning as the shift in position lessened the pressure on his full stomach. His eyelids fluttered closed with a hum, growing even more relaxed as warm hands settled on his abdomen and slowly started to rub up and down.

“You really enjoyed yourself didn’t you?” Vasquez’s voice drifted from somewhere out in the fuzzy void “You are so greedy. Eating all the food and drinking all the booze daddy bought for you.”

“Mmm…better than wasting it…” Rhys purred as one hand slid down from his belly to settle on his thigh, carefully spreading his thighs open from where his legs started to dangle off the edge of the bed.

“Your clothes feeling a little too tight there, sweetie? Want me to take them off for you?”

“I guess….” Rhys mumbled, not resisting as Hugo started to pop the buttons off of his shirt, exposing more and more of his pale belly as he worked his fingers down to the young man’s waistband, where Vasquez quickly unbuckled his belt. Embarrassment tinged Rhys’ already flushed cheeks at the sight of his bloated middle, but he couldn’t lie that having his clothes undone made him feel a lot more at ease.

“My, you’re a little softer under here than I thought you’d be.” Vasquez’s hands felt even better against his belly without the tight fabric between them. Rhys’ spine arched slightly as he pushed his middle up into the older man’s palms, encouraging him to rub his full belly even more.

“Nnn…not as soft as you…I bet…you’re lots…bigger than me…” Rhys mumbled nonsensically, earning him a little pinch on his hip.

“Yeah? Do you want to see some more of me?”

Rhys hummed, tilting his head from side to side in fuzzy thought. Eventually he nodded.

“Well. Let me have my fun with you first, and then maybe I’ll show off.”

Rhys understood that “fun” probably meant sex, and while before he might have been disgusted at the idea of any kind of intimate contact with Vasquez, after the meal and the warm feeling on his stuffed belly he was a little more willing. He relaxed and closed his eyes as his pants were pulled down his legs until they bunched up around his ankles. Vasquez didn’t bother removing his shoes, merely letting his legs lay limp and open over the edge of the bed. Vasquez’s hands moved up and down his thighs, brushing against the faint hairs smooth and glossy against his skin.

“What are you planning…?”

Rhys peeked his eyelids open when he didn’t get a response, catching Vasquez kneeling, half his body disappearing beneath the end of the bed as his face nudged between Rhys’ naked thighs. The young man’s heart leapt as he felt Vasquez’s breath against his sensitive groin, making him whine softly.

It wasn’t like Rhys had never had somebody’s face down there, but it had been awhile since someone had properly eaten him out. Most guys either didn’t want to to do it or did it badly, resulting in a disappointing experience for the both of them. His heart leapt at the gentle breathing against his genitals, worried Vasquez might fall into the latter category. He was already flirting with the enemy, literally, and if Vasquez sucked at this things would get a thousand times more awkward.

Fortunately, the press of tongue against the lips of his pussy sent shivers up his spine and had his loins quivering with want.

Rhys moaned, his hands sliding up and down the silk sheets on both sides of his head, palms finding difficulty gaining traction on the slick material. He bunched it up on his fists, needing to grab ahold of something.

Vasquez would be the kind of man to think silk sheets were a worthy investment, the remnants of his conscious mind derided, but then Vasquez leaned forward and licked up the seam of his groin and he gasped and arched his back and forgot what he was thinking about.

“Oooh…” Rhys was starting to grow dizzy with the arousal as Vasquez opened him up properly, his tongue working in between the warm folds of his pussy, searching for the delicate flesh deeper inside. Rhys’ toes curled as he bit into his lower lip, numbed by the alcohol and the food and now the warm mouth eating him out.

He knew he should be more ashamed of the fact that his arch-nemesis was between his legs eating out his hole, but it felt too good in his current state for him to care. He wound his fingers into Vasquez’s hair and tugged, pulling him flush against his group as he pressed his tongue further inside, teasing the rim of Rhys’ hole.

“Ah….a-hah, Hugo…” The name slipped out unintentionally, and Rhys froze for a split second in realization before the tip of Vasquez’s tongue pushed into his hole proper, and he lost track of his own ego amidst the ensuing moans. He panted breathlessly as Vasquez’s mouth moved, lips pressing against the sensitive flesh.

His tongue couldn’t possibly reach as far as a cock or even fingers could, but the wet warmth and flexibility more than made up for the lack of length and power, and considering how full he was Rhys probably couldn’t have taken a cock without upsetting results anyway. He rocked his hips, tailbone slipping against the silk sheets as he bore down on Vasquez’s mouth, demanding more as the older man’s tongue flickered inside of his pussy.

Finally he snapped, his spine arching up despite the fullness in his stomach as he came, gushing down against Vasquez’s mouth. He clenched his fingers harder into the sheets, a breathy moan warbling from his lips as he rutted the brunt of his orgasm against the other man’s tongue.

Rhys panted, his body relaxing back against the bed as pleasure sunk into his body. His legs laid open and slack, barely able to move as Vasquez lifts his head up from between his thighs.

The coarse threads of Vasquez’s beard glistened, evidence of how deep he’d buried himself within Rhys’ folds. The younger man shivered, averting his eyes as his more conscious mind returned, and with it—embarrassment at what they’d just done, and how easily he’d gotten off on it.

“Not….not a word, okay…?” Rhys whispered hoarsely, flopping his hand over his forehead. He heard Vasquez chuckle, hand patting against his flushed thigh.

“Don’t worry.” Vasquez smirked up at his flustered nemesis. “As long as you admit to everyone that my food is good, my lips are sealed.”