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Izzy hasn’t reached out to Lucius in two weeks. Every time he tries to send him a message, he’s overwhelmed by the memory of their last encounter and hurls his phone away in disgust.
Izzy glares at his phone where it lays on the other end of the couch, as though it’s personally responsible for everything wrong in Izzy’s life. It’s early evening, around the time Izzy would reach out if he was going to, and it’s making him jumpy. The ritual dictates he is allowed to reach out now, and Izzy hates breaking routine. It makes his skin crawl.
Lucius hasn’t contacted either, which isn’t that unusual, but right now it only adds to Izzy’s self-loathing.
He had crossed the line, gotten greedy and took too much. He knows their arrangement, he helped lay out most of the rules for fucks sake, and still he pushed too far.
Stupid, you always take too much, Izzy’s mind hisses.
He should have woken Lucius up, not curled up in bed with him like they had any sort of intimacy outside of their arrangement. It was wrong, broke the rules, and the way Lucius had fled that morning proved it.
A smaller, selfish part of him brings up that morning whenever Izzy closes his eyes. The hazy softness of sleep shrouding them both, the early morning sun bathing them in gold. The feel of Lucius’ arm over his waist, his chest pressed against Izzy’s back. His lips, brushing against the nape of Izzy’s neck, like they were lovers.
Izzy shudders and buries his head in his hands, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees stars.
He hasn’t been touched like that in years.
“Fuck, get it together,” Izzy snarls at himself, reaching for his phone again. He finds a different number, one of the few people he hasn’t managed to chase off yet with his terrible attitude and foul mouth. Izzy shoots off a text, checking if they’re available for short-notice drinks.
He needs to get out and stop obsessing.
The confirmation comes through quickly, so Izzy grabs his keys and wallet and heads out the door.
---
“I fuckin’ hate this place,” Izzy gripes, settling onto a stool at the bar.
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Hands,” Jackie says from her seat next to him, then ignores his continued grumbling as she orders a round of whiskey for them both.
Izzy has known Jackie forever, she’s one of the select few people he considers a friend. They met back in basic training and had initially despised each other. But suffering, sleep deprivation, and shitty food had brought about a strange sort of comradery between them, and they graduated as tentative friends.
They were stationed together on the mission that took Jackie’s hand and tore open Izzy’s back.
They were together in the same hospital room when they were told they were being given awards, a commendation, and a discharge from all they had ever known.
Izzy had held her back when she tried to kill the messenger with her remaining hand and her IV pole.
They went their separate ways afterwards; Izzy opening his own security contracting business and Jackie opening a string of bars. They barely ran anything now-a-days since hiring people to do it for them, though neither were quite ready to sell and retire officially.
“Will you stop sulking? It’s not that bad,” Jackie snaps, pushing Izzy’s drink towards him.
Izzy accepts it and tries not to grimace as cheap whiskey burns down his throat. He gets another anyway, and for a while they drink quietly.
It’s nice being out, he supposes, though his mind keeps wandering off despite his best efforts.
“Right,” Jackie burps, slapping her good hand down on the table. “Out with it, Hands.”
“For fucks sake, can’t we just sit here and drink?”
Jackie shoots him a look that Izzy knows well. It’s her ‘I’m not asking again so tell me or I’ll shove my boot up your ass’ look.
“Pretty sure I fucked something good up,” Izzy admits into his drink.
“Yeah, you’re good at that.”
Izzy kicks her stool and she snorts.
Another round is ordered and, head swimming, Izzy finally turns to look at Jackie properly.
“I broke a rule, went too far with something. And now I don’t know how to fix it,” Izzy says, then settles back and waits. The one thing he’s always admired about Jackie is that she thinks before opening her fuckin’ mouth, and he’s in no rush to hear how badly he fucked up anyway.
True to form, Jackie hums and frowns at him. Her hand settles on her prosthetic, rubbing where it connects to her wrist—an unconscious habit—as she mulls it over.
“Did you hurt somebody?” she finally asks, straight forward as usual.
“No.”
“Upset them?”
“Yes.”
“Apologize.”
Izzy glares daggers into the bar, shame creeping up the back of his neck. How the fuck can he even apologize for that? Sorry I let you sleep over; I know I’m an ass to you about the rules but then I went and broke one. Please keep sleeping with me.
“Quit looking like that, you’re scaring the bartender,” Jackie tuts, elbowing Izzy in the ribs.
“I don’t think an apology is going to cut it,” Izzy relents, rolling his empty glass between his fingers. “It’s…kind of fucked.”
“Is this about love? Jackie knows all about love,” she grins, leaning in conspiratorially.
“What—no! Fucking hell, I know you have a goddamn harem of men but that doesn’t mean you’re some sort of relationship guru,” Izzy sputters, thrown off.
“So, it’s a relationship,” Jackie continues, ignoring Izzy. “That’s easy. Show them you’re sorry. What does he like? Flowers? Wine? Presents?”
Izzy feels like he’s getting whiplash and he starts to puff up defensively before his mind fixes on something: presents.
He can get Lucius something, reestablish their arrangement while simultaneously apologizing. Put them back on familiar ground.
“And for the record,” Jackie continues, delighted by the incredulous look on Izzy’s face. “It’s not a harem, it’s polyamory.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Izzy groans, slumping onto the bar.
Jackie cackles and then pats Izzy on the shoulder with her prosthetic hand, coming off more patronizing than comforting. But she shoots him a grin when he glares at her and pays for their drinks, so Izzy guesses he can live with that.
---
Izzy pretends for all of three seconds that he doesn’t know exactly what he’s getting Lucius before relenting and pulling up the website on his computer.
A catalog of high-end lace and leather pop up in front of him and Izzy’s eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline because what the ever-loving fuck is some of this?
Shit has definitely changed since he was younger, though Izzy has never shopped for this kind of thing before, and since when were there so many goddamn options? It’s also more expensive than he thinks is necessary for what amounts to scraps of fabric, but it is excellent quality according to the hours of drunken research he had done after leaving Jackie. He even made a spreadsheet, goddammit.
A few clicks bring him to a promising category and Izzy pauses as pictures of men in lace and silk parade about in front of him.
“What the hell…” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Maybe a gift card…no, fuck that, he will do this properly.
Izzy makes himself a strong drink and then returns, determined to see this through. He shops around, lets himself be overly critical, and thinks to himself that Lucius would look better in this stuff than all these other models combined.
Finally, he sees something interesting.
Forest green lace panties with silk stockings and a matching garter belt. The lace is stunning, patterns of flowers and vines visible only up close. The stockings are sleek, elegant, and boast of their luxurious feel against bare skin. The garter belt is a fun extra, also lace, with a ribbon woven through to tighten it as needed.
Izzy stares at it and pictures Lucius, naked except for this little get up. The way the stockings would hug his calves, lovely and long and well developed from standing on his feet all day. His ankles would look delicate in those things, almost breakable, and Izzy desperately wants to kiss them, feel the silk against his lips. The garter belt is a tease, something to snap and tug at until the boy whines. The underwear however, those are the masterpiece. Their cut would ride high on Lucius’ hips and ass, barely covering anything in the back. The front is lovely and wide enough to be comfortable for him, even erect. The idea of Lucius’ cock straining against the expensive fabric, staining it with his need, has Izzy putting it in his shopping cart without a second thought.
“Oh fuck me…” Izzy mutters as the website cheerfully asks what size he would like. He knows how his hands fit around Lucius’ hips, and he could probably make a guess, but the fit for this kind of thing could run differently than trouser sizes for all he knows.
A thought strikes Izzy like a slap and he’s out of his chair in an instant, striding towards the bedroom. He doesn’t have to search, he knows exactly where he tucked them away, knows it so well he can find it in the dark when he’s desperate and aching but too ashamed to text.
Lucius’ cream-colored lace panties inform Izzy that he’s a size medium.
He selects overnight shipping, so Lucius will get his lacy olive branch tomorrow, which gives Izzy plenty of time to work himself into a fit over it. He quickly places the order and slams his laptop shut, thoroughly exhausted.
---
Izzy has checked his email twelve times, done laundry, folded and then re-folded his clothes, and still his phone remains damnably silent.
It’s early evening, mail would have been dropped off hours ago, and Izzy is starting to think he should just lie down in the hole he’s dug and call it a grave.
This is so fucking stupid. What the hell has happened to me, Izzy thinks as he mindlessly cleans the stove. The kitchen is completely spotless, but he still gives the counters an additional pass with the sponge.
Maybe Lucius will end it and I’ll need to find someone else, he thinks, and then physically recoils at the thought. He barely dates, and he fell ass-backwards into his current arrangement rather than seek it out purposefully. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell for something like this to happen to him again.
“That better not be a fucking water stain,” Izzy hisses at his kitchen faucet, brandishing the sponge with murderous intent.
And then he hears it, the soft chime from his phone that’s only for one person.
Izzy takes a slow breath and sets the sponge down. He ignores the insane impulse to sprint for his phone and instead dries off his hands and puts away the cleaning supplies.
He is a goddamn adult and he will act like it, thank you very much.
He heads into the living room and scoops up his phone before plopping down on the couch. Anxiety is prickling unpleasantly up his spine as he swipes it open and looks at the text Lucius sent.
“Holy shit.”
It’s a photo, expertly taken so it only shows everything from the navel down. Lucius is lying down, one leg bent slightly at the knee, thighs demurely pressed together. Dark green silk stockings hug his legs, ending just above his knees and contrasting beautifully with his pale skin. The garter belt is tied high on his left thigh, and Izzy can’t breathe at the sight of two fingers curled under the band, tugging playfully. The panties fit perfectly, teasing Izzy with the faint the outline of Lucius’ cock, and he has the wild urge to drag his tongue over it.
Thank you for my present, Daddy ;)
The text almost kills him, and Izzy whines in the back of his throat. He saves the photo immediately and then continues to stare at it like a man possessed.
Another text comes in after a few minutes.
See something you like?
Like is an understatement, but Izzy would rather chew glass than admit how much he likes it now that he’s finally talking to Lucius again. He is not going to fuck this up by scaring the boy off.
He types back a quick ‘yes’, and then winces at how trivial it sounds. Thankfully, he’s interrupted from his internal beratement by another picture.
This one is a close-up, showing Lucius from chest to nose. He’s got the garter between his teeth, pink lips curved in a self-satisfied smirk that drives Izzy up the wall. He’s bare-chested, which informs Izzy that he’s wearing nothing but his new gifts.
Arousal shoots through Izzy and he groans, staring at Lucius’ mouth. He can feel his cock start to harden in his trousers and he shifts, wondering how the hell to respond. If that cocky little twat was here, he’d spank him—especially given how loudly he howled when Izzy had taken his hand to his ass last time—but he can’t exactly do that through a text.
The memory of Lucius bent over the armrest, crying out with every smack, makes heat flood through Izzy’s body.
He hastily replies with ‘you look good’ and then sends it before he can think too hard. Izzy’s trousers are becoming uncomfortable, so he allows himself to pop open the button and slide the zipper down as he stares at the pictures. He rubs himself through his underwear, biting down hard on the inside of his mouth to keep himself quiet.
Another text, and this one makes Izzy swear colorfully.
Can I call you?
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Izzy whispers, eyeing his phone like it’s just become a bomb. He expects Lucius to just call after the text arrives, as the boy tends to do whatever he wants, and he feels unmoored by the change in their rhythm.
Izzy waits, frozen, and then waits some more as seconds tick by.
It’s only after a couple minutes does Izzy realize that Lucius is not going to just call him out of the blue, he’s actually waiting for a response.
There’s another chime and Izzy stares at the message.
Sorry. Too much?
Tension bleeds away and Izzy slumps back into the couch, breathing again. He doesn’t understand Lucius, he doesn’t understand why he constantly asks and checks in and confirms everything, even when they’ve done it before. But it makes something soft and warm unfurl in Izzy’s chest, so he only halfheartedly hates it.
Izzy replies with ‘no, it’s fine. You can call me.’ and then sucks in a sharp breath as his phone lights up.
“Hello?”
“Hi there,” Lucius replies, gentle amusement clear in his tone.
Izzy can picture the face he’s making. That little head tilt, lips pulled up at the corner, eyes narrowed in glee.
Fuck, and he’s making that expression while in nothing but lacy underwear and stockings. Lacy underwear and stockings that Izzy bought him.
Izzy’s erection, which had flagged earlier, comes back with a vengeance, leaving Izzy’s mind completely blank as he wracks it for a reply.
“You spoil me,” Lucius continues, saving Izzy from answering. “These feel incredible on my skin, especially the stockings. I bet it will feel nice when you pull them off me. Or would you prefer to leave them on?”
Izzy flashes to an image of Lucius on his back, stockinged legs wrapped around Izzy’s waist as he fucks him, and he groans.
“Yeah? Want to feel them on your skin when you fold me in half?” Lucius’ voice has dropped into something low and coaxing, easing Izzy into his little fantasy.
“Yes,” Izzy whispers into the phone. “You look…so fucking good in them.”
Lucius whines and Izzy hears rustling in the background as the boy gets more comfortable wherever he’s sprawled out.
“You’d look good with your underwear around your ankles,” Izzy continues, emboldened by the noise even if he can feel his face heating with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. “I’d stuff that silly fuckin’ garter in your mouth if you couldn’t keep quiet.”
“Fuck,” Lucius gasps. “Yes, I want that. I want to feel your mouth on my cock through my panties, and I want you to lick me. Can you lick me, Daddy?”
Izzy’s hips buck off the couch and he harshly bites down on his lower lip, letting out a strangled noise. He pushes his hand back into his trousers, squeezing himself through his underwear.
“Izzy, are you touching yourself?” Lucius asks, sounding breathless.
Izzy closes his eyes and tightens his grip on the phone, humiliation rising in the back of his throat.
“I’m touching myself, I can’t help it, you drive me crazy,” Lucius says after a beat, his tone returning to a silky cadence.
“I drive you crazy?” Izzy scoffs, incredulous, even as relief washes through him. He hesitates and then says, “...show me.”
There’s fumbling from over the speaker and Izzy tries to get a grip on his breathing as he waits. He can hear Lucius shifting about, hear his pleased little hum when he gets the angle he wants, and somehow those innocuous noises make Izzy even more turned on.
“Sent!”
“Oh, fuck me,” Izzy breathes, staring at the latest photo. It’s similar to the first one in that Lucius is lying down, and this time Izzy can make out that he’s on a bed. Lucius is hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the lace makes Izzy’s mouth go dry, and Lucius has his hand slipped into his panties.
“Anytime, just say the word,” Lucius purrs, and Izzy flushes at the strange mix of emotions that idea brings.
Maybe it’s because he’s alone, or because it’s Lucius, or perhaps because all the blood has left Izzy’s brain, but he pauses.
“Would…you want that?” Izzy finally asks, heart in his throat.
“Would you?” Lucius asks easily, like this isn’t something huge, like it’s a simple question, and it soothes Izzy’s nerves like a balm.
“Yeah…perhaps,” Izzy rasps, mind reeling.
“Want me to tell you what I’d do to you?”
“Yes,” Izzy says immediately, grateful, and then despises himself for it.
“Are you somewhere comfortable? Maybe with your trousers off?”
It’s easy to follow instructions, so Izzy gets up and heads to the bedroom. He shucks his trousers and folds them neatly before lying in bed, adjusting until he’s comfortable.
“Yes, am now. Uh, where are you?”
“I’m in my bed, feeling myself through the lace. It’s so sheer, Izzy, I can feel how warm I am. I think that’s how I’d start with you, touching you over your underwear, feeling you get hard in my hand,” Lucius says, little hitches in his breathing as he talks.
Izzy’s hand follows the scenario, dragging down his body to his cock and then further, cupping his balls. He sighs, the pressure not nearly enough, but it still makes him ache.
“Mmm, can I touch you, Daddy?”
“You…that doesn’t work if you’re on top,” Izzy stutters, arousal making it hard to get the idea out even as his cock twitches with interest.
“Can’t it?” Lucius is smirking, Izzy can hear it. “Can’t you tell me what makes you feel good? How best to touch you? What do you like…Daddy.”
Izzy groans loudly, protest forgotten. He shoves his underwear down and kicks them off, then pauses as his hand hovers over himself.
“Can I…” he tries to say, feeling ridiculous.
“God, yes, touch yourself for me,” Lucius moans. “I want to taste you, Daddy. Can I? Please?”
“Fucking hell—!” Izzy jerks into his hand and nearly loses his grip on his phone. He hears Lucius’ breathless laugh over the phone, followed by a low moan, and everything in him feels like it’s on fire.
“I’d want my mouth on you first,” Lucius says, low and eager. “I love your cock in my mouth, I love the noises you make when I suck you.”
Izzy yanks his hand off himself and sucks in a frantic gasp of air, staving off his rapidly approaching orgasm. He twists over and jerks open his nightstand drawer, grabbing the lube, and then spots Lucius’ panties and chokes at the flood of need they send rushing through his veins.
“Fuck, yeah, like that. Mnnhh…I want to kiss your thighs, you never let me, but I think you’d like my mouth there. Can I mark you? Nobody will see, Daddy, promise. Our little secret.”
“Yes, anything,” Izzy breathes, and he means it. He tentatively runs his free hand along his inner thigh, startled by how it makes his cock twitch. He digs his nails in and hisses, pleasure fizzing through him as he rakes his nails up the soft skin towards his groin.
Izzy’s hand reaches his cock and he curls his fingers around it, swiping his thumb over the sensitive skin where the head meets the shaft. He slowly strokes himself to the sound of Lucius moaning and panting into the phone. If Izzy closes his eyes, it’s almost like Lucius is in bed with him, pressed between his legs and sucking bruises into the sensitive skin on his inner thighs.
“I would make sure you’re comfortable, kiss and lick you until you’re demanding more. Then I’d slip my hand between your legs. I’d start slow, maybe just pressing and rubbing my finger against you. Do you have lube, Iz?”
Izzy hands are shaking but he manages to open the bottle. He coats his fingers with it, cold and slick, and even though he’s done this more times than he can count to Lucius it somehow feels alien on his fingers now.
“Spread your legs, Daddy,” Lucius purrs over the phone. “Touch yourself for me, nice and slow like I said, show me how good you can be for me.”
“Fuck—!” Izzy hisses between clenched teeth, pleasure sparking through him at Lucius’ words. He lets his legs fall open and allows his fingers to find his entrance, gently nudging and pressing against it. He’s done this before, a long time ago, but never like this. Never carefully and slowly, like it was something to enjoy and not a frantic step to ensure the next bit didn’t tear him open. It’s sending gentle waves of pleasure rolling up his spine, and Izzy presses a finger in, searching for more.
“Izzy, yes, fuck, you sound amazing,” Lucius babbles, breathless. “I’d finger you until you begged for more, and I’d make it so good, like you always do for me. I want to make you feel like that. Curl your finger, Iz, show me how sweet you’ll sound when I’m inside you.”
Izzy cries out as he does as he’s told, finding that spot inside of himself that has him seeing stars. He rocks his finger in and out, then adds another and groans at the pressure. His cock is leaking all over his stomach, red and swollen and desperate to be touched. He’s mindlessly seeking his own pleasure, unable to stop the steady, wet trust of his fingers into his body. It all feels so good, so unlike any other time he’s tried this.
“That’s it, you’re so good, so good for me, perfect, my perfect Izzy—”
The praise has Izzy’s back arching as he keens loudly, every cell in his body on fire as he fucks himself faster with his fingers. Izzy can picture Lucius so clearly, can imagine the boy holding him down and murmuring in his ear as he takes him apart. He thinks about Lucius’ fingers, long and slender, buried in the slick heat of him, getting him ready for something else, something so much better…
Izzy yanks the phone from his ear and stabs the speaker button, then drops it on his chest and grabs his cock. He works his fist hard and fast over himself, drives his fingers in towards that spot, and then cries out as he starts to come. He hears a muffled wail from over the phone and it only sends him higher, pleasure shaking him apart and breaking him into pieces. Izzy keeps touching himself until it starts to blur into sharp, delicious pain, and then he finally collapses back into the sheets.
There’s panting on the other line, and Izzy keeps his eyes closed for a bit longer to draw out the fantasy of Lucius being here with him.
“That…holy shit. That was great, you were…you were great, Iz,” Lucius sounds a little off, a bit raw and shaky, but then again if he came half as hard as Izzy just did it makes sense to still be out of it. The boy usually takes a while to come back down as it is.
Izzy huffs, biting back a chuckle. The feel-good hormones from his orgasm combined with the intoxicating relief that he hasn’t fucked things up with Lucius are making him feel a bit lightheaded and idiotic.
“Yeah. Glad you liked your gift,” Izzy finally says, leaning over to grab some tissues to clean himself up with.
“Maybe I’ll wear it for you sometime soon,” Lucius says, clearing his throat and adopting a teasing tone.
“…might ruin it,” Izzy admits, even though he desperately hopes the boy does anyway.
“Well then, guess you’ll have to get me another set!”
“Brat,” Izzy mutters, like he wouldn’t buy Lucius one in every color if he asked.
“Your brat,” Lucius says softly. “I gotta go clean up. Thanks for the call, Daddy.”
Izzy grumbles something that makes Lucius laugh and then hangs up, tossing his phone on the bedside table. He goes to start the shower, disliking the sticky feeling he is starting to get, and mulls things over as the water heats up.
Everything seems back to normal, the gift worked, and Lucius even mentioned coming over. But still, something is twisting in Izzy’s gut, slowly eclipsing the relief he felt earlier.
You wanted everything back the way it was, Izzy thinks crossly. So why the fuck aren’t you happy? Why isn’t that enough?