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It starts like this:
Their collaboration stream ends, and Flux heads straight to the kitchen to scour whatever leftovers he has from the night before for lunch. Then he opens Twitter, goes through his tags and name searches, because that’s what every streamer and anyone with even a semblance of fame does. Completely normal, and a routine thing for Flux after a stream.
A couple of clips, unrelated fanart, random tweets here and there — nothing unusual catches his eye.
That is, until he scrolls far enough to find a clip.
It’s from Saps’ stream. Only ten seconds long, with a vague caption, polarity duo tagged. Flux already has a bad feeling. Even so, he presses play.
After letting it loop about a dozen times, he closes the app.
Hands sweaty and shaking, mind reeling from the same goddamn sentence he subjected himself to over and over again, he opens his Discord DM with Saps and presses the call button. It takes Saps less than three seconds to pick up.
“Fluuuuux,” Saps says immediately, bright, with that familiar hint of flirty banter, that slight rasp in his voice. “Dude, what took you so long? I thought you’d never call.”
Right away, Flux starts putting things together. Was Saps expecting this? Yeah, he must’ve said it on purpose, just to get a reaction out of Flux, to mess with him like he always does. He probably thought it was hilarious, imagining this exact outcome. All while streaming to nearly a thousand people.
Flux lets the silence stretch, then finally, bites out, “What the hell, Saps? Why am I seeing a clip of you talking all smug about me wanting to have you on my bed?”
“Oh, I, uh — ” Saps is very obviously scrambling. “Shit, wait. You found out through Twitter?” A pause. "Well, that's awkward."
“I — ” Flux rakes a hand through his hair, then again for the third time. Heat crawls all over him — the nauseating kind, the kind that makes him want to chew his nails down to the bone. “Obviously I didn’t fucking hear it. You know exactly how I would’ve reacted if I did hear it. The damn clip already has over two thousand likes, Saps.”
Flux hears creaking. Saps is probably rocking back and forth in his chair, probably wearing his classic I'm boredexpression. “Oookay. So what if it does? It's Twitter, dude. People clip shit all the time.”
“'So what if it does? It's Twitter?' Do you even hear yourself? You know how much I hate stuff like this.”
A beat. More creaking.
“…Hate what exactly?” Saps finally says, slow, serious, dare Flux say offended. “Being mentioned with me literally anywhere?”
On countless occasions, Flux has calmly explained to Saps that he wants to keep their relationship far away from prying eyes. Back then, it was easy to brush things off as two close friends who’d known each other long enough to joke around like that. But as their audiences grew, as they made names for themselves, as videos started blowing up left and right, viewers began picking apart every little detail: Flux getting goofier than usual whenever he streams with Saps. Flux sounding softer, almost lovestruck, whenever he talks about him. Flux this, Saps that — everything circling back to one question: is there something more going on between Fluixon and Saparata?
So, with Flux’s anxiety steadily climbing, he told Saps they should keep their collabs, their public interactions, to a minimum. At first, Saps pushed back hard. Too many whys, too many stubborn no’s, too many I don’t want tos. Eventually, though, he’d settled for a grumbled fine and left it at that.
But every now and then, Saps still pulled shit like this. Moments that would get clipped, that would blow up and give people something new to latch onto for weeks. A new spike to Flux’s already constant anxiety — more sleepless nights, more paranoia. More of everything.
Flux takes a deep breath and tries, as hard as he can, to sound neutral. “That’s not what I meant. You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“What, then? It was just a stupid one-liner, dude. The fans are gonna forget all about it tomorrow.”
Another breath. Another failed attempt at keeping himself steady. “They won’t. They’ll talk about it for the next fucking month. They’ll keep spamming messages in my subcord asking if I bought your plushie yet. You know how they get, Saps. You can’t be this dense.”
He hears tapping on the other end, the rhythm Saps falls into whenever he’s annoyed, whenever he’s holding himself back from saying more. Flux knows those little habits — knows Saps — like the back of his hand. He’s memorized all of it, can tell when something’s off, when he’s upset, angry, happy, excited — all of it.
“Spit it out,” Flux says when the silence drags.
"Nobody forced you to do this stream, Flux."
A beat.
"…What?"
“I mean,” the tapping grows more pointed, like he’s set on leaving a dent. “We never had to do this stream. I fucking hate Risk anyway — I wouldn’t have cared if we never played that shit again. But you were the one who texted me about it first. Remember that?”
Flux bristles. Everything feels like a slap to the face. “Yeah. I did. With the expectation that you’d act normal and not be weird about it.”
“I was acting normal!” Saps snaps, voice rising with rage. It cuts out for a second in between. “Oh my god, Flux, you can’t turn this into some huge thing. Don’t be so fucking petty.”
Petty. Childish. Dramatic. Just relax, Flux. You worry too much, Flux. Just go with the flow, Flux. How many times has Flux heard those words come out of Saps’ mouth? How many more times does he have to grit his teeth through it and swallow it down?
“You don’t get it. It’s like you’re trying so hard not to get it.” Flux’s voice comes out shaky. He fucking hates how weak he sounds. “Fine. Whatever. You’re right. I shouldn’t have ever come to you about it.”
"Flux — "
“But I’ve been getting spammed every single day with people asking for the Risk stream. I see tweets about it every single day. And it’s really messing with me because it feels like no one’s satisfied with my content unless you’re involved, and I don’t even look forward to streaming anymore. I just want to quit and erase myself from everywhere — ”
"Flux — "
“ — and you’re not helping! You’re not helping me at all!” Now it’s Flux yelling. He’s on his feet, hands slammed against his desk, voice breaking as he shouts, “You might not care, but I do! I care about how people perceive me, Saps! And I don’t want to be this — guy whose entire existence online is being a clown for some stupid duo people obsess over."
"It's not stupid."
"Is that seriously what you're hung up on — "
“We’re dating, Flux.” Saps says it so quietly Flux almost misses it. His fingers curl against the desk. “We’re literally dating, and shit slips out. And sometimes I just wanna fucking banter with you like we used to — ”
“Times have changed. We're no longer teenagers fooling around.” Flux cuts in, cold, detached. “I’d love to be as carefree as you. Unfortunately, I’m not wired that way. Take it or leave it.”
Flux doesn’t realize he’s shaking all over until he drops back into his chair. His legs feel like jelly, his vision blurs, the room turns cold, sinks deep into his bones. He hates arguing.More than anything, he hates this — the distance between them, the inability to feel Saps beside him when things get difficult. Part of him knows this is how Saps teases, how he pushes without crossing the line, like he promised. But everything in Flux’s life has been stacking up. College, streaming, family issues, barely getting time with Saps because of timezones — and now this.
He wants nothing more than to crawl under his blankets and sink into everything going wrong in his life. Today was supposed to be a good day. One of the best fucking days in a long time, actually.
"This isn't going anywhere." Flux forces out. "I'm hanging up."
“Wait, no — don’t,” Saps rushes, just as Flux’s mouse hovers over the end call button. “Don’t.”
"I'm busy. I have a report due in two days."
“Bullshit.” Saps calls it out immediately. “You’re gonna cry and be miserable for the rest of the day. You think I don’t know you by now?”
Flux grits his teeth. "No, you clearly don't."
“Again — bullshit. C’mon, Flux, just talk to me. Don’t cut me out like this. I hate it when you do that.”
I have been talking to you already, asshole. You refuse to listen. Flux wants to spit out, sharp and bitter.
“’Kay, so, I get it. You want me to be extra careful. Fine,” Saps goes on, rambling. The tapping has stopped, replaced by the sound of random mouse clicks. “You don’t want the internet to lose their shit over a stupid duo — ”
"Oh my god. Get over it, Saps."
“ — fine, I get that too. I don’t, but, whatever,” he keeps going. “What else? Should I unfollow you on everything too? Should I take my State video down?” A long pause. “Should we just break up, Flux?”
Static fills Flux's head, a long, stretched line from one end to the other. No matter how heated their arguments get, neither of them ever brings that up. Never. It’s their one unspoken rule. But now Saps does, and Flux has no idea how to take it other than a direct punch straight through the center of his screen.
“…You’re kidding, right?"
“’Course I’m kidding, dumbass,” Saps answers immediately. It's objectively humiliating how quickly relief crashes through Flux. “What? Did you really think I’d break up with you?”
If only Flux were there with Saps. If only — a screen wouldn't suffice. A punch to the face would be the least of what Saps deserves. A punch and a slap. Multiple, preferably.
“Don’t joke about that again,” Flux spits. “If that was your attempt at lightening the mood, it was miserable.”
"Okay but did it work, though?"
“No? Was I supposed to laugh? At my boyfriend casually talking about breaking up like it’s no big deal?”
“Boyfriend.” Flux can practically hear Saps’ shit-eating grin, picture the curve of his lips through the mic. “You don’t say that much. Guess it really got to you, huh? Bet you’ve got that classic scrunched-up look on your face right now.”
Flux quickly smooths his expression. “No,” he says. “I look how I always look.”
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Proof or it didn't happen."
Flux lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You want me to take a selfie? Now?”
"Who said anything about a selfie?" Saps says. "Let's video call."
Flux stares at his reflection in the dim glow of his monitor. Looking like this? Hair a mess, badly ruffled, dark circles from too many sleepless nights, and a mood that’s one wrong word away from snapping at Saps again? Flux really, reallydoesn’t want to.
So he goes with the first option. He yawns, loud and obvious. “No. I’m exhausted,” he basically says. “Really exhausted, actually. I was thinking of taking a midday nap.”
"Thought you said you had a report due."
"I changed my mind."
“Fluuuuuux,” Saps drawls. The stupid way he says his name that almost makes Flux cave and hit the video call button. “Just for a bit. You can go get your beauty sleep or work on your report or whatever you wanna do after.” A beat. Saps’ breathing comes closer through the mic. “Also, I know just the way to get you relaxed. You’re gonna feel as good as new.”
Flux knows that tone. The way it dips, turning huskier, deeper. He knows it all too well.
“…Are you serious?” Flux gapes, lips parting. “Are you actually suggesting what I think you are?”
"Yep."
"You seriously want to — "
“Yes, Flux. I wanna get you off. I want you to get me off. There. I spelled it all out for you,” Saps chuckles. He actually chuckles, that unfairly attractive sound of his. He must have officially lost it. “I meant what I said at the end of the stream, y’know.”
Flux’s mouth goes dry, rough like sandpaper. His heart has already kicked into overdrive, horror and anticipation twisting together into something heavy and electrifying deep in his gut. In one gulp, he drains the rest of his energy drink.
“Why does it always have to be sex with you?” Flux asks hoarsely, wiping at the corners of his mouth.
Saps lets out another amused laugh. "You're so cute for calling this sex, Flux."
"Shut up. It's called e-sex for a reason — "
“How’re you gonna react when we meet and actually have sex, huh?”
Flux flushes a deep, embarrassing pink. His face burns hot like the sun, while his hands stay cold to the touch. “I am not doing this with you right now.”
But of course, Saps being Saps — and Saps being notoriously known for being the most insufferably stubborn person when he wants to be — shows no sign of stopping. More creaking follows, and Saps’ next words come in a raspy whisper, “Wait, would you like, blush like crazy? You totally would, wouldn't you? Would you also try to hide your cute face from me?”
It takes everything in Flux not to give in to the poison Saps is offering. Dirty talk, right after what might be their worst argument yet — Flux would be out of his mind to entertain it for even a second.
So he stays silent, body and breath held still.
“Well, that’s fine. I’d totally get you nice and pliant real easy,” Saps coos. “You love getting praised, don’t you, Flux?”
Don't give in —
"Hm? You just loooove it when I call you a good boy."
Don't make a single sound —
“So I’d shower you with every compliment I could think of. Pretty, lovely, adorable, gorgeous, really fucking sexy —” Flux hears more rustling. “God, you’re really fucking hot, Flux. You don’t even realize it.”
Flux squeezes his eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. Saps’ husky voice is already pushing into his head, dulling reason, sharpening every bit of want. In a weak attempt to ground himself, Flux bites down on his lip, hard enough to leave teeth marks. It’s been too long. Way too long since they last did this. Weeks stacked on top of each other, leaving Flux alone in his room, stuck with his own hand, with no Saps there to guide him, to tell him when to touch and when to stop.
And now it’s happening. And Flux has no idea how he’s supposed to ignore the growing, aching tent in his sweatpants.
Yep. He really must be insane.
“Then I’d pick you up and carry you to the bed — or you can push me down. I’d highkey be into both.” Saps’ voice drops, rough. “We’d make out. I’d — want you on my lap, hands around that small waist of yours and — god, I’d fucking kiss you and bite you and lick you until you start grinding against me and — nh —”
Flux goes completely still. Something shifts, stirs on Saps’ end.
“Are you…” Flux swallows. “Are you jerking yourself off?”
A strained, breathy smirk slips out of Saps. “Shit,” he pants, painfully obvious. “Caught red-handed.”
“Oh my god, Saps. What the fuck," Flux says, gripping the edge of his desk.
“What? What’re you gonna do about it?” Saps asks. “Huh? Tell me, Flux. Are you gonna get real mad? Are you gonna — fuck — are you gonna yell at me like you were earlier? Raise your voice real loud until it cracks?”
Something else clicks for Flux then. Slowly, he opens his mouth, says, “You’ve been turned on since then.”
“Oops.” Saps doesn’t sound even slightly sorry. “Guess I have.”
Part of Flux burns with anger. Not being taken seriously, his very real and valid worries about their relationship twisted into a cheap mess for Saps to get off on. It pisses him off. Saps joking about it pisses him off. Him being turned on pisses him off.
Flux, despite all that anger, being just as turned on pisses him off.
“Turn on your facecam,” Flux says, more desperate, more like an order.
He hears a small gasp. “Shit — okay. Okay.”
Things shift around, fabric rustling, and not even five seconds later, Saps’ camera turns on, angled just right to show his face and part of his shoulders. Flux catches himself staring, long and unfocused. Saps’ overgrown bangs hang over part of his eyes, porcelain white cheeks brushed pink beneath the glow of his screen, lips curved into a lazy grin — he’s ridiculously hot.
"Your turn," Saps then says.
Flux obliges. A quick, clumsy attempt to fix his hair, and then, just like that, he turns his cam on, getting stuck watching the two of them side by side. In comparison, Flux looks like a disheveled, abominable mess.
“Hey there, gorg,” Saps leans in close to his mic, like he’s pressing a kiss to it. “Fuck, feels like it’s been forever since I actually saw you.”
“I literally sent you a selfie the other day,” Flux protests.
“Mmm, nothing beats the real thing.” Saps leans back into his chair, his voice shifting with the distance. A stretch of silence settles in, long and heavy, both of them staring at each other with that same hungry look. Then, “Flux. Are you touching yourself?”
“I — “ Flux coughs, awkward. “No. I’m not.”
Saps grins like that’s exactly what he expected. “Why? Were you waiting for me to give you the okay?”
"No, I — I don't know, fuck."
“You so were,” Saps says, smug. He tilts his head, and Flux catches the movement of his right arm, the change in angle. “D'you want me to tell you it’s okay? Tell you to wrap your hand around your cock, stroke it nice and slow, touch that one spot that drives you crazy — “
Flux almost reaches for himself. Key word: almost. His hand hovers over the outline of his hard-on, not daring to move any further.
“— and begging, begging me to tell you what to do, tell you to slide your hand under your shirt and — god, fuck —”
This is ruthlessly unfair. Saps isn’t usually one to torture him to this extent. Flux can see Saps’ arm moving in a steady rhythm, head tipped forward just enough to keep his eyes on him. And then there's Flux — who still hasn’t touched himself, stuck watching Saps work himself up, hear every pant and broken sound through his headphones while he can barely force a single noise out.
"Saps," Flux calls out weakly. "Saps."
"Yeah? Yeah baby?"
Flux almost comes untouched. “Please. You can’t — you can’t be this fucking mean.”
“Can’t help it when you're so damn adorable.” And just to make it worse, Saps tilts the camera down. Flux’s fantasies are confirmed right there — Saps' cock rock hard, hand hand wrapped around pre-cum slickness. He deserves to be shot on the spot for thinking how delicious it looks. Flux licks his lips, chapped and dry. “See what you do to me?" painfully slow, Saps drags his hand along himself. “I feel like this every single day because of you. Hearing your — fuck — voice gets me so fucking worked up you have no idea — ”
"Saps, please."
Flux can’t see Saps’ face anymore, has no clue what kind of expression he’s making, whether it’s mocking or excited, and Flux refuses to think about which one would be hotter, whether he’s biting his lip too, whether they’re slick and wet and begging to be kissed. All he gets is the stillness, the pause in movement.
“Okay,” Saps finally says. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, baby. You’re gonna wrap your hand around your cock. Just the tip. Think you can do that for me?”
Flux doesn’t need to be told twice — he’s already there. He's been here since last week. So sensitive, already wet and staining his pants and boxers — even the faintest touch has him hissing and whining. “Y-Yeah,” he manages. “Yeah — okay.”
“Good boy,” Saps praises. “Show me, baby. I wanna see every second of it.”
With his other hand, Flux angles the camera down, to his crotch.
“Shit, how long have you been like this?” Saps asks. His hand starts moving again.
“Long enough,” Flux shoots back, all bark and no bite. “You’re so mean to me sometimes. And they — ngh — they call me a cold-hearted guy.”
“Awww, you poor baby,” Saps says. “You love it when I’m a little mean to you, though.”
"No, I don't— "
“You love it when I make you beg,” Saps stresses the last word. “If I were next to you, I would’ve made you beg for it a lot longer.”
“Yeah, like I’d ever — let you,” Flux strokes himself, slow, dragging it out just to feel it.
"I think you would," Saps' voice come deep. "I want you to imagine me next to you. Imagine me guiding you over your hand. Hm?"
Flux squeezes his eyes shut. Like Saps said, he lets his imagination take over. Saps right there with him. Flux propped on Saps’ lap instead of his flimsy, worn-out chair. Saps’ rougher hand wrapped around him from behind. Saps’ breath hot against his neck, leaving behind dark, wet, angry marks. Lips tracing the shell of his ear with endless praises. Just the way Flux likes it. Saps, Saps, Saps—
“Fuck,” Flux whines, dragging his thumb over his slit, pressing in.
“Yeah?” Saps breathes out with him. “You like that, baby? You want me to touch you, mark you all over, make sure you can't fucking walk the next day?”
“Yes, Saps, yes —” Flux says, voice hitching in a way Saps is definitely going to take as a win. “God, I’m, fuck —”
“Spread your legs for me,” Saps orders next. “C’mon, baby.”
Flux does. Clumsy, he pushes his pants all the way down and opens himself up just how Saps wants him. His legs already strain from holding the position, but Saps’ hungry stare, fixed on his body, his cock, the barely visible hint of his hole through the fuzzy webcam, makes it all worth it. The pain, the embarrassment, the utter shame — everything.
Saps adjusts his own camera. Whatever he does, Flux has a clearer view of his slick, dripping cock, Saps practically working himself raw. A few rough strokes, his stomach tightening, abs from all those regular workouts he constantly flaunts pulling taut with every movement — Flux takes it all in, how messy Saps — his Saps — gets like this. The version no one else sees, the one that’s only his to watch, to indulge in.
“Pick it up, jesus christ — pick up the pace, Flux. I can see you slowing down.”
Flux almost jumps in, call me a good boy again and maybe I will, he says, but against all odds, the remaining atoms of sanity in him holds back. He quickens his strokes, reaches down to cup his balls, play with them, teases them.
“Look at you,” Saps says. “Yeah, just like that. You like how I’m touching you? Running my hand all over your cock? You like that, baby?”
“I do — I do, fuck.” Flux cries. There’s something wildly delirious about it, about letting Saps take full control, handle him however he wants, like something meant to be taken apart and put back together at his will. “Saps —”
“You wanna come? Ask me nicely, Flux, c’mon.” This fucking bastard. “Ask me like the good boy you are.”
“I want to come, please — can I —” Flux blurts out, way too fast. His legs shake, muscles burning. He’s right there — so close, just needs that final push—
“Yeah. Yeah, come for me, Flux.” Saps cuts through his pleas, voice authoritative in a way Flux has never heard before, and he cries out his name — or at least he thinks he does — everything going white as he spills over his hand, streaking it in thick white.
Saps follows only a few strokes later, groaning Flux’s name, chasing his own climax.
The call falls quiet for a few seconds, filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing.
“Jesus,” Flux manages once he finds his voice.
“I’m guessing that means you liked it,” Saps says. Flux notices the camera’s back on his face. He scrambles with his own, only just realizing he’d been showing everything in full view. “Aww, getting shy on me?”
“Shut up,” Flux mutters. The high starts to fade, leaving him clearer, more aware. Embarrassment creeps in fast, thinking about everything he said, everything Saps now has ammo for.
“I missed you, Flux,” Saps says, softer than he’s sounded all day. “I really did.”
I missed you too. “Weak attempt to smooth things over.”
“But I diiiiid.” Saps props his chin up, looking far too pleased with himself. The afterglow suits him annoyingly well. “Shit’s been so fucking busy lately, I hate it.”
“Yet another weak attempt to gloss over what we were talking about before you —” the memory is still fresh, and Flux feels the heat crawl back up his neck. “— whatever. You know what I mean.”
“Oh, I know,” Saps says, easy, like none of this is a big deal. “We’ve got all day and night to talk about it.”
Flux stares at him, blank for a second. “I mean it, Saps. Talk. Actually talk.” His mind flashes back to Saps’ Should we just break up?, tension creeping back into his shoulders. He’s sure Saps catches it too.
“I love you,” Saps blurts.
Flux freezes. “W-What?”
“I love you. We’re not breaking up. It was a stupid, tasteless joke. And I won’t make comments like that on stream again. There,” Saps huffs. “All good?”
It's as though Saps is forcing everything down Flux’s throat in a, we’re having a good moment, Flux — don’t ruin it kind of way, leaving no space for him to actually explain why today hit so hard. To make Saps understand, because he really doesn’t fucking get it. He can be so dense sometimes, which is unbelievably stupid and ironic for someone with a 4.0 GPA.
“Fine.” is all Flux manages.
From the corner of his eye, Saps tilts his head. “Say it back?”
A long, long pause stretches between them. Saps waits it out, patient, watching Flux like he’s peeling him apart all over again.
“…I love you too,” Flux finally says. Even now, the confession feels strange on his tongue, too intimate, too exposing.
But Saps just grins, and then it breaks into a genuine laugh, bright enough to reach every dark, scared, abandoned part of Flux. Almost immediately, he launches into some random story about an event that happened at college.
And as always, with a small smile of his own, Flux listens.