Swan Lake Photoshoot
Written in collaboration with @card-games-and-pain
content warnings: heavily implied noncon/dubcon, forcible touching, noncon kiss.
Lev knew that if he was touched one more time, he’d break down crying. Every posture change, makeup change, hair and makeup fix meant more hands on him, on his body, grabbing, pulling, manipulating, caressing—touches that didn’t necessarily hurt, but were relentless. Forceful. Demanding.
And even though the man seated next to him right now likely felt the same way, Lee looking to have reached the same level of physical exhaustion that Lev himself was feeling, the mere thought of another’s skin against his own still made him want to scream.
They’d been posed apart, and together, and on couches, stools, blankets. In the middle of the floor, or in front of massive dropsheets that had been set up just for the occasion. Lev could have drifted, if there hadn’t been instructions—move there, hold this, put your hands here. The lech of a man that was Lee’s captor—Leon, he remembered from his initial introduction to the senator and his cattle prod—had been the director of the sordid affair.
Neither one of us are getting our suits dirty, so you are going to be the one to splatter the paint, my dear boy.
So he had, droplets across Lee’s chest and arms and hands. Artistic, and fittingly, just a little bit like blood. He didn’t think about the way the other man didn’t so much as flinch when the crimson splashed across his face, casting red pinpricks across the feathery white fringe of the delicate mask.
Lev felt like he’d killed him. He probably had red handprints all over him from when Lee had killed him in turn. He hadn’t really looked. It was hard to study his own body for too long.
The worst part was… all of it, but worse still was the way that Lee didn’t fight as much any more. Lee then had bit and swore and thrown punches, landed a few, and generally flung himself at the two larger, older, more dangerous men. It was only afterward, with Leon breathing heavily in his ear, pinning him to the mattress, that Lev had realised it had all been to his benefit. That Lee had been not only demonstrating that fighting back was possible, but that it had been an attempt at a distraction.
And now, they were both still here. Still with their respective hims, albeit on different occasions. It had been hard to wrestle with the guilt, of being glad, so glad to see someone when you knew you really shouldn’t be. Not like this.
But for now, they’d been left alone. As alone as possible, in a room full of people. The ten-hour long photoshoot had transitioned into some kind of afterparty, the sets left up but platters of food brought out, and Lev couldn’t for the life of him figure out who all these people were, all of a sudden… but they were done. They could rest.
That was, until Martin had nudged him with a shoe, saying why don’t you two put on a show for us, loves, while coiling a length of the golden chain around the two of them—and everything had become awful again.
And Lev was so tired. Just wanted to pretend, for a moment, at something normal.
“What if… we’re at a house party,” he whispered. “Some mutual friend in Intro To Psych. The beer is absolute shit, but it’s free, so hey.” He smiled up at Lee as the other let out a solitary huff of laughter, the both of them caught off-guard. It was a nice smile.
It was the least he could do, to help Lee think about something else, somewhere else, for a moment… even if they were both a bit old for this particular fantasy.
Just one moment. Just one single fucking moment.
He continued. “We’ve managed to steal off while some guy is trying to do a keg-stand. Our, um, our partners both know.“
Lee nodded, dark eyes finding Lev’s and holding. “Intro to Psych,” he repeated, shifting closer, eyes flickering over Lev’s shoulder. “They know. This is just… just some fun between friends.”
Lee draped his arm over Lev’s shoulder, hesitant and flinching back like it hurt before settling it there, and then repeating the process with his second arm.
They’re still dressed like hunted swans.
“‘m sorry,” Lee whispered, close enough that Lev could hear the heavy swallow that followed.
He looked up into Lee’s eyes. Tired, and stress-lined, and like he knew. Was maybe the only person who could ever understand.
“I know,” Lev murmured back, trying to shift so this didn’t feel like… well, what it was, trying to keep that moment alive just a little longer. “It’s okay. We’re okay, just having some fun.”
“Exactly,” Lee breathed, and it ghosted across his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He was just about to utter the words and then I ask if I can kiss you when he felt the gloved hands on his waist, roaming up his sides, shattering the illusion he had been trying to create. Lev froze.
Because of course the man couldn’t keep hands off him for twelve fucking seconds. Not when he saw something he liked.
“Enjoying yourself, baby?” Kisses up his spine. Lee looked at him with a furrowed brow and a disgusted expression—with hatred—and it was likely the same one he wore across his own face.
The moment was gone.