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The doctor stood a head taller than everyone else in the room. The mask only made him more undisguised. Lucio, comparatively… was obviously, radiantly, himself.
Julian was watching someone else swirl on the floor, which, on one hand, made Lucio irritated, and on the other hand, meant that his approach wasn’t noticed. “Could I offer you a dance?” Lucio said, and tried to make himself look as striking as possible.
Behind the mask, Julian pulled an expression like he’d just stepped on a particularly greasy worm. “No. You can’t. Go away.”
“Juuuuules,” Lucio said. He grabbed Julian’s hand and tried to pull him into a spin, except Julian twisted out of the way (how did he do that?) and jammed a foot into Lucio’s heel.
The music was too loud to hear the snap, but Lucio certainly felt it. One of the heels that he’d picked out for tonight — thin, high, beautiful — broke in one fell swoop. It snapped just like his composure. How dare he! Now Lucio was in one broken heel! He couldn’t wear shoes at this rate! Let alone dance! And now he was even more shorter than Julian!
Julian didn’t waste a second. He whipped around and ran like his life depended on it, which it was about to, because Lucio ripped off his unbroken shoe and went tearing after the good doctor. No Masquerade outfit would be complete without his sword, so of course Lucio was carrying his sword, which made the threat very real.
Down the corridor they went, blowing past groups of laughing partiers and drapes that glimmered and danced in the golden lights. Julian’s bird-y cape made his path very obvious, and Lucio knew the palace inside out. He chased him through a room filled with glimmering mirrors, a room filled with nothing but food, hallways that were filled with people that Lucio had to barrel through, stairwells that he took three at a time, and into–
–a quiet and empty corridor, one close to his own wing, where thin curtains were blown by a breeze from where they opened out onto a balcony. He skidded around a corner and then was tackled by a black and pale blur that was the doctor and slammed against the wall.
“You complete idiot,” Julian said, and then his mask was ripped away and a hot mouth was on his. “Who let you wear this?” he said. Lucio’s outfit was all white and gold, of course, but this year, his top was particularly loose, and opened even more from the chest from where it draped.
“Bold to assume I’d ever need anyone to let me wear anything,” Lucio said.
It’d also taken an entire team of tailors that measured every inch of his thighs to get pants this tight. The doctor was definitely appreciating the pants, because he was clutching and kneading at Lucio’s ass and seriously threatening to pick him up entirely, because in the height department–
“Did you have to break my heels?” Lucio whined, and then that whine turned into something else when Julian sank his teeth into his neck. “Aaa–— Jules!”
“It was worth it,” Julian said, and turned his attentions to the underside of his jaw.
Lucio could leave marks of his own, too! Julian’s skin was beautiful for marking. They necked like desperate teenagers until Lucio was squirming against the wall and his pants were really tight. He wasn’t the only one with that issue, but Julian seemed to be owning it more, because he was grinding his hips and the hot bulge at the front of his pants was somewhere around Lucio’s abs.
Again, why did Jules have to be so tall? Lucio liked frotting, but they could only do that when horizontal, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get on the floor in the middle of the hallway.
Wait— they were still in the middle of the hallway—
Julian picked him up. Lucio’s thoughts dropped away when their crotches ground together. Then he was fumbling at the front of his pants. He needed to get them off, he needed it, it would feel so much better if they were touching.
Lucio was responsible for fishing both their dicks out— (“You’re not wearing underwear?” Julian said, disbelieving. “How else could I get my ass to look this good?” Lucio said.) and lining them up and fisting them in his flesh hand desperately.
Julian’s noodle arms were starting to shake, but he wasn’t letting Lucio down. In fact, he was getting even more eager about it, because one of those hands was squeezing Lucio’s ass hard enough to get him squirming and gasping.
He wanted— he wanted to get even closer! He looked down at the sight of their dicks pressed together and nearly went dizzy. Precome made the whole ordeal very wet. Lucio was a leaker— god knew why — and between the sound of their desperate breathing, he could hear the slick slick sounds of his fist moving. Julian was panting right by his ear.
Eventually Julian let him down, only to immediately spin him around and shove his hand into Lucio’s mouth and bring the other down to his ass. He probed at the fluttering entrance there. It was too dry, it’d be too dry, but that didn’t stop Lucio from wanting it. He wanted it so badly! He begged around Julian’s hands. Even the faintest hint of pressure — just one finger, pressing in, and Lucio’s slutty hole opening for it — was enough to have him bucking back and trying to sink deeper.
The weight as his back pressed him against the wall. It pressed his dick up against his belly and made him groan. “Come on, come on, aah, come on,” he said, sloppily. “Jules, come on, fuck me, fuck me.”
He gave a little helpless moan as Julian’s hand retreated and turned him around, so they could actually see each other’s faces.
“You want me to fuck you?” Julian said, except he himself was panting, and he was flushed all over. And it was a really stupid question, because obviously Lucio wanted his cock!
“Duh,“ Lucio said.
“Say it again.” Julian’s eyes were wide, in the way he tended to settle into laser-focus whenever he was turned on. “Tell it to me in detail.”
Lucio stammered, “Isn’t... isn’t knowing it good enough?”
“No. Tell me how you want my dick to spread you open.”
The words went straight to his head and made him weak with arousal. “I– I–“ It was really hard to look Julian in the eye when he wanted something like this! Lucio focused on his hands, instead. He had perfect hands. Those hands could take someone apart and put them back together, physically and figuratively — and in the past, they’d done both to Lucio. “I want you to get me wet and put your dick in me.” Even though this wasn’t the first time they’d fucked, it was still embarrassing! “I want you to— to fuck me as hard as you can, whenever you can. You should’ve done it at the Masquerade. There’s that room of fumes where people like to… like to start touching each other. You should’ve just bent me over there and filled me up.“
Julian paused. Lucio got the impression that he was actually thinking about it. “I don’t think I can do that,” he said, weirdly softly.
“But you can still fuck me,” Lucio whined. “Want you to come in me all night.”
Julian looked left, then right, then decided that was enough and started leading him down the hall.
“That’s the wrong way, you moron,” Lucio said, when Julian reached the end and was clearly hesitating. “My room is this way.”
Julian chose to overlook the first part. “Do you know what I’m going to do when we get to your room?” he said instead, which wasn’t fair. “You’re going to get on the bed and you’re going to strip everything off, and you’re going to leave your ass up like a bitch for me to breed.”
Lucio started walking faster. “Jules—” he said. He wanted it so badly.
“You like being a bitch, don’t you?” Julian continued. Lucio saw the slant of his grin. “Always so bitchy. Do you know how much of a pain you are? Half the time I think about it— whenever you’re throwing one of those tantrums — I think about showing you your place. I’d tell you to get on your knees and then you’d do it.”
As soon as they crossed the threshold of Lucio’s bedroom, Julian was on him. Lucio’s clothes were stripped away under his hands, and Lucio took his own golden claw to Julian’s outfit and tore it to shreds, until they were grinding against each other against the sheets, kissing like they couldn’t breathe.
Julian’s hands— his hands— Lucio had been crafty and left out oil in his room. He knew this would happen, and now this meant that Julian’s wet hands were reaching down between his legs and running his fingers around his entrance. When they pressed in, his back arched, and he gave a cry that was immediately muffled by Julian’s mouth.
This was why he loved those fingers. They were so long, so big, filling him up, pushing inside him, stirring him all up to make him ready and desperate for him.
Julian drew back and stared down at him. He was so handsome like this. It made some foreign emotion thud thickly in Lucio’s chest. “I want you to take off your arm,” he said.
Lucio baulked. He opened his mouth to say no way, go to hell, but no sound came out. Julian already knew what he looked like without his arm. But it was still his arm! It was the most golden part of him. How could he take it off? He’d be weak without it.
Some part of Julian’s expression softened. “You don’t have to,” he said, and then lowered to kiss his way down Lucio’s chest to suck on his cock. Lucio keened and grabbed at that pretty fucking auburn hair.
“Jules—“ he said, and tugged Julian away. Julian stared up, red-lipped, surprised, and then his eyes widened because Lucio was reaching up, undoing the latches, and then he was half.
He was reduced. One whole side of him couldn’t touch Julian anymore. “Happy?” Lucio said, and fidgeted slightly. Why did Julian look at him like that? He felt ugly and empty on one side. “Why did you even want me to take it off?”
“To make you lighter,” Julian said.
“Are you calling me heavy?”
“I want to be able to move you around,” Julian said, and then did exactly that. He grabbed Lucio and turned him over and thrust forward so that his cock slid up between Lucio’s cheeks across where Lucio wanted him most. “And, besides—“
He pulled Lucio upright, against his chest. He felt so exposed. His dick bobbed freely in the air, and Julian’s hands were clasped across neck. “I’m kind of possessive,” Julian said. “I like knowing I’m the one you’ll do this for.”
“Don’t let it get to your head,“ Lucio said, just as one of Julian’s hands vanished, the head of his dick lined up, and with a warm, steady, press, was filling him.
He was released so that Julian could grab him by the hips instead and pull him down on his dick. The flood of pleasure through him made him buckle. Without one of his arms, even holding himself up became a hard task, and he crumpled to the bed, crying out. “Jules!”
Jules pounded into him again and again, shoving him up against the bed. Lucio was helpless to it. Even though he was the Count, ruler of the whole of Vesuvia, with just his cock, Julian could reduce him to a panting mess. He hit a deep place inside Lucio that made him unravel through sheer sensation. It was so good. It was better than sex he ever had with anyone else. It was just Julian, Julian with his long fucking dick, that could make him feel like this.
Lucio tried to meet each of his thrusts, bouncing, his makeup running. When Julian pulled out, the wide head of his dick forcing his entrance open, Lucio gave a soft groan.
He was turned over. Julian was slick with sweat. His hair really was unruly. One of the strands was plastered across his face. It must have been irritating him. Lucio reached out and pushed it back behind his ear.
For some reason, that move made Julian’s lips part and his breath come heavier. He leaned in and bent Lucio in half and kissed him, and with his other hand, guided his dick to Lucio’s hole that was trying to tighten again. There was nothing quite like the sensation of a cock pushing into him. Lucio groaned against Julian’s mouth, then started to whimper as Julian started on a deep, unforgiving pace.
The bed was rocking. Lucio hardly cared. He clutched on with one hand while Julian fucked him. Julian filled him in every possible way for hours — for the entire night — and never pulled out when he came. They loved that messy type of fucking, the type where Lucio’s hole would be dripping with his come, where Lucio’s moaning was constant, and Julian would start to murmur nonsense into his skin was was too mumbled to pick out.
What are you saying? Lucio would ask, and Julian would say, Nothing, nothing, just how delightfully tight and sluttish you are. Lucio should’ve been offended, both because he was not a slut and because Julian was lying, but forgot how to be offended when Julian’s dick was still thrusting into him.
Lucio didn’t know how he did it — maybe he prepared in the nights beforehand? Did he get an absurd amount of sleep or take something before coming to the Masquerade? — but in these nights, Julian never tired nor flagged. Even when Lucio’s moaning became thin and he’d come for the third time and was so wrung out that he fell asleep, Julian would push into him again and keep on fucking until Lucio was jolted awake and throbbing and desperate.
It was so much. He’d sob with the sheer sensation as he came dry because Julian was filling him with more come, then Julian would lean close and kiss away those tears. They’d have a moment of brief reprieve where they rested their foreheads together and just breathed, and then Julian would flex his hips and start on the glorious torture once again.
Lucio’s mind was filled with it— Julian, Julian, fuck, want your cock, want your come, want him to mark me inside, fill me up, Jules, please— and half these ramblings made it out of his mouth. Sometimes he said stupid, senseless things, too, like how good Julian felt, and how beautiful he was, and how he wished he could do this forever.
Even when he tried to swallow these things, sometimes they came out. He wasn’t sure why he said them. It was just the type of weird thing that came out during sex. He’d try to apologise later because they made strange expressions cross Julian’s face.
He thought saying these stupid things made Julian uncomfortable, and, for some equally unplaceable reason, that thought made him squirm inside.
But then Julian would fuck him and bite him, hard, and Lucio would release these thoughts to the sensation of that long dick taking him apart.
*
By morning, the doctor was gone. He would be across Vesuvia by now, back to his clinic, back to his patients. Lucio stretched his leg under the covers, feeling the ache through his body, and then buried his face into his pillow. There was always next year. Or next time. The occasional doctor’s visit that turned into something else.
His arm had been placed — with care — on the shelf in the corner of the room. Lucio didn’t feel like putting it back on. Not just yet. It was strange. Maybe if he kept it off long enough, Julian would…
…no, never mind. He better put it back on. A Count couldn’t be seen without his arm.