Standing in front of the full-length mirror, it’s easy to see how Lucio became so vain. He is exceptionally handsome, not that he needs the boost to his ego from hearing it too often. The golden strands of his hair always manage to catch the light in such a hypnotizing way, his silver gaze much softer now that the remnants of the plague are no longer tainting his eyes. He’s still all sharp angles and fine points, but he’s gained a certain gentleness. His presence no longer overshadows the entire room, but rather stands amoung the rest in complacency, yet still upholds an aura of brightness that commands attention not because he wants it, but because he invites it.
“You’ve been staring at me an awful long time.”
His voice cuts through Azarias’s daydreaming about all the ways he’s changed and stayed the same, the sorcerer’s eyes flicking up to meet his in their reflection. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face that longs to prove Azarias wrong.
“Enraptured? I can hardly blame you. This costume may not be my usual style, but it’s still pretty damn alluring, isn’t it?”
Azarias rolls his eyes, leaning in to nuzzle against Lucio’s ear.
“Strong and silent, remember?” he softly chides, fingers skirting down the length of the other’s arms. He gives a muted little shiver against Azarias, making his lips twitch upward.
“Being strong’s the easy part. Being silent is the hard part,” he says with a half-pout. Azarias figured it would work out that way with him.
“Then practice being silent.”
He catches Lucio’s ear with his teeth, tugging gently at the lobe as he feels him stiffen slightly and let out a surprised little gasp.
“Ahhh, Azarias—!”
“Shh.”
He watches Lucio in the mirror as he trembles, biting his lip to stifle any sounds. It looks like he’s really struggling. Azarias smirks at him over his shoulder.
“Better.”
Lifting one hand, he lightly curls his fingers around Lucio’s throat. His pale skin is already starting to flush as black fingernails press against it, his other hand coming to rest at the blond’s hip. His pulse flutters and his head falls back against Azarias’s shoulder with a whispered sigh. Azarias presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, down the column of his throat, nudging aside the collar of his shirt to wrap his lips around an enticing patch of skin on his shoulder. Lucio’s breathing has quickened, fanning against Azarias’s ear as Lucio fights back little moans and whimpers that threaten at the back of his throat.
The hand at his hip dips lower then, fingertips leading down the curve of his waist and between his legs. A stuttered gasp escapes him as a palm fits over the growing hardness in his pants, feeling it twitch beneath his touch. Azarias softly shushes him again as his hand briefly tightens around the Count’s neck, a clear reminder that he’s supposed to be practicing the art of silence right now. He presses his lips together so hard they turn white, eyes screwed shut as he all but leans his whole weight against Azarias’s chest. His gold hand moves to grab the arm wrapped around his body, not to discourage its movement, but simply to rest there, gloved metallic fingers curled around the wrist as if he needs something to hold onto to keep himself afloat.
Azarias continues to massage him through his pants until he can feel the distinct outline of his half-hard cock beginning to strain against the form-fitting material. As much as he would love to watch Lucio ruin his clothes, they do have a Masquerade to attend shortly, so he needs to make quick, clean work of this little predicament he’s dragged them both into. He deftly slips his hand beneath the hem of Lucio’s pants and undergarments, fishing out his length until it’s in view of the mirror. He wraps his hand around it without hesitation, starting a slow, purposeful rhythm up and down, occasionally swiping his thumb over the leaking crown to slicken his movement.
“A-Azarias—”
He cuts off whatever string of nonsense is about to bubble out of Lucio’s mouth by biting down around the mark he left on his shoulder. The words die in his throat, though he does have to summon a great amount of effort to choke down the other noises that try to stumble out in their stead. He lifts his head just enough to cast a glance down at himself, cheeks flaring at the sight that greets him. He brings a hand to his own mouth as his head lolls back again. Azarias can’t help but admire his resilience. He thought Lucio would have broken by now, but he’s actually trying to follow the instructions he was given. It makes the sorcerer’s gaze darken with a hunger as he brings his lips back to his ear, nibbling at the shell.
“Good boy,” he whispers adoringly.
He doesn’t miss the full-body shudder that rolls through Lucio, nor the way his cock pulses in his hand, stiff and leaking a steady stream of pre-cum by now. It’s so easy to rile him up, takes so little to turn him eager and pliant. He bites down on his gloved finger this time to swallow his voice, though not without considerable strain. Oh, one of these days Azarias will get him alone with more time to spare and tell him to scream to his heart’s content. What he wouldn’t give to watch him come completely undone.
But now is not the time. Right now, it’s nearly time that he gets his reward for being so good and quiet. He quickens the pace of his hand, tightening the curl of his fist around Lucio as he starts jerking him off in earnest.
“That’s it. Come for me, Lucio. You’ve earned it,” he rasps against his ear, watching his mouth fall open, wordless but for the harsh racing of his breath.
His hands grip at any part of Azarias he can reach, one sliding over his where it still rests against his throat. Azarias is surprised by the way he presses it tighter around the column of flesh, urging him to close his fingers around him completely. He does, pressing around his airway until even the sounds of his panting fall quiet, replaced by tiny choked noises that fill Azarias’s head with a lusty haze.
His cock twitches in his hand again, once, twice—then he comes all at once, thick ropes of cum spurting out onto the mirror in front of them and down his knuckles. Azarias keeps pumping him through his orgasm, transfixed by the way another thinning arch of white pulses out of him every time he twitches until he’s spent and shaking in his arms. He carefully lowers his hand from Lucio’s throat, resting it instead on his chest to feel it rise and fall with much needed gasps for air after that endeavor. As for the hand still covered in his cum… Well, there’s really only one reasonable thing to do about that.
He lifts it to his lips to lick it clean, none too shy about sparing glances at the mirror to study Lucio’s wide-eyed expression glued to every movement of his tongue across his fingers. Once he’s done with that, Lucio falls limp against his chest once more, still dazedly gathering his breath.
“...That was… Wow. I didn’t think I’d be able to do it,” he said after a moment, turning his head to pin Azarias with a victorious smile. “You know, if all goes well at the Masquerade...you and I should do some more practicing.”
Azarias can’t help but snort, placing one last kiss on his cheek for good measure before he pushes him back onto his own two feet.
“Let’s worry about stopping the Devil first. We can find out what other kinds of trouble we can get up to after this is all over,” he says.
Lucio flashes him a wicked grin as he strides back into his personal space to wrap an arm around his waist and fit his lips over Azarias’s, masks knocking together. The kiss is brief but heated, holding a silent promise for the future.
“Then what are we waiting for? The sooner the better.”
And with that, Lucio makes a break for the door, but Azarias keeps a hand on his sleeve to yank him back into place. He staggers a bit before looking back at the sorcerer, affronted.
“What—”
“Lucio, put your dick away first.”
“...Oh. Right.”