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Leo is sure, at first, that he’s heard Black wrong.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling back from the warm friction he has been pressing against the other boy’s lips for the past fifteen minutes as they get steadily closer to horizontal across the couch. “I, uh. I don’t think I heard that right.”
“Um,” is what Black says, and then he starts to blush, and Leo opens his eyes wide in the first shock of the other’s expression. Black’s arm comes up, his sleeve dragging over his face and covering his glasses and most of his cheeks, but it’s not enough to disguise the crimson spreading under his skin, the color suggesting that Leo didn’t hear wrong after all. “Never mind.”
“Wait,” Leo backtracks, reaching for Black’s shoulder to hold him where he is and keep him from twisting in to hide against the back of the couch as he appears to be considering. “Come back.”
“Never mind,” Black says again, and he’s turning his head away in spite of Leo’s hold on his shoulder, his mouth collapsing into a frown, his lips trembling like he’s thinking about tears. “It’s not important, please just forget I said anything.”
“It is important,” Leo insists, trying not to laugh and only half-succeeding; it’s hard to keep composed under the force of Black blushing under him, the harder for how much temptation is carried in the color of the other’s cheeks. “Wait, hang on, I still want to kiss you.”
“Never mind” Black starts to repeat, but Leo has a hand on his shoulder and another free to catch at his face, and when he tips Black’s head back up to meet him he fits his lips against the other boy’s before Black can finish the words. Black melts under him, like he always does, going pliant with pleasure at the first contact of Leo’s mouth, and for a moment Leo keeps them like that, catching his teeth gently at the corner of Black’s lip and licking heat into the wet gasp of his open mouth until Black stops trying to protest, until he’s too incoherent with heat to hold onto his blush, much less whatever embarrassed disavowal he was trying to frame.
“Now then,” Leo finally declares, once Black has a hand tangled into his hair and another gripping tight at his hip and once Black’s eyes have gone so heavy and half-lidded they look more black than blue. “I don’t mind.” He keeps talking, fitting the words around the grin that tugs at his lips as Black’s eyes go wide and his blush threatens a comeback. “If you want me to choke you I’ll do it.”
“Oh my god,” Black says, and he’s scarlet once more; Leo is fairly sure the barrier of the arm would reappear except that Leo’s sticking too close to allow Black space to interpose a sleeve between them. “You can’t just say that.”
“Why not?” Leo asks, ducking in close to catch his lips at the corner of Black’s mouth for a moment, long enough that the other boy shudders into an exhale and starts to turn in for more. “I’d love to do anything you want to do.” He lets his weight shift, drops his hips closer to Black’s; with their knees fitting together he can grind himself against Black’s thigh, can let his breathing stutter on the resultant rush of heat to prove his point. “You want to try this, right?”
Black groans, a spill of sound that veers so low Leo can feel it tremble down his spine, and when he moves it’s to buck up against Leo’s weight on him. Leo can feel the dig of Black’s fly against the edge of his hip, the heat of the other boy’s cock behind the fabric harder than he can ever remember feeling it before. “Yeah,” Black says, so soft it’s almost a whimper, so low it’s almost a sob, but if he’s blushing his lips are still parted on heat, and his inhales are coming faster with every breath.
“Okay,” Leo says, feeling his blood go electric at the idea even before he eases his hold on Black’s shoulder and lets his hand draw sideways, rumpling the weight of the other’s shirt as he moves along the slope of narrow shoulder and up towards the curve of his neck. His fingers catch against Black’s shirt collar, his thumb finding out the resistance of a button, and Black sucks in an inhale so hard he chokes on it and has to cough himself back into air while Leo hesitates to feel the shift of the other’s throat against his fingers.
“You’re sure you want me to do this?” he asks, just to confirm, even though the flush still clinging to Black’s cheekbones ought to be enough to answer for him. Leo shifts his hand, thinks about fitting his fingers in over the rush of heartbeat in Black’s throat, over the gasp of air on his tongue, and it’s his cock that goes hotter this time, that twitches into more tension against the front of his pants and the line of Black’s thigh.
“Oh,” Black says, and then he shuts his eyes, his forehead creasing on stress and his mouth going soft on desire. “Yes.”
“Okay,” Leo says, tasting intention on his tongue, and when he moves it’s to draw back, to push himself up over his knees so he can free his hands from the burden of supporting his weight. Black looks more disheveled from the minimal distance -- Leo can see how rumpled his shirt is, can see the way the edge of it rides up to bare an inch of the other’s pale stomach -- but he doesn’t move to lift his arm over his face again, just stares at Leo with those black-wide eyes behind skewed glasses.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Leo says, and drags his hand up off the texture of Black’s shirt to press against the sweat-slick of his bare throat instead. Even without pressing he can feel the shudder underneath the inhale Black takes, the tremor of anticipation that runs through him like Leo’s fingers are electrified; it’s enough to draw Leo’s eyes wider, to clear the habitual haze of his lashes over half-shut eyes until Black comes into focus under him. He’s staring at Leo, his eyes so wide that he looks as much frightened as aroused, but his mouth is open on his breathing, his lips too soft to form the shape of words, and his silence is permission all on its own.
Leo is gentle to start. It takes him a moment just to steady his hand where he wants it, to let his palm fit itself into the shape of intention against Black’s throat. Black’s breathing hisses out-of-rhythm at the contact, his mouth coming open as if Leo’s pushing much harder than he is, and then Leo reaches out to fit his other hand atop the first and Black’s head goes back, his spine arching in for more pressure, until he’s pushing harder against Leo’s hands than Leo is bearing down on him.
“Oh,” Leo says, shocked into the sincerity of the exclamation by the shudder of appreciation in his veins for Black’s obvious interest if nothing else. “Wow, you really do--” and he stops talking, starts pushing instead, gentle but with enough force to sap the desperation from Black’s spine, to pin him flat to the couch while Leo feels the other’s throat working for air under his fingers.
“Harder?” Leo asks, putting voice to the adrenaline in his veins that can’t decide whether to be frightened or turned on. There’s power under his fingertips, the feel of Black’s breathing and Black’s heartbeat pounding inside the cage of his hands, and there’s something terrifying about how fragile that feels against the strength of his fingers.
“Oh,” Black says, the word like a sob in his throat, his eyes pressed shut on desperation or anxiety or both, Leo can’t tell. “Leo” and his voice breaks, cracks wide as his eyes come open, and when he gasps his next breath past Leo’s fingers the rhythm is different, the pace enough of a change that Leo is expecting the red of the other’s gaze before Despair tips his head down to meet his stare.
“More,” he rasps, dragging the word to pieces on the friction of Leo’s fingers on his throat, and when he moves it’s to close his hand at Leo’s wrist, to drag force to the other’s hesitant hold. “Harder.”
“Okay,” Leo says, soothing as much as agreeing, “okay, I will” and he does, pushes force into the hot tension of Despair’s throat under his fingers. He can feel the friction of their skin catching together, the resistance of the other’s windpipe pushing back at his palms even as it tightens under the weight, and Despair is groaning against the pressure, his lips dragging into a jagged smirk as his eyelashes flutter over crimson.
“Is it you?” Leo asks as he pushes down, rocks himself forward in obedience to the smile on Despair’s lips, in response to the haze of heat cresting behind red eyes even as his breathing catches on the weight of Leo’s hands at his throat. “Or Black, or do you both like this?”
Despair shakes his head, chokes out a gasping inhale as Leo draws back the pressure to give him a chance to catch his breath. “Him,” he says, sounding hoarse and hot, and Leo can feel his blood go to steam, hearing the sound of his fingerprints on Despair’s voice. “But he got too embarrassed and it looked like fun.”
“Is it?” Leo asks, even though he can see the answer in the bright mania of Despair’s eyes and the glow of his vicious smile.
“Yes,” Despair says, and drags at Leo’s hand again as he shuts his eyes and lets his expression relax. Leo knows what’s coming, this time, what that momentary stutter of breathing foretells, and when it’s Black who opens his eyes Leo greets him with a rocking press of weight, a gentle flex of his fingers on the other’s throat to threaten but not close his airway.
“Oh,” Black gasps, the vowel drawn long and wailing in his throat, and he’s arching up again, his body curving like it’s trying to meet Leo’s halfway. Leo’s skin prickles with heat, his fingers tighten in response to the plea of Black’s voice, and Black shudders, a moan Leo can feel fall to silence against the pressure of his fingers. There’s a rush of fire through his veins, molten appreciation shuddering his own breath, but there’s an epiphany too, the thought of an unforeseen problem that presents itself with the voiceless shift of Black’s lips.
“Shit,” Leo says, and eases his grip away, keeps his touch gentle even as Black’s newfound breathing catches into the shape of a sob, desperation falling to sound in the air. “You can’t tell me to stop.”
“What?” Black gasps, his hand still dragging at Leo’s wrist in a wordless plea for more pressure. His eyes are wide, his mouth open on the rush of his breathing; Leo’s not sure he’s listening at all, truly, but he keeps talking anyway, holding the haze of Black’s gaze with as much intensity as he can.
“You can’t tell me if you need me to stop,” Leo says, trying to explain to the shadows of frantic desire behind Black’s eyes. “What if I push too hard or you need to breathe?”
“You won’t,” Black says, his answer as flattering as it is immediate and just as useless. “I trust you.”
Leo laughs, the sound strained on anxiety but no less sincere for that. “I know you do,” he says, and lets one of his hands go to stroke through the tangled yellow of Black’s hair. “But I don’t want to hurt you, even on accident.”
“Oh,” Black says, and “for fuck’s sake,” Despair finishes, his hold cinching tighter on Leo’s wrist, the pressure enough to suggest a bruise under his fingertips. “I’ll push you off me if it’s too much, it’s fine.”
“Will Black?” Leo asks, because he has to, because Despair might be grinning temptation at him right now but it’s Black’s trembling desperation that feels so fragile.
Despair’s smile cracks wider, drags itself to mania on his lips. “I’ll make him,” he says, so few words to carry so much certainty, and when he pulls at Leo’s wrist Leo lets himself be drawn back in. It’s strange to see Despair’s face go so slack on the rush of pleasure, odd to have the faster rhythm of Despair’s breathing to contrast with the heavy gasps of Black’s, but Leo presses down the same way, keeping his eyes open and fixed on Despair’s face to gauge his reaction as well as he ever can. It’s odd to see the glaze that settles over his features, to see the tension at the corners of bright eyes and the edge of a sharp grin ease into languid heat, until the only way Leo can tell who is inside the body under him is by the stain of color circling dark-blown pupils.
He pushes harder. Despair’s throat tenses under his palms, works on a breath, and suddenly the red in his eyes is gone, bleeding out to leave the clear bright blue of Black’s gaze drifting over something unseen on the ceiling. Leo can see the tremor that jolts through the other’s body, can feel the force of him arching up off the couch and into Leo’s touch; a hand comes out but it’s to grab at the back of the couch rather than to push Leo away, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the support of the furniture. Black’s choking on Leo’s hold, his air stalling in weird waves of effort at Leo’s fingers, and Leo’s heart is pounding in his chest, telling him to stop, telling him to continue, adrenaline blowing his eyes wide enough to drink in illumination until everything is outlined in gold, until Black’s hair is a halo on the couch. Black arches again, holds the tension for a straining moment; then his eyes flicker, the faint ring of blue giving way to red just as his lips form around a breathless-silent moan and he jolts into orgasm under the weight of Leo atop him. Leo can feel the tremors run up against his fingers, can watch the motion ripple through the taut line of Despair’s body, and he keeps his hold steady, lets Despair shudder through the individual waves of pleasure made hot with the absence of air.
Finally Despair lifts his hand, fingers reaching for Leo’s shoulder, and Leo draws back, easing his hold loose and away before Despair has even touched him. There’s a cough, raw and shaking on the sudden rush of oxygen, and then a whimper, frustration to accompany the blue eyes Leo sees as Black blinks himself back to vision.
“I can’t believe him,” he manages, forehead creasing on frustration strangely separate from the weight of physical satisfaction Leo can see dragging Black heavy against the couch. “He just….took over.”
Leo frowns concern. “Are you okay?”
Black blinks, vision clearing as his attention refocuses on Leo, the crease in his forehead easing into the soft heat of affection. “I’m fine,” he says, and he’s pushing up on an elbow as if to demonstrate, getting his weight balanced back over his own body as he attempts to straighten his glasses.
“I didn’t hurt you?” Leo asks.
He can see the color come into Black’s cheeks, the red that rises to the surface of his skin like it was waiting on a cue to come into visibility; Black ducks his head, gasps a breath that comes hard on embarrassment, but when he says “No” it’s so resonatingly low as to leave no doubt of his sincerity. The sound runs straight down Leo’s spine, jarring his composure out-of-place under a sudden rush of heat, and when he opens his mouth his exhale comes out audibly, pulling itself into a moan he didn’t intend. Black’s eyes come up, staring wide behind the weight of his glasses; and then he’s moving, leaning in before his blush has faded at all, catching Leo’s shirt in his fingers and Leo’s lips with his in a single movement that is so rushed as to be simultaneously awkward and endearing.
“Woah,” Leo tries as Black’s movement pushes him backwards over the couch, tilting his balance unsteady enough that he has to reach out and grab at the back of the couch to keep himself upright. “It’s okay, there’s no rush.”
“Thank you,” Black blurts without pulling away. He’s so close the words vibrate against Leo’s mouth, turn themselves into heat even before the hand fisting at his shirt eases and slides down, pressing against his chest and splaying wide over his stomach. “For…” His words stall, embarrassment cutting off his speech, and when he speaks again it’s to restart on a fresh attempt. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t even get to come,” Leo points out, protesting the offer of gratitude. “That was Despair, wasn’t it?”
“Still,” Black says, somewhere around Leo’s collar, where his face is safely hidden from Leo’s eyes. “Thank you.”
Leo lets his arm drop around Black’s narrow shoulders, fits his palm against the dip between his shoulderblades. He feels more fragile even than he usually does, as if the sensation of control at Leo’s fingertips has granted him the responsibility of strength even while his hands are elsewhere. “You’re welcome,” he says, and then, quick, before Black blushes himself to death: “I liked it,” with an almost-helpless shift of his hips, his weight rocking up in pursuit of Black’s fingers stalled at his stomach. “I’d like to do it again.”
“Oh,” Black gasps, too strained for Leo to pull apart the tangle of emotions under the word into distinct strands. His hand dips lower, fingers curling into a desperate hold at Leo’s jeans; his palm is resting against the weight of the fabric, the resistance offering a hint of friction to the aching heat of Leo’s cock. “Me too.”
“Black,” Leo says, and Black moves without lifting his head, his face still pressed in hard at Leo’s shoulder to hide a blush while his fingers push haste against the other’s fly. Leo presses against Black’s shoulders, braces him steady as he moves, and then his jeans are coming open and Black is whining air against his shirt and they’re both moving, Leo to lean hard against the back of the couch and Black to tilt his chin down, to press his forehead to Leo’s shoulder so his gaze is directed towards his hand as he fits his fingers past Leo’s clothes and down, as he draws the other’s cock free and curls his hand into a hold around the base of it. Leo takes a breath all at once, his lungs involuntarily catching heat from the air around them, and Black strokes up over him with the odd hesitant motion he always uses, like he’s not sure what he’s doing or is afraid to hurt Leo somehow. It’s like electricity, the way the friction surges out into Leo’s body and halfway up his spine, and he’s groaning appreciation even as he tries to find the words to speak.
“You don’t,” and he stalls, Black is moving still and breathing harder and the heat of the other’s eyes on him is enough to shatter Leo’s coherency even without the drag of Black’s hand to finish the job. “Ah. You don’t have to, right now.” He’s trying to make the statement sound believable, trying to convince himself even as his blood aches into another heartbeat, as his spine tries to arch him in closer to Black’s touch. “We...could wait, I could get you off again later at the same time.”
Black stiffens at his shoulder, a moment of tension; then his shoulders slump, his head angles sideways, and Leo knows before the other’s head lifts that it’s Despair who is speaking now, even his hold on Leo’s cock firmer and more certain than Black’s.
“He doesn’t need to wait,” he volunteers, his eyes tight at the corners like he’s gossiping, like he’s rolling a juicy secret along the back of his tongue and wants to share. “Just let him suck your cock, I bet it’ll be enough.”
“Oh god,” Leo says, voice cracking on heat, and what was a steadying hand at Black’s shoulder is now a desperate hold at Despair’s, an attempt to brace himself against the insistent motion of the other’s hand. “Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Despair purrs, leaning in close enough that his hair tangles with Leo’s, near enough that his smile spills warm over Leo’s mouth with every exhale. “Let him get the taste of your dick down his throat and I bet he’ll beat you to coming.” Leo groans at that, the sound dragging high into a whimper, and Despair’s moving, ducking out from under Leo’s hold like it’s not there as he slides off the couch and to the floor. He lets his hold go for a moment, long enough to reach and brace Leo’s knees, and Leo is turning to meet him, twisting to sit across the couch with his legs spread wide enough to allow the space of Despair’s shoulders to fit between them. Despair’s hands slide up from his knees to his thighs, fingers spreading wide like he’s appreciating the friction of the contact, and he looks up for a moment, catches Leo’s gaze for a heartbeat of heat to crackle between them. He’s still smiling when he ducks his head and slicks his tongue hot over the head of Leo’s cock.
“God,” Leo groans, feeling the satisfaction of the friction uncoil under his skin and shudder up his spine. His hand comes out, fingers dragging into yellow hair, and Despair tips his head forward, catches his lips around Leo’s cock and starts to suck him into his mouth. The drag of his tongue is electric, the pressure of his lips tight around Leo carrying tremors of heat with each motion, and then there’s a quiver in Despair’s shoulders, and it’s Black that makes a weird broken whimper around the obstruction in his mouth.
“Black,” Leo says, recognition made explicit on his tongue. He curls his fingers into a fist of yellow hair, tugs in gentle encouragement to pull back. “You don’t have to--” and Black leans in closer all at once, swallows Leo’s cock back over his tongue and down his throat in one convulsive, desperate motion. Leo’s knees angle suddenly wider, his words dying into a rising groan, and Black is clinging to his legs, fingers pressing against Leo’s thighs like he’s trying to hold himself in place as he sucks against the other’s cock. It’s too deep, Leo is sure of it, there’s no space for Black to take an inhale, but he lingers longer than Leo expected him to before he draws back to take a hissing, rushed breath through his nose before coming back in. Leo’s skin is flushing hot, his whole body going radiant like he’s glowing, and he can feel the tension rising along the insides of his legs, sparking up his spine to arch his hips forward off the couch and towards the hot friction of Black’s mouth. He can’t keep his eyes open, his vision is narrowing to just the tangle his fingers have made of Black’s hair, and then Black makes a sound, a faint whimper of noise that turns itself to vibration at Leo’s skin, and Leo’s vision whites out as his hips rock forward in an involuntary jerk. He’s heat, he’s electricity, he’s gasping through waves of pleasure, and Black’s not pulling away, is swallowing him down even as his fingers tense in the precursor to an orgasm of his own. It’s enough to make Leo groan, a low sound that purrs into weird vibration in his chest, and then Black shudders against him and comes with a open-mouthed moan Leo can feel ground out at the base of his spine, like the sound is hardwired to his own blood.
“Enough,” he manages, his voice still oddly low in his throat, and pulls at Black’s hair to urge him back and away. Black goes, shaking too badly to resist, and then he’s gasping for breath past wet lips, still clinging to Leo’s thighs for support as pale eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. He looks wrecked, even his breathing dragging raw in his throat, and as Leo reaches to brace his shoulder he quivers through another jolt of satisfaction, whimpering as if in pain as much as pleasure. It’s not until Leo gets his hands against Black’s face to hold him steady, not until he’s breathing warm against yellow hair and murmuring incoherent comfort, that Black’s hold on his legs eases, that the shaky strain in Black’s shoulders surrenders to let him fall heavy and warm against the support of Leo’s hold.
“Are you okay?” Leo asks the top of Black’s head, the words ruffling the fine strands into more of a tangle than they already are. His arm fits around Black’s shoulders, holding him as close as Leo can get him without trying to maneuver him back up to the couch just yet.
“Mm,” Black groans, sounding shaky still but undeniably warm with satisfaction, and Leo grins and ducks his head to form the shape of a kiss into pale hair.
He doesn’t have to see the color of the other’s eyes to know that he’s smiling.