Chapter Text
Epilogue
“What are you wearing?” Lucas asked, eyeing Yann up and down at the sheer amount of skin he was showing in his uniform.
Yann rolls his eyes to the ceiling slamming a glass down onto the counter top. His lips, set in a scowl, barely containing his anger.
“Apparently this,” Yann points at himself, voice deadpan, “ Is Mika’s idea of a uniform. This is how we are supposed to make more tips—I’m now selling my body.”
Lucas regards the other man with a tilt of his head. His eyes take in the red devil horns sitting on top of his friends head; the black choker wrapped around his neck; the silver tag spelling out naughty; his shirtless state of being; the lower hanging denim jeans. Lucas leans on the bartop, his palm strategically covering the lower half of his face to hide the wide smile that cuts across his face.
When Yann turns around to reach for a bottle on the shelf behind him, Lucas snorts into his hand.
“Fuck, you have a tail, hah!” Lucas said, his snort turning into a barking laugh. The brunette feels the weight of joy in his belly. Yann forcefully tells him to fuck off with his finger, grumbling under the loud bass of the background music.
"Yann is just salty because he knows I'm right— go ahead, tell our baby boy, how much tip you've made already?"
The smirk on Mika’s face is knowing, arrogant. But the scowl that Yann holds on his own is far more impressive.
"I'd trade it all if you give me something to wear so my nipples don't freeze and fall off."
"Oh, are we complaining again?" Imane said, moving to lean against the bar to Yann’s right. "Count your blessings you aren't a woman, these uniforms are synonymous with the female body." Her grin is wide when Yann crosses his arms over his chest, failing to cover his nipples.
"Go away, you're harassing me with your eyes." Yann said, a playfulness underlining his grumbling.
Imane rolls her eyes, mouth pulling down in disgust. "Please, you're not even my type." Imane moves to grab multiple bottles under the bar and on the top shelves.
Her movements are smooth and practiced— punctuated by the remixed beats of a pop song from one of those English boy bands. At least, Lucas thinks so. He's not quite invested in finding out, far more riveted in Imane's craft than anything else at the moment.
The drink she pours is an electric blue. "What we're really celebrating tonight is our baby boy Lu— back to a hundred percent."
There's a dissonant cheering that erupts around him. He joins in with a laugh, sucking down the concoction like it's water. He knows it'll hit him quick. But he's alright with it.
Imane picks up the empty glass that Lucas places on the bar. Before he can become accustomed to the burn of alcohol in his belly, Imane is emptying another bottle of liquor into a tall glass. The iced tropical punch, and next to it, Imane lights a shot on fire. The blue flame looks equal parts inviting and dangerous.
There's a nudge to his side, as Robbe squeezes himself into the space between Lucas and another person.
"You should get hurt more often, Mika is keeping the alcohol flowing. I haven't paid for a single drop!"
Robbe grins while he nurses a beer. When they were stuck in that room together, his friend had been unconscious for most of it. Lucas was lucid enough for the both of them.
Robbe sustained nothing more than a nasty gash on his head. His recovery was quick and Lucas knows that the other brunette harbors some kind of guilt for it.
Lucas knocks against Robbe. His shoulder, marred with just the smallest puckered scar to show for, is hidden beneath his shirt.
"I'll follow your lead for this next round."
They share a laugh and a connection now, one they hadn't thought they'd be tied up in.
"Once wasn't enough for you Lallemant?"
A hand reaches between the two of them, claiming the tumbler of whiskey that Imane already placed down without being asked.
Blocking his view, Lucas locks eyes with Sander's seafoam gaze. There is mirth and a glint of amusement that pins Lucas in place. So reminiscent of Eliott.
His thoughts drift for a second, wondering where Eliott disappeared to.
"I could be convinced to give it another go. There's something addicting about being rescued by handsome men."
Sander raises his brow, grinning lips sipping from his glass. "Aw, you think I'm handsome?"
The alcohol kicks in and all Lucas can feel is a weightlessness and unhindered confidence as he faces down Robbe's narrowed eyes.
Maybe he enjoys riling up Robbe. Maybe he enjoys the attention he's getting tonight. From every angle. Because it's different from his normal.
"I think Robbe thinks you're going to be sleeping on the couch tonight if we," Lucas gestures between Sander and himself, "continue this conversation. Although—"
Lucas drapes the top half of his body over the bar so Robbe and Sander are both in his line of sight. He feels coy; he feels more than good, seeing the way Robbe is flushed—so damn flustered—and still trying to hide his own awkward amusement at seeing Sander flirt.
" — I do have a rather comfy couch if you find yourself needing a place to sleep."
The look that Robbe sends his way is equal parts exasperated and playful— with his doe like eyes just the slightest bit narrowed and his lips fighting back a smile.
"Are you feeling a little lonely or something, Lallemant? Need someone to warm your bed? If you wanted my attention, you could have just asked, you know. I can be generous, we're friends after all." Sander said, arm sneaking around Robbe’s waist. Like the smaller brunette needs the reassurance that Sander only has eyes for him.
Lucas thinks they are disgusting. He thinks they are gross— and he loves it for them.
"Nevermind, I'll take it all back. You're not welcomed on my couch. Go be in love somewhere else." Lucas said, rolling his eyes at them. His grin grows when Robbe flushes, like he's embarrassed at being so obvious, and angry at being called out for it.
It doesn't help when the blonde eats it all up like it is candy. Like Robbe is too tempting and Sander is too weak.
Lucas watches the way Sander crowds Robbe, his build somehow looming despite not being that much taller. Lucas can see it. That moment when Robbe and Sander turn to look only to realize there's nothing left to see but each other.
Lucas knows what it's like when a moment like that hits. Lately it's all he can experience. When Lucas stops what he's doing and simply watches Eliott who might just be quietly speaking on the phone, sitting across the room from Lucas as Lucas works. Or how the taller brunette could be knee deep in a conversation with an acquaintance, a business partner, and Lucas just happens to be around to see it.
His world narrows down to a needle's point. All he can see is Eliott. A smirk that graces bowed lips, lifted at the corner that screams Eliott is close to getting what he wants. The deepening of those stormy blue eyes when Eliott is displeased.
How he holds himself, relaxed when speaking to someone, be it Sander or Even— a sense of comfort that it provides to his company. But Lucas knows the truth because he watches the other man so closely.
Lucas devours those little stolen moments and keeps it to himself, and tries his best to be inconspicuous. Sometimes, Lucas catches Eliott watching too.
Sometimes.
Lucas can feel it. That cool gaze that pins him in place even when he's not looking. It takes everything in him to not acknowledge Eliott. Or. If he wants, Lucas preens and makes sure Eliott has something to look at; makes sure that Eliott won't want to look away.
Seeing Robbe and Sander get so wrapped up in each other, dropping out of the conversation, and walking away from the bar has Lucas turning his attention to those around him.
There's Lucille. She sits at the bar, engaged in light conversation with Bas and Daphne. The brunette nurses a pretty drink, a soft teeth-baring smile on her face. When she takes a sip from her glass, those hazel eyes find him. She gives a casual toast before her gaze slips away. Their shared experience lives as a connection that doesn't extend beyond that.
Lucas gives her the courtesy of turning the other cheek when he catches her looking in Eliott’s direction. When she stands a little close before she catches herself. He's not so caught up in his own feelings that he can't recognize the history between the two. That, Lucas can't compete with— all he can do is empathize.
"Not satisfied with your current relationship? I see you're looking for the company of strangers instead."
Lucas snorts. He pulls his eyes away from Lucille to find Nicco tilting his own glass against the bar top, eyes riveted on the deep amber liquid kissing the rim dangerously.
"I'd hardly consider Sander a stranger." He counters, eyeing Nicco who still has that strong wide smile of his, resting on his face. "You're not jealous are you? I can give you attention too, Nicco. All you have to do is ask."
Nicco huffs an ugly laugh that makes Lucas grin, his brows raising up to his hairline, jokingly. They've known each other for most of their lives and Lucas has seen Nicco out in public, surrounded by people like this only a handful of times. The sight is odd; out of place. At a bar where Lucas knows almost everyone who stands around him, friends or acquaintances, the Italian man with his olive skin and head of dark waves— he is a strike of dissonance against the noise of chatter and laughter and music.
Lucas isn't sure he's ever seen Nicco in a relationship other than the fiasco with Maddalena. Whatever flings he did have, Nicco kept it private. Quiet.
"Meet anyone interesting yet?" Lucas asked. He reaches for the drink in the other man's hand without asking and takes a sip, grimacing at the burn trailing down his throat and filling his stomach. Lucas hands back the drink watching as his old friend knocks back the rest of it without so much as a blink against the taste.
There's something lonely about the air Nicco carries around him. It makes Lucas want to find something to stir things up.
There's Mika laughing as he shakes up another drink. His friends scattered all around mingling. He can see across the curved bar, all the unfamiliar faces of true strangers, dancing and laughing and stumbling drunk. Obnoxious.
"A shirt, just a fucking shirt— look, you're torturing the new kid—"
A couple of stools down Yann's still arguing with Mika, while pouring a drink. He sounds more like he's complaining just to complain. Not because he actually cares. Yann waves his free hand at a new face.
" — he hasn't stopped blushing." Yann shouts over the cacophony of sound.
Lucas notes that the new person is hardly a kid. A built frame, chest a holographic sheen under the flashing light of the place. His choker dangles, glinting silver and spelling out nice. He is flushed. A delicate red blankets his chest and climbs the column of his neck before finally resting on the swell of his cheekbones. Handsome. In a boyish way with his dark hair and dark eyes. An unsure smile.
"I'll have you know, I gave Marti the option to keep his clothing on— this is a choice. He said he's looking to go home with someone tonight." Mika wiggles his brows at Marti, playfully.
"I didn't say that." Marti huffs, that grin still on his face. His gaze drifts over towards Lucas but it doesn't take a genius to see that he was staring at Niccolò.
He's about to nudge the man by his side, like they are in high-school and Lucas is ready to play matchmaker. Only. Lucas finds his words stuck on the tip of his tongue, glued to the roof of his mouth, when he finds Nicco looking back at the other man, with curiosity.
With interest.
Oh. Now wasn't that something. When Lucas looks back at the new face, he finds the other man swiftly making a drink, his blush a little darker now, eyes finding Nicco before quickly looking away.
"So I guess the answer is no, but you're about to, right?" Lucas said, knowing Niccolò has no intention of actually answering his first question.
Lucas flags Marti down with a raise of his hand. The action grabs Nicco's attention; the brunette narrows his eyes. Before he can say anything, Marti interrupts them with that same, awkward smile and brown eyes that struggle to keep away from Nicco.
"Pour my friend a glass of the Paradis Imperial— I'll have a shot of your Ketel One, and whatever you're having?"
Marti grins, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. But he chuckles confidently. His smile shrinks to something more confident.
"I'm not sure I should be drinking on the job."
"Don't worry, I'll handle Mika." Lucas reassures. "So three drinks, please."
Looking skeptical, but giving in easily, Marti rolls his eyes but his grin is wide as he turns to pour their drinks. Disappearing down the line to grab the bottle of expensive Hennessy.
"He's cute."
Nicco, regards him with a sharp gaze and a shark-like grin."Right."
"You don't think so? I'm kinda jealous, look at those abs.
A cocked brow. "Oh, are you interested in him, too?"
Lucas shrugs. He finds Marti interesting. But he's not interested. Although, Nicco doesn't need to know that.
"I'm just saying, you shouldn't pass up an opportunity if it presents itself."
"Does Demaury know that you're slutting yourself out to random men?"
There's more bite in Niccolò's words than there usually is. Lucas finds it thrilling. It makes him want to tease more just to see this side of him that Lucas' never been privileged enough to witness. Before he can retort, there's a heat he feels, pressed tightly against his back. A hand on his waist and an arm that wraps around until long fingers are able to hold his chin in a bruising grip— forcing his jaw to drop.
Lucas hasn't pulled his gaze away from Nicco. The other man remains calm by who he sees, and despite the initial panic Lucas feels, he instantly relaxes into the grip when his body recognizes the weight pressed against him; the familiar warmth and touch of fingers against his skin; Eliott’s scent.
Eliott pulls him up until his back is flushed against a sturdy chest. Those fingers tighten forcing Lucas' jaw to drop, relieving the pressure. He bites down gently at the tip of those fingers to press into his mouth.
Eliott gives a strong shake of his hand, the movement fast and dizzying— his mouth waters.
"What makes you think I don't like it when he acts like this?" Eliott asked, leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss on the side of Lucas' head. Something soft touches Lucas' neck. He glances to the said and catches sight of a chiseled jaw, and a wide smirk. Eliott’s top canines peeking out.
Lucas bites down on the finger pressing down on his tongue hard enough to pull a hiss from the other man. The sound tickles Lucas' ears and it's all he can do not flinch and the feel of it.
Nicco opens his mouth to counter, but before he can speak, Marti interrupts placing three shot glasses down on the bar with a clink.
Lucas bites down harder until Eliott lets him go with a chuckle, fingers smearing the spit on Lucas' lips.
"I'm gonna get you for that later." He whispers back at Eliott, eyes catching the satisfied smirk on the other man's face. His eyes at half mast, his gaze screaming that he's ready and waiting.
Lucas scoffs, looking away and back at Marti while his heart ribbits against his ribcage. He refocused himself.
"Mika said I was only allowed to give you a shot of the Imperial." The brunette said, his teeth toying with his bottom lip. His chest is blotchy and carrying embarrassment.
Almost shy as his eyes flirt, moving from the drinks to Nicco and then back again. It's almost as if Lucas and Eliott aren't even there. Nothing but Nicco.
"Oh? And why is that?"
Lucas watches the way Niccolò leans closer, a glint in his eyes.
Interest.
"Something about being angry at Filippo." He shrugs, causing the smearing of glitter to glimmer; eye catching.
"What happened to being neutral?" Nicco's tone is laced with humor and yet he manages to sound uncaring about Mika’s pettiness.
"He said it was personal." Marti responded, sounding just as perplexed.
Nicco gives a noncommittal hum, eyes looking down at the shot glass. The smile hasn't left his face.
There's a beat where silence is the only thing they hear. A beat too long because Lucas catches the lightest huff of air on the back of his neck just before Eliott leans over Lucas' shoulder and grabs the shot of Hennessy for himself. Lucas looks back just in time to see Eliott’s throat swallow it down, bobbing. His eyes move from throat to lips and lips to eyes before he rests his gaze on the tip of Eliott's ear.
Lucas fights the urge to get on his tiptoes to bite at it, sooth it with his tongue.
Or bring Eliott down so Lucas could do just the same. To kiss him and taste the cognac.
"It didn't look like you wanted it— did I read that wrong?" Eliott breaks out into a grin before looking at Marti. "Mind getting him another?"
"Wait!" Lucas calls, stopping the other brunette from walking away. "Lets take our shots first. And you can share your next one with Nicco over here." Lucas gestures with a tilt of his head, finding it almost cute when Marti mouthed the name under his breath unaware that he was being watched.
They clink glasses and shoot the liquor. He barely blinks as it slides down his throat. Tasteless. He grins, winking at Marti.
"Enjoy the rest of your night. It's getting late and I'm getting old."
Lucas takes Eliott's hand that rests on his waist and laces their fingers together. His goodbye is quick, wiggling his fingers at those behind the bar, those that are slamming drinks and waving goodbye.
He turns around and is greeted with a soft gaze. An easy smile. He glances down at the scarf hanging open around Eliott’s neck. Lucas knows the fabric is soft to the touch, delicate. He knows that it's a warm brown with that tint of cinnamon— Lucas knows that Eliott has a pair of matching gloves, stowed away somewhere safe.
Vicuña wool that he spent hours weaving tightly into something that would be fitting for the man in front of him. Seeing it there, has him feeling something deep inside. The way his heart beats faster makes Lucas think he might just be in love, he's fallen so deep, there's no chance of pulling himself out.
No lifeline that he is willing to cling to. It is scary— thrilling.
"Want to leave?" With me. Lucas asked. Even after everything, there's a part of him that is uncertain. His smile is all confident but his heart quivers under all his constructed nonchalance.
Eliott looks down his nose at Lucas with the barest hint of a smirk on his lip. That body moves closer, crowding Lucas against the bar. His long arms bracketing Lucas in like a cage—Eliott the predator and Lucas, his prey.
"Where should we go, then?"
The choice is left to Lucas. It is an odd feeling. Having the ability to make choices for himself. It’s almost scary and he’s a newborn foal trying his best to find his footing. And every step of the way, he has Eliott pulling him up if he stumbles where before Lucas treaded the water without a life line. That string that connects them now feels unbreakable as Lucas claims the spot next to the taller brunette with confidence.
Sure that the stitches connecting them are tighter than ever, thread that has been tied together on each end and pulled tight against the seam that once was the space between them. Just the way Lucas wants it. He wants Eliott to have a hold of him; to keep Lucas close.
Like Lucas is the most important accessory in Eliott’s life— a piece of a whole that his lover can’t be seen without. Lucas wants to make sure that he stitches the two of them together so there is no confusion. By now, Lucas knows where he wants to belong—where he fits—and he’s chosen the spot by Eliott’s side.
They are a set, carved into stone. Rooted in a box when they first met: Lucas, who suffocated in a shell of a house: all the openings but unable to take a step in any direction; Eliott, all wrapped up in a blanket of his past: threadbare and too small on his body, but it clung to him like a haunting shadow always trailing after him.
"Oh? I get to choose?" Lucas asked, hand moving to pull Eliott closer until they rest inches apart—nose to nose. "I say we head to my place." Lucas said, lips in a wide grin. His eyes drop to look down at Eliott's half formed smirk, dangerous and fond, pupils blown wide with want; something Lucas might label now as affection. It makes Lucas huff a laugh, because his place is their place, now. It's been this way for the past two months.
Something new.
Something long overdue.
"Sounds promising."
Eliott has the phone pulled out and his driver on the line before Lucas could stutter out a breath.
It's embarrassing how quick his steps are as he pulls Eliott with him, weaving through the crowd of bodies. The exit is two steps away when he comes to a sudden stop to prevent a collision.
Blonde hair and the greenest eyes. Isak grins at Lucas. Beside him Even bounces his gaze between Lucas and Eliott.
They absolutely know what they are doing.
"What's the rush?" Even asks, a quiver of humor bleeding into his question. And like the loyal partner that he is, Isak jumps on board.
"We hardly got to see you tonight— I didn't even get to take a shot with you."
He glares at Isak. He glares at Even.
"Isak, if you don't move—right now—I promise that picture of you last Halloween will be circulating so quick you'll barely get to—"
"Wait, what picture?"
The momentary panic on Isak’s face and the curiosity in Even's voice has Lucas reveling in the way tables turn.
"Y-you deleted that."
Lucas lifts a brow.
"After I printed it."
"Issy, what photo?"
The blond is quick to turn his gaze onto Even. Lucas almost laughs at Isak’s wide doe-eyes, and knowing Even, Lucas knows those doe eyes are useless against the tall blonde.
"If you'll excuse us." Lucas said, feeling quite satisfied as Isak moves out of the way. Just before they make it out of the door, Lucas hears Isak claiming he's taking it to the grave. Lucas doubts that. His friend will cave.
With the alcohol still running through his system, Lucas can hardly feel the bite of cold air. His breathing is loud against the night; against the back beat of music behind the closed door.
Chest pumping with anticipation as they cast shadows on the sidewalk—the beam of headlights. It's Eliott who takes the lead. Like a gentleman he opens the door for Lucas to step in first.
A modern man with a romantic heart.
The ride feels like it lasts forever with Lucas sat pressed against Eliott as his arms hold Lucas close. The heat of the other man's thighs; his fingers lightly tracing patterns up and down the column of his neck.
It drives him mad as his world narrows down to his rapidly beating pulse, the blood rushing in his ears, and he's consumed by the heat pooling in his groin.
Lucas swallows, breath hitching when Eliott grips his neck with the slightest pressure. All five fingers held him still with the softest touch. It makes his head spin. Lucas knows his body reacts just the way Eliott wants it to. His lover is playing dirty.
Lucas looks over at Eliott and finds the other man smirking at him. Like he won a silent contest. Like Eliott just reached the finish line and Lucas isn't even aware they are competing.
And maybe Eliott will win. Maybe Lucas will finally take pity on the brunette, and finally let him fuck Lucas. But he doesn't have to take the teasing lying down.
He said, "I think you should fuck me tonight."
Of course they've done everything but fuck, Lucas chosing to give as good as he got. Remembering each time Eliott would take him to the edge, but refused to go any further.
But.
He wants to get fucked.
Tonight.
"When we get back, you should get one of your suits on— I want you to keep it on."
Lucas can't tell, his vision playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw the way Eliott's pupils dilated. Red hot desire shining in his hooded gaze.
By the time they get home, there's hardly a beat, a split second, when they aren't touching.
The moment breaks and Lucas is breathing Eliott in. Tasting him on his tongue. The brunette is quick to pull his lover in, using every bit of strength he has, and yet mindful of what he's pulling at. The silky smooth fabric of suits and ties, and scarfs. It triggers a carnal desire in him. An urge to feel it on his body; on nothing but his skin.
Lucas breathes through his nose, mouth pressed and working against Eliott's until his lips are buzzing; pressed and working until his lips are swollen, heated, aching.
The brunette throws his arms around Eliott’s neck, pulling him closer and hanging on so he doesn't trip while he walks backwards into their home. A penthouse that Lucas chose, and Eliott bought.
Eliott promised Lucas he would make a spare room into his work space while they rebuilt his shop. Eliott promised he'd build it the same, but better— lay down new floorboards, keep the skeleton but replace the memories. He promised. Lucas knew he was in love.
In love with Eliott. In love with the home they are building together. Through trial and error, everything is worth it.
Lucas whimpers when Eliott sucks on his tongue before pushing into Lucas's mouth with a dark urgency.
Eliott kisses Lucas like Lucas is not the brunette's weakness, but rather, a strength. Lucas holds onto Eliott even tighter. Those large, heated hands of his traveling down Lucas's body, once again memorizing all the dips and curves. Eliott reaches behind, fingers digging into Lucas's ass and hefts him up like Lucas weighs nothing.
Lucas feels like he is weightless. Light, as Eliott walks towards their room. His steps are steady, mouth still kissing and nipping at Lucas' neck. His jaw. His ears.
Lucas feels dizzy, his cheeks heated with a terrible desire.
"You're going to let me fuck you." Eliott said. There is no question in his tone. A statement that speaks nothing but truth. Without bothering to put up the pretense that he didn't want it, Lucas is nodding desperately. He clings to the last thread of his sanity when Eliott's fingers bite into the flesh of his ass, lifting his body up higher, higher until Lucas is looking down at him, one arm still around the other man's shoulders—one working its way down his shirt, doing his best to get his shirt off.
What he'd normally be able to do with ease, Lucas finds his fingers failing him now. His frustration builds and all his thoughts can focus on is having Eliott on him; in him.
Warm hands and long fingers holding him open, spreading his thighs as that thick cock fucks into him.
Lucas pulls at his shirt with a whine, hardly picking up the sound of his buttons popping off and hitting the floor.
Lucas leans down, lips wrapping around Eliott’s ear. He bites down gently, pulling and releasing. "Y-you think you're making the rules here?" Lucas pants, face feeling hot. When he pulls aways, slowly, there's a smirk on Eliott's face.
"You're going to take me to bed, go get changed into that suit I like, then I'll think about letting you fuck me."
Finally.
Lucas is nowhere near pious. Or saving himself for marriage. That boat sailed away a long time ago. The brunette has done everything with Eliott except letting the other man fuck him. He's surprised the both of them managed to last this long without breaking.
Eliott tosses Lucas on their soft bed, his body bouncing once before he settles.
"Look at you," Eliott palms at Lucas' cock between his thighs. "Making demands when you're already leaking and I haven't even touched you yet."
Eliott’s hold tightens and Lucas damn near loses his mind, head tossing back against the pillow unable to hold back a moan.
"Aah-ngh, fuck." He feels like a teen, ready to blow his load prematurely. Lucas opens his eyes trying to focus his gaze. He pulls Eliott closer with shaking figures. "Either, you, h-hah, hurry the fuck up or I'll take care of myself while you watch."
Lucas grits his teeth. The wild and untamed look in Eliott’s eyes drive Lucas wild. His grin is dark when he takes his fingers and less than gently, taps against Lucas' cheeks— the slightest bite to his touch lingers.
"Promises, promises." Eliott said, breaking off into a chuckle as he sits up on his knees, looming over Lucas. He isn't quite slow with taking off his clothing, but it's slow enough to drive Lucas mad. Slow enough to make the spit gather in Lucas' mouth as he continues to stare.
Lucas reaches for his cock only to have Eliott slap his hand away.
"I don't think so, baby." Eliott said with a gentle smile. His voice is soft but his words are cruel.
Lucas groans, closing his eyes. He hates Eliott. No. He hates himself.
"Eyes on me." The tall brunette commands and Lucas is weak. Instantly his eyes snap open. Eliott's chest is exposed, his shirt gone while the button of his jeans is popped open, his briefs pulled down the slightest. Lucas follows the light dusting of hair that trails beneath Eliott’s briefs.
Lucas wants to lick, follow it. Use his lips to kiss at the hard outline and suck on the head of Eliott’s cock until he soaks the cloth with his spit. He wants to pull those briefs down with his teeth.
Feel Eliott's hand on the back of his head, pushing down.
Lucas gasps when his head is pushed back forcefully against the pillow, fingers gripping at his hair, forcing him to look up at Eliott.
"Look at you daydreaming while I'm right here. You're hurting my feelings."
They way Eliott looks down at him, that smirk and thar sharp heat in his gaze. Lucas licks his lips and Eliott follows the movement.
"What are you waiting for?" Lucas rasps, feeling parched.
Eliott barks a laugh, smiling until his laugh lines are visible, his eyes slitted— teeth sharp and a bright white. He doesn't have to tell Lucas to sit patiently before he's off the bed and disappears out of sight.
Lucas takes the minutes to calm down. He feels out of his mind. His cock throbs between his legs and his chest pumps with anticipation. What happens if he does it? What will Eliott do when he comes back to find Lucas already touching himself?
His fingers itch to find out.
Lucas counts his breaths like he counts the seconds. Mind so distracted, laying there left wanting and waiting and wondering— Lucas can't focus long enough and loses count. He's not sure how many times he starts over by the time he feels a dip on the bed.
Lucas loses all senses and thoughts when he opens his eyes to see Eliott in his suit.
That very first one.
Sleek black with a patch of red.
Lucas reaches for the lapels and pulls Eliott closer. Closer still until he rests between Lucas's legs. He said,
"Why do I still have clothing on?"
He said,
"You're always keeping me waiting."
And it's as if those words pull something dark and dangerous in Eliott to the surface.
Eliott is on him, lips on his neck, teeth biting into his skin, hands quick to take off Lucas's pants with effortlessness.
The brunette tosses his head back, hissing as he teeters on the edge of pain and pleasure; his mind unable to focus on anything but the place where Eliott is touching him. The heated trail of his fingers and how that palm wraps around his cock when Eliott reaches into his boxer.
"Please." Lucas said, whimpering. His mouth drops open, trying his best to pull in air. He works to chase away the feeling of his arms and legs shaking in anticipation, the way his skin pebbles at the cool air he feels when Eliott takes his jeans off completely.
Eliott grinds down softly against Lucas' hard cock. The thin layer of his boxers, the tightening of Eliott’s hand.
The brush of fabric on his inner thigh.
Lucas takes in a hitched breath that shaped itself into a moan, a sound deep with desire in the back of his throat. Every time Eliott so much as shifted, the edges of his suit jacket would run across his sides; his stomach clenched tight.
"E-Eliott, god, I need—" Lucas trails off. He wants Eliott. "Nngh, f-fuck." The press of Eliott’s fingers on him and the warm palm that hugs his throat makes Lucas lose his breath, chest stilling when the brunette breathes in and it's just that much harder to breathe.
"Look how cute you're being for me."
He looks up at Eliott with his blue eyes. His vision is hazy. Wet. Lucas feels amazing.
Eliot doesn't let go of Lucas' throat when he leans closer, dipping his devilish tongue between Lucas' lips. Eliott curls the tip and licks into Lucas' mouth. Making a mess of them both.
Eliott tightens his hold just the tiniest bit and Lucas can't help but gasp. His cock twitches, bobbing against his stomach.
"So fucking beautiful." Eliott said, each word punctuated by a kiss to the lips. When Eliott pulls away just to look down at Lucas while he flicks his wrist and pumps his hand up and down the length of Lucas' cock— Lucas spreads his legs a little wider and thrusts his hips, impatient.
Lucas wails, hands gripping at the sheets as his back arches impossibly at the sharp pleasure pain that travels through him as Eliott presses down on the head of his cock, his thumb spreading around the precum.
Eliott chuckles. If Lucas wasn't already lost to his needs, he might have felt weary of that laugh, but he's been too far gone and all he wants is to look good for this man.
Look his best so Eliott can treat him the way he deserves.
"If they could see you the way I do," Lucas preens. "They'd see how being a slut, isn't a bad thing." Eliott moves his hands away leaving Lucas feeling empty and cold for a second too long.
But Eliott knows what he's doing. He knows how to tease every single one of Lucas' nerve endings. Eliott holds Lucas by the back of his thighs, pressing hard with his fingers— he grinds his clothed dick against Lucas'.
Hard.
"Aah, Eliott!" Lucas cries out, teeth biting his bottom lip until it throbs. His limbs jerk and his thighs try to close but Eliott doesn't let him move away. His grip is bruising. Lucas lets out a dry sob, body going limp when Eliott pulls back just a little and takes his time in undressing Lucas completely. The other brunette doesn't waste time opening his trousers and pulling out his member. Red tip and leaking.
He moves, leaning forward until he can brace his hand against the wall, dick resting on Lucas' face. The musk and scent of soap makes Lucas feel special. Lucas tilts his head and closes one eye. His mouth opens out of habit, he is already licking at the cock in his face. The brunette keeps his eyes locked on Eliott's, unwavering, as he tastes him; feels the velvety skin against his lips.
Tastes the salt the musk the bitterness. He loves it. Is obsessed with feeling the weight of Eliott on his tongue and in his mouth. Stuffing him full as the head of his cock hits the back of his throat. Lucas wonders if it'll feel just like this when Eliott finally fucks him— he wants to know if he'll feel just as full and in the best way.
Eliott pulls Lucas forward and thrusts into his mouth at the same time. Instantly Lucas gags and his eyes begin to water. Lucas breathes harshly through his nose, swallowing again and again around Eliott’s thick member.
His lover thrusts again and Lucas chokes. His mind whites out when Eliott holds him still for a beat longer, grinding his hips into Lucas' face and rubbing his skin raw with the coarse feel of his trousers on Lucas' skin.
Lucas can feel his throat convulse and his head begins to spin when Eliott finally pulls out, leaving Lucas coughing and gasping for air. He's a mess, Lucas knows this without having to see himself in the mirror. His eyes water, and his chin drips spit. It's sloppy, his chin catching the slick wetness of drool that he can't swallow down because he is too preoccupied with trying to get Eliott further into his mouth until he's choking on nothing but cock. Lucas can feel it. The way his skin is rubbed raw. He pulls back. Blue eyes look at the tip, all shiny and wet. He spits on it and kisses the head with his lips parted, tongue pressing into the slit.
"Fuck." Eliott growls out with pleasure. It makes Lucas grin, taking the head of his cock a little deeper, then pulling back slowly. Still out of breath but unwilling to pull away. He wants to make his lover come undone, but selfishly, Lucas wants Eliott to cut inside him—lose himself when he's finally fucking him. Lucas pulls off, his breathing ragged.
"C'mere," Eliott pulls Lucas up until he can brace his weight easily on his arms, fingers tangled in the sheet. Eliott holds him lightly by the chin, leaning down to press a slow kiss to his lips. It makes his blood run hot to know the way Eliott tastes himself when they kiss. Lucas feels impossibly hot as the other nibbles his lips and sucks on his tongue like Eliott is trying hard to define the flavor. Like he was addicted to it.
And wasn’t that a thought. Something in it makes Lucas’s heart flutter almost to a stop. Eliott replaces grins before pulling away. "Get them wet,” the brunette said as he replaced his tongue with his fingers which Lucas was all too eager to suck on. One, two, then three until he felt as if he was going to choke much like when he had Eliott's cock in his mouth; down his throat. "Mm," Lucas moans, his tongue flicking between, cheeks hollowed as he sucks.
"And they said slut like it is a bad thing."
Eliott pulls his fingers out of Lucas' mouth and trails his hand down the length of the brunette's body. His touch, a confident glide that Lucas reads loud and clear. Eliott knows what he wants; he wants Lucas. The way he stretches Lucas opens isn't gentle. Isn't slow.
It's at the pace of a man who has stretched his patience thin; a man who entertained his lover's game for long enough.
Eliott, who would keep holding himself back for as long as Lucas wants him to. Need him to.
But Lucas doesn't want or need Eliott to. Where before he teased, kept his body just that bit out of reach— now Lucas wants Eliott to let go because Lucas is done with his game.
Lucas throws his head back, his breath caught in the back of his throat at the feeling of Eliott’s fingers inside him. He thinks,
Finally.
"Hurry."
Because Lucas lost at his own game. He bites at his bottom lip at the pressure building up inside him. His eyes are open but he's watching Eliott through a thick haze that has blanketed his mind since before they left Mika’s. Lucas finds his heart stuttering, unable to formulate a beat when Eliott twists his fingers, pushing in deep and pressing against that spot inside him relentlessly, three fingers deep.
"E-Eli'tt." Lucas grits out when he pushes and pulls, and twists and scissors his fingers. His pace, fast. The chuckle that it pulls from his lover teeters on the edge of dark impatience and fondness.
"You should see the way you're just pulling me in. How 'bout you go ahead and stretch yourself open." Eliott said, leaning down until his nose is buried against Lucas' throat, his mouth latches onto his rapidly jumping pulse. "Show me how much you want this."
His voice brushing over Lucas' skin. A heated feeling that stokes his want.
Lucas fails at keeping his thinking straight when Eliott hooks an arm under Lucas' legs, fingers leaving indents on his thighs where he grips like he can't lose him.
It's endearing. It's distracting.
"A-ah, hhah—fuck, Eliott, I can't." Lucas whimpers as Eliott presses insistently against his prostate. His touch is warm and brutal and impatient. "Hngh, shit, I-I'm goi—"
Eliott pulls away, and Lucas nearly sobs. That intense pleasure, how close he was to cumming, stops abruptly.
"Ah, Eliott you can't—"
"I can't?"
Eliott grinds against Lucas’ cock. Lucas chokes on a moan; a gasp. The catch of clothing against his bare skin burns and it only serves to heighten how good he feels. Lucas breathes in short bursts, his chest pumping.
"Aa— hnng," he whines. "please. I-I need."
You. He wants to scream out how much he needs him. For what, Lucas isn't quite sure but he knows he needs it badly. He is drowning in it.
"I want to watch you fuck yourself."
Lucas shakes his head back and forth because that's not what he wants. He wants more as his fingers grip harshly at the sheets, twisting and bunching it under his touch. Eliott moves until it’s his weight that forces Lucas to bend. Crazed with lust, for a moment Lucas barely registers that perhaps his body shouldn’t fold like that.
“Eliott, I can’t.” He wants to, he thinks. But the pleasure that throbs from the inside makes him feel like his heart might just stop. Lucas begs. His body moves when Eliott guides him. teeth biting down on his bottom lip until the sharp pain clears away the haze just briefly.
“You can.” And as if proving himself correct, Eliott reaches for Lucas’ hand and pulls until his nimble fingers between his legs and seated next to Eliotts’s that is now rubbing soft circles at his rim.
Lucas whines, feeling obscene in such a pose. His knees close to his ears, thighs flush against his torso. Lucas breathes in deep. Eliott, smelling of smokey whiskey and that scent of happiness and sunflowers and.
And— a touch bathed in Lucas and his timeless essence washed in fabrics and comfort. It’s intoxicating. The way his lover guides his fingers to replace Eliott’s thick one with his own. Lucas gasps at the heat, the burn and pull of his own fingers sliding and catching on his abused rim.
“Just like that, baby.” Eliott hisses, teeth gritting. The first time Lucas sees the other brunette lose his composure. Lucas pants, his chest heaving as he keens when his manicured nails catch on the puffy opening.
“Fuck, just look at you.” Eliott said, pulling the sound from deep within his chest. A growl. The brunette grips Lucas’ wrist again and pulls him towards that impossible angle and works one of Lucas’ fingers in. One, then two, three and Lucas can’t breathe, can’t think. Eliott adds them slowly, with a gentleness that contrasts with the barely contained need that Lucas can see is present in those grey blue eyes. Eyes blown wide with pleasure staring at that push and pull.
Eliott’s gaze jumps up to Lucas’ face. For a brief moment, Lucas thinks Eliott might say something crazy. Something he is always thinking but hardly ever speaks out loud. leans down, kiss Lucas’s lips in sharp bursts, teeth biting and pulling until Lucas thinks his lips might be bruised.
He rests his forehead against Lucas’s and all Lucas can do is dot kisses where his lips can reach, close his eyes and feel his fingers, feel the breath shared between them. Feel the rumble in Eliott’s chest when he groans, impatient.
Feel Eliot on him. That weight.
“Hold yourself open for me?” Eliott asks, sounding vulnerable.
Lucas felt something light up inside him. Despite the ache in his thighs from his legs held up the way it was, Lucas pulls his fingers out, leaving him feeling empty. He shifts his body, turns around until his chest is pressed against the sheets and ass in the air. His knees spread apart. Lucas finds purchase as his fingers bite into his own flesh , holding himself open. He can feel how open he is. How he flutters, opening and closing as Eliott looks down at him with a heat that makes his cock jump in anticipation.
Eliott, kneels and bends close until his mouth kisses at Lucas’ gaping hole.
Plump and heated lips kiss into him and Lucas’ hips jerk. He can't help the broken moan that rushes past his lips just as Eliott pushes closer, his tongue flattening and licking against soft walls of flesh.
Eliott licks, in, in in. Lucas moans, spitting out ha;f formed words and whimpers when he can’t can’t find the right words to say.. Lucas cries at the feel of Eliott’s tongue that is quickly becoming the only thing his mind can focus on.
"Please…" Lucas whimpers, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and catch his own spit. He begs until ELiott gives him more by touching his cock, stroking and pressing down on the slit as he chuckles against Lucas’ battered and loosened hole. It makes Lucas’ toes curl from the pleasure.
Just when Lucsa can’t take it anymore, his body trying to seek release by writhing against the sheets, Eliott lifts up his body, one arm around his waist, hugging. The older brunette lets out a low moan as he slides in with the ease of spit.
Lucas things, finally. Finally.
He thinks, move.
As if reading his mind , Eliott pulls out and pushes in. Lucas bites his tongue, grits his teeth. Every time the cool brush of fabric register’s in his mind, Lucas finds his breath comes out short and his heart stutters. It feels amazing.
Gentleness doesn’t last. Eliott sets a brutal pace of long and sharp thrust— thrusts that are deep enough that Lucas swears he feels him in the back of his throat. Eliott grunts, teeth gritting as his hips work and Lucas is weak to do anything except hold on as his legs are pushed further apart. Crying out when Eliott flips him, fingers on his thighs, biting. Hands running up and down, touching,
Soft against his inner thigh. Lucas shivers, when Eliott hits the right spoke. His breathing is pitched. Eliott makes him see stars; stars that burst behind his closed eyes.
“Ah! Fuck!Eliott!”
Eliott turns him around again and Lucas whines when his lover pulls out leaving him empty. He rushes him, a litany of "in, back in, please please, please" spilling from his lips as arms pull him from the waist until he is on his knees. His ass in the air and a palm pressed against his lower back. Controlling. Lucas has never felt more stretched in his life. He's close. He can feel the way he teeters on the edge of pleasure pain as he focuses on the way Eliott”s thrusts grow erratic like he has already lost himself.
There’s a hand around his through. Pressing until Lucas can feel his vision greying at the edge. A release and he’s left gasping, dizzy. Wanting more. He chases the feeling. Lucas can think only of those hands that clutch his hips, bruising and pulling his pliant body back into the thrusts.
Eliott tightens his fingers again. Then lets go, lips kissing at Lucas’ temple, at his ears, and down to his jaw.
Eliott whispers I love you, I love you, over and over— soft into his hair. Soft and soft. Lucas finds his body growing taut, cock twitching as he cums. His world melts into static noise. Eliott thrusts hand a couple more times before he grunts into Lucas’ hair, arms clinging to his body as he empties himself out inside Lucas.
Eliott grinds his hips, slows down his thrusts but keeps moving. The squelch of come inside him has Lucas wishing they could go again. Have Eliott fill him up even more. Have his lover fuck the cum inside him. Over and over until he melts into the bed.
“Fucking hell.” Eliott said, sounding beyond satisfied. He slumps against Lucas and lets the weight of his body pin Lucas down. Just the way Lucas loves it.
He huffed a laugh.
“Fucking, finally.”
They fucked.
Eliott laughs, the sound vibrating against the skin of his neck.
“It was worth the wait.”
Lucas grins.
“Ha,” His chest is still pumping as he comes down from his high. His mind is still empty.
“Mm… I feel neutral about your performance. You have a bit of work to do.”
“You little shit.”
Lucas smiles, his arm wrapping around the one that holds him close. Lucas laces his fingers with Eliott’s.
“Your little shit.” Lucas feels content. It’s all he ever wanted.
He’s glad he has it now. He's glad he shares it with Eliott.