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The room is illuminated in a warm, low light. Yellowish orange tones from the low hanging, crystallised mini chandelier, setting a warm, and intimate atmosphere.
The room itself is vast and impressive in size, yet so warm and cozy, comfortable, like a well loved home.
In the middle of said room is a California King bed. Large and flanked by two twin nightstands, and attached to its bed frame is a velvet upholstery headboard. A soft and silky grey to match the mood of the room.
Oriented on the other side of the room, just opposite the bed is a couch. Big and spacious. Soft and plush and black. Bought with a specific intention in mind.
On the bed lies a figure.
No, not lain.
squirming.
The figure is squirming on the bed. Naked and flushed red, body moist with perspiration. Grey sheets bunched beneath a tight grip. Head turning side to side in need of clemency. Mouth parted open, a litany of desperate sounds littering the room.
On the couch sits the owner of the room. White dress shirt on, unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Black slacks on and unzipped, white Calvin Klein underwear peeking just so. He’s comfortable on the couch, in control of everything in the room.
Everything.
His body is loose, leaning back, legs crossed, hand resting against the arm of the couch. Unbothered. Seemingly unfazed.
But,
His brown eyes are glued to the man in his bed. Intense and wanting. Lust swirling in the depth of them, impugning his relaxed demeanor. His glass of whiskey sits on the little glass table, just beside the couch. Forgotten.
He watches the man on his bed, his ‘supposed’ rival, squirming on his bed like his very own personal slut. An innocence to him only visible to Leo. An innocence that he would like to keep for himself. Treasure it, protect it from the vultures of the world.
Keep it for himself.
He follows every single line of the man's body as he watches and listens as Cristiano begs, body twisting to abate the sensitivity that his body is being put through. His brown hair is wet and wild, sticking to his forehead. His pretty lips parted, shiny and red from the constant biting and licking.
And down, down, down, in the center of him, is the cause of his distress, vibrating deep inside of him. Small and relentless. Speed going up and up and– he screams, pitchy and broken, the sound mellifluous, a sweet melody to Lionel's ears.
“Too much, too muc-”, Cristiano cries out. Lionel's body pitches forward just a tad, taken by the sight in front of him. The phone in his hand–connected via bluetooth to the little vibrator inside of Cristiano–is clutched tight in his hand, thumb incessant, moving the toggle, increasing it to the maximum. A deep seeded need to tear him apart. To see him cry for it, have those tears fall because he is just too sensitive. Hear him call out Lionel's name like it's his gospel.
“You can take it-”, He mutters encouragingly. “Show me you can take it, sweetheart”. His own body is betraying him. A little sheen of sweat just atop his eyebrows, his dick is twitching and throbbing in his pants. He moves his free hand from the arm of the couch to palm himself, stroking himself leisurely through his slacks.
“Please, please-”, Cristiano begs, voice pitchy and gaspy, hands struggling to steer off his pretty dick. It's small and pitiful between his legs. A little thing that Lionel would love to suck on for hours, till Cristiano cries out of sensitivity. Lionel watches him with a pointed eye, ensuring he doesn't touch himself.
“Fuck, please Leo, I’m gonna cum-”, Lionel chuckles meanly, amused by how desperate Cristiano sounds.
“Aww, you’re gonna cum, sweetheart? Just from this?” His tone is sugary sweet. Too sweet, a little undercurrent of condescending. But Cristiano is far too gone to even place that tone. He nods erratically where he lies instead. His eyes are closed shut, mouth releasing little ah ah ahs, in that insanely addictive, pleading voice.
“Yeah, yeah-”, Music to Lionel's ears.
“I don’t think so, baby”. He murmurs, fingers moving to turn off the vibrator. Cris looks at him, tears still rolling down his face. Leo wants to capture this exact moment, the exact face Cris is making. Like Leo is the sole reason for all his suffering. And he probably is.
"Come here”, He orders, and like a good puppy, Cris gets off the bed and stumbles towards him in all his naked glory. Leo spreads his legs, grabbing a cushion and throwing it right between his spread legs. The action is an order and Chris follows it in haste, dropping and kneeling between Leo's legs like a good boy. He looks perfect here. The close up of his face is perfect. His pupils are blown wide, the brown of his eyes even darker with want. His cheeks are flushed pink, flustered in the presence of who he has wanted–no needed for years.
Leo reaches out his hand, fingers caressing his soft cheeks, his strong jaw. His eyes flutter close, leaning into the touch, lips parting like he’s expecting to be kissed. Leo leans in, lips just a hair apart from Cris. He stops there, lips barely brushing against Cris'.
“Come on, Leo, stop teasing and kiss me”. Cris almost whines as his pink tongue darts out to lick at his bottom lip.
“Is that how you ask for it?” Leo whispers back, hand moving from Cris’ jaw to the back of his head, massaging his scalp. Cris sighs softly into the touch, barely managing to keep his eyes open. .
“Kiss me-”, He breathes out, a hint of desperation in his pretty voice. “Please, kiss me?” Leo grabs him by his hair, all too gentle to not hurt him. Cris' eyes flutter close. The act just pretty and graceful in a way only a butterfly could.
When their lips touch, it's not sparks Leo feels, it's electricity. It burns through him, shocking him, forcing him to tighten his fingers on Cris’ hair. Tight enough to get rewarded with little tortured sounds. He swallows them eagerly. Tongue dipping in Cris’ mouth, to lick into him, and taste him.
It's not even a surprise the way Cris responds. He kisses like a man dying of thirst. He is desperate and needy as he opens up for Leo. His lips are soft and wet, parted as he lets Leo take and take and take, whimpering wetly in Leo's mouth.
It's everything Leo wants. Its everything he needs. He could die in this moment, and he would go a happy man.