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@writedis-ass-ter [ x ]

He's never one to make too much noise beyond the occasional word of encouragement, and in this case, a few 'mind the fabric's while they were biting his thighs.

"Such admirable strength for such a slim little thing," he smirks. And it's not just empty platitudes either- the Duke would be the first to admit that lifting his stomach is sometimes a two-person job. (And he does admit it, frequently, as a half-joking explanation for why he could never commit to being monogamous.)

Could he have found a different position, let gravity give Lip a bit of assistance? Certainly, he could've. But that would deny him the fun of getting to test them, and see how willing they are to do all the work. For a second he gets the urge to grab a roll of fat and provide Lip with a bit of assistance, but he resists. If Lip didn't have his cock in their mouth they'd insist they were more than capable.

Lip can be petulant. They test his patience from time to time. But in the end the Duke knows that they are eager to please.

The rub of their thumb on the underside of his belly coaxes out a long, satisfied groan.

"Marvelous, mon coeur," he says in a low rumble. "Just like that."

Under other circumstances, Lip loves to take their time with the Duke's cock. Really make a meal of it, so to speak. On this particular occasion, though, they need to make him finish before their arms give out. It shouldn't be too difficult, not after the way they've been teasing him since Act II.

They squirm a little closer as they swirl and stroke with their tongue. God, they love the way that even just sucking the Duke's cock is a full-body experience. His thighs press lightly against their sides. The strain of holding his belly up is starting to feel like warmth down their arms and between their shoulders. It only makes them more eager for it. Even the growing feeling of breathlessness is fucking hot.

Earlier, they'd been the one on display. Now, between the wall of the box seat and the Duke's belly, no one would be able to see Lip at all. Just the Duke. They wonder what his face looks like right now - if he's still managing to play it cool, or if it's starting to get to him. It's charming, the complete nonchalance he always puts on. But they love it even more when it starts to slip. They grab a handful of his belly, hard, and give it a vigorous shake as they finally manage to take him to the hilt. Fuck, they need him to come.

#greedything #ic: lip

"Oh, dear. I hope your arms aren't getting too sore just yet, my dear." from greedything 4 lip hehehe

There's a strange resonance to the Duke's voice from down here. The music is muffled, what with his thighs on either side of Lip's ears, but they still hear his question clearly. It's just that they can't exactly answer at the moment, their pretty little mouth being otherwise occupied. If they could, they might playfully feign offense at the implication - they do have the upper body strength for this, thank you very much. All that time on the pole does count for something.

... But that being said (or not), they are starting to feel the weight a bit. Their arms are raised above their head, their forearms bracing the warm, soft heft of the Duke's belly as they busy themself underneath it. They've been taking their time, nuzzling and nipping their way up his inner thighs where no one will see the small damp spots their teeth leave on his slacks. Once they'd reached the main attraction, the Duke - ever the gentleman - had been kind enough to give them a hand holding his belly out of the way as they'd unbuttoned his slacks and parted his silk boxers, but now it's all them. The hardest part, really, is not having their hands free to caress his base as they suck his cock.

They move slowly, with care and attention. He's right on the edge of being too big for them to take in all the way, which is where having a hand free would really help, but they make the best of it. With the Duke, they have the assurance that he won't start thrusting or trying to steer their head, so they're able to go a little farther than they would with someone else. They don't bob much, working him with their tongue and lips instead as they ease him into the warmth of their mouth. The taste of him, the heat of him, the low chuckle in his voice as he teases them - it's bliss.

They moan around his cock, their own hips grinding against nothing. They know he can't see them down here, but it's strangely intimate anyways, knowing how he feels them. Bastard probably knows exactly how stiff their shoulders are starting to get, even before he asked them. Still, they're not ready to surface yet. They turn one hand palm-up against his belly, rubbing slow circles in the soft skin with their thumb, and take him an eighth of an inch deeper.

The more Lip grinds and squeezes the more he can feel the slight tug of skin sticking to skin. The Duke moves in time with their hips, subtly, just barely leaning forward and back.

His breaths are heavy, punctuated with low rumbling moans of arousal. He feels the trickle from Lip's cock, hears them in his mind. A smirk crosses his face as he realises Lip has no way of feeling just how turned on they're making him.

"Do you remember the fairy tale about the princess and the pea?" He teases, only just loud enough to be heard over the music. "Somehow I'm reminded of that story now."

He leans back and hums innocently in response to their petulant remark.

"Did I say that?" He asks in his mischievous sing-song. "I've changed my mind since then. You're getting on quite well without my hands."

Lip snorts a little. “'Pea' doesn't really- do it justice-”

At his refusal, they whine, burying their face against his shoulder. “You,” they pant, “Bastard. F- finish what you started, or- or-”

Or they might still be right here when the lights come up.

If they were still sitting beside him with his hand between their legs, no one would notice, probably. Hell, even if they'd taken a seat on his lap like an obedient pet, they might be able to get away with it. But like this- legs spread wide, straddling his belly, their body all but plastered against his- there's no hope of feigning innocence. Everyone would see. Everyone would know what a filthy little slut they are for the Duke-

They moan aloud, their thighs squeezing him a little tighter. Maybe they could cum hands-free before the curtain goes down. But the music's changed, and more than anything they want it to be his hands that tip them over the edge.

“...ngh, fuck,” they mumble. One arm goes around the back of his neck and shoulders, holding themself steady as they bump and grind, grind, grind. The other hand fumbles under the Duke's jacket, finding a handful of sideboob through the armhole of his vest. “Please...”

He feels the tug around his neck, Lip grabbing hold of his scarf like it's the reins on a horse. It makes him laugh, the sheer audacity of it. Oh, the gloves really are off now.

The Duke gropes Lip's backside while they straddle him, unable to stop himself from letting out a little moan when their thighs squeeze together on either side of his gut.

"Well, it is an expensive one to get dry-cleaned," he says with a short laugh, before quaffing the rest of his champagne and setting the glass aside. "But there's an easy fix for that, isn't there?"

He slips his hands between Lip's body and his own and un-does a couple of buttons, starting from the bottom up, exposing a section of skin.

"There now, you have no reason to leave." He phrases it as a challenge. "You can do as you wish."

Lip's expecting to get some pushback for their boldness, maybe even to be physically put in their place on his lap. Hell, when he moves his hands towards their ass, for half a second they think they might even get a sharp smack. When he gropes them instead, it elicits a startled gasp. (In retrospect... a good spanking would probably be too audible from the other box seats. Maybe later.)

When the Duke reaches underneath them, they tilt their hips, presenting themself to his touch- but he isn't actually going for their cock. They feel the fabric shift, then the warmth of bare skin underneath them. Their eyes widen as they catch his meaning- here, now?

Fuck.

The roll of their hips is almost involuntary. The wave of sensations that comes in response- his soft flesh swaying and pressing back against them- makes them gasp and whimper, dropping forward to lean their torso against his. He's all but brought them to heel, and just by dropping the leash. Fuck. They keep grinding.

At home or in one of the clubs they frequent, they'd rub lube on his belly before riding it like this - the skin-on-skin friction is different, but not unpleasant. It certainly makes the trickle of pre-cum more noticeable. Fuck, Duke, can you feel how wet I am for you-

The music swells again, and Lip is aware- acutely aware- that they could orgasm from this alone. But they can't help it; something about the Duke makes them insatiable. They ask for more.

“I thought,” they breathe in his ear. Somehow, they still manage a hint of a petulant tone, even as their own hips give them away. “Thought you said- you'd still use your hands?”

#greedything #ic: lip

"Good, good." The Duke's tone is measured and calm as he cuts a bit of cake with the side of the fork, making sure to get enough icing and pastry.

He chuckles lightly when Lip's stomach growls. Poor thing- he knows they hardly eat enough when it's not a little game like this.

"You really needed this, didn't you, pet?" He holds the fork towards their lips. Once the bite is in their mouth he doesn't miss a beat before getting them another. He's a well-practiced feeder, the movement from plate to mouth and back to plate is deft and elegant. After another bite of cake, another strawberry. Then he lets them take a sip of tea. It's almost certainly just in his imagination, but he likes to think he can see the colour coming back to their cheeks, bit by bit.

"Sometimes I think I'd like to keep you like this," the Duke says. "If not forever then...maybe for a few months, a year or two, perhaps. However long it takes to get you completely relaxed. Because as delicious as you are, stress does sour the blood."

#greedything #ic: lip #food ///#//i actually googled real wagyu facts for this and then i was like. wait. lip would not know any of that.

In another life - in their own everyday life - the mere idea of someone noticing their hunger and laughing would terrify Lip. But they're somewhere other than the everyday right now, and they just giggle along with the Duke. They eat obediently and eagerly. The cake is just as delicious as they knew it would be. The tea is the perfect temperature- cool enough not to scald them if any should spill, hot enough that they can feel its warmth build inside them. Yes, they needed this.

“Mm. 've tried that. Didn' really work out.” But those memories slide out of focus with surprising ease as Lip takes the next chocolate-covered strawberry.

“I've heard there's these cows that they massage, like, every day. And they feed them champagne and... and fresh grass, and then...” They drag a manicured nail across their scarred throat. “Best steak you've ever tasted. Is what I've heard, anyways.”

It's the most they've spoken since the bite, and while they've been talking they haven't been eating. They take a moment to catch up with the forkful of cake the Duke's offering them.

“...Gimme some warning next time you're coming through town, and I'll book a spa day.”

Lip pouts when the Duke sets him down, but he waits obediently for him to come back. In the meantime, he pulls the throw blanket off the back of the chaise and around his shoulders. He barely feels the cold, but he knows it's there. He's still running his fingers over the blanket's plush texture when the Duke returns, bearing treats. Lip wastes no time gluing himself to the Duke's side again, the blanket dropping forgotten from one shoulder. He'd figured out early on that the Duke doesn't mind when he gets clingy.

Dessert with the Duke makes eating feel easy. Maybe it's something to do with the man's reassuring presence. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that Lip tends to be high as a kite by the time dessert rolls around. Either way, it's nice. He opens his mouth and takes a bite of the strawberry right from the Duke's hand, juice dribbling down his chin in a defanged parody of the Duke's own mess earlier. He doesn't seem to mind.

He can't help but moan aloud at the taste. The Duke knows just how Lip likes it. The chocolate so dark it's almost bitter, the strawberries just half a shade past peak ripeness, so that they're even juicier than they were at their technical prime. In his own way, Lip loves excess just as much as the Duke does. He takes another bite, leaving only the stem and a nub of pale, dripping flesh in the Duke's fingers. How beautifully tame, eating from the predator's hand. Lip chews, swallows, and sighs.

“Mmm. I wish you could, too. It's lovely,” He murmurs, drowsily. His gaze drifts over the platter, but he makes no move to take anything for himself. The Duke had offered to spare him the trouble, and Lip intends to hold him to that offer. “Will there be tea?” Fluids are very important, after all.

The Duke reaches for Lip's hand and holds it, while his other hand ferries sweets to their lips. Only the best for his pet- he's kept a keen eye on what they eat, what they like, what they wish they could eat more of.

"You're so dear when you get clingy," he purrs, "I promise I'll never leave you alone for a second longer than necessary."

Clinginess is appealing to the Duke, to a point. It's nice to feel needed, to feel essential to someone else's happiness. That's why he likes running a food truck.

Lip's moans are like music to his ears. He loves finding new ways to tease that sound out of them.

"Tea, of course." He brings another berry up to Lip's mouth. "It should go very well with the cake, which I expect you to eat every bite of."

He wipes a drop of juice from the corner of their lips.

"Can you do that for me, pet? Clean your plate?"

#ic: lip #greedything #blood ///#food ///

This might be Lip's favorite part, right here. The afterglow. The way their world gets smaller - simpler - softer - until there's nothing left to worry about at all. All the tension gone. Gone, too, is the otherwise constant need to watch themself - protect themself - control themself. Hell, they don't even need to worry about how to hold a fork. The Duke will take care of them. The Duke thinks they're far too delicious to let waste away.

This close, they can smell their own blood lingering on his breath. All warmth and iron. Their stomach growls.

“I...” Their tongue flicks out to touch their lips. It's just the ghost of a nervous tic at first, but when the tip of their tongue meets a crumb of chocolate left on their lips, it slows. They find themself gazing at the plate the Duke has prepared for them - for once, not to size up its contents, but simply to admire them. The cake is still untouched for now, sugared strawberries glistening in the low light. “I can do that,” they answer, as seriously as if the Duke's entrusted them with a task of utmost importance.

The adoring strokes to his lower belly draw out a long sigh. The skin there is so sensitive to touch, and if he were in any other situation he'd be asking for more.

"A deal can be arranged. I am...for better or worse, at your mercy."

Lip's cock slides between his rolls of fat and he bites his lip hard enough to hurt. Enough, he's screaming inside his head, enough enough enough.

"I'm afraid those are on reserve for someone else," the Duke huffs, re: the chains. Then - "Absolutely out of the question," re: the name. (This one also comes with a laugh)

Lip implores him to beg, and he can't help himself but let out a growl of frustration. Ever the brat, even when they're in control.

"You drive a hard bargain." His voice drops low. "I'll beg, if that's what you want."

He licks his lips, takes a deep breath.

"You're tormenting me," he pleads while they continue to tease him. "Have mercy on me, please. I can only take it for so long. Please."

Lip can't help but smirk as the Duke rebuffs his first offers, even in his current position. Maybe this is part of why the Duke is so adept at handling Lip's brat antics - he has a streak of the same in himself.

And then, of course, he caves. And how lovely it is to hear. Lip rewards him by beginning to thrust, slowly at first, his thighs gliding over the other's cock, his own cock pressing deeper into the Duke's folds.

“Good boy,” he coos, smiling down at him. “That wasn't so hard, was it? And you're so sexy when you beg.” He shifts his balance forwards, planting his hands on the Duke's chest to support himself as he keeps up the rhythm. Something wicked enters his smile. “Again.”

The Duke smirks, pleased to be receiving the kind of praise he's always giving to others.

"You're welcome."

He loses the veneer of composure for a second, his eyes going wide as Lip brings the drop of blood up to his lips. He sucks the blood off, ravenously. He has a thought, for a moment, that he could bite the tip of Lip's finger off. Would they thank him for that, as well?

He pushes the thought out of his mind long enough to briefly set Lip down and fetch dessert.

When he returns, he has an ornate tray piled high with delights.

"Chocolate-dipped fruit, and strawberry cream cake. I envy you, you know. I wish I could eat this...."

He offers a strawberry.

"Here, eat up."

"Of course I would," he exhales. "And if not you, then someone else. Plenty of people would sell their souls to be where you are right now."

The cold metal of the claws on his skin makes him hiss and makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. The Duke is aching, but unfortunately, also too proud to concede defeat just yet, even with Lip attacking him on two fronts simultaneously.

Instead of begging, he does what he always does- offers a bargain.

"You're looking for something in exchange, are you? Name your price, then." His words are less forceful when he's laid out and prone, voice rendered breathy and strained. "Unless you're just looking to provoke me. In which case- perhaps I'll describe the punishment awaiting you." He takes a laboured breath. "Maybe then you'll reconsider."

#ic: lip #greedything #//even when they're domming they manage to brat. truly inspirational

“Mm-hm, you're hot shit. Don't worry, I know what hot shit you are.” Lip's tone is teasing, but the worshipful way they're rubbing his lower belly indicates they're not being completely sarcastic. Yes, indeed, plenty of people would give anything to be where Lip is right now - but can they really be blamed for wanting to have a little fun with their fortuitous position?

“I wouldn't mind hearing how you intend to punish me.” The breathy quality to their voice indicates that wouldn't mind is understating the case a bit. “But cutting a deal will probably get us there sooner.”

They withdraw their hands to reach for the bottle of lube they'd set on the bedside table. It's a new flavor they'd saved special to try out with the Duke - cucumber aloe, in a frosted glass bottle. Refreshing, sophisticated, and a little bit luxe. They pour a portion into their hands, carrying one palmful underneath to massage into his cleft and around his rim. The other hand spreads lube on their own inner thighs and dick.

“There's so much I could ask for,” they muse. Deftly, they position his cock between their wet thighs, which they bring in to just barely touch him. “Oh, what about that set of gold chains you just got in? I think they'd look lovely on me.”

Their own dick slides between his fat pad and the lowest roll of his belly, but they don't thrust. Not yet. “Or I could ask your name... joking, don't worry. I like calling out ‘Duke.’”

Gently, slowly, they start to work one finger into him, spreading the lube further inside as they go. Just a little bit, for now.

“But I'm a pretty cheap date, really. All I want...” They drag their claws down in a straight line from his navel. “... is to hear you beg, pet.”

The bleeding slows to a trickle and the Duke sighs, disengaging himself from Lip's wrist entirely. There's always a disappointment that comes with the signal. It's the core of the vampire's curse- the hunger doesn't go away. You could always keep drinking, if you let yourself. But you have to know when the fun's over; if you break your toy you won't have them anymore.

He holds Lip, cradling their head in the soft crook of his arm. His eyes linger on the scars on their neck, and he can't help but wonder whether the vampire who caused that ever had the same compunctions that he does.

"You've earned your rest, pet." He dabs at the corners of his mouth. "You made yourself such a delectable meal for me...far too delicious to let waste away. Lay here for as long as you need to, with me."

He rubs Lip's shoulder gently.

"Of course, there is dessert." As aftercare, naturally, but just as much because the Duke loves to watch a pretty thing like Lip enjoy his cooking. "Though..." he clicks his tongue sympathetically. "Poor little pet, I did take a lot, didn't I? Perhaps I'll feed you your treats, and save you the effort."

#ic: lip #greedything #blood ///

Lip lets out a slow, shivering breath as the Duke pulls away. Every muscle is lax; it's only the Duke's arm keeping them from sliding into a puddle on the floor. (They wouldn't mind being a puddle on the floor, per se, but they have to admit, being held by the Duke is nicer.)

“You've been so good for me, baby,” they mumble with half a slur, looking up at him. There's a trickle of blood down his chin that he's missed; Lip gently wipes it away with their thumb, then holds their thumb to his mouth so he can lick it clean. “So good.”

His touch on their shoulder feels fantastic. They settle in leaning against him with a contented moan. There's a gentle drowsiness that fills them, here in the safety of his secondhand warmth, and they know from experience they could drift off right now and not have a single bad dream all night. But then he mentions dessert, and they perk themself up for that.

“Oh, yes, please.” They nod enthusiastically enough to make themself dizzy, then laugh again. “Mm. This is why you're such an incredible chef, you know?” They rub lazy circles on his chest, just because it's the part of him that happened to end up under their hand. “You put such care into all your... meals.”

There's no air in his lungs, no built-in reason for him to pull back to take a breath. This does nothing to help the fact that he's prone to overindulgence- a trait carried over from his human self.

Lip giggles deliriously, clearly teetering at the edge. Their fingers play with the Duke's hair. He could keep doing this for a long time if they let him, long after he's drank his fill and their fingers have gone limp and cold.

When he does loosen his lips away from the wound again, the skin is red. There'll likely be a bruise there later, and he's proud to think that he's left a mark behind that others might notice.

He changes tactics now, alternating between lapping at the blood and pressing his tongue over the fang marks to manage the bleeding a little.

"Ravenously hungry," he growls. "Are you still with us, darling? You've filled me up so well I can't imagine you have much blood left."

#blood ///#greedything #ic: lip

At this point, Lip knows the process well enough that they can tell exactly when it starts to turn dangerous, the same way that any athlete knows the limits of their own body.

They were bad at stopping within their limits as an athlete, too.

They whimper as the Duke nurses at the wound he's made, lavishing them with his attention and appetite. “Slower,” they whisper, and even they aren't sure who they're talking to - the Duke, or their own heartbeat. They want this to last. But their pulse still races, pouring themself into the Duke's eager mouth. There's a paradoxical warmth that spreads outward from the bite, and all they want is to bask in it. They loll against him, head tilted back, scarred throat up toward the heavens.

It's his voice that stirs them. Heavy false lashes flutter open, but their eyes don't quite focus. They check in with their body instead - and find, despite all their hopes, those delicate fingertip pins-and-needles that mean they're starting to push their luck. There's a whining sound that must be them. They don't want to stop, they don't want to let go—

But they did promise the Duke they'd give him the signal if they needed to.

Their free hand falls to his shoulder. As deliberately and forcefully as they can, just like they did when they were practicing, Lip taps out the rhythm of shave and a haircut. It's a good thing the signal doesn't require them to speak.

i do not apologize for the horny dukelip spam btw. and it WILL happen again

cont. with @greedything from here!

"Don't forget to give me the signal if I start to take too much." The Duke goes for the wrist, usually, because it feels more polite. The neck is quite gauche, in his opinion. The irony of a Gangrel being so caught up on decorum is not entirely lost on him. They get a hearty meal for their trouble beforehand. This is the routine that he keeps with whatever favoured plaything he keeps around- dinner to keep them from keeling over, dessert as aftercare. It's a sustainable system- if it works for the red cross, it can work for the Duke. His lips close around the puncture wounds his fangs left behind and he drinks deeply, sucking and slurping with the fervor of a man stranded in the desert without water. The blood fills his stomach, slowly warming him up to a more human temperature. A trickle escapes through the corner of his mouth and he disengages to greedily lick it up before it drips down Lip's arm. Not a drop wasted.

Lip's eaten their dinner like a good pet, and now, finally, it's the Duke's turn. That faint tremor as Lip offers up their wrist is only excitement, not fear, and even that eases away as soon as his teeth pierce their skin. The sharp, perfect edge of pain melts into nameless bliss.

Lip shivers, leaning against him as he drinks. Maybe it's their imagination, but they can feel their own warmth flowing into him with each greedy swallow. They know they need to keep enough of their wits about them to give the signal if they need to, but oh, it's so nice to let all other thoughts drift away. The tickle of his tongue makes them giggle aloud, which trails off into a deep sigh as he returns to the fount.

“That's right,” they coo softly, their free hand playing lightly with the Duke's hair. “That's good. Good. I know you're hungry.”

cont. with @greedything from here

It feels wrong to still call them 'pet' when they're the one holding the leash, so to speak. What he calls them instead in this case is 'scoundrel'. As in "you've prolonged this torture long enough, you scoundrel." The Duke will conceive of some kind of punishment for this grave disrespect later, but right now his mind is preoccupied. His normally laissez-faire demeanour replaced with a kind of indignant urgency as every touch from Lip drives him just a little more mad. He's above begging, on principle, but part of him thinks maybe it wouldn't hurt. "Honestly, taking advantage of the fact that I couldn't do this myself," he scolds. "Horrendous behaviour."

As much as Lip delights in being at the Duke's mercy, it only makes this temporary role reversal more delicious. He's on his back, gorgeously flushed, and Lip's on their knees between his massive legs, right where they can best enjoy the view of his helplessness.

“Mmhm. You're such a resourceful man.” Lip lifts his fat pad, teasing one of the golden metal claws they wear down its center line. Underneath, his hard, needy cock begs for their attention. Considerately, they lean in close enough to keep it warm against their torso. They wouldn't really call themself a size queen, but feeling how much space those eight-ish inches take up on the outside of their body is a thrill. “I'm sure you could find some way to get the job done, if you really wanted to.”

They work the hand that isn't wearing claws underneath him, delving between his cheeks to find and tease the rim of his entrance. To be honest, even a man as resourceful as the Duke would have a hard time finding a replacement for everything Lip's doing.

“But you'd rather have me do it for you.” They bow their head to give the lowest part of his belly a sharp, playful nip. “Wouldn't you?”

He must be at least a little red now, he reasons, even though there's no way he'd be able to tell.

Lip plays the tease well. They lay on the petulance- the Duke loves it almost as much as he loves doling out his little punishments.

"Well, I think you'll like sitting on my lap just as well," he takes on a slightly sterner tone. "The view might even be better. You'll have a soft place to rest your back. And I know you'll like what I do with my hands no matter where I put them." He traces a line down their inner thigh to prove the point.

"I'd rather not ask again."

Fuck. Lip bites the inside of their lip as the Duke's touch skims down their thigh. For a moment, they weigh their options- hold out, give in. Hold out, give in.

They take a third option.

“My back?” They repeat. “I think it would be easier to fit if I...”

In a fluid, deceptively easy motion, they rise to their knees and grab the back of the couch, using it to lift and swing themself over to settle gently on the shelf of the Duke's belly, straddling him. They feel the sumptuous fabrics of his suit again, this time against much more sensitive skin. The drape of their skirt barely maintains their decency - if 'decency' is a word that could be used for any of this. They squeeze lightly with their thighs, taking hold of the Duke's opera scarf in each hand for balance.

“I don't want to mess up your pretty suit,” they whisper, quieter now that they're so close. It's fun to be looking down at the Duke for once. “But, well, since you want me in your lap...”

The Duke takes a breath to centre himself, free hand surreptitiously going to adjust his collar once he's put the glass down. The veener is slipping, ever so slightly.

"Only the finest for you, pet," he smiles knowingly as Lip pulls gently on the watch chain. "You know me, I prefer to keep myself surrounded by pretty things."

He chuckles.

"Oh, we're all animals. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others."

They're starting to squirm now. The Duke's tongue passes over the tips of his teeth, then over his lips, in anticipation of what he's going to say next.

"Getting uncomfortable?" The tone of his voice is almost innocent. "Come sit on my lap, then, if you like. I'm sure it would be a far less awkward position for both of us."

It's too dark to tell if the Duke is blushing, but Lip has their hopes.

The orchestra and the singers are all world-class, but Lip can only focus in on the sound of the Duke's voice, the low burr of his chuckle. They like the way he says pretty things. They like the way it makes them shiver. They keep squirming.

“Mmm. But what if I like where I'm sitting now?” Lip answers the Duke's almost-innocent tone with their own, a teasing, mock-petulant whine. They even put on a pout. “I like my view of the stage. I like... mmh... like your hand where it is...”

It's a silly little game, holding out on something they both want. But Lip can't help it - they love silly little games.