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Jesse looks out of place in Lúcio’s high-end apartment. There’s not a spec of dirt to be seen anywhere; everything is light and airy and minimally furnished, and then there is McCree who looks like he’s lived on the street for a few weeks.

(Lúcio is not sure about that one, actually; it could be that Jesse had been slumming it up on the streets before Lúcio met him outside of his favorite club.)

Jesse does not look like he feels out of place, though. He swaggers in with a self-certainty that makes Lúcio all tingly and dry-mouthed as he watches him, even though it has not been the first time he stepped foot into the apartment.

(But certainly the first time that the guard downstairs actually let him in without a hitch.)

“Ye’re not keepin all o’ that clean yerself, are ya?” McCree drawls. It is even more pronounced than his usual near slurring and Lúcio clenches his hands in front of his lap and wrings them a little. He feels electrified and nervous and short of breath.

He shakes his head mutely, unable to make his voice work. When McCree just blankly stares at him, he clears his throat and all but whispers: “Maid.”

Jesse whistles between slightly yellowed teeth and fishes out a cigarette from. Somewhere. Lúcio is not quite sure.

He puts it between his lips but does not light it, just rolls it from one corner of his mouth to the other while he looks around like he’s there the first time all over and he hasn’t been getting paid by Lúcio to fuck him into an incoherent mess a few times now.

“Figured. Rich guy like you...,” he comments. His voice is doing things to Lúcio. Things that make him feel all… young and… naughty. He’s a grown man, but next to McCree he feels like a schoolboy. One that is going to be put across the Principal’s desk and is going to get his little ass spanked warm.

God, he wants that. He wants that badly.

McCree is staring at him shrewdly. He looks like he wants to start chewing on the cigarette; like he is used so something more substantial and sturdy, and Lúcio makes a mental note to offer him some cigars next time. Jesse taking care of him while puffing on a cigar is making his mouth run dry.

“Ya look like ya thinkin’ of somethin’ naughty,” Jesse drawls. His long legs are eating up the space between them easily and Lúcio watches him advance helplessly. He has not an ounce of survival instinct in him.

He can smell McCree long before he steps into his personal space; he probably hasn’t properly washed in a long time. Lúcio’s cock dribbles against the inside of his underwear at the thought of stuffing his face into Jesse’s furry, smelly armpit.

He never has dirty things; other than when he has McCree, that is.

“I think I know what to do with dirty boys like you,” Jesse croons. His drawl is less pronounced all of a sudden as he bears down on Lúcio just to let him feel how much shorter he is. Lúcio grabs the hem of his tanktop and twists it tightly between his fists.

He wants to deny… anything… everything. He’s fundamentally a good boy. He just wants to have people happy and make them feel good and have a blast at his concerts. But he can only silently gape at McCree as his belly is doing a slow, delicious flip.

McCree grins like he knows what he’s doing to the famous DJ. He moves like he is the president of the world; like it is his right to be here, smelly and unwashed and foulmouthed as he is.

He lifts a hand and Lúcio winces as if expecting a hit, but all that he gets are two blunt fingertips slowly scratching beneath his chin.

When Jesse swaggers out of the open living room and down the hallway, Lúcio follows like a lovesick puppy. He feels sick with excitement when instead of making his way into Lúcio’s bedroom, he turns and opens the door to the spacious bathroom. Large, with a nice big corner tub and a shower without walls.

McCree grins at him and grabs him by the wrist. Lúcio helplessly follows.

.o.

Jesse can’t believe his luck, to be quite frank. A few weeks ago he had been barely making the rent with a few odd jobs and now he is in a designer apartment and fucking the cute twink that he’s only ever heard in the radio and read about on the front page of some magazines.

Lúcio is sweet and sensitive, and Jesse is shocked how easily he has trusted and let him into his expensive home. Maybe the kid is having daddy issues. In any case, he is glad that he’s been the one stumbling across him and not some weirdo who would harm the boy.

So instead, Lúcio has a smelly weirdo that fucks him in the shower; has him on his knees and teach him with more or less patience to open up his throat so he can pop his mushroom head past the tight glottal clench again and again and listen to him gag wet and beautiful on him.

His jaw aches with the need to chew on something, but the cigarette had to leave the moment the water turned on. Lúcio is on his knees before him and trying to keep looking at Jesse like some sweet teen that is looking for a reaction, but the water keeps making him squint weirdly. Jesse braces himself with one hand against the shower wall and uses the other to try and shield Lúcio’s eyes from the water.

Lúcio hums around his cock like he wants to thank him, the sweet kid. He even grins around the wide stretch of Jesse’s big dick and god, he’s so cute.

“There ya go… good boy… sucking daddy’s dick like a pro,” he croons, and Lúcio goes a bit cross-eyed.

He tries to pull back, looking shocked, but Jesse doesn’t feel any remorse, and he knows the kid is about to forget about that one pretty soon. His hips follow Lúcio’s motions, keeping the fat tip nestled against the wet cushion of his tongue. He feels just the edge of teeth for a moment before Lúcio seems to get a grip on himself and opens up a bit wider again.

“Damn stellar, baby boy,” Jesse croons at him, stepping closer and a bit closer still. He all but cages him in against the wall while the water drums down on his broad back. Like this, he doesn’t have to keep it out of Lúcio’s eyes anymore and can instead curl his palm around the back of Lúcio’s head.

Keeping him nice and close. Not letting him get away.

He pulls away slightly until only the tip of his cock is resting on the young man’s tongue. He stares down at him; how glassy Lúcio’s eyes have gotten. How perfect he looks; put together and groomed and decorated with intricate, well-made tattoos. He is a rich boy that likes a bit of rough, and Jesse doesn’t know how he deserves him.

(He doesn’t, probably; but Lúcio has yet to realize that he is way out of Jesse’s league and that he could get all his nasties from a lot better professionals).

“Nice an’ relaxed now. Try not to spill anythin’,” Jesse croons. He sees the confused twitch of Lúcio’s eyebrows and has a moment of difficulty even getting it started because knowing that he’s going to piss down this wealthy young man’s throat is almost too much.

When he finally does relax his bladder and the first dribbles are starting, Lúcio doesn’t even react. He probably can’t compute what is happening until Jesse gets a good flow going.

Of course the kid tries to pull away at first, shock and disgust warring on his face, but Jesse doesn’t let him go, and Lúcio also isn’t biting him.

“There you go,” Jesse croons. “Drink it up you nasty little boy… You love it when daddy messes you up, don’t you? You love how stinky and disgusting daddy is… want me to fuck you up, don’t you? Need me to be mean to you? Should probably rape your throat instead of showing you nice and gentle how to do it… but ye’re so cute. Such a sweet little soul. Couldn’t harm a hair on your pretty head… fuck… fuck look at you… fuck.”

Lúcio is staring at him glassy eyed. He looks like a stupid little fuck doll and Jesse would nut if he weren’t pissing still, his bladder having been painfully full of beer. And then Lúcio even gurgles with it; pulls his head back and shows Jesse the pool of piss in his mouth while Jesse is letting it run down his chin and the front of his chest.

Lúcio’s plump nipples right there for the taking, pierced through with barbells to help the tips out of the pudgy areolas, and Jesse directs his cock to piss right against one of them while Lúcio makes a show of slowly swallowing the warm mouth full of piss; like he’s an absolute pro at it and hasn’t been force fed by Jesse.

God, this boy. This perfect, angelic little slut.

How fortunate that Lúcio is not getting exploited by a nasty man. 

Comments

Anonymous

lays down and sobs at the beauty of it all