( As it turns out, coming back from the dead is annoyingly difficult. Sure, the set up, the roll of the dice, the final performance, all played to perfection -- he just hadn't considered all the work that reversing the process would take. After all, he wasn't supposed to do that at all, there'd been no accounting for it, no grand plan for it.
But he'd bet on his survival, there in front of IX, and he's always been lucky.
Getting to Ratio's current place of residence wasn't easy, either -- and only partly because the other man had carefully kept that particular detail away from him during their partnership. But he needs someplace to go, and there's no one else who'd even open the door to him these days. Or who might remember him from all those months ago. So Doctor Veritas Ratio it is, Aeons help him, and he realizes too late that maybe he's misjudged the other man when there's no response to his knock.
Damn it. Better hope he's being watched somehow. )
Well. ( He says, a hand on a popped hip as if it hasn't been months since they've seen each other, running a hand through his (ugh) slightly unkempt hair in an attempt to look as collected and coquettish as he used to. The illusion is ruined both by the fact his clothes are faded, the bright colors leeched from the fabric by the Nihility and the Dreampool and by the fact he just doesn't feel like being that person anymore.
(He hasn't told the IPC that he's survived. He'd been careful to avoid their ever-present eyes as he'd moved in and out of planets, stations, whatever ship he could get passage on, and he intends to keep it that way. Whoever he is now -- and he still hasn't decided on that either -- he wants to do it away from their chains. Ratio probably won't call up Jade the moment he sees him. He hopes, anyway, and his winning streak lately has been just as good as ever.) ) Not going to invite me in?
[ Ratio did not know what to think, after it had all unfolded.
Not just because it was not necessarily predictable - which is something he finds tedious at the best of times, in the search for knowledge and discovery the known is as comfortable as the unknown, a process that settles him - but also because he had been part of it all. He had played a role for Aventurine, had allowed his methodical acting 'chops', as it were, to come into play, and then had been left in the dark.
Metaphorically and literally.
He had heard nothing from the IPC, nothing from the Genius Society, nothing from the Astral Express, and that was enough to solidify his conclusions: Aventurine was gone, and there would be no sign of him in the future. Had he not said to him to try not to die? Had he not given him some means to find strength, despite what he planned? Ratio had been there to see his announcement across Penacony. He had borne witness to the downfall.
(He had ached).
Lost in his work, writing scathing comments across essays and papers, scowling in the dark of the fading daylight, forgetting to turn on a lamp, he almost believes himself to be imagining the knock on his door. There are few people who would dare to bother him, the mood he has been in the last few months, and so he ignores it - until it comes again.
Huffing, irritation colouring his face, he comes to the door and opens it with a snap. ]
It is custom to call before arriving at someone's door -
[ But, of course, this man has never followed custom. He has never done what is expected.
Ratio pauses, blinks, and stares, and then his expression tightens. ]
- even moreso when it has been some time since their last visit.
( He thought he'd be ready for this. Turns out that he'd misjudged himself (again, and that really is a problem he'll have to think over later) and the sight of the man who'd been so integral to his plotting but also seemed to genuinely care about whether or not he made it out at the end has all his practiced words, his usual quick lines, falling away and feeling like ash in his mouth.
Aventurine was always good with words. That he'd mostly used them for lying and getting whatever the IPC wanted was just being good at his job, a way to crawl out of the lowest of the rank and file to the glamorous Stoneheart he was. No one wanted honesty from the man who was still owned, no matter what trappings he hung on himself.
Except--
He decides not to think about that, and instead refocuses on the matter at hand, the way his expression changes ever so slightly. )
Some reunions are better to do in person, don't you think?
( What would he have said, anyway? 'Hey, Ratio, thanks for telling me to keep on living and good luck -- which you don't believe in, by the way -- so that really meant something coming from you and I've thought about it every day since coming back'? He'd hardly blame the other man for shutting the door in his face after that. And after coming this far, well.
There are some things even whatever remains of Aventurine can't handle.
So it's best to keep that door open, the man talking, and maybe he can figure out the right words eventually. )
[ There is no academic text or scientific experience that might have prepared him for this: the sudden arrival of someone he had believed long gone, the twisted idea of defeating "Death" somehow proven once again. Ratio had accepted the notion that Aventurine was not going to return, despite the precautions they had taken, and had thought to move on - to push himself to another level of study, to permit the urge to forget, to defeat the urge to mourn and shove it aside.
It is rare that Ratio fails: he had failed in that.
Standing in the doorway, Ratio can feel his expression twist even as he might not want it to, something akin to frustrated disappointment curling in his stomach. If he had been given some hint of an idea, the illusion of knowing, then perhaps... But he was not.
He was not given even a scrap of it.
The grip on the door tightens, and the grit of his teeth is obvious: if he had chalk to hand, it would be making a rather cruel mark in the middle of Aventurine's forehead right now. ]
You had best come inside.
[ Slipping to one side, he motions.
He probably doesn't want to be seen out here. Dangerous. ]
( His mouth can't quite form the words thank you, but there's a flash of gratefulness in his bright eyes, in the duck of his head as he slips past Ratio to finally be somewhere relatively safe. There's no IPC save for the man himself, no one from the Family looking to make a point. There's a tightness in his shoulders that relaxes; he rides out the motion by shrugging off his coat -- he'd taken a long enough glance at Ratio to know that it's only by the grace of some Aeon that he isn't knocked out cold from a particularly hard throw.
He must seem small in Ratio's spacious abode -- dwarfed by marble and large windows -- the image only helped by the weight he's lost by being dead for ages, waterlogged in the waking world and doing his best to say 'fuck you' to IX, Sunday, and the IPC in that strange beyond. Vulnerable. That's what he feels; it takes wrenching his mind out of every instinctual response not to simply slip back through the door and flee far enough away that even the great Doctor Ratio can't find him.
Not that he thinks the Doctor would spend much time looking for him.
There's little else to occupy himself with, in the silence that follows, so his eyes dart from the statues (and he'd been lectured on his vanity?) to the view to the impressive shelves of books. Anything that isn't looking at his host. )
Not a man for color in interior design, are we? I could teach you a thing or two -- or give you the names of people who could do it for you, considering your previous opinion of my sense of style.
( Even he wouldn't dare insinuate he's doing anything other than babbling at this point. But anything to push off the conversation they're bound to have until he can find himself on firmer ground, with some idea of how the chips will fall.
[ There had been a part of him that had wanted to turn him away, to shun him for the grief he had caused - the frustration, the hours of wondering, the distraction across the days of his absence. He should be more annoyed than he is, a burning anger inside of him, but the dominant emotion remains relief, a quiet joy that he knows something that he cares about - someone that he cares about - has come out of "death" somehow.
The door shuts behind Aventurine, and Ratio follows him into his home, welcoming him to the esteemed world of the Doctor himself. It feels strange, to have someone else inside there, to have another figure wandering around his realm, but he has no choice now.
He is too glad to see him.
Walking back over to his desk, he leans against it and allows his arms to cross over his body, frowning as he shakes his head. ]
You did not come here to critique my design choices. Did you come here with the intention of explaining, or do I have to force it out of you?
[ Unfortunately, Ratio is not inclined to give him that kind of leeway. ]
[When it comes to different matters in the IPC, sometimes a crossing of paths should be expected. The Intelligentsia Guild hardly works with the Strategic Investment Department unless asked, and in this case, well. It's an interesting conundrum, all things considered. A local planet's resources have suddenly flourished once again almost overnight- this wouldn't be so unusual in most cases, but this planet in particular has been essentially dead for over three hundred years.
It warrants investigation at the least, and a future investment should the supply prove to be consistent and profitable for the future. Unfortunately, the natives aren't exactly friendly with outsiders, let alone members of the IPC. It's taken quite a bit of bargaining to even let them dock in a city that won't outright throw them out at first sight.
Normally, Diamond would send Aventurine on something like this, but Diamond also knows that despite the Sigonian's incredible luck, this is still a tricky investment to pull off. Besides, the gambler is currently focusing on another task- so instead, the job gets handed down to a non-Stoneheart, a man by the name of Sunday.
Aventurine has spoken of Sunday offhandedly as "that one guy who keeps turning down Diamond's request to join the Stonehearts," a Halovian who doesn't seem to really fit in, in terms of other IPC members. While not a loner by any means, Sunday is still professional and cordial, and often the one sent to deal with the more... complicated investments the department has. Jade has even placed bets with Pearl sometimes to see if the man can wrangle any potential issues towards the IPC's favor.
And so upon receiving the job, a request for someone from the Intelligentsia Guild is made. One Dr. Veritas Ratio is sent as the representative to both meet Sunday as well as accompany him in this endeavor, the Halovian proving to be quick and efficient in providing information and queries if asked. Overall, the arrangement is rather painless and the trip is scheduled without any delays.
When the time comes for the two of them to meet, Sunday offers a cordial and polite hand over his chest, nodding his head in a greeting. Despite not being extremely social, Sunday would be remiss to not at least know of Ratio's feats and his genius, both of which will be greatly appreciated here. He shows a great amount of respect in his actions and words, taking the time to explain if needed, and people-watching when he's free.
Still, there is a moment during their travel where he turns back to Dr. Ratio, intrigue clear across his face.]
Before we arrive at the docks, might I ask for your thoughts on this entire matter? On this planet's sudden new turn of life, so to speak? [Said with no malice but a tinge of curiosity, as Sunday himself truly feels there's something going on that they aren't aware of just yet.
He might as well gauge to see where they both are in terms of expectations.]
That does not mean, of course, that he is bereft of the opportunity to work with other people: a side effect of the source of his funding is the requirement to go on travels, as it were, to use his expertise in a variety of ways, outside the classroom and inside investment instead. The chance to work with someone outside his usual gambling companion is not unwelcome; the scholars do say that familiarity breeds contempt, and having some measure of relief from his endless chattering might be something to ease his migraines.
The travel to the planet provides something of a scientific novelty, bursting back to life with some unknown phenomena. Ratio has some theories, of course, budding already without having stepped foot on the surface, but it will take thorough investigation for him to discover the concrete cause - he is not one to leave a job half-finished, and he intends to have a well-written, suitably in-depth assessment of it completed by the time they are due to leave their destination and return to their respective jobs.
Sunday is, at least, a suitable companion. He asks question where necessary, seeking knowledge, and that garners Ratio's approval more than anything else: he will always respect those who seek to ease their ignorance with new knowledge, and he has an instinctive urge to grade the other man on his answers and theories. He manages to bite his tongue, but it is a barely-there phenomenon for a man more accustomed to sticking his foot in his mouth, metaphorically, than anything else.
Tilting his head, he frowns as he gazes out towards the landscape in front of them, he considers the question. ]
I have some theories, but nothing that can be proven with any form of evidence just yet. [ Which is fine. That is what they are here for: to learn, to understand, to create concrete fact. ] Something such as this suggests the work of an outside force, but it has not caused destruction to echo in its wake. Instead, it is a bountiful reward, therefore I imagine it to be something a little more...
[To come across a Knight of Beauty usually means you've either found yourself in a terrible rut, or a bad case of luck. Whether this is because of the need to be saved from a hazardous situation or from the Knight himself, well................. it's hard to say. Especially considering how Idrila is dead and yet her Knights still remain- having lost most respect from others, one would think the group would all together just up and disappear eventually. Still, there are a valiant few who remain steadfast to the path of Beauty, even as it has faded now in obscurity compared to other paths.
Unfortunately for Ratio, Argenti is a man who ventures the cosmos often, and has come across the entire extravagance of the IPC. Sometimes this means he ends up saving some random IPC employee and delivers them back to the docks, which is what's happening now. A crowd has formed if only because Argenti tends to grab attention easily with how he is, either as dumbfounding people or nearly putting them into stitches of laughter. After all, a Knight of Beauty is a rare specimen indeed, considering only 11 of them remain.
Wherever the genius is right now, whatever he's doing, it's going to be incredibly hard to ignore the redhead- as he's ventured across the platform to see people and now has noticed Ratio.
Closing the distance between them is rather easy, and Argenti speaks with delight in his eyes to this compete stranger.]
Oh? And to think I had seen everything before I took my leave. Truly, Idrila insists upon me coming across as much Beauty as possible. [To Ratio, Argenti puts one hand to his own back as the other crosses his chest in a sort of greeting.] You are as magnificent as a golden haze surrounding the dewdrops of morning, and it is an honor to meet yet another on this path that I walk.
[Please run. He isn't going to shut up otherwise.]
( Aventurine would never claim to be above his secondary gender -- being an Omega is just another tool for him to use, a weapon in his hands to be twisted into whatever he needs it to be. It's easy to watch Alphas make fools of themselves because they think they can pull on his instincts to manipulate him when he's hopped up on enough suppressants to lay them low. A twist of a hip, a flirtatious tilt of his head to make them think he's anything but repulsed by their sent, and it's all too easy. He's careful, he knows how to play the game, and -- in the rare occasions that biology comes calling -- gets himself the best heat partners money can buy.
(The kind that are paid for their silence, the kind where he never has to see them again, and never has to worry about contacting him after. Preferably far away from Pier Point as he can get, where he can give a fake name and pay in impossible to trace credits and no one is the wiser of who he is. He refuses to spend a heat with someone who would think to use him. Not before he uses them first, at the very least.)
Ratio, on the other hand -- there's a man who thinks he can beat biology through sheer force of will. And as far as Aventurine has seen in their partnership, he's succeeded. The man never gives off any sign he's susceptible to Aventurine's sent, which is rare enough, and he's never given any sign about going into rut. That probably can't be healthy, but it's not particularly his business. They work well together, or better than anyone at the IPC has worked with him, and -- luckily for Aventurine -- he even finds Ratio's scent to be pleasant rather than off-putting. Chalk, ink, parchment of all things -- and something else pleasantly refreshing green underneath it all.
So he does what any reasonable person would do when confronted with a missing colleague. He goes to Ratio's apartment and lets himself in, dumping his copy of Ratio's key the counter, shrugging off his jacket with a too-cheery greeting. )
Heya, Doc. It's not like you to be late, you know--
( And then it hits him, like he'd walked right into a wall. Ratio's scent curls around him, heavy and sharp. A smile creeps over Aventurine's face in spite of himself, eyes widening at the realization of what has kept the other man locked in his apartment. It looks as if the mighty professor-doctor Veritas Ratio isn't above his biology either. )
[ Ratio does not give any merit to the instincts of an alpha.
Secondary genders are a science that have been explored, of course, and with one of his doctorates being in medicine, he has done his fair share of study and research. He has investigated the biology of it, the nature of what makes an alpha rut and an omega go into heat, and has decided that, biologically, there is no real imperative to the loss of control. One simply needs to have a tighter reign of their own instincts, and everything will be without problem.
It is why, despite his long years of life, he has not really spent his rut with anyone, seeing fit to take care of it himself or suppress it with the appropriate scent blockers and medication. Were he to find someone with which he would choose to spend that time, he would not have it be a loss of control, but a choice that they made together as partners, nothing more, nothing less. That is the only reason to allow biology to take such a hold.
Of course, even Veritas Ratio can be subject to biology at one point or another.
The intention had been to meet Aventurine for a meal, but he wakes up feeling warm and flushed, the intensity of it burning through him. He attempted the use of medication, but it did not work, and the knowledge of it all comes to mind immediately: a suitable mate, the desire to breed, the promise of seeing that person with the natural cycle of his rut being so close by... His body had decided to take over, and thus he was trapped in a hell of his own making, burrowed away in his bed with his face pressed into a pillow, desperately wishing for that scene.
Spices, sandalwood, something that feels as familiar as old leather, a hint of something smokey...
Ratio is barely conscious enough to recognise that his door is opening, that there's a voice, not until he can smell Aventurine coming, and then he's going to slam his bedroom door shut before the other man can get there, hand gripping onto the handle and his snarl loud, dangerous - with an edge of something desperate, needy, filled with desire. ]
( As if Aventurine could leave after all that. It's enough to make him pull at his collar, fingers brushing up against just the right spot on his unblemished neck. Even the barest pressure, combined with that scent, with the doctor's voice heavy with need, has his legs wobbling with the promise of what he could have. He would be lying to say that he hasn't considered it -- who wouldn't? Oh, he's sure there's some people who'd have long given up due to the doctor's poor attitude, but Aventurine likes that as much as he likes how the man looks.
Now he just needs to convince Ratio to open that door. )
Well, you wouldn't, would you? ( He says, unconcerned as he strips off his jacket, hanging it over a chair and sliding out of his shoes. The longer he can stay, the longer his scent has time to work on the other man. ) The esteemed Doctor Veritas Ratio has never called for someone to come and help him with his rut. Though if I knew, I'd have stopped for some... supplies.
( He lets Ratio interpret that however he pleases, though Aventurine does mean food and bottled water. The usual things for anyone going through a rut or heat. )
Aventurine had been a temptation, but that doesn’t mean that this is something he is going to give in to, that he’ll just abandon all principles and morality because of a biological imperative that he has learned to ignore and control. He’s read the papers, seen the experimentation, he’s taken the medication and he’s found a way of maintaining his own harmony - hah - as well as keeping his body’s expectations minimal.
He does not intend for that to change now.
Gritting his teeth, he presses his forehead against the door, nails sinking into the wood. Fuck. But he wants to open it. Ratio has never scented anything that smells as good as Aventurine does, and the urge to grab him and shove his nose into his scent glands is too much. The teasing lilt of the other man’s voice does nothing to help him in that venture either.
Turning around, he covers his nose with his hand, as if the stale smell of his own rut might calm his need to knot. It doesn’t.
Fuck. ]
Go away, gambler. I’ve no need of your company today.
( It's almost too easy. Not that he would ever accuse Ratio of being easy, but the other man really sets a winning hand for Aventurine up nearly every time. A fact that works well in their partnership and poorly for the other man when it comes to finding Aventurine off. Which the other man should know well enough by now, and yet he keeps offering Aventurine inches for him to run a mile with.
At least in this case they both stand to benefit. )
Oh? You don't need an Omega? ( Aventurine pitches his voice lower as he toes his shoes off, making his way to the door. He can feel the other man's scent working on him, the way his body wants him to submit. He'll gladly do it for Ratio (And Aventurine isn't going to think about that fact, thank you, or else he'll have to admit that maybe his secondary biology has an edge over him in some rare occasions. Or that he trusts Ratio, and he's not sure which is worse at this point), but the other man has to earn it first -- what's a reward without a little bit of effort? ) But Doctor, you've got a willing one right here.
[ The scent of Aventurine through the door is agonisingly delicious, the urge to slam his fist through the wood and drag him close sickeningly overwhelming. Ratio has a tight reign on himself, on his self-control, on his own nature, and it stops him from doing anything quite so ridiculous, but he can't deny... The want. The desire. The way that he feels as if he doesn't get his arms around the omega and his teeth in his neck, his life simply won't be worth living any more.
Pressing his forehead to the door, he whines softly, nails scraping down. ]
This is - not something you ought to do. You are being blinded by your biology, by a base desire that you are gambling upon, as usual.
[ He groans, cock hard between his legs, twitching with his want and desire. ]
( How they got here is unimportant -- another planet, another mission, and, honestly, by Aventurine's standards -- without serious threat to his life and limbs. Ratio, he knows, would likely argue with him about it considering he'd been doused with something that had thrown him into pre-heat before he'd been hauled out in front of a crowd, but Aventurine was already planning on banking on his status as an Omega to get what he wanted. He'd even found a dress for the occasion, something sleek and synched at the waist for maximum impact -- and he'd bought Ratio one, too, though that was more in the style of his home planet rather than something made for titillation, because Aventurine does have a sense of style, thank you. Well, titillation for the strangers who don't know him beyond strong arms and to-die-for pictorials. Absolutely titillation for Aventurine, who thinks the sexiest thing Ratio can do is absolutely eviscerate strangers for not living up to his standards.
He's a simple man, and a simple Omega. But not one to be underestimated, considering the way things had fallen into his hands, into the IPC's pockets, exactly how he'd wanted. A job well done, perfect for his return to the Stonehearts and proving once again what they want him for -- he's irreplaceable.
Which only leaves him with the pressing issue of his now-heat and the man he spends them with -- who did end up wearing the dress after all, and Aventurine can't help but slide his hands into the cutouts, fingers running over skin and digging into Ratio's flesh to pull him close as Aventurine nuzzles at his neck, his own sent sweet and wanting. They're, luckily, in the private quarters on the IPC ship he'd hired to take him to the planet; plenty of space and plenty of time between them and Pier Point. Long enough for them to work through the worst of Aventurine's heat, at any rate. )
I almost want you to keep this on, ( He says, fingers traveling from bare skin to gold ornaments, pressing kisses on the parts of Ratio's chest that are exposed. ) but then it'd only get in the way. And we can't have that now, can we?
[ Ratio can't explain why he is so willing to put on the outfit bought for him, why he let it happen, considering how awkward he is about things in general. He's not the kind of man to do things for the sake of it, but there's certainly something to be said about the fact that Aventurine has the uncanny ability to get him to do almost anything he wants. With the outfit on, and the man looking at him, he feels... Something.
A stirring inside himself that he hopes to blame entirely on Aventurine's oncoming heat. It's not a coincidence, he's sure, that the two are twinned together.
Together in privacy, wrapped around one another, Ratio has his nose in Aventurine's neck, nuzzling there and scraping his teeth idly, pleased and feeling a thrum of desire. It's not quite enough to drag him into a rut just yet, but after their first time, the two of them have aligned fairly well. It might not take much, especially with how much he wants this man.
Groaning, he leans in to kiss him, a slide of their mouths, messy and needy as his control slips a little from how good Aventurine smells. ]
Then take it off. There's - [ He hisses a noise as he rocks forward. ] - there's a good reason for your indulgence today. Do it.
yeah it's true, we're just filthy perverts i understand
( Every time Aventurine can get Ratio's composure to slip, to see behind the mask, he falls even more in-- he's infatuated more with the other man. It's only fair, Aventurine thinks, given that the other man has... not demanded, no, but expected Aventurine to slowly peel away his own if this was going to continue. And after Penacony, there's really nothing left to hide -- it's all out there, ugly and raw and still Ratio is kissing him like there is nothing in the universe he wants more.
It has to be doing something to him, the way his scent curls around Ratio's -- as if this is the right one, as if they were made to intertwine. Best not to give that much thought. So instead he focuses on kissing down from Ratio's lips, across his jaw, over his own scent glands -- revenge for the way Aventurine shakes and sighs with every press of Ratio's teeth and lips and tongue on his own.
He laughs, then, with the press of Ratio's hips against his, brushing up against his already hard cock. It ruins the fall of the dress, and he could have tucked if he had wanted to, but that's not the point, is it? The laugh melds into a whine, his hands coming up to undo the clasps at Ratio's shoulders before he lets the fabric fall away from Ratio's chest, leaving it to bunch up around his waist for the moment.
Goddess, there really isn't a man like Veritas Ratio. Aventurine pulls away just enough to kiss his collarbone, nipping here and there as his hands skim across his pecs, down his sides, thumbs digging into the soft skin. )
If you're fond of it, I'll buy you five more like it when we get back. ( Said against Ratio's skin, lips curving up into a smile. ) And something to show off your calves, maybe.
[ Ratio tilts his head immediately, baring his neck to the other man, permitting it - it's alarming, how much he enjoys having teeth on his skin right there, in a spot so intimate and daring. No one else has ever touched him there, not with how he keeps people at a distance, and he feels the curl of desire push through him as if it's a solid, real flame. He wants, and he yearns, and he shivers with it, desperate for more and more.
Let Aventurine be the one in charge for a moment. Ratio might well be an Alpha, but he has never been the type to sink into the desperation that is dominance; he would rather share pleasure than demand it, even if it makes his eyes roll and his cheeks flush a bright red.
It's embarrassing, how much he wants this. Wants him. ]
You will not be buying me anything. I have enough funds of my own for whatever purchases I might want. [ Though if there's something a particular Aventurine wants, well, he cannot blame him for going out of his way to get it. He'd do the same, if he saw something particularly novel.
He did. That's why he's wearing what he is under the dress, his throat a little try as he leans closer. ]
( But he'll never say no to Ratio. Which is dangerous on its own, but Aventurine is aware that he would never demand anything that he did not feel Aventurine was capable of giving. And it would never be a demand, either, but a suggestion -- an option. However sternly given there is always the option to say no.
Aventurine drags his tongue across a nipple before he pulls at the few remaining ties keeping the dress around Ratio's waist, and then promptly forgets to breathe for a moment. He recognizes that color, that lace -- he didn't think that Ratio would actually wear it, though he'd hoped-- )
Well then. ( He says on an exhale, can feel himself grow even harder and wetter at the sight of his cock pressed against the thin fabric of the barely there lingerie. Aeons-- ) For me, Ratio? You shouldn't have.
( Leaning in for a quick press of his lips against his, Aventurine drops to his knees without preamble, fingers tracing over the straps across Ratio's hips. Gorgeous, just as he knew it would be; there's a small whine in his throat that he lets out, breath hot and damp against the fabric. )
Aventurine doesn't need to do anything to improve his grades in any of his classes -- it's always just good luck that the tests and essays and whatever else the professors give always ask about things Aventurine knows about. University is, unfortunately, not particularly a challenge no matter what classes he takes to see if he can find the one that finally breaks his streak.
Even Doctor Veritas Ratio has to concede the point, right? Aventurine is sure he's nothing but a headache for the professor, given that Ratio knows damn well Aventurine is putting in the bare minimum and still coming out with As that defy any rational explanation. Which is why Aventurine is here, standing in front of his desk in a lecture hall, facing down the man himself. Or, well, the plaster bust of the man himself.
What Aventurine wants is very simple: he wants to see what the professor looks like under that bust. He wants to be bent over the desk by a man who has no right to look as jacked as Ratio does. He's put on just the right moves, he's flirted, he's showed up to office hours and been summarily thrown out. The man can't be as dense as this to not know what Aventurine wants -- not a passing grade, but to see if the man's cock is a big as he figures it should be.
So he takes the gamble, rolls the dice with one hand clenched tightly behind his back -- hops onto the corner of the desk and swings his legs around to face Ratio, grinning. )
Are you really going to accuse me of cheating in your class, Prof? I've been such a good student for you, and this is my reward?
He is a smart man, has been a smart man for as long as he remembers having the ability to think, and he is not immune to the threat of flirtation and the offers that come hand in hand with it. Aventurine comes to his office and leans over, flicks his pretty eyes around, gives him a curve of a smile and a tease of something that would be enough to break a weaker man, but Ratio remains strong. He has morals that he holds himself to, and fucking one of his students is not one of those, never will be.
Deliberately ignoring the flirtation and offers seems to be failing him, which makes Ratio a little more irritated - partly because he doesn't want to give into this, and partly because he does, wanting nothing more than to grip the man by his hair and thrust him to the ground, to make him pay back the hours of frustration he has caused Ratio to feel himself.
Resisting the urge to sigh, to scold, Ratio turns his head, frowning as he glares at the other man from below his bust. He thinks that Aventurine can feel it all the same - many of his students do. ]
It is a matter of academic conduct, so yes. I have seen your study habits, Aventurine, and there's no other explanation for your success in this class.
( He can, and were he anyone else he might find himself intimidated by the sharpness of his glare. But Aventurine finds it intoxicating, to have the attention of a man so renowned, so intelligent, focused on him. If he deigned to do some self reflection, he knows it's likely because there's a lack of authority figures in his life, and most of the terrible things that have happened to him have been at the hands of people who hardly spare him a passing thought. So to have Doctor Veritas Ratio's gaze, however unenthusiastic, is worth every second of trouble it took him to get here.
There's nothing he can lose. Oh, perhaps Ratio would throw him out of the class, fail him, report him to the university, but he bets the other man would see it as a waste of intelligence from a man he views as infuriating but intelligent. )
Maybe I'm just lucky. How about this: you ask me anything you want about the class, and if I answer all of them correctly, you admit that I'm not cheating. If I get any of them wrong, you can tank my grade, throw me out of your class, whatever you want. But if I get them all right, well. You'll do just one thing I ask you to, and nothing more.
[ Ratio does not wish to take the bargain, but he does all the same, because he longs to prove a point as much as he wishes to get Aventurine out of his office before they make some kind of mistake. He is a professor, educated and well seasoned in his time, and the notion of risking it all for a simple fuck... That is not the kind of man he is.
The issue then becomes this: Aventurine answers every single one of his questions. Even the ones that some of his highest grading students struggle with are given without any pause or hesitation, and it enrages him as much as it impresses him - and he is certain that there is no cheating, no book or glasses or technology to betray them.
Expression tight, he watches the man in front of him with a prickle of frustration. ]
( He truly is the world’s luckiest little bastard. Aventurine leans forward, a sly grin spreading over his face. This is what he lives for, the rush that comes with the unknown and the thrill of the win before it fades back into nothing, an emptiness that can’t be filled.
What he wants is simple. Easy. It won’t even count if the good Doctor doesn’t want it to. )
Let me kiss you. You can even keep that handsome bust of yours on, Prof, so you can write it all off if anyone asks. I came onto you, I made you. You didn’t even kiss back.
( Another gamble. See how well he sets it up for Ratio to not lose anything? Doesn’t that make the man want to give him this one thing? )
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But he'd bet on his survival, there in front of IX, and he's always been lucky.
Getting to Ratio's current place of residence wasn't easy, either -- and only partly because the other man had carefully kept that particular detail away from him during their partnership. But he needs someplace to go, and there's no one else who'd even open the door to him these days. Or who might remember him from all those months ago. So Doctor Veritas Ratio it is, Aeons help him, and he realizes too late that maybe he's misjudged the other man when there's no response to his knock.
Damn it. Better hope he's being watched somehow. )
Well. ( He says, a hand on a popped hip as if it hasn't been months since they've seen each other, running a hand through his (ugh) slightly unkempt hair in an attempt to look as collected and coquettish as he used to. The illusion is ruined both by the fact his clothes are faded, the bright colors leeched from the fabric by the Nihility and the Dreampool and by the fact he just doesn't feel like being that person anymore.
(He hasn't told the IPC that he's survived. He'd been careful to avoid their ever-present eyes as he'd moved in and out of planets, stations, whatever ship he could get passage on, and he intends to keep it that way. Whoever he is now -- and he still hasn't decided on that either -- he wants to do it away from their chains. Ratio probably won't call up Jade the moment he sees him. He hopes, anyway, and his winning streak lately has been just as good as ever.) ) Not going to invite me in?
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Not just because it was not necessarily predictable - which is something he finds tedious at the best of times, in the search for knowledge and discovery the known is as comfortable as the unknown, a process that settles him - but also because he had been part of it all. He had played a role for Aventurine, had allowed his methodical acting 'chops', as it were, to come into play, and then had been left in the dark.
Metaphorically and literally.
He had heard nothing from the IPC, nothing from the Genius Society, nothing from the Astral Express, and that was enough to solidify his conclusions: Aventurine was gone, and there would be no sign of him in the future. Had he not said to him to try not to die? Had he not given him some means to find strength, despite what he planned? Ratio had been there to see his announcement across Penacony. He had borne witness to the downfall.
(He had ached).
Lost in his work, writing scathing comments across essays and papers, scowling in the dark of the fading daylight, forgetting to turn on a lamp, he almost believes himself to be imagining the knock on his door. There are few people who would dare to bother him, the mood he has been in the last few months, and so he ignores it - until it comes again.
Huffing, irritation colouring his face, he comes to the door and opens it with a snap. ]
It is custom to call before arriving at someone's door -
[ But, of course, this man has never followed custom. He has never done what is expected.
Ratio pauses, blinks, and stares, and then his expression tightens. ]
- even moreso when it has been some time since their last visit.
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Aventurine was always good with words. That he'd mostly used them for lying and getting whatever the IPC wanted was just being good at his job, a way to crawl out of the lowest of the rank and file to the glamorous Stoneheart he was. No one wanted honesty from the man who was still owned, no matter what trappings he hung on himself.
Except--
He decides not to think about that, and instead refocuses on the matter at hand, the way his expression changes ever so slightly. )
Some reunions are better to do in person, don't you think?
( What would he have said, anyway? 'Hey, Ratio, thanks for telling me to keep on living and good luck -- which you don't believe in, by the way -- so that really meant something coming from you and I've thought about it every day since coming back'? He'd hardly blame the other man for shutting the door in his face after that. And after coming this far, well.
There are some things even whatever remains of Aventurine can't handle.
So it's best to keep that door open, the man talking, and maybe he can figure out the right words eventually. )
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It is rare that Ratio fails: he had failed in that.
Standing in the doorway, Ratio can feel his expression twist even as he might not want it to, something akin to frustrated disappointment curling in his stomach. If he had been given some hint of an idea, the illusion of knowing, then perhaps... But he was not.
He was not given even a scrap of it.
The grip on the door tightens, and the grit of his teeth is obvious: if he had chalk to hand, it would be making a rather cruel mark in the middle of Aventurine's forehead right now. ]
You had best come inside.
[ Slipping to one side, he motions.
He probably doesn't want to be seen out here. Dangerous. ]
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He must seem small in Ratio's spacious abode -- dwarfed by marble and large windows -- the image only helped by the weight he's lost by being dead for ages, waterlogged in the waking world and doing his best to say 'fuck you' to IX, Sunday, and the IPC in that strange beyond. Vulnerable. That's what he feels; it takes wrenching his mind out of every instinctual response not to simply slip back through the door and flee far enough away that even the great Doctor Ratio can't find him.
Not that he thinks the Doctor would spend much time looking for him.
There's little else to occupy himself with, in the silence that follows, so his eyes dart from the statues (and he'd been lectured on his vanity?) to the view to the impressive shelves of books. Anything that isn't looking at his host. )
Not a man for color in interior design, are we? I could teach you a thing or two -- or give you the names of people who could do it for you, considering your previous opinion of my sense of style.
( Even he wouldn't dare insinuate he's doing anything other than babbling at this point. But anything to push off the conversation they're bound to have until he can find himself on firmer ground, with some idea of how the chips will fall.
Old habits die hard, after all. )
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The door shuts behind Aventurine, and Ratio follows him into his home, welcoming him to the esteemed world of the Doctor himself. It feels strange, to have someone else inside there, to have another figure wandering around his realm, but he has no choice now.
He is too glad to see him.
Walking back over to his desk, he leans against it and allows his arms to cross over his body, frowning as he shakes his head. ]
You did not come here to critique my design choices. Did you come here with the intention of explaining, or do I have to force it out of you?
[ Unfortunately, Ratio is not inclined to give him that kind of leeway. ]
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gives u an IPC!Sunday AU in ur inbox
It warrants investigation at the least, and a future investment should the supply prove to be consistent and profitable for the future. Unfortunately, the natives aren't exactly friendly with outsiders, let alone members of the IPC. It's taken quite a bit of bargaining to even let them dock in a city that won't outright throw them out at first sight.
Normally, Diamond would send Aventurine on something like this, but Diamond also knows that despite the Sigonian's incredible luck, this is still a tricky investment to pull off. Besides, the gambler is currently focusing on another task- so instead, the job gets handed down to a non-Stoneheart, a man by the name of Sunday.
Aventurine has spoken of Sunday offhandedly as "that one guy who keeps turning down Diamond's request to join the Stonehearts," a Halovian who doesn't seem to really fit in, in terms of other IPC members. While not a loner by any means, Sunday is still professional and cordial, and often the one sent to deal with the more... complicated investments the department has. Jade has even placed bets with Pearl sometimes to see if the man can wrangle any potential issues towards the IPC's favor.
And so upon receiving the job, a request for someone from the Intelligentsia Guild is made. One Dr. Veritas Ratio is sent as the representative to both meet Sunday as well as accompany him in this endeavor, the Halovian proving to be quick and efficient in providing information and queries if asked. Overall, the arrangement is rather painless and the trip is scheduled without any delays.
When the time comes for the two of them to meet, Sunday offers a cordial and polite hand over his chest, nodding his head in a greeting. Despite not being extremely social, Sunday would be remiss to not at least know of Ratio's feats and his genius, both of which will be greatly appreciated here. He shows a great amount of respect in his actions and words, taking the time to explain if needed, and people-watching when he's free.
Still, there is a moment during their travel where he turns back to Dr. Ratio, intrigue clear across his face.]
Before we arrive at the docks, might I ask for your thoughts on this entire matter? On this planet's sudden new turn of life, so to speak? [Said with no malice but a tinge of curiosity, as Sunday himself truly feels there's something going on that they aren't aware of just yet.
He might as well gauge to see where they both are in terms of expectations.]
a gift for me!!
That does not mean, of course, that he is bereft of the opportunity to work with other people: a side effect of the source of his funding is the requirement to go on travels, as it were, to use his expertise in a variety of ways, outside the classroom and inside investment instead. The chance to work with someone outside his usual gambling companion is not unwelcome; the scholars do say that familiarity breeds contempt, and having some measure of relief from his endless chattering might be something to ease his migraines.
The travel to the planet provides something of a scientific novelty, bursting back to life with some unknown phenomena. Ratio has some theories, of course, budding already without having stepped foot on the surface, but it will take thorough investigation for him to discover the concrete cause - he is not one to leave a job half-finished, and he intends to have a well-written, suitably in-depth assessment of it completed by the time they are due to leave their destination and return to their respective jobs.
Sunday is, at least, a suitable companion. He asks question where necessary, seeking knowledge, and that garners Ratio's approval more than anything else: he will always respect those who seek to ease their ignorance with new knowledge, and he has an instinctive urge to grade the other man on his answers and theories. He manages to bite his tongue, but it is a barely-there phenomenon for a man more accustomed to sticking his foot in his mouth, metaphorically, than anything else.
Tilting his head, he frowns as he gazes out towards the landscape in front of them, he considers the question. ]
I have some theories, but nothing that can be proven with any form of evidence just yet. [ Which is fine. That is what they are here for: to learn, to understand, to create concrete fact. ] Something such as this suggests the work of an outside force, but it has not caused destruction to echo in its wake. Instead, it is a bountiful reward, therefore I imagine it to be something a little more...
[ What is the word? His nose wrinkles. ]
Benevolent, if it must be said.
sends you this idiot also ig
Unfortunately for Ratio, Argenti is a man who ventures the cosmos often, and has come across the entire extravagance of the IPC. Sometimes this means he ends up saving some random IPC employee and delivers them back to the docks, which is what's happening now. A crowd has formed if only because Argenti tends to grab attention easily with how he is, either as dumbfounding people or nearly putting them into stitches of laughter. After all, a Knight of Beauty is a rare specimen indeed, considering only 11 of them remain.
Wherever the genius is right now, whatever he's doing, it's going to be incredibly hard to ignore the redhead- as he's ventured across the platform to see people and now has noticed Ratio.
Closing the distance between them is rather easy, and Argenti speaks with delight in his eyes to this compete stranger.]
Oh? And to think I had seen everything before I took my leave. Truly, Idrila insists upon me coming across as much Beauty as possible. [To Ratio, Argenti puts one hand to his own back as the other crosses his chest in a sort of greeting.] You are as magnificent as a golden haze surrounding the dewdrops of morning, and it is an honor to meet yet another on this path that I walk.
[Please run. He isn't going to shut up otherwise.]
omegaverse b/c we know who we are as people
(The kind that are paid for their silence, the kind where he never has to see them again, and never has to worry about contacting him after. Preferably far away from Pier Point as he can get, where he can give a fake name and pay in impossible to trace credits and no one is the wiser of who he is. He refuses to spend a heat with someone who would think to use him. Not before he uses them first, at the very least.)
Ratio, on the other hand -- there's a man who thinks he can beat biology through sheer force of will. And as far as Aventurine has seen in their partnership, he's succeeded. The man never gives off any sign he's susceptible to Aventurine's sent, which is rare enough, and he's never given any sign about going into rut. That probably can't be healthy, but it's not particularly his business. They work well together, or better than anyone at the IPC has worked with him, and -- luckily for Aventurine -- he even finds Ratio's scent to be pleasant rather than off-putting. Chalk, ink, parchment of all things -- and something else pleasantly refreshing green underneath it all.
All of which is to say that when Ratio doesn't show up at their scheduled meeting at a café without even a message to say he'll be late or got caught up in work, has Aventurine morbidly curious about what illness has struck the good doctor. A quick call to his University reveals that he'd called in with little explanation and no one had managed to get ahold of him since that morning. Huh.
So he does what any reasonable person would do when confronted with a missing colleague. He goes to Ratio's apartment and lets himself in, dumping his copy of Ratio's key the counter, shrugging off his jacket with a too-cheery greeting. )
Heya, Doc. It's not like you to be late, you know--
( And then it hits him, like he'd walked right into a wall. Ratio's scent curls around him, heavy and sharp. A smile creeps over Aventurine's face in spite of himself, eyes widening at the realization of what has kept the other man locked in his apartment. It looks as if the mighty professor-doctor Veritas Ratio isn't above his biology either. )
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Secondary genders are a science that have been explored, of course, and with one of his doctorates being in medicine, he has done his fair share of study and research. He has investigated the biology of it, the nature of what makes an alpha rut and an omega go into heat, and has decided that, biologically, there is no real imperative to the loss of control. One simply needs to have a tighter reign of their own instincts, and everything will be without problem.
It is why, despite his long years of life, he has not really spent his rut with anyone, seeing fit to take care of it himself or suppress it with the appropriate scent blockers and medication. Were he to find someone with which he would choose to spend that time, he would not have it be a loss of control, but a choice that they made together as partners, nothing more, nothing less. That is the only reason to allow biology to take such a hold.
Of course, even Veritas Ratio can be subject to biology at one point or another.
The intention had been to meet Aventurine for a meal, but he wakes up feeling warm and flushed, the intensity of it burning through him. He attempted the use of medication, but it did not work, and the knowledge of it all comes to mind immediately: a suitable mate, the desire to breed, the promise of seeing that person with the natural cycle of his rut being so close by... His body had decided to take over, and thus he was trapped in a hell of his own making, burrowed away in his bed with his face pressed into a pillow, desperately wishing for that scene.
Spices, sandalwood, something that feels as familiar as old leather, a hint of something smokey...
Ratio is barely conscious enough to recognise that his door is opening, that there's a voice, not until he can smell Aventurine coming, and then he's going to slam his bedroom door shut before the other man can get there, hand gripping onto the handle and his snarl loud, dangerous - with an edge of something desperate, needy, filled with desire. ]
Leave. I did not ask you to come!
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Now he just needs to convince Ratio to open that door. )
Well, you wouldn't, would you? ( He says, unconcerned as he strips off his jacket, hanging it over a chair and sliding out of his shoes. The longer he can stay, the longer his scent has time to work on the other man. ) The esteemed Doctor Veritas Ratio has never called for someone to come and help him with his rut. Though if I knew, I'd have stopped for some... supplies.
( He lets Ratio interpret that however he pleases, though Aventurine does mean food and bottled water. The usual things for anyone going through a rut or heat. )
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[ This is the last thing he wanted.
Aventurine had been a temptation, but that doesn’t mean that this is something he is going to give in to, that he’ll just abandon all principles and morality because of a biological imperative that he has learned to ignore and control. He’s read the papers, seen the experimentation, he’s taken the medication and he’s found a way of maintaining his own harmony - hah - as well as keeping his body’s expectations minimal.
He does not intend for that to change now.
Gritting his teeth, he presses his forehead against the door, nails sinking into the wood. Fuck. But he wants to open it. Ratio has never scented anything that smells as good as Aventurine does, and the urge to grab him and shove his nose into his scent glands is too much. The teasing lilt of the other man’s voice does nothing to help him in that venture either.
Turning around, he covers his nose with his hand, as if the stale smell of his own rut might calm his need to knot. It doesn’t.
Fuck. ]
Go away, gambler. I’ve no need of your company today.
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At least in this case they both stand to benefit. )
Oh? You don't need an Omega? ( Aventurine pitches his voice lower as he toes his shoes off, making his way to the door. He can feel the other man's scent working on him, the way his body wants him to submit. He'll gladly do it for Ratio (And Aventurine isn't going to think about that fact, thank you, or else he'll have to admit that maybe his secondary biology has an edge over him in some rare occasions. Or that he trusts Ratio, and he's not sure which is worse at this point), but the other man has to earn it first -- what's a reward without a little bit of effort? ) But Doctor, you've got a willing one right here.
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Pressing his forehead to the door, he whines softly, nails scraping down. ]
This is - not something you ought to do. You are being blinded by your biology, by a base desire that you are gambling upon, as usual.
[ He groans, cock hard between his legs, twitching with his want and desire. ]
Aventurine... I cannot hold out.
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im here for breeding and crossdressing and--
He's a simple man, and a simple Omega. But not one to be underestimated, considering the way things had fallen into his hands, into the IPC's pockets, exactly how he'd wanted. A job well done, perfect for his return to the Stonehearts and proving once again what they want him for -- he's irreplaceable.
Which only leaves him with the pressing issue of his now-heat and the man he spends them with -- who did end up wearing the dress after all, and Aventurine can't help but slide his hands into the cutouts, fingers running over skin and digging into Ratio's flesh to pull him close as Aventurine nuzzles at his neck, his own sent sweet and wanting. They're, luckily, in the private quarters on the IPC ship he'd hired to take him to the planet; plenty of space and plenty of time between them and Pier Point. Long enough for them to work through the worst of Aventurine's heat, at any rate. )
I almost want you to keep this on, ( He says, fingers traveling from bare skin to gold ornaments, pressing kisses on the parts of Ratio's chest that are exposed. ) but then it'd only get in the way. And we can't have that now, can we?
indulgence tbh
A stirring inside himself that he hopes to blame entirely on Aventurine's oncoming heat. It's not a coincidence, he's sure, that the two are twinned together.
Together in privacy, wrapped around one another, Ratio has his nose in Aventurine's neck, nuzzling there and scraping his teeth idly, pleased and feeling a thrum of desire. It's not quite enough to drag him into a rut just yet, but after their first time, the two of them have aligned fairly well. It might not take much, especially with how much he wants this man.
Groaning, he leans in to kiss him, a slide of their mouths, messy and needy as his control slips a little from how good Aventurine smells. ]
Then take it off. There's - [ He hisses a noise as he rocks forward. ] - there's a good reason for your indulgence today. Do it.
yeah it's true, we're just filthy perverts i understand
It has to be doing something to him, the way his scent curls around Ratio's -- as if this is the right one, as if they were made to intertwine. Best not to give that much thought. So instead he focuses on kissing down from Ratio's lips, across his jaw, over his own scent glands -- revenge for the way Aventurine shakes and sighs with every press of Ratio's teeth and lips and tongue on his own.
He laughs, then, with the press of Ratio's hips against his, brushing up against his already hard cock. It ruins the fall of the dress, and he could have tucked if he had wanted to, but that's not the point, is it? The laugh melds into a whine, his hands coming up to undo the clasps at Ratio's shoulders before he lets the fabric fall away from Ratio's chest, leaving it to bunch up around his waist for the moment.
Goddess, there really isn't a man like Veritas Ratio. Aventurine pulls away just enough to kiss his collarbone, nipping here and there as his hands skim across his pecs, down his sides, thumbs digging into the soft skin. )
If you're fond of it, I'll buy you five more like it when we get back. ( Said against Ratio's skin, lips curving up into a smile. ) And something to show off your calves, maybe.
it is what it is
Let Aventurine be the one in charge for a moment. Ratio might well be an Alpha, but he has never been the type to sink into the desperation that is dominance; he would rather share pleasure than demand it, even if it makes his eyes roll and his cheeks flush a bright red.
It's embarrassing, how much he wants this. Wants him. ]
You will not be buying me anything. I have enough funds of my own for whatever purchases I might want. [ Though if there's something a particular Aventurine wants, well, he cannot blame him for going out of his way to get it. He'd do the same, if he saw something particularly novel.
He did. That's why he's wearing what he is under the dress, his throat a little try as he leans closer. ]
You're not done. Take it off, Aventurine.
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( But he'll never say no to Ratio. Which is dangerous on its own, but Aventurine is aware that he would never demand anything that he did not feel Aventurine was capable of giving. And it would never be a demand, either, but a suggestion -- an option. However sternly given there is always the option to say no.
Aventurine drags his tongue across a nipple before he pulls at the few remaining ties keeping the dress around Ratio's waist, and then promptly forgets to breathe for a moment. He recognizes that color, that lace -- he didn't think that Ratio would actually wear it, though he'd hoped-- )
Well then. ( He says on an exhale, can feel himself grow even harder and wetter at the sight of his cock pressed against the thin fabric of the barely there lingerie. Aeons-- ) For me, Ratio? You shouldn't have.
( Leaning in for a quick press of his lips against his, Aventurine drops to his knees without preamble, fingers tracing over the straps across Ratio's hips. Gorgeous, just as he knew it would be; there's a small whine in his throat that he lets out, breath hot and damp against the fabric. )
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filthy trash, again.
Aventurine doesn't need to do anything to improve his grades in any of his classes -- it's always just good luck that the tests and essays and whatever else the professors give always ask about things Aventurine knows about. University is, unfortunately, not particularly a challenge no matter what classes he takes to see if he can find the one that finally breaks his streak.
Even Doctor Veritas Ratio has to concede the point, right? Aventurine is sure he's nothing but a headache for the professor, given that Ratio knows damn well Aventurine is putting in the bare minimum and still coming out with As that defy any rational explanation. Which is why Aventurine is here, standing in front of his desk in a lecture hall, facing down the man himself. Or, well, the plaster bust of the man himself.
What Aventurine wants is very simple: he wants to see what the professor looks like under that bust. He wants to be bent over the desk by a man who has no right to look as jacked as Ratio does. He's put on just the right moves, he's flirted, he's showed up to office hours and been summarily thrown out. The man can't be as dense as this to not know what Aventurine wants -- not a passing grade, but to see if the man's cock is a big as he figures it should be.
So he takes the gamble, rolls the dice with one hand clenched tightly behind his back -- hops onto the corner of the desk and swings his legs around to face Ratio, grinning. )
Are you really going to accuse me of cheating in your class, Prof? I've been such a good student for you, and this is my reward?
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Ratio knows what Aventurine wants.
He is a smart man, has been a smart man for as long as he remembers having the ability to think, and he is not immune to the threat of flirtation and the offers that come hand in hand with it. Aventurine comes to his office and leans over, flicks his pretty eyes around, gives him a curve of a smile and a tease of something that would be enough to break a weaker man, but Ratio remains strong. He has morals that he holds himself to, and fucking one of his students is not one of those, never will be.
Deliberately ignoring the flirtation and offers seems to be failing him, which makes Ratio a little more irritated - partly because he doesn't want to give into this, and partly because he does, wanting nothing more than to grip the man by his hair and thrust him to the ground, to make him pay back the hours of frustration he has caused Ratio to feel himself.
Resisting the urge to sigh, to scold, Ratio turns his head, frowning as he glares at the other man from below his bust. He thinks that Aventurine can feel it all the same - many of his students do. ]
It is a matter of academic conduct, so yes. I have seen your study habits, Aventurine, and there's no other explanation for your success in this class.
[ Because no one passes this well. No one. ]
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There's nothing he can lose. Oh, perhaps Ratio would throw him out of the class, fail him, report him to the university, but he bets the other man would see it as a waste of intelligence from a man he views as infuriating but intelligent. )
Maybe I'm just lucky. How about this: you ask me anything you want about the class, and if I answer all of them correctly, you admit that I'm not cheating. If I get any of them wrong, you can tank my grade, throw me out of your class, whatever you want. But if I get them all right, well. You'll do just one thing I ask you to, and nothing more.
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The issue then becomes this: Aventurine answers every single one of his questions. Even the ones that some of his highest grading students struggle with are given without any pause or hesitation, and it enrages him as much as it impresses him - and he is certain that there is no cheating, no book or glasses or technology to betray them.
Expression tight, he watches the man in front of him with a prickle of frustration. ]
You... Were successful.
[ Said grudgingly, and he sighs, sour. ]
What is your one request, then?
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What he wants is simple. Easy. It won’t even count if the good Doctor doesn’t want it to. )
Let me kiss you. You can even keep that handsome bust of yours on, Prof, so you can write it all off if anyone asks. I came onto you, I made you. You didn’t even kiss back.
( Another gamble. See how well he sets it up for Ratio to not lose anything? Doesn’t that make the man want to give him this one thing? )
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