Summary: Lee finds a way to cool down after a hard day.
A/N: A small fic to break in my new keyboard and to break out of my rut. Thanks to the wonderful @tuiccim for looking through this and the encouragement ❤️😘
Divider by @firefly-graphics
With a groan, Lee throws his hat onto the couch and shrugs his jacket off.
Fucking Leroy. The goddamn fool had him running about all over town trying to cover up his shit again. Fuck. One day he’s gonna kill him.
Loosening his tie, Lee grabs a beer, slamming the fridge shut with a frustrated noise. He’s too pent up. Annoyance and anger building up under his skin and he knows what could help but he can’t rouse himself. He can’t bring himself to go back out into that sticky heat to find a whore.
Sipping slowly from his bottle, he thinks through his limited options. It doesn’t take long before the only real option becomes clear to him and he tosses his bottle onto the coffee table. Groaning softly, he sheds his clothes, throwing them to the floor without care. His only thought now on his cock, already twitching and filling in anticipation. Anger and desire fizzes in his veins in a delicious cocktail, heightening each touch and sensation. Shifting slightly, Lee slips deeper into the cushions, legs widening as his fingers stroke his thighs. Biting his lip he trails his hands over slick skin to tease his cock. He barely touches himself and hisses in pleasure, fuck this won't take as long as he thought.
His head rolls back on the couch, tongue darting out to wet his lip as he grasps his cock, squeezing gently with a moan. He plants his feet firmly against the floor as he rolls his hips, slowly fucking into his own hand. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine a girl between his legs, her tongue lapping at him messily. Stroking the head with his thumb, his breath catches in his throat as he smears precome along his length. He vaguely pretends it's her but the image is shaky and he focuses on the pleasure instead. His hips move faster, his hand gripping his cock and fingers teasing the ridge as he pants. Pleasure rises and he loses himself, cock twitching as he watches the tip appear and disappear in his hand.
Head thumping back, he can feel his muscles jump as he edges closer, all the negativity pushed away by the flood of fuck yes and pleasure.
Reaching down he palms his balls as he works his cock, feeling full and almost bursting. He feels overwhelmed. Alive. Raw. Clean of emotion.
His back arches and he cries out as he comes, body shaking at its intensity and he wonders at how far he shoots. White on his chest, almost to his shoulder as he sags back exhausted. Fuck, he doesn't know what moved him so but it was almost worth it.
You look up at your professor as he continues his lecture, his bright blue eyes looking around the room, but always ending on you. Seeing the slight quiver of his mouth as he tries not to smile at you. His eyes roaming back around the room. He could try to deny it all he wanted, but he had mesmerized you.
He was extremely attractive, but there was something about the way he always found your gaze. How he would make an excuse to walk past you, his arm grazing along your skin. Even the way he would ask you to hang back after class so he could discuss your paper. His large body always looming over you, while you couldn’t think properly with his expensive Tom Ford cologne. He was intoxicating.
Sexy didn’t even describe Professor Solo. His pores wept of pure raw sex. Walking past your desk, to stand beside you. His hand clamping down on your shoulder while he continued his speech. The low timbre of his voice going straight to your core. You were always a sloppy mess in here. Ruining your panties every time he opened your mouth.
“I hope you guys have a great spring break. Papers will be due when you get back,” the class groans, but he grips tighter to your shoulder, and you sit stoically. “It’s been a semester long paper. Had you decided to work on it before now, you would have your entire spring break. Class dismissed,” he says, releasing your arm.
Solo says your name softly, leaning over your body, “Please, stay after class. I have something I need to discuss.”
The class leaves, while you sit, waiting patiently until the last student leaves. He walks calmly over to the door, and closes it. This time, turning the lock, before he walks back to where you're sitting. Opting to sit on the desk in front of you. Raised up higher than you, and making you feel even smaller. A perfect view of your cleavage. He knew you were trying to get his attention. But you had it a long time ago. A young girl, eager to please, and very responsive to praise. He wanted you. Wanted to own you, and you were making it oh so very easy.
He whispers your name again, before holding out a paper, “I went over this, and I’m glad you didn’t turn it in as your final draft. You do better work than this,” he gulps when you play with that ever present choker around your neck. He knows exactly what would look better. “You’re better than this.”
“I, uh…I just, um…”
“Speak up. You need to say exactly what it is you mean.”
“I just,” you start taking a deep breath, and he gives you a warm smile, “I was needing some extra help on it. Like…extra curricular help?”
He gives you a smirk, and you bow your head in shame. Your blood pulsing through every part of your body, maybe you had misread all the signals he was giving you. You had crossed a line with your professor, and now you were just humiliated. “Look at me,” you look back up at him, and his hand goes to cup your cheek. Your mouth automatically opens, ready to be stuffed with his thumb.
“Oh, you are a sweet little Pet, hmm?” The praise goes straight to your core, as your cunt clenches around nothing. “You have done so well this semester. I was hoping eventually your dumb baby brain would pick up on everything. Close your mouth,” you close it immediately. Eyes moving to his crotch, and you preen at the sight of his swollen slacks.
Handing over your paper, he nods at you, “I’m sure that page three will help you with what you’re needing. Only take that advice, if you’re ready to indulge me. It’s an intense paper I know, but it’s so rewarding. You may go. Enjoy your break.”
You give him a pout, but stand, walking out of the room, and it isn’t until you flip to page three, that he gave you his address on a sticky note. You didn’t care how intense he was, you were ready to have him more than just for a teacher.
“You wanted my attention, you got it,” Solo says as he looks your body up and down. You had come prepared. Such a needy little thing. He knew that he was making you weak in class, by every bite of your pen, every switching of your legs, the squeezing of your thighs, the trembling and even whimpering when he touched you. You were weak for him, and that’s just how he wanted you.
Ready to do whatever his sick and twisted mind wanted. And all he wanted was a pretty little pet to dress up and play with. His large body walks around yours, and your gaze turns to the floor below. “Kneel,” without hesitation you get to your knees, still too scared to look up at him. “How will I know that you are mine even when we’re out in the open?”
“Sir?”
“I just want an outward sign that you are mine. My Pet.”
Your tongue darts out of your mouth, and you lick your lips slowly, “Your pet?” He gives a single nod, and you go weak. Body twitching around, “So you would use me as your toy?”
“Of course. Show my authority to you, and you take it like the bitch in heat you are,” audibly you whimper, and his cock twitches. You were perfect. It had taken most of the semester, but he took his time relishing in your obedience.
“A collar?”
“I was hoping you would say that. A collar for here, but a beautiful necklace out there,” he points towards the door, and you follow his finger, giving him a nod. He pulls out a necklace, holding it up, when you spot the Greek letters on there. “Alpha Kappa Omega.”
“I thought that was a myth,” you gulp looking up at him. You were too far gone, but you had heard of that fraternity. That brotherhood. An almost secret society. Had heard the rumblings of the Professor, the Coordinator, it was the very man that stood before you.
“No, sweetheart. It’s very real. Would you want to be with one the founders?”
“I’m…I’m your Omega?”
“You are. I’m your Alpha, and I captured you, didn’t I?” you nod your head, looking up at the beautiful necklace. It looked innocent enough, but it held a secret on it. The most elite of secret societies, and he wanted you as his.
“Please, sir,” switching the necklace for a black leather collar instead, you were in his home after all. He walks behind you, cuffing your hands with leather as well, before ripping your dress, and pulling out your tits. Giving a sinister smile at the pebbled peaks.
“Just how wet are you? Stand up,” he gives a little chuckle as you try to right yourself up, but you finally make it. Spreading out your legs wide, and he finally touches you on your quivering cunt. Moaning at your slicked up folds, and he gives your swollen bundle of nerves a quick pinch. “You’re drenched.”
Grabbing a hold of your nipple, pulling it he guides you out of the foyer, and into the living room.
“On the couch. Ass up in the air, so I can see that pretty sloppy pussy,” with difficulty, you get to your knees. Your face smooshed on the cushion and ass in the air, and he sits down beside you. Grabbing up the remote, he mindlessly tries to find something to watch. Completely ignoring your leaking cunt and desperate self.
Giving your glistening folds a quick look. He sinks his fingers into your waiting cunt. His finger slowly pumps into you, while he looks back at the tv. It was infuriating and humiliating for him to use you for his own pleasure, and still your whore hole just gets wetter. The idea of becoming his pet and play toy exciting you. “Does it feel good like this?” he asks, adding a second finger. You give him a satisfied moan, and nod your head.
“Or is this better?” adding his third finger, and you feel a slight sting. But still he doesn’t look at how well you’re taking him.
“Much better.”
He could try to pretend he didn’t care, but his eyebrows raise with every sweet sound you make. “What is it that’s turning you on, My Pet? My fingers, the fact I’m not even looking at the way I have you stretched around them, or because I’m using you like the needy little slut you are? You don’t care how I touch you, as long as I just use you, hmm?”
“Yes, sir,” he presses his thumb against your clit, and you see stars. Your body twitches around, and he gives your ass a hard smack.
“You’re getting the fourth finger. Move again, and you get my whole fist. Just learn how to take it. Quit the whining,” you yelp at the added stretch, but remain still. Living in the moment of Solo having you like this. “I gotta prepare you for my fat cock. Or do you think you can take it? Wanna have tears streaming down your face because I haven’t prepared you? They always cry. They never last because it’s just too much for their pathetic little cunts. Do you think you can handle it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are already so much more obedient than the others.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Fuck,” he says looking over at your pussy swallowing four of his fingers. “Yeah, like that. I think she could take me. You’re going to be so sore tomorrow. Good thing we have all week to break her in,” he pulls out his hand, moaning at the string of your arousal that follows his retreating hand. “Oh, she’s good and juicy.”
Undoing his shirt, he slings it over the couch, and you finally get to see his chiseled body. Larger than any man you had ever been with. Thick sinewed lines of muscle. A luscious patch of hair leading straight to the prize you were ready to beg for. Slowly taking his pants off you watch that glorious cock pop up. He was thick. Massive even. Heavy with the prettiest vein that you wanted to follow with your tongue.
You had never taken anyone of his size, and even with your murmured voice and whining, he smiles, “Oh you’re gonna take it,” he wasn’t just thick, his length looked like he was going to be in your stomach. Rearranging your guts, and expecting you to thank him for it, “Get over here, and take it like a good Pet.”
“My hands.”
“You’ve desperately wanted my cock this whole semester, and being cuffed is going to keep you from it?”
“No, sir,” you whisper. Going to stand up, you straddle him. Hovering over his cock, you realize just how large and menacing it was.
With his hands tight on your hips, he guides you to that delicious cock, and helps you sink over it. A strained whine makes its way up your throat as your pussy burns at the stretch. Moving so slowly you feel every inch, every ridge, every vein, and every bit of him. He coaxes you down further, wanting you to take every bit of him, until your hole is gaping and tender.
Mewling when he finally settles somewhere in your stomach. Swearing you feel him all the way in your mouth. “Such a good Pet. Look at you taking every bit of me. It wasn’t that hard was it?” you shake your head no, and it falls forward to his shoulder. “Oh, it’s got this pitiful little sex puppy already fucked out. Do I need to use your body?”
“Please, sir.”
“You can’t even think, huh? So pitiful. Got you all stretched out, and you’ve gone dumb with that. I’m going to have so much fun with you, my sweet,” his hands lift you off of him, before letting gravity take over, and you scream up his name. “Little,” doing the motion again, you start to see stars. “Dumb,” another time has you gasping for air. “Puppy,” you wail. Head tilting to the ceiling where you repeat please over and over again.
“You want me to stop?” you shake your head no. “You’re gonna cum, and I have barely fucked you, huh?” He slams you over his length, and you’re thankful he can think. You feel blissed out, with very little effort. It would take a long time to adjust to his cock. Months before your pussy was molded to him. But you would do it. It would be your greatest honor.
“It’s yours,” you mumble, your words slurring as pleasure ripples through your veins.
“Oh, I know. You’re gonna let me do whatever I want, hmm?”
“Yes, sir. Whatever you want,” with a maniacal chuckle, he goes on a rampage. Fucking your body over him, and leaving your a writhing mess. Feeling so stuffed and full, and so utterly destroyed. He had ruined you. You were going to be his special pet. Take the initiation like a champ, and surely it couldn’t be worse than his giant cock.
Pushing and pulling you on his cock, you just about pass out multiple times. It was so much, too much, and you reveled in it. Delighted at his simple praises of being able to take him. Not caring about the tears that cascade your face, it was just Professor Solo. “I’m…I’m…”
“Oh, I know you are. I feel this tight pussy clenching around me. Let go, so I can fuck you when you pass out. Gotta get you used to me. They always cry, always pass out, but you can handle it. You're getting my pleasure now, sweet Pet.”
“Mmhmm. So good,” your head lulls back when he pushes you down hard. Eyes rolling in the back of your head, when you finally scream out his name. Speaking in tongue, but he knew exactly what you needed.
The wedding reception took place outdoors in the middle of winter, but Solo de la Vega wasn’t cold. Not even as she stood close to the massive ice sculpture in the center of the snowy lawn.
Solo dragged her pearls across the base of the sculpture, working her charms in the spots where they had faded a few hours ago. The wedding guests were caught up in making memories in honor of the happy couple. They didn’t notice the decorations coordinator drifting along the fringes of the party in her delicate silver gown, invoking charms to maximize everyone else’s enjoyment.
To be honest, Solo preferred it this way.
At least, she thought she was having a good time on her own until a certain pirate showed up to crash the party.
Solo’s fingers went numb the moment Captain Rodrigo appeared from behind the ice sculpture.
“I don’t remember seeing your name on the guest list,” Solo mused coolly, doing her best to hide her surprise.
“You wouldn’t have because they put me in charge of the decorations,” Rodrigo replied as he scooped Solo’s wrist in his hands and stroked warmth back into her chilled skin.
Solo arched a brow. “Interesting. I thought that was my job–”
Rodrigo abruptly pulled Solo’s hand to his face and brushed his lips over her scarred knuckles. For a moment, his dark lashes fanned over his band of freckles as he dropped his gaze and whispered, “You look beautiful.”
Caught off guard by the pirate’s compliment, Solo fell silent. Her free hand came to rest where the silver fabric made a deep cut down her chest.
“More than anyone else here anyway,” Rodrigo grunted before Solo could summon a proper thank you. Then he pulled her away from the sculpture.
The seamstress wanted to return the compliment in some way. She almost told Rodrigo that he looked better too now that he wasn’t wearing that poor spotted creature on his back. But instead, she asked, “Taking me to see your decorations, Captain?”
“Something like that,” Drigo mumbled.
Solo didn’t press him any further. She was content admiring the way his tunic shifted across his broad shoulders with each of his long strides. She couldn’t help but wonder if Rodrigo was just in the neighborhood or if he caught wind of the wedding and came seeking Solo out.
However it was that Rodrigo came to find Solo, she was glad that he did.
The pirate eventually pulled Solo under a knot of mistletoe tucked away from the crowds. Then he asked her if she knew what it was they were standing under. When Solo said that yes, she did know, Rodrigo’s hands came to secure her waist and bring her in until their hips connected.
Then Drigo asked, “Do you know how this works?”
“Rodrigo — Baby. Do you think I was born under a rock?” Solo kissed him impatiently. “Of course I know how mistletoe works.”
Rodrigo muttered something about not being too sure since Solo was so damn sheltered. The seamstress indignantly nipped at Drigo’s lower lip.
“I may be sheltered, but I know how to break loose when I feel like it.” She held Rodrigo’s face steady in her hands. Her voice dipped lower. “Or when I’ve found someone worth leaving this sheltered life for.”
They held each other’s gazes for a few beats longer before seeking more warm kisses under the frosted mistletoe.
Summary: In a future where you can clone yourself using the fluid from your spinal chord, Namjoon has lived a year with his clone in hopes of finding peace within himself.
There’s heavy breathing filling the sound, an uneven rhythm of someone desperately trying to catch their breath. The video is shakey, the person holding what could be assumed to be their phone, unable to keep it steady as they rush forward to...it.
“Someone do something!” One relatively close bystander yells. Another shouts for someone to kill it, to shoot. But guns aren’t so easily accessible in South Korea. Everyone knows this. But in the midst of all the chaos, the danger and fear that seeps from the HD screen of Namjoon’s phone, it’s hard to keep your wits. The only thing that is for certain is that the thing must be stopped.
The creature looks human, so incredibly human. The lousy cameraman has finally gotten close enough to the action, has made it to the clearing on the street so that he can stop and record the beast that trudges through the streets.
He’s walking toward the intersection, shirtless so that any viewer can see his unblemished back. He’s more tan, but still on the fair side. His hair is groomed, at least it seems so from the back. Like a fresh cut, maybe done earlier on in the week. His trousers are a khaki colour, and his feet are bare. He looks so undeniably human, that the only way to distinguish that he is not is by the scars on his wrists.
Said wounds are already healing; the blood on his hands is not his own, but his owner’s.
The creature walking in the street was not a man, but a clone; a clone of whoever created him.
The man he was a clone of was dead in their apartment just up the road, behind him, behind the man that was filming this.
The video is only thirty-four seconds long, and the last five seconds consist of a gunshot, the clone collapsing to the ground, the witnesses erupting in screams, a flurry of horror-
“How many times will you watch that video?”
Namjoon raises his head to see his chiropractor and closest friend. When he doesn’t answer, Seokjin raises an eyebrow, as if the question had not been rhetorical.
“Masochism?” It’s the only guess Namjoon can come up with.
“Whatever. I’m ready for you, so come back.”
Seokjin’s office does not have a typical, calm energy. It’s a sterile environment with a spotlight calculatively placed above the bad that Namjoon will lay on. This wasn’t a normal session 2 years ago, but it had become routine once Namjoon had decided he would partake in this new age experiment of sorts.
Automatically, Namjoon takes his shirt off, laying it on a chair sat in front of a desk and monitor. He has to come in twice a month for this, and it gets easier every time.
A scar has formed on the back of Namjoon’s neck, just at the base. Once Seokjin finishes up the procedure of making sure Namjoon’s back is in alignment, he’ll use a needle attached to a syringe. Almost 30 grams of his spinal fluid will be extracted from his chord. Although x marks the spot, Seokjin always follows the procedures down to the letter. He can’t lose his friend, of course.
They don’t converse much when Seokjin is at work. Although the list isn’t long, there are enough people in Seoul alone that want to go through this process. Seokjin packs the syringe sans needle, and sends Namjoon on his way.
Back at his apartment, in the guest room of his home, his clone awaits.
Namjoon has made sure to look after his clone well; it hardly ever begins to feel the drowsiness of losing its lifesource, because its owner is always ready. They have been together for almost a year now.
Even still, to create a clone using your own nerves, the creature that stands before you is your most primal self. Without the weight of society and upbringing to water it down, its emotions are potent, raw...dangerous.
Namjoon had created his clone to finally have someone that understood him, to know him so irrevocably that he wouldn’t so desperately desire the love or affection of another human. The world of science, in his mind, had created an answer to their loneliness, their inability to ever be satisfied.
“I’m back!” Namjoon calls out, heading straight for the guest room where he knows his clone likes to spend his time.
The curtains are closed in its room, blocking out a lovely summer day. It sits at the desk, looking at nothing in particular.
“Maybe after you feel better, we can go out.” The suggestion does not fall on deaf ears, but Namjoon’s clone does not answer. It only turns in its seat, holding out its wrists so that Namjoon can inject him.
The bands at its wrists are made of silver, blade on the inside to keep an open wound at all times. Namjoon can connect the syringe to an open point that sits right on top of a connecting vein. That is how the clone stays alive.
The clone looks like Namjoon, has his silver hair and sharp features, but the hollow is obvious in its face, its collarbones. A shell of what Namjoon is, his thoughts and feelings personified into one single sentient being, breathing in the same oxygen as he does himself. But it’s a constant reminder that this being is no more than a slave, no matter how hard Namjoon tries to make this something more. Even giving it a name has not helped.
“What do you want to do today, Joonie?”
“What is today?” The clone asks. His voice is exactly like Namjoon’s. It’s both comforting and maddening to the creator, the real one.
“July 17th,” Namjoon acquiesces. “What do you want to do?”
The clone stares at the bands on its wrists...the cuffs. To break out of them means to die, to choose to live for however many hours until the lifesource has drained the body.
“Tomorrow is my birthday.” The only difference between Namjoon and the clone itself.
“Yeah, Joonie. It is. What would you like to do?” Again, he just wants to know. Namjoon questions the clone as if it does not think what he thinks, feels what he feels. They are one. The clone is him. It’s a stupid question, pointless.
Much like the clone’s existence.
The clone, Joonie, wants to spend the day asking questions: is Namjoon satisfied? Is he content? Has creating a slave of himself helped him figure out why he can never be happy? Did the clone do well? Was the clone loved by Namjoon as much as it loved him? Joonie knows the answer to the last one. No one can ever love the clone as much as it loves others. That is the simple fact.
Joonie knows that Namjoon always watches the videos of the clones that failed. Well, they didn’t fail, actually. They just...made a choice, just as their creators had. To create them was to kill themselves in the process. And that was the sad fact.
Namjoon wanted to die, but could not bring himself to do it himself. But no one knew him like his clone. No one felt what he felt besides his clone. For his birthday, Joonie knew what he would do. But that was for tomorrow. Today, he could not do anything but this:
Dani, thank you so much for enabling me to write about these two again!
*This is pretty much a direct follow up to this fic: Bad Romance 🍋
50 Kiss Prompts: Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.
Solomon de la Vega didn’t think he would ever see Captain Rodrigo’s face again. Let alone in a tiny dressing room at one of Solo’s favorite boutiques in Center City.
“You remember me?” Solo breathed as Rodrigo herded him against the mirror. The seamstress wasn’t wearing any makeup like the night of the masquerade and his clothes were much more suited for a day of shopping rather than seducing strangers for random hookups.
“Can’t forget an ass like that,” Rodrigo said as he took a handful of Solo’s. With his other, he pinned Solo’s wrist to the mirror. Drigo added with a sneer, “Or those crusty pearls.”
Not at all put off by the pirate’s proximity, Solo chuckled, “You really know how to butter a lady up.”
Perhaps Rodrigo had a mean counter saved up. Perhaps not. Solo made the next move before the captain could speak, snatching a kiss from him with sudden vigor.
Rodrigo growled when it was evident that he wouldn’t get the last word, but he soon forgot what he wanted to say the moment Solo’s tongue came into the equation. They both fought to stifle their moans, lest they be heard by the other boutique shoppers.
“How long were you trying to catch up to me?” Solo exhaled as Drigo moved onto sucking marks along the length of his neck. When the pirate didn’t answer, Solo trapped his scarred fingers in Drigo’s dark curls and made a tight fist.
“A few blocks!” Rodrigo hissed before nipping harder at the hollow of Solo’s throat. “It wasn’t that hard. You walk slower than my abuelita.”
Solo drew Drigo’s face up by his chin and helped him shrug out of his coat. “I would have slowed down more had I known you were following me.”
Rodrigo snorted. “Yeah right. Don’t act like a little prima donna like you would want to be seen in public with me.”
Solo dragged his pearl-laden knuckles along Drigo’s freckled cheekbones, admiring the way his expression seesawed between defiant and pleased. “Around my friends and family, you are correct. But today I’m alone.” He draped his arms around the pirate’s neck and leaned all of his weight until Drigo had no choice but to hold him close.
Solo sank a little, rolling his face into the crease of Drigo’s exposed chest. “So how about you help me try on these outfits and then you can take me out to lunch.”
The seamstress soaked up the feel of Drigo’s gold chains and drank in his scent of rum and seasalt. Meanwhile the pirate squeezed thoughtfully at Solo’s ass and mumbled something along the lines of maybe.
Solo whispered, “Of course if you do…”
He once again stretched his hand into Rodrigo’s hair and tilted his head back to meet the pirate’s hungry lips.
~ In which a charming seamstress unwinds with a retired water mage...
@midsummer-masquerade
Solo x Lumelie x Solo
Lumelie belongs to @lucigucci
You can read all the fics to Off To The Races: A Midsummer Masquerade here.
Music: "Lust For Life" by Lana Del Rey, The Weeknd
Day 4 of The Midsummer Masquerade ~ Outdoors, Group Sex
cw: selfcest
~ 2.5k words
Even though Solo de la Vega has had his fill of arrogant pirates, the night is far from over and the seamstress is determined to have as many experiences as possible...
Solo was strolling through the Palace gardens, taking his time catching his breath from that last thrilling escapade, when he heard the sound of water trickling against polished stone. He remembered reading about the rejuvenation fountains way back in the entrance hall and wondered if he might be close to one.
My feet do need a good soak.
The seamstress followed the sound, wandering further and further away from the fairy lights and floral decorations and deeper into the lusher thickness of the garden labyrinth.
Eventually, Solo came upon an open pocket, encased in high holly hedges. In the center was indeed a fountain. It was vast, quite shallow and glimmering with what must have been marine life. Solo came closer and saw lotus blossoms of every pastel shade drifting about the surface. The fish, he realized, were koi, their rainbow scales casting iridescent light against the bright, clean marble.
“Welcome to my fountain.”
Solo hardly noticed the individual guarding the wondrous space. They introduced themselves as Lumelie, the water mage. Lumelie’s hair was of a powdery tint just like Solo’s, but where Solo had short blue hair, Lumelie’s was pink and stretched almost below their waist. Their facial features were somewhat hidden in the shadow of their cool, billowy green hat. Solo was only able to catch glimpses of their sun-kissed jawline and light spray of freckles.
“Why is that no one else is here?” Solo asked. “Your fountain is one of the most enchanting exhibits I’ve witnessed since the night began.”
Lumelie smoothed their hands down the front of their loose sundress. Solo didn’t miss the way it casually slipped off their shoulder or the fact that the thin material gave him a view of their nakedness behind that single layer.
“Surely you’ve read about the hidden exhibits? This is one of them.”
Solo smiled. He did remember reading about them. There were exhibits like these hidden all over the Palace grounds. They were guarded by special magical entities, who only granted entry to those they deemed worthy.
Solo remembered his manners and bowed slightly. “I am honored.”
Lumelie tskd. “Enough with the formalities. You seek relaxation and rejuvenation, yes?” They came up and situated themself behind Solo. “Allow me to give it to you.”
Solo shivered as the mage discarded their hat, along their brightly colored mask. Then they started combing their long, slender fingers through Solo’s wandering bangs.
The seamstress leaned into their light, affectionate touch. “My name is Solo by the way.”
“Would you like to join me in the fountain, Solo?” Lume whispered along the shell of his ear before kissing the sensitive spot just behind it.
The seamstress stroked his fingers over the pearls gathered loosely at his wrist. “I would.”
“Well, there are rules before entering enchanted waters,” Lume said, their voice airy and teasing. “Nothing artificial can come with us. You’ll have to strip.” They kissed another spot on Solo’s neck, this time leaving a wet mark.
“Whatever it takes,” Solo hummed, lifting his fingers to the edges of his lace overlay.
“Allow me,” Lume insisted, their hands coming round and pushing Solo’s back towards his waist. They held him steady for a moment while they pressed their body against his and moaned into the back of his neck. Solo made a similar noise under Lume’s gentle restraint. He gave some arch to his spine in order to brush his ass against the mage’s hardening erection.
Lume hummed every time Solo repeated the move, but remained steady in their course to remove his costume. The way Lume kept going with their light touches and cloudy kisses, never quite losing themself to Solo’s physical offerings – it all drove Solo a little crazy. But he wasn’t about to give in and give up this sweet kind of torture. The seamstress was content to let his host set the pace.
After Solo was undressed, he unwound his collection of ancestral pearls from his wrist and set them on top of the pile of white, lacey lingerie. By the time he stood back up, Lumelie had pulled their sundress over their head and was walking towards the fountain. Solo stared longingly at their lithe, tanned form and the way their pink hair cascaded down their back. He followed them, his fingers itching to take Lume by the waist and knead them into submission.
Lume looked back, their expression knowing and sly. They knelt at the base of the fountain and waved Solo over. Once he was kneeling with them, they explained, “What’s so special about this fountain is its wish-granting properties.” They waved their hand over the water. “Look into the water and let it read your deepest fantasy.”
Solo didn’t hesitate to crane his neck over the edge and look down at his warped reflection. He looked on for a few moments. When nothing happened, he turned back to ask Lume if something had gone wrong when he suddenly noticed that a new presence had joined them by the fountain.
Lume was already standing up by the stranger, who not only was wearing Solo’s costume from before, but they had Solo’s face and his hair and…
Solo stood up slowly and approached the almost identical clone. He noticed the curves and the way this new Solo filled out the lingerie. Her form reminded him of so many clients that he had sewn dresses for.
Lume arched their eyebrow as they glanced back and forth between the two Solos.
“Hmm. An interesting fantasy. This could get a little confusing if I call you both Solo. Is there a different name I could use for one of you?”
The original Solo locked gazes with his elegant double. “Call me Solomon for now.” He took her by the hand, bowed his head and pressed his lips to the center of her palm.
Solo looked at him with serene longing. She whispered, “Solomon. What an... honor.”
They both smiled at the inside joke. The discovery that his double was not just a homunculus with his face, but rather a living clone with all of their shared memories made his already half-hard cock stiffen even further.
Lume gave a blissful sigh. “There we have it. Solomon, Solo, and Lume.” They took each of the Solos’ hands into their own. “Solomon, shall we help Solo prepare for the fountain? Together?”
Solomon broke eye contact with his double and looked at Lume with a knowing smirk. “You start from the top? I’ll start from the bottom and work my way up.”
Lume’s willpower bended to the understanding of what was about to take place. They briefly closed the gap between themself and Solomon, their naked bodies coming together with a soft smack.
“We can meet in the middle.”
This time it was Solomon’s turn to restrain Lumelie from taking too much. “Let’s not keep her waiting.”
From where she stood, Solo shook her head and said in a voice only half an octave higher than Solomon’s. “I can be patient. Trust me, I like to watch.”
Solomon gently pried himself away from the water mage in order to silence his double with a searing kiss. “Trust me, princess. I know exactly what you like.” He pulled back, meeting his own marbled midnight gaze. “That’s why you’re going to have to relax and just trust me.”
Solo blushed deeply at the pet name. Solomon almost matched her shade for shade. Because as much as Solomon had been flattered over the years by family members and thousands of clients, he had spent far more time twirling in front of mirrors, adoring himself. No one knew that he called himself princess in the privacy of his own reflections. No one understood the weight it carried and how that single title had helped him through his lowest, weakest moments.
When Solo was ready, Solomon and Lumelie began to work together to remove her clothing. They brushed their erections along her legs, her back, and into the seam of her ass. They silenced her soft whimpers with cool lips and warm tongues. There was no penetrating her with their fingers or their cocks just yet.
Soon all three of them were kneeling in the center of the shallow fountain among the lotuses and rainbow koi. Solomon kissed his partners and let himself be kissed. He moaned and brought moans to life from Lume and from Solo. He kept his touches soft, his palms the focus of his contact. He and Lume had some sort of silent understanding that they would not rush. No, they would take their time with their affection. They would soak up the lotus blossoms and the shimmering waters. They would take care of Solo, together.
“Solo, princess, lie down. Spread your legs for me.” Solomon looked up at Lumelie. “Open your mouth for Lulu.”
Lume blinked their eyes. “Me?”
Solomon leaned in to kiss them. “You.”
Lume blushed. “But I–”
“Deserve to be sucked off while I’m getting my pussy licked?” Solo interrupted with a tilt to her plush lips. “I agree.” She leaned in and kissed Lume also. Solomon found Lume’s mouth again just as soon as she pulled back and sank his tongue inside. Then he withdrew and reached for his double.
“Lulu, watch this.”
Solomon once again let his control slip by a fraction as he rooted his fingers in the hair at Solo’s nape and not so gently guided her face towards his. Lume could barely keep their breaths even as they watched the two Solos overwhelm each other with lips and tongue.
The water mage’s hand came down over their erection. They rocked into their palm, sighing, “You two are very, very convincing.”
At that, Solomon withdrew from Solo with sultry satisfaction glossing his dark eyes. He proceeded to give Lume instructions while he maintained eye contact with his more feminine self.
“Stroke her hair while you’re feeding her your cock. She likes that. Don’t forget to remind her how beautiful she is.”
Solo was blushing and biting her lip as Lume eased her into a more horizontal position.
“Of course. I’ll make sure to remind her as often as possible.”
Solomon anchored his hands on the underside of Solo’s thighs and worked his way backwards. “Oh and I want you to come on her chest. With me if you can time it right.”
By now, Lume was helping guide their length into Solo’s mouth. “So that we can clean her up together afterwards?”
Solomon eased onto his belly. The shallow water grazed his chin as he drew himself closer to Solo’s core.
“Yes, Lulu. That’s the idea.”
Solo, whose cheeks were already expanding and contracting as she breathed shallowly around Lume’s cock, started to squirm after listening to what her partners had in store for her.
Solomon could have watched her and Lulu for hours, but he had a job to do. He dipped his face into his double’s sweet warmth and got to work.
This was Solomon’s territory. Over the years, the seamstress had gained a bit of a reputation around Vesuvia as the one you go to for “garment alterations.” Solomon had spent many an afternoon locked away in his private dressing room, eating out the clients who had asked for him specifically. Most of them were bridesmaids, often exhausted from all the drama and the emotional toll being part of a wedding committee tended to burden one with. Solomon knew how to make all of that fade away.
When his face was between a woman’s legs, he could make them feel beautiful, appreciated, rejuvenated with so little effort. But Solomon always gave them more than they asked for. And they were always so, so very grateful. Before they were even sighing or moaning or screaming his name, he could taste the gratitude on his tongue.
Granting his clients something beyond what they expected was the culture of the Vega business model. As a Vega, you came prepared to fulfill your client’s wildest dreams and fantasies. And if you didn’t meet the company expectation, you might as well have given them nothing at all.
Solo moaned fitfully around Lume’s cock. Lume paused in stroking her hair to lean back and gasp with pleasure. Solomon lifted his head from Solo’s core and politely instructed Lume to restrain her.
Solo came off of Lume’s cock, whispering a hoarse plea. Solomon smiled sweetly as he leaned over to kiss her lips – his lips. “It won’t be for long, princess. You know our stamina is nothing to brag about.”
Solo inhaled a few times to steady herself. “I know.” Then she dutifully turned her head to take Lume’s cock once again.
Lume was beyond words, just breathing unevenly and staring slack jawed at the two Solos, who had reassured each other with soft breaths and languid kisses. When Solo was back to sucking their cock, Solomon straddled his double and entered her like he was sinking his body into a warm dough.
Solomon’s eyelashes fluttered uncontrollably at the tightness and the supple heat. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily lose himself in the reality of who he was fucking and all the reasons why it felt so especially good. But he had someone else to take care of. And he would not forget about his generous host.
So Solomon forced himself to keep his eyes open and focus on Lume, who, at this point was blushing madly and gazing in wonder and amazement in Solomon’s direction.
“I’m still determined to come at the same time as you, Lulu, my darling. Do you need a little something to help you get there faster?”
Lumelie’s airy voice wavered under the pressure of Solomon’s gaze and Solo’s mouth.
“W-whatever you’re willing to spare.”
Solomon grinned. “Of course.” He took a moment to steady his thrusts and tuned out Solo’s aggressive moaning. “Something tells me you would watch me take myself like this forever, if possible, wouldn’t you?”
Lume gave a terse, eager nod.
“What’s your favorite part about this, Lulu?” Solomon’s thrusts become slower, deeper. “Watching Solo and I make out? Watching me eat myself out? Or right now? As I actively try to clench my pussy in order to make myself come faster?”
Solomon pointedly looked down at a smirking Solo, who had come off of Lume’s cock and was now stroking them with a blissful grin on her face.
Solomon purred, “Yes, I know the things you’re up to, princess.”
Then, gasping as if they just caught fire, Lumelie cried out, “Solo! Solomon! I’m about to–”
Solo propped herself on her elbows. “My chest, Lume. Solomon, quick.”
Soon the water mage and the original seamstress were pumping their lengths, dousing the space between Solo’s breasts with their release. Solomon’s groans overpowered Lume’s breathy sighs, but there was not one that was more satisfied than the other.
Once they were totally spent, the two of them helped Solo into an upright position. Solomon and Lume dipped their heads, meeting at the center of Solo’s chest, where they shared cum, tongue, and then some.
Solomon Honore de la Vega’s fantasy wasn’t over. Far from it. There was still so much potential between himself, herself, and the ethereal water mage who had generously extended the invitation.
~ In which a charming seamstress seeks some much needed thrill...
@midsummer-masquerade
Solo x Rodrigo
Rodrigo belongs to @apprenticealec
You can read all the fics to Off To The Races: A Midsummer Masquerade here.
Music: "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga
Day 6 of The Midsummer Masquerade ~ Magic
cw: choking
~ 3.8k words
Solo de la Vega leans on his escort, Sun Bai, as the latter guides him through the Palace gates for his very first Midsummer Masquerade. The seamstress knows he will probably never experience this sort of freedom again, so he wants to make the most of this night. Solo is hopeful that Bai can help him achieve his goals for the evening...
Adrenaline took off from Sun Bai and Solo almost immediately after they stepped inside the entrance hall. Solo adjusted his delicate swan mask and steadied himself on Bai’s arm.
“You know, Sascha didn’t tell me much about your condition,” Bai said as he guided Solo through the different previews of all the exhibits the masquerade had to offer. This was also a place where guests mingled and groups that had come together planned out their night. Solo assumed that this was most decent his experience would be until he left the hall.
Solo sighed and patted Bai’s arm. “You know, it’s something I’ve been dealing with for as long as I can remember, yet it’s still very much a mystery to me and my family. But there’s nothing I want you to worry about, Bai. I’ve been managing this for years. I’ve saved up enough energy that I can safely rely on check-ins throughout the night. No one’s going to need to take me out on a stretcher.”
Solo could feel Bai glancing down at the series of freshwater pearls wrapped about his wrist.
“Sascha says that your charm magic helps a lot with the pain.”
Solo nodded. “The pain, yes, but not the fatigue. The more successfully I can land my charms, and the more frequently I can land them, the less respiratory failure I experience. I do, however, still have an energy limit. So I will always need to take breaks, drink plenty of water, make sure my blood sugar levels don’t dip too low. All that good stuff.”
“I don’t think finding food or water is going to be a problem here,” Bai reassured him, waving towards the various menus of all the dishes and desserts that would be served throughout the evening. There were also refreshment fountains stationed all over the Palace grounds. As well as fountains designated specifically for cleaning and sanitation.
Sun Bai continued to accompany Sascha through the hall. They stopped at each exhibit preview and read through the descriptions.
“Is there anything you see that you might be interested in?” Bai asked when they were almost done.
Solo made a frustrated sound. “This sort of thing always becomes a problem whenever I leave the house. I don’t get out that much, so whenever I do, I can never make up my damn mind. There’s so much I would like to experience, but I know that I’m not going to be able to get through all of this.” He looked at Bai and squeezed his arm. “And you have your own agenda tonight. I don’t want to hold you back. It’s not fair that you have to babysit me.”
Bai’s eyes went wide behind his navy blue tinted lenses. “Solo, I don’t think like that at all. It’s no trouble for me to stay with you until you’re comfortable. I’ve got all night to take care of my business. And if I don’t get to it tonight, then it’s not a big deal.”
This close to his chaperone, Solo could feel Bai’s shift in energy. The pirate was not normally easy to read, but Solo caught a peek of the faint dusting of color where the tips of his ears peeked out from his ghostly white hair.
“You’re nervous,” Solo realized. “For whoever you’re meeting up with tonight.”
Bai’s nose wrinkled slightly. Solo wound his pearls around his index finger in excitement. “Oh? Who are you trying to impress tonight, Mr. Mantis?”
Bai narrowed his eyes in a way that betrayed his confidence. “His name is Jacqui.”
Solo engaged more of his pearls. He began spreading them over Bai’s wrist and massaging them gently into his skin. Quietly, he commanded, “Tell me more about him.” The seamstress sparked his charm magic. He knew that this coupled with Bai opening up would get him to relax faster.
Sun Bai’s gaze grew a little distant as he described the tall, brooding quartermaster. Through the explanation, Solo had every intention of giving Bai his undivided attention, but it just so happened that he started making connections between Bai’s descriptions and an individual who stood with a group not far from where Bai and himself were standing.
“When you say, tall, dark and handsome with braided locs and golden eyes, do you mean that fellow over there?” Solo arched his brow as he pointed.
Sun Bai whipped his head around so fast, it was a miracle his neck didn’t break.
[Oh. Fuck me.]
Solo shivered at the sudden sensation of Bai’s voice in his head. He remembered Sascha telling him about Bai’s ability to communicate telepathically. She had used the words alien and magnificent to describe the initial sensation. Now that Solo had experienced it for himself, he had to agree.
“Oh my,” Solo breathed, trying to collect himself. “So that is him? That’s your Jacqui?”
Sun Bai turned back to Solo, looking startled and breathless. He registered the look on the other’s face and realized what he had done.
“I’m sorry,” Bai apologized. “I didn’t mean to project like that without warning you. I know it can feel a little weird the first time.”
Solo gave a dismissive wave. “Bai, I’m fine. You should go catch up with Jacqui. Don’t let him get away just because I’m here. I’ve seen all the exhibits. I can pick one out on my own.”
Solo scanned the group that Jacqui was standing with again and paused when his eyes fell on another pirate who looked about the room with a smug sneer and had his arm looped rather possessively around his quartermaster’s hip.
It was difficult to gather all his features from this far away, especially with the simple black mask he wore, but Solo was intrigued nonetheless.
“Who’s the one holding onto your man? With the tall boots and that hideous fur coat?”
Once again, Solo felt the edges of Bai’s reaction brush up against his consciousness.
Solo’s charms sometimes possessed a life of their own, pulling him in directions where they wanted him to focus his energies. This was one of those times.
“I want him,” Solo whispered, hardly aware that he had spoken the words aloud.
Bai deliberately moved in front of Solo to cut off his vision from the pirate crew.
“No. I’ve had the pleasure of being in Rodrigo’s company and trust me, you don’t want to mess with him. He’s bad news. Besides, he’s rude as hell. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with him.”
Solo reactivated his charms again, this time stroking the edge of Bai’s jawline with them. The pirate flinched a little at the shift in contact, but he relaxed shortly after.
“Sweet, sweet Sun Bai, let me see if I can explain. Understand that when it comes to... thrill, shall we call it? See, I don’t get to experience a lot of that.”
“Yeah, but–”
Solo dragged the misshapen pearls over Bai’s mouth and pressed one into the crease of his full, lower lip. “You’ve never met my mother, Floribeth de la Vega. But if you had, you wouldn’t be questioning whether or not I could hold my own against some filthy, arrogant seadog.” He carefully wrapped his pearls around Bai’s neck once and drew him close enough to whisper into his ear.
“A filthy, arrogant seadog who I very much want to rail me until I see stars.” Solo pulled back some and arched a dark brow. “If that’s okay with you.”
Bai swallowed and blinked a few times, trying to fight off the charm.
“Just…” He met Solo’s gaze, impressing the seamstress with his ability to keep most of his wits about him while under the spell. “Be careful.”
Solo’s skin tingled in excitement. He glanced over Bai’s shoulder to see that Captain Rodrigo was looking directly at them, his smug sneer turning into more of a scowl.
“Quick, he’s looking this way. How do I get him to come over?”
Bai grimaced. “That’s easy. All you have to do is make the bastard jealous.”
“That’s all? Like this?” Solo tightened his string of pearls again, causing Bai to stumble against his lips. The pirate made a flustered sound, but it wasn’t long before he was kissing Solo back, even reaching for the lace gripping his slender hips and drawing him in.
Solo disengaged himself and peeked over Bai’s shoulder. “He’s coming! I’m going to see if I can get him to follow me.” The seamstress leaned in one last time to peck Bai’s chin. “Thanks, Bai. And good luck!”
Solo really shouldn’t have jogged away so fast, but he couldn’t let go of this feeling – the thrill of being chased by someone you wanted to chase you. He let out a happy sigh as he twirled onto a blessedly empty balcony and leaned his back against the nearest column.
The seamstress took a moment to tilt his head back and catch his breath.
Slow down, Solomon. Or you won’t even last the first half of the night.
Suddenly, Solo felt the coolness of a shadow eclipsing the light from inside the Palace.
“Where did you get these?”
Sure enough, when Solo opened his eyes, he saw Rodrigo resting one arm against the column and leaning in close, lightly brushing his fingers over the entanglement of pearls around Solo’s wrist. Captain Rodrigo was only a couple of inches taller, but his shoulders were much broader than Solo’s and he carried more muscle and scar tissue than Solo was used to seeing.
Rodrigo looked at Solo expectantly through his mask when he got no answer. The seamstress pulled his wrist against his abdomen and began to absently unwind the chain from it.
“It’s uh… a family heirloom.”
“That’s nice.” Rodrigo said it in a way that indicated his total lack of interest on the subject. Then he advanced on Solo with a firm, “Come here.”
Rodrigo’s rough hands came up to cradle Solo’s jaw. He used his thumbs to part the seamstress’ lips so he could smoothly work in his tongue. Despite the pirate’s forwardness, Solo was very much into it. All his life he had become so accustomed to people treating him like he was a fragile piece of glass that would crack if they so much as looked at him wrong. Rodrigo handled Solo like he was just another pretty face in the crowd. Like he was an opportunity that he simply had to take advantage of in the moment. The thought alone sent Solo’s heart racing. He was tired of being overprotected and cherished. He didn’t want that anymore. He wanted to be someone’s hyperfixation, a brief yet intense obsession. He wanted to be that shiny thing in the window whose allure only lasted during the moments the buyer was making their purchase.
When Rodrigo pulled away, Solo asked, “What was that for?”
“Hmph,” the pirate smirked as he dragged his thumb over the spot by Solo’s mouth where his lipstick must have smeared. “I just felt like showing you what a real kiss is supposed to feel like.” Then to Solo’s delight, Rodrigo kissed him again. “I know that Mantis idiot can’t kiss for piss.”
Solo tried to capture Rodrigo’s lower lip between his teeth. “What other sorts of things can you show me?” He withdrew and gave him a look. “They better be good.”
Rodrigo ran his tongue over one of his canines. “You little bitch. Do you know who you’re talking to?”
Before both of them realized it, Solo’s long string of pearls were closing into a tight knot around Rodrigo’s tanned neck. Up until now, Solo didn’t know that he was capable of moving that fast, but there was something in the way this pirate spoke to him that made him feel very suddenly alive. As if the spirit of each of his ancestors had been activated through his pearls.
“Better not call me a bitch again unless you fully intend to make me one of yours,” Solo delivered in a tone so even and cool, he could have sworn it wasn’t his own. To emphasize his point, he drew the knot higher up Rodrigo’s throat, to where his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Now, historically, Rodrigo had always enjoyed getting choked out every once in a while. This time, however, there was something much more euphoric in the sensation. He didn’t know how someone that moved as gracefully as a swan could have him gagging and choosing his words so carefully within just a few seconds of meeting them. But he wasn’t complaining because his cock was getting very hard very fast. This swan proved himself perfectly capable of holding his own against Drigo, who knew just how much of a handful he could be.
Drigo was so lost in this buzzing state of lightheadedness that he barely noticed when Solo freed his cock from his briefs. The pirate was impressed by the ease with which Solo kept his chain of pearls taut while he collected Drigo’s erection in what felt like some uniquely scarred hands.
Rodrigo felt uneven, dimpled skin coasting over the head of his cock. He hissed in pleasure, but Solo must have taken it as a protest because he twisted his wrist once to reinforce the bind of the pearls. Rodrigo grunted and thrusted up into the hand that held him.
His excitement doubled when Solo bit his own lip and leaned up to whisper in the pirate’s ear, “Who’s the little bitch now?” Then the swan kissed the freckles along Rodrigo’s darkening cheeks before moving on to the bulging vein in his neck.
Solo began to steer Rodrigo backwards towards the outdoor lounge set. “Are you carrying anything useful in this pitiful slice of roadkill that you call a coat? Something that could get me warmed up?”
Rodrigo gave the barest of nods as he concentrated on sitting down without stumbling and further choking himself.
“So then get it out for me.”
While Drigo dug through his pockets for the vial of special gel he had brought, Solo loosened the pearls some and hiked up his lacey panels in order to straddle Drigo’s lap. The pirate couldn’t help noticing the fine muscles and smoothness of Solo’s brown legs. Or how they swelled into his soft, sweet little ass.
Solo yanked on the binding and stroked Rodrigo’s cock harder with those strangely calloused hands. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”
Rodrigo tried to snarl, but Solo gave a nice jerk and stopped moving his wrist up and down. “Talk back to me and I’ll go right back to the bad kisser with the glasses.”
Rodrigo tried anyway. “I was just going to say that…”
Solo was curious, so he loosened his pearls a bit. Drigo took it as a sign to continue.
“You’re one posh, bossy little son of a bitch, but...” he licked his lips. “I like it. It looks good on you.”
Then he reached his hand and started working a gelled finger around Solo’s rim. Only when the seamstress relaxed did Drigo insert his finger and start warming him up thoroughly. Despite Drigo’s harsh delivery earlier, Solo knew a genuine compliment when he heard it. Flattery, surprisingly, was Solo’s primary weakness. Especially when it came from the heart.
The seamstress removed his swan mask and let it fall to the marbled balcony.
Rodrigo swallowed thickly through the chokehold. He reached up and took off his mask too. The masquerade guests both paused to soak in each other’s appearance.
Rodrigo registered Solo’s strong nose and serene, midnight gaze while Solo scanned Drigo’s boyish freckles and the large, pale scar over his eyebrow that almost distracted Solo from his even bigger brown eyes. Rodrigo’s mascara was already running from hiding his face behind the mask this whole time. Solo’s blue sweep of hair had come undone, casting shadows over half of his features.
Rodrigo fought the urge to brush the hair back out of Solo’s dark, marbled eyes. But eventually, the pirate gave in. And when he coasted his sun-baked fingers up through Solo’s wavy bang, that was that. Solo shifted suddenly, hiking up his gown again and unhinging his thong just enough to transfer from Rodrigo’s fingers to his stiff cock.
Head still buzzing from the charms, Rodrigo wasn’t quite ready for it. “Shit, that feels... Shit.”
Solo groaned as he filled himself all the way up with Drigo’s throbbing dick before giving himself a little slack. Rodrigo leaned back and fitted his hands under the thin panels of Solo’s gown, content to hold onto his hips while the latter eased into a slow grind. The pirate enjoyed roughly massaging Solo’s ass while he was getting used to the feel of him. The seamstress went agonizingly slow at first, still stretching himself to fit Drigo’s girth.
“That’s it,” Drigo found his voice once it was clear that Solo had given the pearls a rest. “Take your time. You’re going to take this cock one way or another.”
Solo couldn’t remember the last time he had so much horny bastard at his disposal. Filling himself up with hot, throbbing cock, listening to all of Drigo’s sass and impatience, all while still being held and goggled at and kissed like he was the first day of spring – Solo was in absolute paradise.
Drigo didn’t miss the way Solo had closed his dark eyes and sighed in bliss as he continued to strengthen the rhythm of his hips. The pirate wasn’t sure if he was the whole reason behind the apparent joyous time Solo was having. Regardless, Rodrigo wanted Solo looking at him, talking to him – even if it was just to call him a bitch or strangle him again with those crusty-looking pearls.
Drigo’s mind raced for ways to get Solo’s attention
“Hey,” Drigo called softly, “tell me who’s your daddy?”
Solo opened his eyes with a smirk. “Nice try.”
Rodrigo pouted. “Ok whatever. Call me Captain, then.”
Solo shook his head, driving his hips down and forward with more confidence.
“Lame.”
Rodrigo dug his nails in Solo’s thighs, wishing that he didn’t feel so damn good right then.
“Call me something!”
Solo tilted his head, letting more blue hair fall to the side. “Baby. How about that?”
“Ugh – the fuck?” Drigo snarled. “NO!”
“Come on. Fuck me, baby.”
Rodrigo tightened his hold on Solo’s soft slender hips while he allowed his own to go off.
Solo responded pretty positively to the rougher strokes. He closed his eyes and curled a fist in Drigo’s curls. “Harder, baby. Harder!”
“You little…” Rodrigo failed to get the rest of his insult out when he became mesmerized by the dazed sort of bliss that had taken over Solo’s expression. The seamstress relinquished more control as he leaned back and soaked in everything Rodrigo was giving him.
Rodrigo panted through the rough strokes. “You like this, huh?”
Solo responded by tilting his head back and moaning weakly. His pearls went slack around his wrists. Rodrigo guided his cock with more control this time, paying attention to the way the knot in his gut itched to unravel. The pirate came to the edge of the seat, tilting Solo back more so he could comfortably fold his legs around Drigo’s waist. Then the pirate snapped his hips forward while he held Solo steady so he wouldn’t lose his balance.
“There?” He thrusted again, practically cradling the swan as he leaned further so he could kiss the hollow of his throat. “Like that, baby?”
Solo’s dark eyelashes fluttered at the pet name. His grip on Drigo strengthened as he pulled himself forward and met his lips. His flushed nose was slippery against the pirate’s. They both surprised themselves by moaning into each other’s mouths.
Rodrigo couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone like this while he was coming inside them. It made him deepen the kiss, swallowing Solo’s airy groans as he rode out the waves of his own orgasm. Solo came soon after, sharing his release between his and his partner’s costume. Afterwards, the seamstress apologized for it, but Rodrigo brushed it off.
“I don’t care about getting cum on my clothes. They’re probably going to get stiff with spunk by the end of the night anyway.”
He half expected Solo to laugh or snicker at the observation, but when he looked over at the seamstress, he noticed something was off.
Drigo was far from the caring type, but Solo didn’t look like he could stand on his own, let alone be left by himself on the balcony.
“Gods, you’re not about to faint, are you? I didn’t even fuck you that hard.”
Solo wheezed with a smile on his face. “I get tired sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”
Rodrigo helped him into the lounge chair anyway and hissed, “Wait right here. You’re fucking dehydrated.” Then Rodrigo ran as fast as he could.
He came back with some water. Drigo would never admit that he was relieved to find the swan still there. Or that he was even more relieved when he helped him take his first few sips.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s just water.” Rodrigo grumbled, helping Solo drink some more. While he did that, his gaze lingered on the seamstress’ relaxed face. “You should come prepared so the next time you get a little dick, you don’t pass out like a dumbass.”
Solo took another deep swallow, helping himself to the water this time. “Is that what you gave me just now? A little dick?”
Rodrigo’s face heated faster than he realized. Low and dangerous, he said, “Tell me your fucking name.”
As if he hadn’t noticed the shift in Rodrigo’s tone, Solo put down the water, and casually wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“Solomon Honore de la Vega. My family calls me Solo.” He looked up at Drigo and batted his eyelashes once. “Am I on your hit list now?”
Rodrigo tried not to grin too hard. “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. I just needed to know in case I plan on paying you a visit in the future.”
Solo stood up very carefully. “Sorry, Captain, but this is the first and the last time we’ll ever see each other.” He bowed a little. “Thank you for your time and for the water.”
Then he readjusted his swan mask and turned away.
Rodrigo watched the swan leave the balcony with confident, yet light strides. He tried to shake off that feeling that he had before – that same absence he felt when Solo had closed his eyes and seemed to momentarily forget that Drigo was even there.
“Last time, my ass,” the Captain muttered. Then he roughly tugged on his coat and got up to go look for his quartermaster.
