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« mocking.bird » TEXT ✧ AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ ACTION Yuri Leclerc ✦ Fire Emblem: Three Houses
RESIDENCE ✦ Emerald District
GEMBOND ✦ Amethyst

"Leave it."

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I already waited. For hours.

[There's one thing that no glamorous dancer fantasy could possibly live up to in reality, and it's all the faint little noises Yuri makes when he's held up and treated right. All those guys dreaming of "Crystal" don't get to hear the huff of his breath when he pants for air, or the rustle of fabric where it scrapes against brick. They don't get the scratch of painted nails through his hair, along his scalp. They don't get the whisper of fingertips over his skin or the way Yuri groans when he's kissed the way he likes.

He gets that. He gets it because he's Balthus von Albrecht and he's kissing Yuri Leclerc, and this is pretty much what they are to each other anyway, except with a whole lot more sex layered in that they hadn't been having previously.]

But I wouldn't mind hearing where you learned to dance like that, among other things, so why don't you do the explaining and I'll stick with the kissing.

[After all, with his head tipped back like that, Yuri's throat is practically an invitation, and he's got some residual lipstick on his mouth that would look awfully pretty smudged over it. What is he supposed to do, not take advantage of it?]

( Balthus's stubborn little I already waited gets an affectionate chuckle from Yuri, who pulls a hand through his hair properly as he nuzzles in closer to press his lips against the front of his throat. Again, it seems suddenly ridiculous that it's taken them this long to realise that they could have be doing this — that it could be another way for them to show each other that they're wanted, needed, and cared for. )

Ah—

( The hand at Balthus's bicep tightens momentarily as his lips flutter over his pulse. He's sensitive there — his throat has always been a spot he's liked to have kissed, bitten, even sucked — and those lashes slide closed for a moment as he )

I take classes in the city. I've— mmh, I found out about pole dancing not too long after I arrived here, and since I was Claude's Dancer back home ... I figured why not transfer those skills?

( He tilts his head a little further, encouraging the hot trail of Balthus's lips. )

Turns out I'm pretty good at it.

[It doesn't even feel...all that different, shockingly. How laughably easy it is to dovetail hungry kisses and soft groans with their usual banter, and merely make understandable allowances for an interjected gasp here and there. They could be having this conversation in a quiet kitchen over beers, or they could be having it in this dark alley amid writhing and sighs, and it all still feels as natural as breathing.]

Yeah, well. You've always been the enterprising type.

[He kisses his way across Yuri's neck, following the curve until he finds the thrum of his pulse, and settles in comfortably to nibble and lick until he decides he needs his mouth again, and then he just tilts his head and rests there, breath washing hot over the reddened skin while he idles.]

Caught you looking my way more than a few times, too. Did you like that I was watching you?

So you noticed, did you?

( Balthus's teeth graze over his pulse-point and this time Yuri does shiver atop him, his thighs pulling tense as a twinge of heat curls into the root of his cock. This isn't usually the kind of thing he does in an alley — or rather, it hasn't been the kind of thing he's done in an alley since he left the streets of Enbarr — but telling Balthus to stop?

Goddess, no, there isn't a chance he's going to do that. )

Yeah, I liked it. They didn't—

( Yuri exhales softly, his smile a dreamy little thing as he massages the pads of his fingers into the back of Balthus's neck while he catches his breath. Having him rest there against his throat is no less intimate than having his lips working over tender skin, and a less urgent, more tender warmth unfurls low in his belly as he touches his lips to the other man's temple. )

All of those eyes on me, but none of them looked at me like you did. It made me want to see how much I could make you want me.

( And maybe, just maybe, Balthus will feel the beginnings of a smirk curling against his brow. )

I'd say it paid off in the end, hm?

Hhh...the only time I looked away was to make sure none of those other guys were getting any wise ideas.

[A lesser man might be getting tired, fighting ten rounds of battle and still holding up a pretty little minx against an alley wall for an extended period of time with his bare hands, but that's why lesser men don't earn themselves the title King of Grappling, now do they.

Besides, Yuri isn't the only one sighing when their heat and urgency melts a little into tenderness, and he'd sooner let his arms fall from his shoulders than sacrifice even a single moment of the way Yuri's fingers stroke and soothe at the nape of his neck. Pausing to breathe reminds him of his collection of little aches, the sting of his cut lip and the throb of the bruises beneath his skin, but that scattering of sharp sensation pairs well with the smoother weight of Yuri's affection, and he can't help but want to bask in it for as long as he can.]

If I could've kept you in my lap the whole night, I would've. Nice and safe.

[He chuckles after a moment, low and warm, and huffs against Yuri's throat.]

I mean you, keeping me safe. You're cute when you get worried, you know that?

( Yuri just scoffs, for all he knows there's not much point in trying to deny it. He was a little worried for Balthus when his new friend let slip what he's been getting up to - but he also knows that he's a man who's more than capable of taking care of himself. Still, there's no real way to prevent his stomach from dropping when he sees his friends with injuries he wasn't there to prevent, but he's at least self-aware enough to know that he can't micromanage everything all the time.

... Not here, anyway. Not when he's already told Balthus he wants him to have the opportunity to take more control over his own life. )

Yeah, well. Someone's gotta look out for the tough guy.

( ... But that doesn't mean he can't gently warn his new business partners to keep his best interests at heart, and his smile is all wolf as he ever so gently fists up a handful of Balthus's hair. Yuri tilts his face up towards him so he can look at him properly, his lipstick smudged and his cheeks pink from kissing: )

And your safety's a number-one concern of mine, pal.

( Ah, but slotting their lips together again is easy. Yuri kisses Balthus deeply — Seiros, but it doesn't seem to get less dizzying — and indulges in a playful nip of his lower lip as he pulls away again. )

... But you know, there's nothing stopping me from spending the rest of the night in your lap.

( Their lips brush again, open and damp, but Yuri doesn't let it turn into another kiss just yet. )

How about it?

Aw, Yuri.

[He ought to offer up some kind of offhand, cocky remark, but it's hard not to lose sight of that notion while he's busy relishing the warmth of Yuri's affectionate care. He's used to never taking anything for granted, of maintaining skepticism when it comes to people implying security and offering protection. But Yuri looks out for the people he cares about, and he never hurts harder than those people can bear to take — and he has a bad habit of learning all of a guy's weak spots and using them in moments like this, tugging his hair, holding his gaze, tempting him with passion all over again.

He knows his smile is crooked and a little kiss-stupid when it warms on his lips, blossoming in the wake of Yuri's indulgent attention. He probably looks like a love-drunk idiot, and he doesn't altogether care, because he feels like he's more himself than he's ever been and he's far too busy to be thinking about appearances at a time like this.]

You already took all my money, you bastard, so I hope you're doing this one on the house.

[He laughs, bright and content. Before they'd hashed things out between them, he might've been reluctant to crack a joke like that, unsure of how it might be received.

But it's exactly the sort of wisecrack that he would make to Yuri under any other circumstances, and that's the important part of just being themselves — is that they still get to just be themselves.]

Or maybe in the house. Your house?

( Crooked and a little kiss-stupid is right, but Yuri's beginning to wonder whether he doesn't think Balthus might be at his best this way. There's something about that giddy softness in those dark eyes — that adoring expression, like a man bewitched — that makes Yuri feel like this is something he could do for the rest of his life, and his smile softens around the edges as he slides his hand along the cut-glass line of his jaw.

Yeah. That big, silly, radiant smile? It's the kind of smile a person would fight for. )

On the house? Do I look like a charity to you, von Albrecht?

( But now Yuri's laughing too, his free hand balling into a small fist that he thumps into Balthus's arm. It's good to joke with him like this — good to finally be able to talk and tease each other about whatever they please — and all of a sudden Yuri feels a little foolish for how hard he worked to keep the other man at arm's length.

If this is what it's like for Balthus to really know him ...

Maybe this moment what their friendship has been waiting for. Maybe now they'll be able to support each other in the ways they've deserved all along. )

C'mon, put me down. I'll see how I feel when we get back to my place — maybe you've got a little luck left in you yet.

( Balthus, you're getting laid. You're getting so very, very, laid, and then you're getting all your money back in a one-off payment that Yuri probably won't mention unless asked. )

[HELL YEAH HE'S GETTING LAID, TEN ROUNDS UNDEFEATED AND HE'S IN FOR TEN MORE.]

Well, hey, when the dice are rolling your way, you don't stop rolling.

[But he does step away from the wall, easing Yuri back down until his sneakers touch the concrete like he's a priceless work of art and not a man, and before he can get away entirely, Balthus brings his hands to hold Yuri's face and bends to press a surprisingly affectionate kiss to his forehead.]

You did great up there tonight. Not that you didn't already know that, but hey. Someone oughta tell you anyway.

[And rather than linking arms, he opts instead to sling one of his around Yuri's shoulders, drawing him in close and snug against his side for the walk back home.]

Thanks, B. I'm up there around three nights a week, so any time you feel like swinging by again ...

( Yuri tosses a wink up at Balthus as he settles in for the walk home, his own arm slung around the other man's waist as they make their way back to the Emerald District. It's kind of funny, really, that the Underground feels so much more like home than the gleaming city of Sumarlok - but then he supposes as much is to be expected, considering where he's lived for the last five years.

They chat as they walk: Yuri asks after the ladies at the spa before giving Balthus a quick run-down of the Gems he's met working at the club, but around twenty minutes of shooting the shit sees them heading across the driveway to the glass-panelled door of Yuri's home. )

... Hey. This was nice.

( He says lightly, as the lights in the foyer rise to an amber glow in response to the front door being unlocked. There's a soft 'thud' from his bag as he slings it onto the lilac chaise while toeing out of his sneakers: )

It's been kind of hard to find a moment to just have a catch-up, huh? What with everything else that's been going on.

( A soft smile touches Yuri's lips as he closes the distance between them, one hand reaching for the front of Balthus's shirt so he can tug him down for another playful little kiss. )

Mm. Take me upstairs, handsome.

Mm. This felt a lot like old times, actually. You and me, burning the midnight oil.

[You know, he's never really seen much benefit in shirts, but the way Yuri grabs onto his and uses it as leverage is precisely the kind of thing that could turn his opinion right around. But aside from the kisses — which are definitely welcome, but relatively new — this little cadence of Yuri's is familiar, too. He's seen it from the vantage point of his mattress often enough, Yuri rolling in late and scattering belongings like a tree shedding leaves while he works his way towards flopping down into bed himself.

It's a dance he already knows the steps to, so he falls into it easily himself. His own bag joins Yuri's on the chaise, and his boots get kicked off in the relative vicinity of the door; beneath the more reliable lamplight of the foyer, he lifts his hand and flexes it experimentally, checking for damage to his knuckles or anything he might've missed between the adrenaline and the trickier neon of the club.

Nothing too bad, all told. He'll ache a little bit tomorrow, sure, but it'll help him sleep. So will the sex that they're definitely going to have as soon as he gets Yuri upstairs, which reminds him that he really ought to get on that.]

We're not still playing like we were at the club, are we? I seem to recall Crystal making me some promises she's yet to deliver on.

[Without preamble, he bends and scoops Yuri up in a princess carry, absently making sure the door is shut and locked behind them before heading for the stairs as bidden.]

Something about making me forget all my aches and pains?

( Yuri lets himself be scooped up into the cradle of Balthus's arms with an amused chuckle. )

You're thinking you didn't get your money's worth, hm? Don't worry — she doesn't make promises she won't keep.

( Soft lips brush against Balthus's jaw as he takes them up the stairs, easy as anything, before pulling back just enough to point along the hallway to his room. He's fortunate that his friend is used to the way he lives: Satan shoes lie discarded around the mirror in commemoration of outfits un-chosen, and his vanity is a mess of half-opened palettes, cotton pads, and lipsticks, for which he really needs to invest in some kind of storage. In the corner, a satin gown lays draped over the back of the chair, and his bathrobe spills across the floor in a crumpled heap just in front of a half-open wardrobe.

The bed in the centre of it all is an over-the-top, four-poster thing — but it appears as though Yuri at least went to the trouble of making it after he got up for the day. It's scattered with pointless cushions in various shades of burgundy, purple, and red, the whole look finished with what looks to be a crumpled camisole set sticking out from beneath one of them. )

... Ta-dah.

( A fingertip tilts Balthus's face towards him again so that he can steal another sultry little kiss: )

How about you get nice and comfortable on the bed, Showtime, and I'll show you what I meant.

[It's such a stupid nickname — even for a guy who self-styles as the Ultimate King of Grappling, which is saying something — that he can't help but laugh when Yuri teases him with it, accepting the kiss before lowering him down to his feet. If he hadn't been invited onto the bed outright, he probably would've hesitated to just climb up on his own; all the pillows and strewn-about clutter make him inclined to tread gingerly, unable to tell if he's inadvertently wrecking something important, or just treating the mess as it deserves.]

Bet you can't guess where they came up with "Showtime".

[Or probably he can; if anyone could arrive at the right conclusion, it's likely Yuri. But it's still a way of filling the air as he gets up onto the mattress, letting his long legs dangle over the edge while he leans back on his hands.]

This all right? Just tell me how you want me.

( Yuri just tosses Balthus a smirk as he dims the lighting to a soft amber glow, before moving towards the bed in the same slow, easy glide that brought him to his friends lap back at the club. He loses the leggings as he goes; peeling out of them is easy, and the hem of his sweatshirt skims low enough that his modesty remains preserved. )

I'm gonna go with ... because you're pretty good at making a spectacle of it whenever you knock someone clean out?

( It's a warm, affectionate tease, and he strokes the backs of his knuckles along his friend's cheekbone before easing forwards again. Yuri puts a knee on the mattress beside Balthus so that he can settle over his lap, pale thighs spread and their hips flush but for the few layers between them. )

And this is perfect. In fact, I'd say I've got you right where I want you.

( His hands move between them to curl around the hem of his sweatshirt, which he pulls up and off over his head in a practiced, fluid motion. The removal of the shapeless garment reveals what Yuri had been hiding underneath: the pretty purple straps of his stage outfit cling to the smooth lines of his body, but this time his hair is a mess, his lipstick is ruined, and he's a feast for the eyes of one man as opposed to a club full of hopefuls.

A lazy swirl of the hips is all it takes to rub them together, and the corner of Yuri's lips lifts into a smirk that flashes sharp as he drapes his arms over his friend's shoulders. )

You can touch me all you want, now.

[Somehow, he never put two and two together that Yuri probably didn't change out of his stage outfit in his haste to leave the club, but rather just covered over it with his sweats and hit the streets in a hurry. Why it didn't occur to him, he can't rightly say — it just makes logical sense, for one thing, and it's no different than what any other athlete would do under the same circumstances. But somehow it stays a surprise, and an arousing one at that, as the sweatshirt comes off and Yuri's weight settles down in his lap like a challenge.

The warmer yellowish light flatters Yuri, Balthus muses. It reminds him of candlelight, softer and more golden than the harsh blue-white fluorescence that the majority of Sumarlok seems to prefer. More like home, like being back in the sparse but familiar comfort of Abyss. It helps him to unwind, as he unconsciously releases another layer of tension he hadn't really realized he'd even been holding.]

Yeah, you got it. Funny, isn't it? People thinking I'm the one good at putting on a show.

[He shifts his weight, adjusting to keeping himself upright with just one hand while the other arm slips around Yuri's waist. When he starts to rock his hips up in response to Yuri's teasing — too slow to stoke arousal from a smolder to an open blaze, but enough to keep their hips pressing together, enough to keep Yuri moving in his lap like the suggestion of a dance all in itself — his intentions don't take long to become clear.

Lazily, his lips find their way to Yuri's throat again, wanting to coax those same pretty sounds of approval from his throat like he'd done in the alley. He doesn't usually take foreplay so slow, truth be told, but — well, maybe he just wants to savor a little.]

Tell me you wanted this all night. That you wanted to drop the act and just come be with me.

It wasn't obvious?

( Yuri tilts his head for Balthus again, his lashes fluttering low as he opens the front of his throat for the searing press of his lips. A soft little whine sticks in the back of his throat he's teased with a gentle suck — but this time when he smiles there's a flash of teeth as violet eyes seek out warm brown. )

From the moment I saw you sitting there, B. Kind of rude of you to barge into my workplace looking like that ...

( Soft hands skim over the impressive hardness of his bare biceps — but a fighter like Balthus will be able to feel the calluses worn into his palms by years of dirty swordplay. Yuri has always been a mess of contradictions — he's soft and sharp, gentle and vicious, ready to help an old lady with her groceries after using the same hands to execute a loan shark — but tonight? None of that really matters.

Tonight he's just Yuri, and he's just Balthus's. )

Looking at me like that.

( His cock flushes warm under the thin scrap of material covering his crotch — warmer still when he feels an answering throb from the man underneath him. One hand slips between them to unfasten Balthus's trousers with a smooth little twist: )

I wanted to make sure you wouldn't look at any of the other girls the way you looked at me — and that I'd be the one to take you home.

Eh, I like hearing you say it.

[It's his turn to sigh as Yuri's hands start to explore his body, less the tantalizing suggestion that they'd been in the club, and more just enjoying the fact that he can. It's been long enough now since his fights that the familiar post-grapple ache is starting to set into his muscles, but the gentleness of Yuri's touch makes for a lovely contrast with the twinge of satisfied use.

There hadn't been time for this, that day at the lake; they'd both been far too worked up, craving too strongly for instant gratification. The slower burn of rubbing up against each other, feeling each other out, talking while they're at it — now that's a whole different kind of addicting.

Enough so that he draws back after a while, eyes half-lidded, mouth slack and lips slightly parted, and thinks about how it would feel to just give himself over completely into Yuri's deft hands and see what comes of it when he does.]

It always feels good to win, but...when you looked at me, that's what made me feel like a winner.

[He bites down on his lip, unmindful of the split and earning himself a sting of protest for it, as his trousers come open and his cock is set free to tent its interest more emphatically in his shorts.]

I used to dream about nights like tonight, years back. Gold in my pocket, someone gorgeous angling to catch my eye...being somebody, you know? Hah...so I guess that makes you a dream come true.

( Yuri's chest aches at the sad truth in Balthus's confession — not because it's come as a surprise, as such, but because it's refocusing what he'd thought of his friend's actions in the past.

He just wanted to be someone, huh? No wonder he spent his evenings in Abyss wooing women, getting into back-street fighting, or trying to prove he could out-bet anyone in rowdy nights of dice and drinks. No wonder he's styled himself as the Undefeated King of Grappling — a title he's rightly earned, if Yuri's fair about it — it's just ...

Painful, to finally realise where that bravado has been coming from. )

Hey. Listen to me.

( Yuri tilts Balthus's face up towards him and catches his lips in a searing kiss, one hand cupping the curve of his cheek as the other settles warm against his chest. )

You're someone to me, yeah? Hapi too, and our dear Shady Lady — you matter, Balthus. More than I can say. It's on me that I never really told you that.

( It's on him that he played his hand all but pressed flush against his chest, and it's on him that he let his friends believe he saw them more as acquaintances than family. The idea that someone as radiant and earnest as Balthus saw himself as a nobody ...

No. Not now. Yuri pushes that thought to the side, unwilling to let the bits and pieces he's heard about his past spoil the intimacy of the moment. )

Anyway, I've got a lot of years to make up for, so I'm gonna need you to take these off—

( He grins, tossing a little wink in Balthus's direction as he tugs at his now open trousers. A moment later sees him sliding off his lap to hang off the side of his mattress; he rummages for something under the bed before righting himself again, after which he briefly dips into the drawer of his disorganised bedside table.

Satin ribbon from his dressing gown: check.
Lube: check.

When he turns back to the bed properly, he leans in close to drop a kiss against Balthus's earlobe: )

And get comfortable.

[Despite himself, the heartfelt reassurance brings a hint of rosy flush to his otherwise tanned cheeks. He's just opening his mouth to say something cavalier and reassuring, maybe something like aw, I've never been one to feel sorry for myself, so don't you start, when all of a sudden Yuri is on him instead, kissing him deep, and all thoughts of protest go right out the window.

What kind of idiot would he have to be, to think about anything else when he could be thinking about Yuri kissing him like that?

It's only afterward, when Yuri slides off of him and starts roaming the room, that he really manages to gather up his thoughts, and by then it's already too late; the moment is over, and the warmth has nested in his chest, and he'd have to be an even bigger idiot to stay ruminating about implications of melancholy when Yuri is telling him to take his pants off.]

Dunno how I could be anything but comfortable, on a bed this nice.

[But still, he sits up enough to work his trousers off, and after a moment's thought opts to just strip down entirely, shucking off the rest of his clothes and depositing them in a careless pile on the floor near the foot of the bed, in favor of just lounging around bare and brazen. Why not? He looks damn good; nothing about this iron bod to be ashamed of.

Besides, it means he can sneak a few subtle strokes of his cock while he's waiting, just for fun, until Yuri turns back and he's got to behave again.

Which he does, eyeing up the lube and the ribbon carefully, but not without a visible hint of interested anticipation.]

Looks to me like you're up to something.

[But he does make himself comfortable anyway, getting himself up onto the mattress proper and lying out on his back, as much so that he can look up at Yuri through lowered lashes as anything else.]

( Yuri allows himself a moment to just soak up the sight of Balthus reclining in the middle of his bed. Seiros, but without the jorts and Devilish attributes he looks like some lascivious sculpture of a forgotten Saint - the kind that the Church would have kept strictly under lock and key for fear of stirring up desire should anyone catch sight of him. Yuri crawls closer, kneels beside him, and slides a palm up the meat of his thigh: )

I mean, I'm clearly not the only one who's "up" to something.

( He replies lightly, but the overly-pleased smirk on his lips suggests that, yeah, he's aware that was a terrible line. There's hunger in his gaze as he lets it rakenover his friend from top to toe, lingering over the rock-hard cut of his abs and the swell of his dick as he holds it in a large palm.

... Whichever gods are left, give him strength. )

I've gotta say, you're making it kind of difficult for me to stick to my plan, B.

( His attention flits up to his face again as he begins to peel out of his strappy little outfit. It doesn't take much - a tug here, a little shimmy there - and he tosses it to the floor before crawling forwards to settle himself astride Balthus's hips. It brings their cocks together, tight and hot in that little gap between their bodies, and Yuri let's himself indulge in a few lazy thrusts as he plucks at a tight pink nipple. )

... I want to show you how good being with me can be.

( His free hand splays against Balthus abs as glances down between his thighs, his own cock looking kind of cute dwarfed as it is by the thick heft of his friend. Yuri exhales softly, feels himself twitch with want as he rubs them together that bit faster, before finally lowering a hand to stroke them together in a few teasing little pulls. )

Trust me, yeah?

( Yuri's smirk turns playful as he lets go of their cocks so that he can reach for the bottle of lube. )

Let me take care of you.

Says the guy who's always got backup plans for his backup plans.

[How is it possible, he thinks idly as he watches the lavender garment go the way of all the rest of their clothes, forgotten on the floor, a problem for another time — how is it possible that Yuri looks incredible in every permutation of everything he's ever worn, regardless of how much or how little he's worn to begin with? It seems to defy belief, and yet here he is, pale and real and pleasantly solid as he settles back into his favorite place over Balthus's hips.

This will be the second time now that he's put himself in Yuri's hands, blindly embracing whatever plans he might have and whatever pleasure might be born of it. Last time he ripped a chunk out of a dock; he'll have to be careful not to make the same mistake with all these nice pillows.

But it's hard not to settle into the dreamy rhythm of their cocks brushing together, or of the more deliberate caress of Yuri's palm when he eventually reaches for them. It's just another way of feeling good, and he's happy to give himself over to it.

And then Yuri says trust me, and the whole world stops for a second while his heart skips a beat.

It's an echo of what he'd said himself in the alley, true. But it's also a memory of a kiss by the dockside, of unprecedented panic as he'd been dragged into the deep — and the recollection of just how all right he'd been when Yuri had known something he hadn't and set out to take care of them both.

It's a nice memory, for all that it'd been terrifying in the moment. Thinking about it makes goosebumps rise up on his arms, and his throat bob as he swallows back his anticipation.]

You know that saying about too much of a good thing?

[He grins a little, the corner of one side of his mouth cocking up, and he absently reaches to run his thumb over one of his own nipples just for the spark of sensation while he waits patiently to see where this will go.]

Whoever said it obviously never met you.

( Yuri thinks he'll let him watch for this part.

The decision isn't entirely altruistic: Yuri likes being watched, likes being seen as he both gives ant takes pleasure, and while the idea of covering Balthus's eyes for the whole thing is tempting? He wants him to see the full extent of how much he'd wished he could shrug off his job and give the whole of his evening to him. )

A dream come true, a good thing you'll never have too much of ... ( He shakes his head. ) You're gonna have to stop, Balthus, otherwise I'll start getting all sorts of ideas about how much you like me.

( It isn't that he doesn't believe his sincerity — no, it couldn't be so simple as that — but rather the fact that it's still difficult to hear it coming from someone whose opinion actually matters. Sure, plenty of men (and his fair share of women) have lavished him with praise while he's stroked them to pleasure, but they were never anything more than passing voices murmuring into a well-hidden storm.

Balthus's words, on the other hand, cut straight through the tumult to his core. Those other people didn't know anything about the life he lived outside of their encounters; they couldn't possibly understand how little he deserved their praise.

This man does, and still he speaks to him with that same reverence. It's not something he feels ready for just yet. )

Anyway, go ahead and recommend me to that person — maybe I'd be able to change their mind.

( Yuri's teeth skim over his bottom lip as he watches Balthus toy with himself — just a little tease — before sliding down his thighs to pepper a trail of kisses over the rise of his chest. Everything about Balthus speaks of strength: Yuri can feel it against his lips as he idles over his pectorals, sucking lightly at a nipple, then directs his attention downwards over the ridge of his abs.

Gently revenant, Yuri shoulders his way between his friend's thighs until they're bent and framing his face. From this vantage point Balthus seems all the more like some kind of luxuriant deity; the warmth rolling from him is palpable, and the scent of hot skin and male arousal leaves him feeling positively dizzy with want. Soft lips pepper the inside of his thighs with a flurry of little kisses as he works his way up to his prize, laying thick and heavy and utterly delicious at the juncture of Balthus's hip.

This time, those kisses are scattered over the underside of his dick. Yuri takes his time, evidently set on enjoying every generous inch of him, before parting his lips to swallow down as much as he can fit in the slick of his mouth.

It isn't like the lake. Yuri isn't teasing him for the sake of it, he's pleasing him because he can, and those manicured fingertips slide along the outside of Balthus's thighs before splaying against each hip as he groans around him and sucks. )

Edited (Repetition B[) 2021-06-09 11:53 (UTC)

[It's never felt quite right to him, to just lie back and take when it comes to sex. He also knows that makes him something of a rarity, at least among the types of men who get their intimacy primarily in exchange for gold as opposed to earning it in some other fashion; lords and johns rarely pay for the privilege of giving pleasure, as opposed to simply demanding it in exchange for their coin. But his satisfaction has always come as much from the opportunity to drink down his bedmate's reactions as it is to ride a cresting wave of arousal himself — and why not? What better gratification could there be, than acting and seeing the erotic results of that handiwork?

It only occurs to him, belatedly, that Yuri might feel similarly, at least at a time like this. He's sure it hadn't been an act the day at the docks, when Yuri's eyes had gone heated and smoldering with satisfaction while he'd sucked Balthus's soul out through his dick. And this doesn't feel like an act, either, because what it feels like is worship — passion prayers that Seiros sure as hell never condoned.

He wants to do a lot of things, while Yuri works his way down his body, kissing and licking and making him shiver. He wants to prop up on his elbows, maybe reach down and pet his messy hair into an even wilder mane. He wants to think about Yuri slicking on a fresh coat of lipstick and doing it all again, this time with smudged rings of evidence left behind on his skin as a testament to every place his mouth touched.

But then he thinks about all the little flashes of affection he's seen Yuri flash throughout the course of the night — the concern he'd shown for the bruised cheek and cut lip, the insistence on making him comfortable, the soft reassurance that he means something — and he thinks, what if for a little while, he tried just accepting it? What if he were to just lie still and come undone beneath the attention of someone who means more to him than...than just about anything?

Acceptance feels like breathing underwater.

He keeps his eyes closed, and his breath starts to shift into shudders and moans.]

Yuri...

[He whines — whines! — when Yuri spreads his legs and starts to tease, torn between aching for the bolder pleasure of that attention finally reaching his cock, and wanting the avoidance of it to go on and on for another eternity. It's all at once too much and not enough, and his every desire is a contradiction.

He tries to stay still, but he can't, not when wet heat finally slides down around him and the phantom drag of nails is still echoing on his nerves. At first his hips jerk clumsily, his muscles visibly going taught as he reacts, but then he settles again as the press of Yuri's hands reminds him to behave himself.

The messy wet sucking noises are louder, now that they're not competing with the lap of the surf against the poles of a dock. The bed is soft beneath him and every time Yuri moves his mouth it sends a new wave of sin washing up to blanket him, and the only thing he has to give back is the symphony of sounds stirred up in his throat and falling from his mouth in begging approval, and he can only just hope that it's enough.]

( Yuri will later swear that he feels the moment Balthus gives in to the offer of being the one taken care of. It's a soft melting of his muscles before they tense up again with pleasure; a moan follows, then another, and all of a sudden the lewd slurp of his mouth on his cock is joined by the straining sound of his need.

In hindsight, it's really no surprise that Balthus is an enthusiastically vocal lover. There's little about him that isn't big and bright and full of energy; the fact that he moans his pleasure like the best of them licks a curl of heat into Yuri's belly, and his eyes slip shut for a moment as he lets himself enjoy each precious sound.

It takes him a second to realise that, more than anything, he wants to make this man fall apart underneath him. He wants Balthus like he's never seen him before: damp-cheeked and panting, his colour hectic, his thighs tight and trembling as Yuri coaxes him into sensations he's never let himself truly enjoy. Would it be easy? Perhaps, considering he's already sprawled out and gasping just from the pull of lips around his cock—

Yuri groans softly, the whine of his own name hanging heavy between them as his own dick flexes and leaks against sheets. Seiros. What's a guy to do when his friend sounds like that — moans like that — other than pull off the stretch of his cock with a slick, wet sound, and try to get him to do it again. )

Hey.

( The pads of his fingertips smooth over his hips as Yuri gazes up at him, his cheek resting against the inside of Balthus's thigh and his lashes slung low over dark eyes. The soft lilt of his voice is a little ragged where it's been roughened up from his cock, and he draws the tip of his tongue over his lips as he takes a moment to catch his breath. )

I said I'd take care of you, yeah?

( He nuzzles in a little closer, his lips dragging over the swell of his balls, the root of his cock, as a hand slips back around and between Balthus's legs to rub his thumb against his perineum. Yuri knows it feels good — there's an art to massaging a man's sweet spot from the outside, and it's one he's perfected — and his tongue skates across the shining head of his cock before treating it to a slow, messy kiss. )

Can I touch you here?

( His thumb dips lower until it kisses that tight clench of muscle. There's no pressure — he won't rub of move it until Balthus has indicated he's comfortable with it — but he does continue to press those slow, wet kisses down the length of his dick as he levels him with a molten look. With his lips sore and shining he offers a gentle smile from where he's nestled: )

Please.

[It's such a simple, benign question that he almost doesn't put together what Yuri is even asking, at first. Surely Yuri's already aware that Balthus has gone to putty in his hands, giving himself over to whatever wicked tricks Yuri might have in store for him. Why would he need to ask when he's already unwound from the sensation, laid out and open like a feast for Yuri's eyes and hands and lips.

It clicks when all of a sudden the epicenter of his pleasure isn't just the wet heat laving around his cock, but a different sensation still — lower, blunter, an added dimension to the heat knotting up inside of him. And it's good that it does, because it rouses him a little from the haze of arousal clouding his mind, making him lift his head a little to look down at Yuri with smoky, glassed-over eyes.

It'd be so easy to just say yes without a second thought, because he feels good and he doesn't want to surrender that, doesn't want to come up out of the arousal he's let overtake him and actually return to critical reasoning. But the fact that Yuri's asking means he deserves a better answer than an offhand, sex-slurred anything, and so Balthus tries his best to come up with something to say that doesn't involve relinquishing his dreamy fog of satisfaction altogether.]

You'd be the first.

[Which isn't a yes or a no, but it's a little important. It means he's thinking about it. It's important that Yuri knows he's thinking about it.]

...You know I trust you.

[He'd said it before — trust me — and what had followed along right on its heels was let me take care of you.

That's better than a yes or a no, he thinks vaguely. I trust you to take care of me is so much better, and so much more accurate to how he really feels.]

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