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Lothario didn’t just refer to his ability to seduce people , Don always bit his lips to keep the words from coming out. It was about the charm. He could charm most anyone (in one way or another), and who would complain about always being able to get what they want?
But a rock doesn’t experience rain the same way a flower does, and similarly Don was confronted with a harsh reality the first time he’d met Mortimer Goth and felt those shrewd brown eyes assessing him ( examining him , Don later amended when he found out Mortimer was a scientist). He’d been caught off guard, several drinks in at the open bar of the wedding. And yeah, maybe Don should’ve been a little less, well, Don , being the date of the maid of honor, but, as they always say, if you give a mouse a cookie…
23, shiny-eyed and fresh out of undergrad, Don had already become a Known Personality at the reception, not the least in part due to his general good reputation with the Caliente side of the wedding party. Nina being the foxy lady she was on his arm didn’t hurt his impression with the groom’s side (“Bachelor,” Nina had told him when he’d asked the name for the third time) either. So, sue him, he’d gotten a little loose as the afternoon wore on. He tried not to think about the fact that he’d still have to attend the after-party.
However, it was as he was leaving (to nap out most of his drunkenness in the backseat of his Sebring before he had to go to the next venue) that he was passed by a family unit he recognized from the groom’s side, dressed all in dark colors. Their features struck him into false sobriety, and he didn’t know why. But as he made to walk forward, the tall raven-haired man turned and gave Don the most withering glare he’d ever been on the receiving end of. Don was shocked still in the entry-way as the door closed behind these beautiful strangers, and his obsession was immediate.
A tipsy Dina found him that night at the bar, having noticed his laser focused gaze on the man. “Can you believe he’s 55 years old and still looks that good?” she giggled as she pressed her white gloved hand to Don’s cheek. Don felt his eyes widen and turned towards her, to which she only giggled again and made to totter away in her stilettos. Don made a tutting noise and pulled her back by the wrist. “But who is he?” He watched the man sip his drink as his (gorgeous) wife talked with a group of people.
“Oh, Michael’s brother-in-law. Mortimer Goth.” The air tasted like money.
He was about to turn back to the bar when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The predator becomes the prey , he thought as he felt Mortimer’s gaze once again dissecting him, this time from all the way across the dance floor. He shivered.
That night when he got home, Don jerked himself off in the shower to the mental image of jet-black hair and dexterous hands.
~~~
In all honesty, Don was more than a little embarrassed about how many of his life’s pursuits had been in search of the mysteries of the Goth family. Their money, their beauty, their knowledge: it all enticed him into risky behavior. Buying a condo he could barely afford just to be in the same town as them was his first mistake. His flirtation with Bella had been the second major misstep, and her disappearance an even more unfortunate side effect. His subsequent pursuit of Cassandra was barely successful, and was a choice he was still having regrets about even for all he loved about it.
“I want you to befriend my father,” Cassandra said one evening after she’d ridden Don for an hour straight.
“What?” Don leaned up in the sheets.
“I just,” Cass tugged on one of her pigtail braids, “I feel like you two could get along.”
Don had to stifle a laugh. “I don’t think his highness Master Goth has any time for a peasant like me.”
“Well, maybe not before,” Cass stated, blunt as ever, “but you’re my fiancé. I don’t think anyone would be happy to see their daughter marrying someone who won’t even hold a conversation with her family.” Don grumbled and Cass fixed him with a pointed look. “It would make me happy.”
Finally relenting, Don sighed and nodded, then proceeded to go down on her until his anxiety had almost disappeared.
And so, that’s how Don found himself twiddling his thumbs on his loveseat at 3 PM on a Wednesday (wallet $100 lighter for having tipped Kaylynn that morning to clean extra thoroughly. “Only if we can fuck in the bed next time,” she’d laughed as she plucked the crisp Benjamin from between his fingers), waiting for his future DILF-in-law.
~~~
The second the doorbell rang Don leapt to his feet to let the other man in. “Mr. Goth,” Don addressed the older man nervously.
Mortimer gave him an unimpressed look. “Don.” He pushed his way past Don and cast a judgemental eye over the interior of the condo.
Don scrambled to save the already quickly nose-diving situation. “Can I get you a drink?” Mortimer nodded his assent. Don left him by the couch and retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge.
Upon handing it to Mortimer, the older man once again gave him a judgemental look, then sighed. “Don, I’m going to tell it to you straight: I don’t like you, and I don’t think you’re a suitable match for my daughter.”
Don snorted as he took a sip. “Not something I couldn't have guessed in the first place.”
A dry laugh came from the older man. “I have to commend you for not immediately trying in vain to defend yourself.”
“No point, sir. I know you.”
“Do you really?” Don swallowed heavily at the withering look Mortimer directed at him. “Or do you just know your place?” The dark haired man felt his face involuntarily flush and he cast his eyes down to where Mortimer’s long fingers were wrapped around the beer bottle.
He ripped his gaze away from the distracting sight. “If you want a better drink, I have a bar upstairs.” He paused. “And a hot tub.”
The disdain was clear in Mortimer’s voice when he replied “of course you do,” but he rose from his seat anyway. Don didn’t run to the stairs, but it was a near thing. Anything to gain the upper hand in the situation would’ve made him feel better in that moment. When he got upstairs, he quickly rummaged through his dresser for a pair of swim trunks Mortimer could borrow, as well as his own Speedo. He avoided looking Mortimer in the eyes as he gestured towards the bathroom. The grey haired man held the bright red trunks between his index finger and thumb, the air around him heavy with contempt.
When he heard the door click, Don quickly changed and headed for the patio. He poured them each a tumbler of whiskey on the rocks, and entered the tub to wait for his ill-advised crush to walk out on the deck. He would’ve waited to enter the tub but, well, a certain body part was already getting a little excited.
Don tried not to ogle Mortimer’s shockingly toned chest as the older man gracefully stepped into the hot tub and took the glass from Don’s hand. Something must have shown on his face though, because Mortimer smirked at him.
“So, uh, this is my rooftop. It’s a great place to spend time with, uh, people.” Don cringed at his stammering, especially when Mortimer remained silent.
“Yes, I’m sure you spend a lot of time up here…with a lot of people.” Mortimer’s smirk remained unchanged, but his eyes flickered across Don’s tanned torso with an appraising glint. Don regretted his suggestion of the hot tub for the 5th time in as many minutes, but kept his gaze straight and muscles loose. He couldn’t, however, stop the bead of sweat he felt gathering at his temple.
“I’m loathe to admit it, but this rooftop view is spectacular.” Mortimer’s tone was light, but he kept his intense focused gaze on Don. “And you don’t have the worst taste in alcohol.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to your roof, with a telescope and everything,” Don mumbled back, causing Mortimer to laugh and finally glance away.
“I thought you would know all about rooftop telescopes, Don.” He shivered at the way Mortimer said his name. He knew a trap when he saw one, but staying silent was an equally dangerous option. He finished his drink in one quick swallow, pretending he couldn’t feel Mortimer’s eyes following the line of his throat.
“Well, it’s definitely a hit with the ladies.”
Mortimer smiled tightly at him. “Quite.” He seemed to think for a moment, and his face became softer. “I find that poetry can also be very…persuasive.”
Don was taken aback momentarily. The mental image of an immovable family man had shifted, cracked a bit. He was embarrassed at the thrill it gave him that Mortimer might’ve been somewhat of a playboy in his youth. “To be honest, sir, I don’t know much about poetry.” Unless it’s the poetry of a body under me, and lips on skin, and words spoken in the dark.
“I’m assuming you don’t speak French?” The casual disdain in his words made Don shiver and he shook his head. The older man rose suddenly and leaned into Don, one knee on the bench between his thighs. “ Tu marches sur des morts, Beauté, dont tu te moques;/De tes bijoux l'Horreur n'est pas le moins charmant,/Et le Meurtre, parmi tes plus chères breloques,/Sur ton ventre orgueilleux danse amoureusement. ” He whispered in a low tone, mouth hovering somewhere near Don’s ear and jaw. The foreign words flowed out of his mouth easily, and though Don didn’t understand them, it was easy to detect the venom underneath the beauty.
As fast as it had happened, Mortimer was back in his seat across from Don, having refilled his glass, looking for all the world like he hadn’t just walked right out of an episode of “everything that makes Nicolo Donato Lothario horny.” Don’s mouth hung open for a second before he snapped it closed. “Sounds lovely.” Understatement of the year .
“Of course you’d think that.” That disdain once again. “The uncultured have no idea how vulgar the French language can be.”
Don felt his face flush in embarrassment, and Mortimer only continued to smirk.
~~~
Eventually, the sun began to set and Mortimer excused himself to go inside and change. Don watched the borrowed swim trunks cling to his ass as he left the hot tub, then scrambled to get out himself, splashing water everywhere. He didn’t know if Mortimer was watching him, but he could hear the man’s haughty laughter in his head regardless. Once he had regained his balance, he walked inside to discover that Mortimer had already quickly changed back into his usual attire. Don began to panic. “Listen, Mr. Goth. I want to be a good husband to your daughter. At this point I don’t know how to convince you if you still won’t believe me.”
Mortimer’s eyebrows quirked up in amusement. “Oh, now you want to prove yourself? Then get on your knees.” Don was embarrassed by how quickly he dropped to the floor, a flush coming to his cheeks. A smooth thumb ran across his lower lip, parting them slightly, and he couldn’t help flicking his tongue out for a taste. The man above him groaned quietly, and Don’s eyes darted back up. For a moment, Mortimer looked almost... melancholy? Nostalgic? Don didn’t have much experience with either emotion, so he couldn’t quite tell.
The thumb pushed further into Don’s mouth as Mortimer’s face hardened once again. Don ran his tongue over the ridges, taking his time making patterns on the skin. The man standing above him pulled the appendage out with a soft popping sound and a string of spit still connecting them.
By now Don was breathing heavily, the reality of the situation sinking in and making him light-headed. When Mortimer spoke next, his voice was gravely. “Take my cock out.” Don’s hands moved of their own accord, undoing the front of Mortimer’s old fashioned trousers and pulling down his briefs. He leaned in and deeply breathed in the scent of the man, but long fingers in his hair tugged him sharply back. “Suck,” the voice above him demanded, and Don took the cock in front of him into his mouth. He felt the unspoken rule of not touching, and kept his fists balled at his sides. He didn’t think he could get away with palming his own dick either.
“I’ve always thought you needed to be taught a lesson.” As Don pulled off to take a breath, he felt a hand softly smack him on the cheek. “Good boy,” Mortimer smirked down at him. Don let out an unexpected whimper as he eagerly took Mortimer’s cock back into his mouth. It’d been a long time since he’d given a blowjob, but he’d also never wanted to as badly as he did now, his years-long fantasy finally coming true. His hands still in fists at his sides, he was powerless to wipe away the saliva that dripped down his chin as Mortimer pumped in and out of his mouth. The older man had both his hands wrapped in Don’s hair, tugging sharply and making Don imagine what else those fingers could do. The hands held him still for a moment and Mortimer said “don’t swallow,” and then Don’s mouth filled with the taste of salt. He felt like a two-bit whore and his own cock strained inside his Speedo.
Mortimer held his hand, palm up, in front of Don’s mouth. “Spit,” he commanded, and the wet mixture of saliva and cum pooled in his palm. “Stand up. And take off that ridiculous swimsuit.”
Don did as he was told. In one smooth movement, Mortimer turned Don around and pulled him flat against his chest, while simultaneously wrapping the hand covered in cum and spit around Don’s throbbing cock. The moan the dark haired man let out was positively obscene. With his head thrown back on Mortimer’s shoulder, it took Don a moment to realize that they were standing across from the mirror next to his bed. Did Mortimer watch like this while getting his cock sucked? They caught each other’s eyes in the reflection, and Mortimer bit down hard on the junction between Don’s shoulder and neck. Don screamed, no longer able to hold back. His dick pulsed angrily in Mortimer’s hand. Don watched those fingers, strong yet nimble from years of working with machines and chemicals and gears, and Mortimer watched Don watch him and fall apart.
Heat was curling strong in Don’s stomach. “I’m- I’m gonna -” was all he managed to say before Mortimer stopped moving his hand, keeping the red hot shaft held firmly. Don strained against the arm holding him tight to Mortimer’s chest and he let out a sob. “Sir…”
Mortimer’s reflection smirked at him. “What do we say when we want something?”
Don swallowed the last bit of pride he still had. “ Please .” Mortimer started pumping his hand again, and it only took a few strokes and an oddly tender kiss to the spot just below his ear for the heat in Don’s stomach to explode. Mortimer kept his lips pressed to Don’s neck as he worked him through his orgasm.
Don leaned heavily on the bed and panted as he watched in the mirror as Mortimer smoothed his hair back into place and did up the buttons on his trousers. “Contrary to what I believed, you do have some talents.” Mortimer smirked that damnable smirk at him once again. “Don’t worry, I can see myself out. I look forward to the announcement of a wedding date, Mr. Lothario.”