It was the little things that made all the difference. Rhosiris, while not having had a partner before, wasn't a stranger to his own pleasure. He knew what he liked and how he wanted it and he knew his reward would be seeing... well. Stars. But whatever stars he had in mind were nothing-- mere pinpricks of light in the morning sky compared to the sheer supernova of brilliance that was this.
All because Hero had that astoundingly doofy smile on his face while Rho rode him to hell and back. Or tried to; he was close, so very, very close. He could feel it building, the slow, aching tension at his core as it all built up and up, teasing him at the very precipice of everything but never quite making it there. Rhosiris gasped as Hero gripped him, held him steady and just slammed into him-- and that might have been enough to start the supernova in earnest if Hero hadn't suddenly... stopped.
At first, Rhosiris had no idea what happened. It had happened so quickly, he was confused-- did Hero not like this? Had he done something wrong? Had he been hurt somehow? Or, and here was the absolute worst thought of the bunch: was Rhosiris truly that undesirable? Hero had seemed to be enjoying himself, had looked like he'd really been enjoying himself! But only for a few seconds, and then suddenly the human was like a boned fish beneath him, hands shaking as they moved over Rho's thighs.
And Rho was utterly baffled for it. He was panting, sweaty, dripping pearly fluid between them and still painfully hard for all the buildup and absolutely no release. Hero was apologizing, was sitting up and holding Rho in a way that had the elf's stomach clenching harder than getting thoroughly fucked had done, but the apologies and the question remained the same:
Did you finish?
Did Rhosiris finish?
"No," he replied with as much incredulity as he felt, giving his hips a little experimental rock and finding the solid presence from before had thoroughly softened, and that was most certainly not the same. Not the same at all.
"No, I didn't finish, I--" the wiggling had felt odd, and another rocking motion had Hero slipping out completely, much to Rhosiris' thorough disappointment. All he was left with was the faint memory of touch against skin that yearned for more, needed more, was utterly aching for more and... had nothing.
He'd betrayed the love of his life for this?
"No," he repeated, teeth bared in annoyance as he stared down at that sweet, goofy, precious grin and hated himself all the more. "I'm not done, just a little more--"
He wanted to open a floodgate of questions, like why Hero had come so little, what Rho had done wrong to make it that spectacularly mediocre, and more. But right then all Rho wanted was at least the reward of a supernova. He needed at least that much; he couldn't have done all this, thrown away all he had, and not get to the end himself. It was...
No.
"I'm close. Please." His voice was husky, and he hoped it seemed out of desire, because he was not prepared to deal with everything right then and there. He shifted, leaning back yet still in Hero's lap, one hand bracing himself against the bed while the other slid between them, between his own legs, fingers plunging into himself and feeling disappointingly inadequate.
This couldn't be happening. He keened, high and breathless, through his nose, lips pressed into a tight line and eyes squeezed shut as he drove himself over that edge. Over the edge and with no supernovas, but stars nonetheless, a minutes-long procession of stars that began faintly and rose to a crescendo, seed splattering against his stomach at the height of feeling before it all slowly wound down again.
And then it was over. Still too soon, it seemed, though longer than his partner's had been. Rhosiris was a mess: sweat was dripping down his chest and thighs, his lungs struggled to provide air in the stuffy heat of the room, and worse still Rhosiris was left with the sense that this all should have been so much more.
Still, he was far too overwhelmed to brood, shaking with residual pleasure as he laid back on the bed and looked, heavy-lidded, up at the ceiling. Slowly, he considered his own fingers, at the faint signs of fluid that wasn't his on them.
"I was... that bad? Why did it take you so quick?"