I'll Show You What I Can Really Do

Anxsleep (Virgil x Remy)
Prompt: Myrequest is . Remy watchinf virgil work out but he cantstop flirting w him / staring @ his muscles & sayinf stupid shit like "I bet u can carry me with those :proudtt: " so virgil decides 2 showhim what he can rlly do withhis arms (fucks him hard while manhandling him or something . Or propping him up aahjnst a wall . Idk u can get creative with that part) uhm . Yea:perfectangel: also obvi top virgil & bottom remy . Maybe a bit of overstim like virgil rlly showsremy what he can do
Warnings: sweat, sex, overstimulation
A request from my Tumblr

"I didn't expect you to actually have muscle under those clothes," Remy comments, before loudly sipping the remnants of that morning's coffee up through a straw. The cheap, plastic cup was visibly empty, but Remy strived to make as much noise as possible while stirring his straw through the half-melted ice. His sunglasses are partially down the bridge of his nose, but he quickly takes them off fully, folds the legs, and tucks them into the collar of his shirt. "The way you dress would imply you're nothing but a beanpole."

Virgil nearly drops the weights he's holding, and whips towards Remy with a half-irritated, half-flustered expression. "Working out releases dopamine, or whatever," he mutters in reply. "It became a habit after Roman and Logan pushed me to try. The muscles were just a natural byproduct."

"Do you just do arm workouts? Or does your daily dose of building that body extend beneath your shirt, too."

The shorts and tee Virgil was wearing were abnormal compared to his usual wear, but they were both still loose. This revealed his muscular arms and calves, but still kept his core hidden. He was lean enough to look exactly as Remy described when fully donned in a thick hoodie and jeans, but without them Virgil was sure Remy could make an educated guess.

"What do you think?" comes Virgil's instinctive snarky response, but when Remy just raises an eyebrow and steps further into the room - setting his empty cup on the stack of weights near the doorway - Virgil quickly stammers out more clarifying "of course I work out the rest of my body. Different workouts for different parts, obviously, but it'd be odd to just focus on my arms or my legs. They'd very quickly end up disproportionate to the rest of me."

"They already look disproportionate to the rest of you," Remy remarks. "I think it might look a little more natural if I could see your chest bare." Remy shamelessly lets his head tilt down a bit, gaze starting at the waistband of Virgil's shorts and traveling upwards slowly, before fixating on where Virgil's pecs would be. "Yeah," he declares, nodding his head proudly, "it'd look a lot more proportionate if I could fully appreciate your proportions."

"Ugh," Virgil groans, "don't you have anyone else to bother?"

"I'm not a bother, babe, I'm a blessing. And currently the only interesting thing around here worthy of my attention is you and those abs you may or may not have." Remy shamelessly settles himself directly in front of Virgil, so that his presence is unavoidable. "Just let me take a peek, and I'll be out of your hair."

Scoffing, Virgil retorts "we both know that's not true," but he finds himself not necessarily upset by Remy's curiosity.

It's not that his other friends hadn't noticed his muscles - occasionally he has to pull the sleeves of his jacket up, and his forearms are muscular themselves - but they don't focus on it. Not like Remy's currently focusing on it. In fact, the attention is rather flattering in its own odd way, as Virgil doubts Remy would be paying this much attention to him if not for the muscles he's suspected to have.

So, with a sigh, Virgil sets his weights down at his legs. "Fine, you can see. But I'm not doing this for you; I'm doing it because it's getting hot in here."

Remy bites his bottom lip. "You know the solution for rooms getting stuffy is to take off all your clothes..."

Virgil shakes his head as he brings himself to his feet. "Don't push it."

Remy takes a step back to give Virgil the space to slide his hands beneath his shirt and slowly guide it off his body. The moment it's halfway up, Remy is quick to invade Virgil's personal space, setting his hands on Virgil's core and sliding them up to Virgil's chest the moment his shirt is completely discarded.

"Remy," Virgil scolds, but Remy just looks up at Virgil with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What?" Remy asks, with faux innocence. "You put a delicious, double-baked breakfast croissant in front of me and expect me not to want a taste?"

Face red, Virgil insists "I expect you to be able to control yourself."

Snickering, Remy jests "well, why would you think that?" before finally backing up when Virgil pushes him to - though by push, it really is Virgil's hands setting themselves on Remy's shoulders and firmly guiding him away. Remy doesn't think he could fight the force if he tried!

Virgil moves himself around the small workout room, navigating from the simple chair he was on to a pull-up bar. He has to jump to reach it, as Roman's taller than he is and he seemingly was using this space last, but that's not a problem. It's not like Virgil's feet need to touch the ground in order to lift his body above the bar. He hangs there for a moment, watching as Remy pulls over the chair Virgil was previously seated on and sits on it himself. He even crosses his legs over each other and leans back, making himself comfortable.

"What are you doing?" Virgil asks, whilst adjusting his grip on the bars.

Remy's answer is immediate. "Enjoying the show," he claims, before smiling when Virgil does his first pull up. "How many reps are you doing?"

"Three sets with ten reps each," Virgil answers.

Remy grimaces. "That's a lot. I thought pull-ups were like... super difficult."

"They are if you don't have any training." Virgil pulls himself up a second time, holding his chin above the bar for a few seconds before slowly lowering himself back down. "You're basically lifting up your entire body using just your arms. That's a couple hundred pounds being moved per rep."

"Most workouts involve lifting hundreds of pounds," Remy counters. "Like push-ups."

Virgil exhales as he comes down from his third rep, and then sucks in a sharp breath as he lifts himself up again. "Those are different. Most workouts are different from each other. But push-ups give a little support from your feet, so your entire weight isn't resting on your arms." His arms shake a bit during his next descent. "Now stop talking to me; replying wastes valuable air."

"Maybe I want to waste your 'valuable air,'" Remy teases. "You sound hot when you're breathing all hard and heavy."

Virgil drops off the bar only halfway through his set. His forehead glistens with fresh sweat that he wipes away with the back of his hand. "Remy," Virgil starts, with a heavy sigh, "you're distracting me."

"You're distracting me!" Remy argues, sounding more than offended. "How am I supposed to look at you and think of anything other than how strong you are! And how hot that strength is!" Remy knocks the chair off its legs in his rush to stand up. His manicured hands run obsessively over Virgil's arms. "I think you could effortlessly carry me around with those," he claims, tracing his finger along Virgil's defined bicep. "Even with just one arm, I bet it'd be a breeze."

Flushing, Virgil grabs Remy's wrists. "Are you trying to goad me into picking you up?"

Remy smiles prettily. "Is it working? I bet you can do a lot of things with arms like those... Things that would easily have well-groomed men like me falling over ourselves."

At first, Virgil's expression is unreadable as he considers Remy's words, but very quickly a small smile works its way onto Virgil's face as he slings his arms around Remy's waist and suddenly lifts him without warning.

Remy is left scrambling to hurry and wrap his legs around Virgil's midsection as Virgil adjusts his position slightly, getting Remy's rear settled in the crook of his elbow, leaving his other arm completely free. Though Remy holds tight to Virgil out of sheer surprise, there's really no need to, as Virgil's hold on Remy is incredibly secure. There's no tremble in his arms, and no strain in keeping him up.

Virgil himself can't help but look a little proud. "You're right," he affirms, "this is easy."

It takes Remy a second to gather his bearings, but once his mind has stopped swimming with excitement, he's absolutely swooning and rubbing his hands over Virgil's collarbones. But before Remy can even appreciate Virgil's body while this close, he's being carried near the treadmill.

"I'll show you what I can really do, since you're so curious," Virgil states, as he steps up onto the machine. It's not on, obviously, but he doesn't look like he wants it to be. Instead, he reaches into the cup holder attached to the treadmill's console and fishes out a readily available bottle of lubricant.

Remy can't help the blush that spreads across his face. His eyes flicker to the bottle, and then to Virgil. "You keep lube in the workout room?" Remy asks, his amusement palpable. "Or is that Roman who's getting freaky in here?"

"Nobody gets 'freaky' in here," Virgil mutters, "until now, I suppose."

"Then what's with the lube?"

Virgil waves the bottle in Remy's face. "It's treadmill lube. Used to decrease friction between the belt and the deck, so that the belt can keep traveling smoothly cycle by cycle. But it's silicone based, which means it's perfectly safe to use on a person. Or, I guess in a person."

Virgil changes Remy's position swiftly, and Remy feels the wind knocked out of his lungs as his back ends up on the treadmill's console.

"Get comfy while I stretch you open."

Eyes wide with excitement, Remy stammers out "really? You're actually going to have sex with me in here?" He's practically drooling as he speaks. "No showering beforehand, no changing out of your shorts, just right here, right now?"

Raising an eyebrow, Virgil inquires "that's what you wanted, right?" while opening up the bottle of lubricant.

"Hell yeah!" Remy assures him, hands grasping the treadmill's arm rails solely to further support himself, even though Virgil's hand lifting his hip is steady enough. "I can't wait to feel just how strong you are. And don't bother being gentle with me; you know I like to play rough. Just-" Remy swats at Virgil's hand as Virgil starts to unbutton his jeans "-careful with my clothing. My entire fit probably cost more than this entire machine."

Though Virgil rolls his eyes, he does actually oblige by Remy's words, and with one hand manages to get Remy's pants off his legs without pulling too hard or potentially ripping the seams, though he does dismissively drop the fabric to the floor afterwards with little care, along with Remy's boxers. Getting Remy's shirt off is unnecessary, but Virgil does it because Remy lets him. He slides his hand beneath Remy's shirt and up to his upper back in order to lift Remy off the treadmill slightly so he can get Remy's black jacket off and his shirt pulled over his head in a matter of seconds. Remy's sunglasses clatter as they fall against the floor.

Then, Remy's foot slides against the waistband of Virgil's shorts. "Your turn," he sings, voice smug, but Virgil just hums.

"Not yet. We should get you prepped first."

"Aw," Remy pouts dramatically, "you're not even going to give me a hot visual while I'm being fingered?"

Virgil uncaps the bottle of lube, and pours some on his fingers. "You have my chest that you begged to see. Just look at that."

"I'm greedy, Virgil. You can't expect me to just be satisfied with one part of your body when your whole figure is just a pair of pants away!"

As Virgil's lubed hands slide between Remy's cheeks, Virgil comments "I'm starting to think I shouldn't expect anything of you. Anything other than being perverse, at least." His pointer and middle press against Remy's hole, teasingly threatening to slip inside at a moment's notice.

Remy huffs. "I'm not perverse. I'm a man of taste. And you look like you taste good."

Virgil doesn't bother dignifying Remy's flirty remark with anything other than a blush and an unamused look, before finally sinking his fingers into Remy. Remy's head falls back against the treadmill console immediately, groaning as one of his hands comes to rest above his head, and the other further digs into the handrails.

"Even your fingers feel muscular," Remy pants, as Virgil's digits slowly stretch him open. "Did they thicken up or something after you started lifting weights? Oh!" Remy lifts his head in excitement. "Did your cock?"

"Geez," Virgil breathes, shaking his head. "You'll see in a bit, I guess. Though I wouldn't get your expectations too high."

"Too late," Remy moans. "You've already exceeded my presumptions thus far. Hotter chest, hotter arms, hotter fingers. I can almost guarantee you'll pull down your pants and I'll be more than pleased with what I see!"

Virgil adds a third finger, continuing to scissor open Remy's hole. His movements are slow and careful, but he still works to pleasure Remy, even if doing so subtly. His fingers push into Remy, and slide out, never going that far in, but pressing in just enough to be noticeable, and to make Remy's cock twitch in excitement.

A fourth finger is added as a courtesy, as Remy's words have Virgil extra careful about whether or not his cock has actually grown, as that's not something he's ever particularly paid attention to (and so doesn't even know if it's a possible perk of working out), but it doesn't hurt to prepare for it just in case. And Remy doesn't seem to be complaining, as his eyelids are pressed lightly shut and his eyebrows are creased in pleasure, as he leisurely soaks in the fruits of Virgil's labor.

It's only when Virgil pulls his fingers out that Remy whines.

"Shush," Virgil scolds him, but his voice is a lot more soft than stern, "you're getting something better."

"Hell yeah I am," Remy gleefully sighs. "But this stupid headboard thing is hurting my neck. Lift me off it?"

"You just want me to hold you up."

"So what if I do?"

Virgil supposes he should have expected that response, and so says "let me get myself lubed up before my hands are too busy with your body to do so," while already wiggling his shorts down his thighs.

Remy doesn't argue - which is a surprise to Virgil considering his track record - and instead watches with open interest as Virgil's cock is finally freed from the confines of his pants and boxers.

Virgil kicks his own clothing to the side with a lot less care than he did Remy's, and pours a bit more lube onto his hand so he can slick himself up. Virgil can basically feel Remy's excitement as he watches Virgil's hand pump the length of his shaft, smearing lubricant over every centimeter until he's glistening with it. When he's confident he's lubed enough, he finally does as Remy requested and loops his hand around Remy's back and pulls him off the treadmill's console. Their new position requires Virgil to use both hands to get the best angle possible to slowly begin to guide his cock inside Remy, but Remy pays that no mind as his face is pressed against Virgil's chest. Virgil's a lot firmer than Remy expected - probably since he's still quite lean despite his toned body - but it's the sweat that Remy's mind immediately locks on to.

The stuffiness from the room (that has little circulation already), paired with the fact Virgil's already been working out means he's quite musky, and that's a fact Remy basks in as his face rubs between Virgil's pecs.

While Remy selfishly enjoys himself, Virgil's shaft slides deeper into Remy until most of it is settled inside. Then, he loosens his grip a bit, and his hands settle more casually on Remy's hips.

"Enjoying yourself?" Virgil teases, and Remy's quick to nod, sliding his face further up and down Virgil's cleavage.

Virgil wants to roll his eyes at Remy's open enjoyment, but he can't bring himself to due to his own eagerness. Remy was continuing to both flatter and fluster him with even his more depraved actions, but it felt good to be desired so much. And Remy's ass clenching around his cock felt just as good, if not better.

Besides, it's not like this was really stopping him from working out. Moving Remy up and down would be a workout in itself!

After a moment of making sure that they're in a position Virgil won't go falling over in, and double checking his hold on Remy is secure, Virgil asks "you ready?" as a courtesy, even though Remy hardly needs to be asked if he's good to go.

Pulling his face just a few centimeters away from Virgil's chest, he moans out a happy "yes," with his pretty, painted nails already digging into Virgil's back in anticipation. His fingers are dragged up Virgil's spine as Virgil lifts him halfway off his cock, and then they slide roughly back down when Remy himself is slammed back down onto Virgil's shaft with enough force to make Remy cry out.

"Fuck," Remy pants, "are you sure you've never fucked anyone in here before? You seem too good at sex standing up for this to be your first time."

"It's not that different from normal sex," Virgil insists. "Just a different position is all. A bit more strenuous on the arms, and a bit less hip motion. If anything, I think I might prefer this to the traditional way. After all, I have a built-in muffler for when you get particularly annoying."

"Shame you'll never get to use it," Remy tries to playfully reply, but all he gets in response is his face shoved back into Virgil's chest, where Remy is happy to stay.

Lube squelches around Virgil's cock as the excess drips carelessly onto the treadmill track beneath Virgil's feet. Remy's soles press into the back of Virgil's thighs as he's repeatedly lifted up and brought down. At first the movements are consistent and smooth, albeit slow between descents, as though Virgil is trying to keep things rhythmic. It's almost as though he's treating this entirely like a workout, and counting the reps in his head instead of focusing on this fully as a sexual act. Though, if Virgil did focus on it as solely a sexual act, he might end up a lot more embarrassed than anything, so he keeps rationalizing his desire by claiming it's still exercise.

Eventually though, his arms start to shake a bit.

Remy gasps as he forces his head away from Virgil's torso. "Don't tell me a big, strong man like you is getting tuckered out already," he starts, voice filled with faux concern.

Virgil bites his bottom lip hard. "I'm not," he lies through his teeth, but there's no way to stop the slight tremble in his forearms.

Remy clearly doesn't believe him, but he slides his hands through Virgil's sweaty bangs and responds "good, because I figured we were just getting started. I mean, you haven't even found my prostate yet-"

As he speaks, Virgil drops him down with more intensity than he has previously, and just so happens to nail Remy's prostate with that action. Remy's forced to eat his words and moan instead as the tip of Virgil's cock thrusts hard against the bundle of nerves, causing Remy's pre to smear over Virgil's chest. His head falls back with pleasure as obscenities spill from his lips, and his legs squeeze tighter around Virgil's waist. This action causes his cock to become somewhat smushed, and that friction is tantalizing.

"Still think I'm getting tired?" Virgil grits into Remy's ear, as he leans over slightly, holding Remy parallel to the ground as he moves Remy back and forth on his cock, as though he's nothing but a toy Virgil's using in the privacy of his room. The sweat from his face and chest roll down his body and drip onto Remy's, leaving glistening splashes against his skin that only mix in with Remy's precome.

Virgil leaves no room for Remy to even try and insist Virgil's losing his stride, as Virgil fucks into him with little restraint.

His grip is so tight that red marks are left in his wake whenever he shifts his fingers slightly, at first holding Remy by his waist, then his thighs, and then back to his waist. At some point, Virgil manages to get a solid one-handed hold that leaves Remy pleasantly feeling like he'll fall at any given moment while also feeling assured that he's not going anywhere aside from on and off Virgil's cock, which is leaking inside of him. Virgil's other hand holds to one of the treadmill's handrails, which he uses to give himself a bit more power to his thrusts. Despite this alteration of their positions, Virgil doesn't miss Remy's prostate once, and continues abusing it with repeated jerks of his hips.

It's only when Remy's orgasm comes crashing into him does Virgil falter slightly, as Remy grabs his wrist with both hands and cries out in sheer ecstasy. His head falls back with bliss as his climax washes over him in pleasant waves, before he lets his head continue to hang back while he tries to catch his breath.

"Holy shit babe," Remy gasps out, as he uses his grip on Virgil's arm to pull himself semi-upright. "That was one hell of an orgasm! I'll be sleeping well tonight after that." Remy licks his lips, and then teasingly brushes some of Virgil's hair behind his ear in order to meet Virgil's eyes. "You'll have to join me in bed. Consider it a reward for treating me so well."

Virgil holds Remy still for a moment, before suddenly pulling halfway out and slamming his hips back in, startling Remy who lets out a sharp moan of overstimulation.

"What makes you think we're done?" Virgil asks, voice low. "I mean... I did promise to show you what I could really do, and I could stand to go another round. And you'd be better off staying and helping; it's kind of pathetic of you to just come and go, after all."

Remy snorts, but playfully twirls his hair with his finger. "If you want me to stay, you can just say so."

"I want you to get what you were promised," Virgil scoffs. "Nothing more, nothing less."

And that more comes in the form of another rough jerk of Virgil's hips being thrust against Remy, who's brief banter break had only been permitted to account for his refractory period. And now that Virgil can see Remy's cock twitching with interest and slowly hardening again, he was more than ready to get right back into it. With the way Remy moans and smiles, Virgil can only guess Remy's eager to get things started back up, too.

But that doesn't mean things will remain like this, as suddenly Virgil pulls Remy's body all the way off his cock, flips him over, and then thrusts back into him with no warning, leaving Remy's mind spinning at just how fast things are moving and how quickly he ends up with his back pressed against Virgil's chest. Now, Virgil uses a hand lightly pressed to Remy's throat to keep him steady, but doesn't apply any pressure. It just sits there, fingers holding the sides of Remy's neck while Virgil's other hand continues to grope Remy's hip, causing Remy's eyes to roll back into his head with delight.

"Fuck, Virgil!" Remy cries, though he barely has the awareness to get the words out with how overwhelmingly hot his body feels. He's still trying to process his first orgasm, and now he can feel a second fast approaching him, as his sensitive cock swells with arousal. "Strong and confident? I'm-" Remy has to stop for a moment to bite back a moan, "-I'm loving this whole new you!"

"It's still the same old me," Virgil huffs in response, his breath hot against Remy's earlobe, making Remy shiver. "Just more easily able to... indulge you, I suppose. Though that's not why I started working out."

Remy grins, and breathily responds "sure it's not. Even though this body of yours is hella hot, and this gruff attitude is hella hot, and-"

Virgil lets go of Remy and Remy yelps as he feels himself falling, though he's quickly caught once he's horizontal once more, with Virgil having adjusted his grip. When Remy turns to look at Virgil over his shoulder, Virgil gives him a knowing, smug smile that causes Remy's abdomen to swell with warmth.

Virgil continues his thrusts into Remy's hole, while Remy leaks a few meager drops of pre onto the treadmill below, though the splatter quickly soaks into the machine's belt. Virgil himself begins to get noisier too, and his hold on Remy goes from just being a means to support Remy by keeping him upright and bouncing on his cock to gripping something for his own sake, as he feels his pleasure begin to build to an insurmountable degree. He leans down too, using his hold on Remy's neck to lift him just enough for Virgil to bite the back of Remy's shoulder in an attempt to muffle his sounds of enjoyment. Remy however can feel the vibrations of Virgil's moans, and that further pleases him knowing that Virgil finds him, his body, and this sex irresistible.

As Remy's hands again clasp around Virgil's arm, Virgil grits out "what? Close again? Already?"

Remy has no shame in moaning out an affirmative "yes," followed by a flirty "I can't help it. Not when I have a hot, muscular man taking me to pound town."

Whining, Virgil hides his red face in Remy's flesh, but the hold he has on Remy's waist wraps further around to finally grasp Remy's neglected cock. The cry Remy lets out as his shaft is quickly stroked by Virgil's calloused fingers is desperate, but if he's begging for something, Virgil doesn't stop him from having it.

He just continues to pump Remy's cock quickly, not bothering to try and time it to his sporadic, needy thrusts, which are quickly bringing him closer and closer to his own edge. And when Remy finally comes a second time - with only a few, thin, messy spurts coming from his empty balls - he clenches hard around Virgil's cock, which has Virgil moaning in turn and shoving deep a final time to come himself. Tears prick Remy's eyes as he feels Virgil's cock throb and fill his insides with come, though he quickly wipes them away and just hangs his head, enjoying the unrepressed sounds he gets as Virgil's head falls back in pleasure.

He fucks Remy through his orgasm, though his thrusts are messy and slow, and his arms are shaking hard, until he eventually pulls Remy off his cock, and drags them both off the treadmill panting all the while.

They both end up on a rather stiff yoga mat, with their conjoined messes further dirtying the room, though neither of them seem to be in any rush to navigate away from the workout equipment. Remy lays flat on his back, while Virgil sits next to him, using a sweat rag to wipe away both his perspiration, and the semen still splattered against their bodies. He can't clean Remy out fully, but he also doesn't try to, instead just focusing on Remy's thighs and stomach. When he's completely wiped down, Virgil tends to himself, and then tosses the cloth into a nearby laundry basket (which was already filled with other sweaty and messy fabrics). Then, he runs his hand along Remy's back.

"Satisfied?" Virgil asks, a hint of playful judgement in his voice.

Remy snorts, and reaches for Virgil's hold. "Not until we get somewhere more comfortable. How about you carry me to bed, and brew me some nice Sleepytime tea. As a form of... post-workout cardio."

Virgil sighs and shakes his head, but his smile is apparent. "Fine," he responds, "but give me five minutes to rest first."

Remy stretches out, and then moves to snuggle close to Virgil's muscles, which he shamelessly, albeit lazily, feels up while they lounge. "Sounds good to me," Remy yawns, "more time to appreciate the view before it's obscured beneath my covers." Virgil laughs under his breath, and then focuses on breathing deeply and rhythmically while Remy continues to slowly drag his finger along Virgil's abs. They both sit there for a bit, collectively regaining their senses, and planning to move to the bedroom at some point... although they were really in no rush. No rush at all.