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Pictures of you

Summary:

"No one’s against Johnny visiting Leo per se. Their mother gleams like a damn pearly king whenever she talks about Leo and his gorgeous house in the countryside."

Leo is elusive. Leo has secrets. Johnny might be the only one who gets a glimpse at his world.

Notes:

This is a little episode of an AU created by the wonderful Ashes/Taxuram and me, featuring Leo Smith (The order of death / Copkiller) and Johnny (Sex Pistols) - as brothers.
Please consider the tags before you proceed.
Thank you to Ric for beta'ing!

Happy birthday, Ashes! Thank you for, well, everything. You are a wondrous man with a brilliant mind.

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The weather is somewhat mild, dewy grass finally growing back along the brick walls lining the streets, when Johnny trudges away from the bus station. It’s still light outside when he makes his way home. He is itching to walk around the estate and see if some of his mates are out. But he’s damn well sworn to himself to not jeopardize tomorrow, and the weekend, in any way.

 

No one’s against him visiting Leo per se. Their mother gleams like a damn pearly king whenever she talks about Leo and his gorgeous house in the countryside. It’s not as snazzy as she makes it out to be when talking to the neighbours, but Johnny lets her have her little moments. It is a nice house, after all - but maybe not the mansion his mother makes it out to be. Same goes for those moments when she tells people that Leo has gone and become an investment advisor, stock trader or whatever else she makes it out to be. “ My Leo has an eye for finances ”, she’ll proudly tell people. It’s not all wrong, but it sort of leaves it out of the equation how Leo comes about the money he invests or moves around. Not that she would know. No one really knows.

And not that Johnny would ever criticize Leo in that regard. Leo knows what works, and that’s what counts, doesn’t it? And if Johnny gets a little worried, and a little bit jealous of who Leo is with, well, that’s on him.

He doesn’t know whether Leo is doing something questionable for his money. He’s merely got a few suspicions. If he’s completely honest to himself, he doesn’t want to know the full details. He doesn’t want to know if Leo steals, or gambles. Whether he talks or fucks money out of peoples’ pockets to then invest it into shady schemes. ‘ You need to get smart to make it, John. No one’s going to do it for us. ’, Leo had said once, and Johnny had found himself agreeing. It had been followed by some of Leo’s observations about the games of the high and wealthy. Leo was deeply into that shit, and in the beginning, had shared his odd little observations about the things rich people are up to. Few had stuck with him. Johnny wasn’t (and isn’t) that much into corrupting the wealthy world from the inside. And he wasn’t ever entirely sure if that’s even what Leo was up to. But the message stuck to him: No one’s watching out for them to make it out of the trenches of a life less meaningful. That phrase gave Johnny some more food for thought throughout the years.

 

Now, he’s making his way back home for what his father had called ‘ some God damn family time you might as drag your arse home for once in a while ’. With the rail fare and a few quid to spend dangled over his head, Johnny’s bound to comply. So dinner and TV with the family it is, then. If he can buy himself a weekend with Leo by spending a boring Thursday night with his parents and little brothers, so be it. He’s doing some meaningful trading of his own here.

The whole family is grouped around the TV, dinner plates balanced on their laps. Some weird new American detective show is on. Everybody’s into watching that cheesy stuff at the moment. Maybe because it’s simply not the same old dull stuff as usual. Johnny tries his best to be civil, comments here and there, and goes to bed once it’s over.

He’s got Leo’s former room to himself these days. That’s kinda nice, even if it came at the horrible price of Leo moving out. Johnny had begged him to stay, and knew full well that it made no sense to do so - for him to beg, and for Leo to stay at home. Whatever ‘work’ he was doing had somewhat outgrown their humble flat, even if Leo had been the only one out of the brothers to have a room to himself, and it had their dad cursing at Leo’s haphazard comings and goings time and time again.

 

He’s visited Leo’s place a few times by now. He likes it, but it has him miss the times Leo would take him out to odd little cafés in central London. One of those outings, dates , must’ve been his first time he drank properly brewed coffee - cappuccino, with frothy milk foam on top. A far cry from the instant coffee at home, or tea and cake at some dingy old tearoom on a daytrip to the countryside. Going to a coffee bar in Soho had felt terribly grown-up, and cool. Intimidating, too.

It didn’t help much that Leo was all about teasing whenever they’d been out in public together. He’d go on about something Johnny was struggling to comprehend, so far removed from his own life and interests by then already, and would then slowly extend his hand across the table, letting his pinky rub over the side of Johnny’s hand, up and down, up and down. Tiny intimate touches that would have Johnny struggle to listen.

It had all been very exciting, to play adults out in the city, only to return back home and conduct their little secrets in Leo’s bedroom whenever they could.

Now, Leo’s a proper adult with a whole house full of secrets, and Johnny’s well on his way to adulthood himself. But it sometimes feels like Leo is whole lightyears ahead of him, and unfortunately, lightyears away from him now, too. Taking over his old room at least meant Johnny could drag the family’s phone there, thanks to the mercifully long extension line. He’d spent hours calling Leo every week at first. The separation had been hard on him.

 

Saturday morning, Johnny’s up and running early. He showers, rubs his hair dry and eats his breakfast with his parents, still playing the cooperative son. He has to, every now and then. His dad had kicked him out once, pissed off at his stint with the green hair, but had scornfully taken him back at his mother’s begging. It also might’ve been to his luck that the dyes never stuck to his hair for long.

 

He’s pieced together an outfit, something that Leo will like on him, he hopes. Leo always has the kindness in him to compliment his mismatched suits and other odd fashion exploits, despite those being nothing Leo would prefer to be seen in himself. Johnny’s big brother is one sleek cat these days, one must know.

 

When Johnny finally sits on the coach, bag with clothes resting on the empty seat next to him, he looks at his reflection. Sometimes, if he squints hard enough, it’s Leo who’s looking back at him. As much as they don’t dress the same and don’t share the hair escapades, they look every bit alike in all other aspects. It’s something Johnny grew to like. It had been fun already when they were kids, though. Before Leo had outgrown him with the few years ahead that he was, and then again once John had caught up, people still easily mistook them for one another. But their little brothers - they look nothing like them; and by all means, are nothing like them in all other ways, too.

The ride takes a couple of hours. The coach drops people off, and new ones get on. The seat next to Johnny stays empty, and he’s glad for it.

 

They’ve got the rest of Friday, and then all weekend, together. He hasn’t told his mates where he’s off to. Not exactly.

As things go, he has made new friends at college. None of them have ever met his uncanny look-a-like that is Leo. And somewhere along the longing phone calls, Leo had encouraged him to not tell them about him. ‘ Be vague, then, if you must. The less people know, the more privacy we’ll have, won’t we? ’ Johnny couldn’t disagree with that.

 

When the coach finally arrives at the little town Leo has taken up residence in, Johnny can’t get out of his seat fast enough. Time has passed alright in anticipation, but he’s had enough of sitting around. He briskly walks along the little high street the town mainly consists of, and takes the small road that forks off it at the end, where houses stand further away from each other. The road is a bit steep, but it’s not too bad. He hasn’t exactly told Leo when the coach would arrive, didn’t want him to wait around for it, and so he trudges past fields and little patches of greenery on his own. When he takes the next turn, the sidewalk ends, and Leo’s house becomes visible in the distance. He walks up the small road a little faster, despite the steep incline.

When he finally stands at Leo’s doorstep, he straightens his clothes. As he’s about to knock, fist raised, the door opens.

 

“Hello darlin’ ”, Leo says, a little smirk on his lips. Johnny wonders if Leo has been standing by the large windows of his living room, watching the road, or if he has been sitting by the door, waiting for him. That would be a bit funny. No, he decides, he’s probably been standing by the window; true image of the observant elegance he likes to portray. It would indeed seem funny to Johnny sometimes, if Leo wasn’t so successful at it.

Now, Johnny lowers his hand that had been hovering in mid air from his attempt to knock, and smiles back.

“Hi Leo.”, he says, pauses, and then breaks into a grin. “I brought some of mom’s lemon tart.”

They sit in the bright kitchen, steaming cups of coffee in front of them, the bright yellow tart in the middle. Johnny had almost been a bit surprised when it had come out of his bag untarnished. Despite his utmost care, he’d expected it to be spilled and crumbled. But by some miracle, it has stayed intact. Leo hands him the knife, and Johnny cuts into it carefully, serving Leo his slice first.

“Now, that’s delicious”, Leo purrs after the first bite. He always lets Johnny know that he finds their mother’s habit of sending Johnny to him with baked goods in his bag a bit silly. But they usually devour them together, and it does something to Johnny.

He sort of knows what aspect it is that does things to him . Eating their mother’s cake together takes him right back to the times of Leo still living at home with them; takes him back to a time of pleasant secrets. Times where they had managed to be alone in the flat, a rare occurrence in itself, and would eat or drink something nice that wasn’t theirs at the kitchen table before disappearing into Leo’s room. Being alone in the flat meant two things - free access to whatever tasty thing might be hiding away in the cupboards, may it be cake, chocolates, or sneaky sips of their father’s whisky; and time for undisturbed intimacy .

 

Johnny doesn’t know when exactly it started. They’d always been close, had always cuddled. Leo had always been big at comforting and advising him. He’d have pretty solid advice on how to play their parents a bit, too. How to get away with things. Johnny became a passive asset to Leo’s private adventures, covering for him here and there. Leo did the same for him when Johnny slowly grew into causing mayhem beyond their neighbourhood. And whenever Leo advised against doing something, Johnny was much more inclined to follow that advice above anyone else’s.

Gradually, hands started to wander whenever they cuddled. Cuddled out of habit, or cuddled when Johnny was in tears about something. Tears that, gradually, only Leo got to see. It wasn’t that appealing to open up to anyone else when it was Leo’s words he sought out the most. When Leo had started to occasionally stroke him, had gently gripped his ass and had let Johnny rut against him until he came in his trousers, it merely seemed an extension of that comfort.

Leo never asked him to do anything to him in return, no. He waited until Johnny asked , then demanded , and then begged to be allowed to do so. And whenever Leo came back home, late into the night, Johnny would crawl into his bed and ask him to recount what he’d been up to. It had sometimes stirred a little jealousy in him, when Leo told him of his very interesting friends; of clubs and special parties in the city; of weird, decadent events where a chosen few participants unrolled the odd little things they were delighted by. He’d see some bruises on Leo’s body, and ask where they came from with worry. Leo would give him one of his private little smiles, and provide Johnny with just the vaguest idea of what masochistic practices he engaged in, in fancy townhouses Johnny could, and never would, set foot in. Leo seemed to sometimes sense the jealousy in Johnny, and would hug him close, peppering kisses along his hairline. ‘I always come back to you, my dear, don’t I?’

 

All sensible reasoning left aside, Johnny has ideas about why Leo moved out here. To conduct his secretive games, sexual and financial ones, far away from his former home. To travel to whatever he engages in, and then retreat to where no one knows who he is. Maybe to escape consequences of his financial dealings, too. Johnny’s not entirely sure how that part works. But he knows Leo likes to be so terribly private, to keep anyone he truly knows out of his games. Except for Johnny, who’s allowed to peek back into his world every few weeks, my means of shaky coach trips to what feels like the middle of nowhere.

 

They go through two slices of tart and two cups of coffee each, and Leo smartly assesses Johnny’s current life events, and, as always, is equally smart at dodging questions about his own fairings whenever he wants to. Johnny knows better than to dig. It’s the way he shows Leo respect, and has always done so. It’s the way he respects Leo’s way of being smart enough to make it by himself.

When they’ve had their fill, and Johnny has reported about the bore that college is to him, the new friends he’s made and the latest fit his father has thrown over his clothes, Leo extends his hand over the table. Johnny grasps it without having to think about it.

 

“You must be tired, John. Come with me.”, Leo says, gazing at him intensely. Johnny is not tired at all, but he knows his brother’s inviting tone all too well. An invitation it truly is, and he’ll gladly come along.

Leo holds his hand as they exit the kitchen, then just as gently lets go of it as he walks up the carpeted stairs. He doesn’t need to motion for Johnny to follow.

Leo’s room is, per usual, odd. That had been his thing for as long as Johnny can remember. He’d loved to pin odd scraps and images to his wall back at home, to the point where Johnny would bring him flyers and pamphlets of clubs and art exhibitions. Anything that had odd pictures on it could be Leo’s jam, and so he happily collected and presented them to him. As time went by, he understood that what delighted Leo most were images of artful suffering, pleasure.. and people being tied up, as Johnny also discovered. That was fair game with him - it seemed interesting enough. They’d chuckle together at what Johnny managed to bring home. Whatever was tame enough went up on the wall. Other things went into a box under Leo’s bed, safely stashed away under old magazines.

Around that time, Johnny slowly understood that these images were deeply sexual to Leo. Not just those that seemed to have been created to be perceived that way. Leo saw lust where few others did. It sometimes scared Johnny just a little. But not enough to not trust Leo. Leo, who never asked Johnny to touch him, and instead had Johnny ask for it. Leo, who always had Johnny’s back. Leo, who trusted Johnny to keep his secrets without ever actually having them disclosed to him. It never burdened Johnny.

 

In the sanctuary of his bedroom, in his very own house, Leo has since gone wild with the collection of odd imagery. There are spaces with pinned up images, much like in the old times. But now, he seems to have treated himself to a gradually growing collection of larger prints, too. Catholic saints in the throes of suffering through martyrdom and punishment, artfully photographed men tied with rope, a cheetah baring its teeth. It sure has an intimidating air to it, but all is so interestingly arranged, and so familiar to Johnny, that it doesn’t bother him.

“You’ve grown your collection”, Johnny says, looking around. He’s taken his shoes off by the bedroom door, just like Leo had done. If anything, the pristine beige carpet is the most intimidating thing in here.

“Mhm. Much harder without you bringing little treasures to me, my little magpie.”

Johnny smiles at that.

“Come, rest with me”, Leo says, “I’ve had boring phone calls all morning. All done before our weekend.” He gives Johnny one of those looks that always work as a motionless smile. Maybe Johnny is the only one who can see those. But he can.

 

Leo moves to sit on the bed, and Johnny follows suit. The room is warm, and so he pulls his sweater off over his head right away. Leo follows him, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, wearing nothing underneath. As he twists to throw the shirt over the nearby chair, Johnny sees them.

The marks.

Large, red streaks cover Leo’s back.

“What’s that?” Johnny asks, and he can’t will the shock off his face. As much as he wants to act cool.

“Hm?” Leo goes, then looks over his own shoulder, very much knowing what has caught Johnny’s eye. “Oh. Don’t worry, dear.”

“What is it, then?” Johnny asks again.

“I’ve had some fun.”

“The.. streaks… they look painful”, Johnny says. He can’t help himself, despite somewhat knowing these did not appear on Leo’s back without his consent.

“It’s merely painful in the way I wanted it”, Leo says, and then the corners of his mouth quirk up into a wicked little smile. “Would you like to touch them?”

No , Johnny wants to say, because the worry that it’ll hurt Leo is just naturally there. But instead, he lifts a shaky hand, and lets his fingertips ghost over the red, slightly raised streaks. Leo makes a soft sound. “Hmm”.

“Do you truly like it?”

“Yes”, Leo answers, and the wicked little smile is back already.

“What does it feel like? When… you.. have this done to you?” Johnny asks, carefully.

Leo considers his words, and then their gazes lock as Leo states his thoughts. "Exciting. Relieving. Humbling.”

The ‘exciting’ bit has Johnny interested. He doesn’t think he could find any sort of pleasant feeling in being humbled , by having pain inflicted to him. Relief? Maybe. He’s hurt himself a few times, while kicking and shoving things out of anger, and found the pain more relieving than the actual action of kicking things about. But he can easily imagine it as somewhat exciting, when Leo goes to his strange little parties, and has someone… do this to him.

“Is it.. sexual?”, he asks, and cringes a bit at himself. He shouldn’t. They aren’t shy about sex, or about talking. Not anymore. Not since Leo moved out here, far from curious eyes and ears.

“Oh yes”, Leo says, and chuckles.

“Do you… undress, and then someone does it to you?”

“Usually, yes. I sometimes wear a little something. A collar, straps. Something that looks a little, well, exciting . Something that evokes the image of, say, a captive. A demure, lustful captive, who wishes to be humbled.”

Johnny shifts a bit. His thoughts are racing. “Can you show me how it feels?”, he asks.

“Maybe some time.” Leo says, and straightens himself again, turning his back away from Johnny.

Johnny knows that tone. That teasing denial. He’ll never show him if Johnny doesn’t voice his interest loud and clear. If he doesn’t show that he truly wants what Leo could offer. That’s how they work.

“Do it to me, then.” Johnny blurts out.

Leo furrows his brows just a little. “Do what, my dear?”

“Show me… the pleasure you find in pain. I want to know.”

For a second, Leo looks amused. Then his face turns into a mask of worry. He leans in and embraces Johnny, pulling him to his naked chest.

“Oh, my darling. My darling dear.”, he sighs, “No. That’s much too rough for you. And I couldn’t hurt you if I tried.”

Johnny lets Leo embrace him, allowing his face to be buried in the crook of his neck. He smells good, as he always does. A bit of light cologne, fresh laundry detergent, too, and something that is uniquely Leo; or maybe uniquely Leo and Johnny.

“But I want to know what it feels like”, Johnny sighs, and he feels Leo’s hand stroke his hair.

“It’s much too rough for you, dear”, Leo repeats. How he can sound so patronising and never get on his nerves, Johnny will never quite know.

“I want to know what you feel like”, Johnny sighs again. Rephrased, gentle repetition of pleas is his way to go with Leo. Sometimes it works, too.

Leo is silent, seems to think. It has Johnny hopeful.

“I can show you… a little bit.”

“I’d like that”, Johnny says. He’ll take whatever Leo is willing to part with.

“I won’t hurt you. Not a billion years, no. I couldn’t”, Leo goes on, a little amusement in his voice, “but I can show you what I feel like. What I look like, when it happens. Maybe you’ll enjoy that.”

Johnny nods against Leo’s neck.

Leo pets his hair some more, and plants a kiss on his forehead. Then, he gets up. Johnny watches him go through the large wardrobe in the room. From his motions, Johnny can guess that all is neatly organized in there. Leo has always been that way. Nothing’s ever out of place, it seems, especially since he moved here. It must be blissful, to have a space of one’s own, with such passions one had to previously hide away.

“How about you undress, John.”, Leo says, and it’s not a question.

Johnny pulls his t-shirt off, then gets up and swiftly rids himself of his trousers and socks, too.

“Your undies as well, darling”, Leo chuckles, without even turning to him. Undies. It has Johnny smirk. Always the big brother.

Johnny slips his briefs off, letting them fall to the pile of his trousers and socks. Now, only a thin silver chain he’s adorned with paper clips and safety pins dangles from his neck. The necklace pisses his dad off, which has made it ten times cooler in Johnny’s head, though he’d never admit to that.

Leo turns around then, holding something in his hand that looks like a bunch of belts. He looks Johnny up and down.

“I wonder how you do it, John. Every time you visit me, you’ve grown more gorgeous .”

The cheesy comment has Johnny blush, and he tries to make a bit of a dismissive face to save his dignity.

Leo approaches him, and then proceeds to move him around, and has him lift his arms a bit now and then as he sets to work. Straps are buckled at his lower back, beneath his chest, his upper legs, his wrists, and, lastly, at his nape. Johnny does feel like a few belts have been buckled around his body, only they seem to connect at interesting places. Gentle hands fasten the straps around him, and there is no moment in which Johnny feels discomfort. Only excitement, and curiosity. Leo knows what he’s doing, and wouldn’t set out to humiliate him. Not on purpose, that he is sure of.

Leo is standing behind him when the last strap is buckled around his neck, and places a soft kiss on Johnny’s upper back. It chases goosebumps across Johnny’s skin. A hand is placed on his nape then, and with a grip so firm and yet gentle at the same time, Leo walks him to the floor-length mirror by the wardrobe.

He hums approvingly as they look at Johnny together.

Black leather straps crisscross his torso. Two go along his upper legs, too. Leo has settled them there perfectly - they neither hang off him, nor do they cut into his pale skin.

It’s a harness of sorts, Johnny realises properly now. Straps go off a dark, slim centre piece on his chest, buckled in different places front and back. Walking to the mirror gave him the sensation that the thing is somehow connected to the straps on his upper legs, too, somewhere on his back. If someone tugged on the thing, they’d tug his whole body back, he assumes. Just then, Leo does so - fingers hooked under some part of the harness, at his back. Leo gives him a little tug that doesn’t make Johnny stumble, but triggers his instinct to stand up straight.

He looks at himself some more in the mirror. The black leather collar seems to not be attached to the rest of the gear, but at the front, it is adorned with a large, silver ring. The harness bears the same sort of ring at its centre. So do the simple dark cuffs placed around his wrists.

Oh my ”, Leo sighs, and then smiles. He looks satisfied. “You look fantastic”

Johnny doesn’t state his agreement verbally; that would feel ridiculous. But he likes what he sees. Likes that he is wearing what, presumably, Leo has worn in moments of sheer lust. Somehow, he still wants to reconfirm his fantasy. Wants to know for sure that this is Leo’s gear, not someone else’s that Leo merely imposes on others. He knows Leo has a small but refined taste for that side of the game, too.

“And this is what you wear.. what you wore, when you…”, Johnny trails off.

“Yes”, Leo simply confirms, then gives Johnny’s shoulder another squeeze, guiding him to move in a little half circle. Johnny looks over his shoulder, and sees the back of the contraption a bit better. Everything connects in intricate ways, and he wonders if Leo puts this on himself, or if someone helps him.

It’s an odd feeling, to be wearing this. It’s a collection of items made for submission. It doesn’t take Johnny the experience he doesn’t have to understand that the rings may attach to leashes, chains and ropes. A perfect set-up to be tied, immobilized, or dragged around. He can just imagine how much Leo would like that. At that thought, his skin flushes, and his dick stirs. Not at the thought of he himself submitting to someone, no, but at the excitement that Leo has let him try this on. That he trusts Johnny that much. That he is giving away such a private detail of a world Johnny hasn’t had a glimpse at. And that he now stands in front of Leo just like Leo would stand in front of someone else, presenting himself to be done with as one pleases.

When Leo’s fingertips touch his chin, Johnny turns his face to him, away from the mirror.

“I had no idea how much I’ve wanted to see you like this, my dearest.”, Leo murmurs, and it makes Johnny feel even better. Leo leaves no doubt that he looks good like this. It’s reassuring. “You look devilish”, Leo whispers, and places his index finger under Johnny’s chin, guiding him into a kiss. “Utterly devilish”, he purrs into the kiss with a little chuckle, and then lets his tongue slide into Johnny’s willing mouth. Johnny kisses him back, loves the demanding way Leo kisses.

When Leo allows their lips to part, his eyes glint with mischief.

“I was thinking about something.”

Johnny looks at him with anticipation. He has his wrists crossed over each other, in front of his crotch. Somehow, the cuffs make him feel like that’s how he ought to hold his hands.

“Would you like your picture taken?”, he asks, as if he was offering a cup of tea. “Just for our eyes, of course.”

Johnny considers for a second. He’s taken a liking to taking pictures with his mate from college whenever he can borrow the camera from his photography class. This , though, this , is something else.

“I don’t know if I might ever be able to develop them. Would need a trusted soul for that, hm? But… it could be fun.”, Leo goes on, and lets his index finger trail down from Johnny’s chin, over his neck and the collar, and down his chest.

“If you keep ‘em secret…”, Johnny says, not quite sure where he’s going. But if he’s honest to himself, he’s already game with this. Leo has no interest in exposing him, or them. He’s sure of that.

“Of course”, Leo smiles. He leaves the room before Johnny can say something else, and Johnny finds himself excited. Leo’s got an eye for things. All sorts of things. He’s so into art, in his own way. He’s into arranging things . Johnny has no doubt he’ll arrange him well, too. He’s never quite thought about it, but maybe, he’d like nothing more than being pinned up on Leo’s wall, too.

Leo comes back quickly, carrying a camera. The fancy, black thing looks a bit heavy in Leo’s slender hands. Intimidating, but that Leo is the one who is holding it takes the edge off.

He gives Johnny another approving look.

“I should’ve gotten myself one of those polaroid cameras a long time ago. Then we could look at the photos straight away. But the dreadful quality has always kept me off those things. Crisp black and white is what I prefer over that.”, Leo muses, as he fidgets around with the camera. Johnny finds himself agreeing. The polaroid snapshots he’s seen people take always had some odd hues over them. His mate Sid always photographed them on black and white film, too.

“Hm, let’s see”, Leo murmurs as he steps closer to Johnny. He gently grasps Johnny’s hand again, guiding him to stand next to the bedroom door, one of the few spots in the room that isn’t covered in prints and snippets. Leo nudges the door shut with his foot, and guides Johnny to stand in the blank space between the door and a shelf. This suddenly seems somewhat professional . He feels his cheeks flush.

“Perfect.”

Johnny considers how he should pose, then leans back against the wall, hands behind his back. He leans his upper body forward a bit, his necklace dangling a little. Leo holds the camera in front of his face, and before Johnny truly is ready, the shutter clicks for the first time.

“Hm, that’s good. Give me a smile, you devilish thing”, he says, and Johnny is sure he is smirking behind the camera.

Johnny gives him an array of smiles. He’s tried them out before, as embarrassing as it is, whenever he and Sid had taken their silly pictures in the streets, showing off their outfits and hair. It had been good fun.

“Perfect. Just perfect”, Leo murmurs, and it encourages Johnny to try different expressions. A coy smile, a wicked grin. Then he sticks his tongue out, twists his torso a little.

“Now… lean back, close your eyes. Be… utterly relaxed, if you can.”

Johnny does so. He tries to imagine how Leo must feel, not when he gets ready for his little outings, but afterwards . How he feels when his skin is freshly pulsating with the pain, tingling and making him feel sated. Relieved . Humbled .

“Perfect”, Leo repeats, and there’s a certain, breathy heaviness to his voice. Johnny knows that heaviness. It’s turning him on . “Cross your hands above your head.”

Johnny does as he’s told, strains his chest a little, pretending to be in yearning, maybe even in agony. Oh, how aroused Leo must be in these moments. It doesn’t take a masochistic soul to envision masochistic pleasure, he thinks. It feels wonderful - to be under Leo’s eyes like this, and he’s not ashamed of how very much his body is agreeing with the feeling. He closes his eyes for the pose at first, then furrows his brows as if he’s deep in thought and suffering , and when the shutter clicks again, he lets his head hang forward a bit again, and gives Leo the most wicked grin he can manage. After another click, Leo lowers the camera, and his steel blue eyes meet Johnny's identical ones. With a sleek movement, Leo places the camera on the shelf next to them. Johnny doesn’t need to be told to step into Leo’s personal space.

Johnny lets himself be hugged, and then slips out of Leo’s hold, falling to his knees in front of him. The carpet is mercifully soft under his knees. He makes quick work of Leo’s belt and fly, then tugs at the waistband. He frees his brother’s dick easily, and is so very happy and flattered to find it hard and ready for him. Leo’s illustrious pursuits sometimes make him worried. Worried that some day, he’ll no longer be exciting enough. He chases the thoughts away. Leo is hard for him . That’s all the confirmation he needs. He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, and then guides the tip to his mouth.

Leo smiles down at him, amused and expectant. It is something that has always fascinated Johnny; how clear-headed Leo remains through it all, no matter how aroused he is. He always seems so deeply in control of what is happening around him. He stays silent when Johnny takes him into his mouth as much as he comfortably can at the angle, but he lets Johnny hear the faintest little hum of approval. His eyes are fixed on Johnny, and Johnny glances up at him.

Leo makes another small, satisfied sound, but then pulls back. He places a hand on Johnny’s cheek.

“You don’t belong on your knees, darling. Not today.”, he says, and then places both hands on Johnny’s shoulders, urging him up gently. Johnny is a tiny bit disappointed. It had seemed so perfect, to spoil Leo a bit like this. To service him. But Leo has got other plans. It’s always Leo and his intricate plans.

Johnny stands before him as Leo slides his own trousers and underwear off all the way, and takes his socks off swiftly, too. “You’re a wonderful, wicked little pet like this, and I’m your keeper. Keepers have responsibilities. You deserve all the comforts, if you so insist on spoiling me.”

Spoiling him . Sometimes Johnny feels like Leo can read his mind, just like whenever he senses his insecurities and bouts of jealousy. Maybe he really can.

“Come”, he gently says, and leads Johnny to the bed.

They both come to kneel on top of the covers, embracing one another, skin to skin. Leo strokes his hair and the sides of his face as he kisses him. He runs his palms over his neck and the collar a few times, never tugging at it. Merely relishing in the knowledge, and the sensation that it’s there, firmly buckled around his little brother’s neck.

Johnny lets his hands come to rest on Leo’s hips, and gently pulls him closer, closer, until he feels his dick meet his.

Leo kisses his cheek, then chuckles. “Even like this, you can’t help wanting things your way, hm? Always hungry, always impatient. That’s alright. I’ve always adored that about you.”

Johnny smiles a meek smile back at him. He’s the one who goes without his brother’s touch, or any touch, for weeks at a time. He can’t be blamed for being eager, can he?

“Let’s continue what you were wanting to do, shall we?”, he says. Again, that nonchalant tone, as if they weren’t at all doing what they’re doing.

“Yes, please”, Johnny says.

Leo guides him to lie down with feathery light touches, and as always, these touches are easy to follow. He knows the way his brother guides him so well, knows what every tiny push and nudge means. Once he is laying on his side, head resting on the foot end of the bed, and Leo is arranging himself towards the other direction, he understands what his brother is proposing.

Leo shifts a bit, until his face hovers near Johnny’s crotch, and his own is within Johnny’s reach comfortably, too. He gives Johnny’s hip gentle strokes, running his hand over the leather straps. Then he slides his hand further towards his back, until he fits his palm around one of his buttcheeks. He gives it a firm squeeze as he pulls him closer.

A gasp escapes Johnny’s mouth as he feels Leo’s tongue on him, teasing licks along his length. It feels wonderful - how Leo has his hips grasped by his ass, and how there is nowhere to escape the wonderful feeling of his tongue on him. Now, Johnny feels like he is given the go to do the same.

The bliss of taking Leo into his mouth again almost outdoes the joy of Leo doing the same to him. He has longed for this, in the solitude of what was once Leo’s bedroom, where again and again he jerks himself off after their phone calls, his brother’s voice still in his ear. But this - this is always worth the wait and the longing.

Maybe this is where they differ, too, Johnny thinks. Leo works on precision and technique, while Johnny operates on pure, longing hunger.

Leo is grasping the base of Johnny’s cock with his free hand, giving it the perfect little squeezes and jerks, while he sucks and licks at his tip, only taking him in deeper now and then. Johnny has his hand on Leo’s hip and supports himself with the other, moving his hip a little in time with the eager bobs of his head, trying to perfectly tighten his mouth around him, guarding his teeth to not hurt him. It’s Leo who taught him how to do it, so he’s mostly sure he’s pleasing his keeper . His brother . He tries to take him in further, and swallows around him. That draws a pleased sound from Leo, and Johnny is gifted with a few firm sucks that almost drive him to the edge already.

Leo seems dead set on making him come without too much teasing. It’s uncharacteristic of him, but not entirely so. The first time they see each other again after weeks of separation- it always has a desperate edge to it. And desperate Johnny feels. 

His world seems to narrow itself down to the points where their bodies connect, mouth, cock, hands, Leo’s hair brushing against his upper thighs. Johnny keeps propping up one leg, spreading his legs, then drops his leg again whenever Leo’s firm licks and sucks are overtaking all control he has over himself.

When Leo grips the root of his dick harder, giving him firm little jerks with the tip of it between his lips, Johnny dives forward in earnest again, swallowing Leo’s cock as deep as he can, and keeps swallowing around it until he has to pull back in order to breathe. He keeps moving, letting his mouth glide back and forth on his dick, tongue firm against the length of it, until he finally feels him twitch. The awaited hot spunk floods his mouth a mere second later, the taste so damn familiar, and he swallows happily, doing his best to not spill, to not let him slip from his mouth with the motions of it. And then, Leo finally takes his dick into his mouth all the way, moves his head back and forth a few times until Johnny is there, too, coming with a desperate moan. His hips stutter, and he tries to hold back on the motion; tries to not just ram into Leo’s face. He knows better than that. The force of his orgasm has Johnny’s muscles twitch, and feels himself straining against the leather straps around his torso. This is what it feels like , he thinks. To be kept .

 

~

 

Six weeks later, they stand by the kitchen sink together, an open container of custard tarts on the table. Another one of mom’s provisions.

 

“It’s a shame”, Leo says, as he holds a photograph in his left hand, right arm slung around Johnny’s waist. He hands the photo to him.

“It is. Wish we could keep them. But…”

“It’s too risky. But don’t worry, I’ve got them all stowed away in my mind.”, he says, tapping a finger against his temple, and gives Johnny a little smile. Then, he lifts his chin. “ Ashes to ashes , it is.”

“That sounds a bit grave, doesn’t it?”, Johnny says, raising an eyebrow as he tosses the last photo onto the pile in the sink. They turned out quite well, and that says something. He doesn’t consider himself particularly beautiful . It may be at odds with their strong likeness - but he considers Leo to be the beautiful one. He picks up the box of matches Leo has laid out. “How about… ‘ If you desire to be good, begin by believing that you are wicked ’?”

Leo turns his head to face him and gives him a smug smile, truly amused. “I like that. Have we been poring over philosophy books?”

“There’s fuckall to do at college. And the quote reminded me of you .”, Johnny says, smiling back.

Leo’s smile turns into a smirk as he keeps his arm around Johnny’s waist and watches him light a match, which he then drops into the sink. They watch the photos burn and curl up for a little while, until the smoke gets a bit too much, and so Leo turns the faucet on.

Burning these duplicates should keep his mind at ease .’, he thinks, and draws Johnny into a kiss.

*