Hear the Morning Lark

He wakes with the morning lark.

Not by choice, mind you. This is a condition inherent to one who walks the theater. As such, Oberon finds some petty vindication in keeping his eyes closed, stealing some rare moments of rest from the world that sleep won’t offer him.

The task would be much easier if his bedmates didn’t also wake at ungoldly hours of the morning. Urgh. Useless goody-too-shoes. They won’t let him sleep, they won’t let themselves sleep, what even is the point.

He feels the bed shift, followed by the unfortunately familiar sound of lips against skin. Aaand now the two little heroes are acting like lovebirds. How cliché. He can’t see them, as he’s turning their back on them, but he can imagine the scene so easily: Ritsuka turning to cuddle Artoria, Artoria giggling with a really stupid smile on her face, the two of them trading lazy kisses under the morning light. Disgusting, he’s telling you. The very thought makes his skin crawl-

“Ah!”

Oberon’s eyes snap right open.

“Shh.” Artoria’s voice is barely a whisper. “Oberon’s sleeping.”

They’re not- they-

Ritsuka’s breathing audibly stutters.

They’re fucking. They’re fucking in their shared bed. Right next to Oberon.

“Good pup.”

What is she doing? Is she jerking them off? Artoria is stupidly vocal during sex- she wouldn’t be this quiet if she was on the receiving end of anything. Is she squeezing their cock between her thighs?

He hears the crinkle of cloth rubbing against each other, followed by a quiet, muffled groan.

She’s grinding her ass against them. He’s sure of it. He wants so, so badly to look. He should call them out on this, just turn and yell at them for having sex right next to him like depraved perverts.

He does not move.

The rustling gets faster, more frantic. Oberon is certain Ritsuka has something against their mouth. What is it? Their hand? Artoria’s hand? Are they biting down on her?  

Suddenly, they let out a long, drawn-out breath, and the sounds stop completely.

Heh. Fast shooter.

Artoria says something he cannot hear, and they reply with a grunt. He hears a couple more of those sickeningly sweet kisses, then the bed shifts, and he hears Ritsuka get out of the room completely. Good. Oberon wants no one near him right now. They should all buzz off and-

“So? Did you enjoy that?”

Fast as a weasel and just as devious, Artoria rolls to grab his shoulder and force him on his back, then climb to straddle his laps.

“What the hell.” He growls at her. “Fucking one guy early morning isn’t enough, you need two to be satisfied? What are you, a whore?”

“Be thankful I’m not, you couldn’t afford me.” His reply is abruptly cut off by her grinding down on him. “You talk a lot for someone who is that hard. Enjoyed the show that much?”

As if she hadn’t exactly intended for him to be in the audience. Her underwear is soaked. She’s radiating warmth. “You’re getting cocky for someone so desperate to get fucked.” He hooks his fingers on the waistband of her boxers, pulling down.

She leans forward such that her forehead touches his. One of her hands trail up his chest; the second one pulls out his cock. She kisses him deeply, teeth and lips and teeth and tongue and teeth and teeth, as it is customary between the two of them- for the only truth that can be found for the two of them is at the crossroad of affection and violence.

When they part, she presses her lips against his ear, lines up her cunt with his cock, and whispers: “Cum mad about it.”

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