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“It’s really not that big though, is it?” “Fuck off, it’s—““Language.”Jack glares at him, pretending like Lucius hasn’t noticed how flushed he is, how dilated his eyes are. “My dick ain’t small.” Lucius makes a noise, one of those hums that sounds sincere but Jack’s come to understand really means, that’s cute, not convinced.
He can see the press of Lucius' tongue as he runs it along his teeth, pokes it into the pocket of his cheek. For better or worse, Jack's still staring at Lucius’ mouth when he opens it to apologetically tell him, “Think I’m going to have to measure it.”He kicks Jack’s discarded trousers and briefs from where they’ve been left in a pile at his feet before he drops down onto his heels, and fuck, if the way he’s peering at Jack’s cock like he can’t see it without his readers doesn’t have his balls drawing up. A moment passes. Then Lucius clicks his tongue and asks, “How big do you think you are?” “Seven inches,” Jack rasps. “Yeah,” Lucius says slowly, mouth a tight little moue of false contrition. “I just don’t think that’s right.” He ignores the way Jack’s straining cock twitches in the open air, ignores how his pre is leaking in long, slow drips. Lucius cups his balls in his left hand, pulls them upwards towards the shaft of his cock as he cups that, too. Jack hisses as Lucius squeezes his handful, angles his cock upwards and inspects it. “See,” he says, bringing his right hand up alongside Jack’s cock. He sits his pointer finger where Jack’s balls are stretched up to the middle of his shaft. “You’re not even bigger than my finger, Jack.”“You’re fuckin’ doing it all wrong,” Jack says, and he wants to sound commanding, wants to show Lucius a thing or two, split him open and drill into him until he’s blubbering and whining and begging, but with just his hands and a pitiful look, Lucius is the one who’s got him sounding like a little bitch. He gives Jack another look, squeezes his palm around Jack’s balls and the root of his cock, gets another dribble of pre out of him for his troubles. “I’m really not, sorry. It’s hard for a lot of men to hear that their cocks just aren’t all that special.” No. No . His cock is special, fuck sakes. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you had it in your ass,” Jack spits.Lucius just laughs, high-pitched and hollow. “Don’t even know if I would feel it, to be honest with you.” Fuck. Fuck. Jack throws his head back, stares up at the ceiling, takes a breath. Then he looks back down at Lucius, in his shiny latex skirt and his slutty heels with his pretty eye make up. Jack licks his lip, sucks in a shaky breath. “Let me—let me prove it to you. Let me prove my dick is special.” “I don’t know,” Lucius says, unconvinced. He smacks his lips, eyebrows furrowed. “Not really sure you’ve earned it, to be honest.” Jack swallows. “What do I have to do?”Lucius hums. He frees Jack’s dick from his clutch, and Jack doesn’t know if he’s thankful or mournful. “What’s your stroke game like?” “Pretty—pretty good?” He wishes Lucius’d tied hands up before they started, wishes they were bound at his back, because having them down by his sides and allowed to do sweet fuck all is some other level of psychological fuckin’ torture Jack never even knew about. “It’s good. I’m good. I can last ages.” Lucius’ bored eyes light up then, his interest renewed. "Really?" he breathes. Ah, fuck. He’s put his foot in it now, hasn’t he. “Yeah,” Jack tells Lucius, tells himself. “Don’t need a cockring or nothin’.” “Well, then,” Lucius says, settling on his knees and looking up at Jack like Jack’s in on the joke and shit, shit, look away, don’t look at him, he’s a professional fucking cocktease and if Jack keeps looking at him— “I’d love to see this.” He makes a ring with his thumb and pointer finger. Tilts his head to the side and frowns and looks at Jack’s leaking cock and shakes to himself no; curls his fingers a little tighter, makes the ring smaller. “Here you go,” Lucius says, holding his hand just in front of Jack’s cock. “Show me how you use your cock.” Jack opens his mouth. Closes it. No use in bitching that his cock is thicker than the hole Lucius is giving him; he’ll find out soon enough anyways, when Jack’s cock is bullying his thumb out of the way. Only when Jack smirks and thrusts his hips, Lucius’ pulls his hand back, just out of reach. “What—” Jack mutters. Lucius’ hand resumes its starting position. Jack grits his teeth. Thrusts. It’s like Lucius can anticipate it all: The angle, the depth, the speed, because he times it perfectly. The head of Jack’s cock is purple with strain and shiny with precome and barely grazes Lucius’ knuckle as he quickly draws his hand back, just out of Jack’s reach. “Aw,” Lucius says, grin splitting his pretty face. “Keep trying, daddy.” “Stay fuckin’ still then,” Jack pants, sweat pearling at his brow in a feeble effort to keep it together, because his heartbeat’s already in his dick and Lucius hasn’t even touched him yet, let alone bent over for him. Lucius just scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stares up at Jack, at his furrowed brow and the latch he’s got on his bottom lip. Jack ignores the weight of his hot gaze as he focuses everything he’s got on thrusting forwards again, hard and sharp and hopefully fast enough that he’ll win a little bit of friction. He doesn’t, though. Dumb of him to think that he could. Lucius’ hand skitters just out of reach, his neat nails glittering. “See where I’m holding my hand?” Lucius asks soothingly. Jack nods. “This is about the length of an average penis when erect.” Jack whines. “And you couldn’t hardly touch my fingers, could you?” Jack scrunches his eyes shut. Shakes his head once. “So what do you think that means?” Jack reckons if he thinks about it too long he’s just going to start shooting off like this, he’s that hard. His throat is bone dry, the words rough and wicked, when he manages to admit, “Means my dick is small.” “Pardon?” Lucius asks patiently, rubbing up and down Jack’s thigh slowly. Jack groans, teeth grit like he’s trying to turn them into diamonds. “My dick is small.” Lucius nods sagely. “I bet it feels so good to admit that, doesn’t it? Like a weight off your shoulders. You don’t have to lie to your hookups anymore.” Lucius laughs to himself, at Jack. “I mean, if anyone would even fuck you.” It’s all just part of the play, because they both know Jack has a pretty active sex life. The amount of times Jack’s caught Lucius watching him and whoever he’s got an arm around excusing themselves early from a munch, or hurrying out into the night after playing and doing everything but fucking in the dungeon, has to be in the dozens. Hell, they’ve been doing this little routine together, just in Lucius’ apartment after work, for a while now. Still hasn’t gotten old yet. Lucius’ fingers dance up to the tails of his button down shirt, the only thing Jack’s still wearing. Skim across his belly, nails scratching in the fuzz beneath his navel. Jack knows what comes next—swallowing his pride to get that far though is still a battle, no matter how much practice he’s had. “Would you,” he gets out shakily. Lucius hums, his nails dragging over his pubic bone, tugging through the coarse hairs tangled at the root of his cock. “Would you let me fuck you?” “What?” Lucius laughs, eyes glinting. “Please,” Jack begs. “I know it—I know I’m small, but I can try and make it good, can suck you off first, or—” “Jack,” Lucius sighs, and then he chuckles. “You really wanna embarrass yourself further?” Double edged sword, that: What Jack really wants is to come, to come hard and to come fast and preferably in the next two minutes because that’s as long as he thinks he can take this. Lucius’ fingernails scritch through his pubic hair, against the root of his cock and up and up, all the way up the shaft to the tip. Jack’s breathing’s gone to shit but he moans as the rounded edge of Lucius’ nail circles the raised edge of his glans, the pad of his finger finding a gentle rhythm rubbing over and over against his frenulum. “Please, Lucius,” Jack manages. His hand shakes as he unclenches it from his side and gently brings it to the back of Lucius’ head. “Y’can do whatever else to me afterwards, I just wanna—inside.” “You want to come inside me?” Jack’s cock throbs where it rests in Lucius’ feather-light touch. “Oh,” Lucius laughs. “I felt that. God, you’re really worked up, aren’t you, daddy? Well, I’m mean, but I’m not cruel.” Yes, fuck, finally. Lucius makes a show of standing, walking across his apartment to his bedroom and leaving the door open. Jack doesn’t even bother ripping his shirt the rest of the way off or toeing out of his shoes: he’s a bee to the flower, and fuck, it’s a pretty one. Lucius is already lying down on the bed, on his belly, a pillow propped under his chest. He shoots a glance over his shoulder as Jack scrambles into the room and onto the bed, shimmy his way closer on his knees. “Condom?” Jack tries. Lucius assesses him, tells him, "Don't bother." His brows pinch in pity as he watches Jack for another moment before turning back. There’s a bottle of lube in the folds of the duvet and Jack hastily uncaps it, pours it onto his fingertips and flips Lucius’ skirt up. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and with one hand Jack squeezes his arse, kneads at it a little. Lucius sighs. He’s already stretched out nicely when Jack sinks a finger inside him, but he said he would try and he damn well meant it, so Jack quickly adds another and works them deep, curls them and searches and hits his mark. He knows because Lucius’ thighs clench just as his hole does, but that’s all he gives him. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna do it now,” Jack says, watching to see if Lucius might turn back. "That good?"He doesn’t. Jack wonders if he’s even going to acknowledge him at all when Lucius eventually says, “You give it your best try, okay?” Jack strips his cock twice with his lubed up hand, and then he’s spreading Lucius’ cheeks, shuffling forwards. Regardless to what the humiliation Lucius dishes out to him on the regular like it’s a five Michelin star fucking meal suggests, Jack knows Lucius knows he's big, and when the slick head of his cock catches and pushes inside, Jack hisses through his teeth for the feeling and for the subtle way Lucius tries to pretend he’s unaffected. He feeds him his cock, inch by inch, moaning loosely when his hips press flush to Lucius’ arse. He watches the line of Lucius’ shoulders, watches how it soothes and straightens—how his left arm reaches for something in the duvet. “Is it in?” Lucius asks, saccharine and mean. “Y-yeah,” Jack mumbles, eyes clenched shut as he battles to keep it together. Lucius shifts his hips back though, grinds his arse against Jack and against the mattress, and Jack scrambles to hold his waist. “Wait, wait, Luci, just hold your horses—” “I’m just helping,” Lucius says, and Jack knows he’s rolling his eyes even if he can’t see him do it. “You need all the help you can get, daddy.” “I know, I know, and I’m grateful, but—”He chokes on his words when Lucius just sighs again. Then Jack hears the click of his phone unlocking. He opens his eyes and looks over the relaxed line of Lucius’ shoulder, sees him thumbing out a text to someone. “Fuck,” Jack moans, hips stuttering forwards. “What’s wrong?” Lucius asks blithely, his hole clenching around Jack’s cock steadily, the glow of his phone screen doing something to Jack’s brain that has his balls drawing up tight. “You don’t mind if I get some things done, right?” God, god. Jack thrusts against him, once, twice, hardly pulling out at all as his prick betrays him and starts to pulse, starts to come. Nothing will stop it, it’s happening now, so Jack shuts his eyes and lets his orgasm wash through him, keels forwards and wails out a moan that has Lucius laughing. “Oh, really?” Lucius asks, somehow sounding impatient and tired and unsurprised, all at once. “Did you actually just—?”“God fuckin’ damn it,” Jack mutters miserably.“Oh, baby, did you even try?” “Yes. No. God, you feel fuckin’ amazing.” “I know,” Lucius says, shooting a real pleased little look over his shoulder at Jack and wiggling his hips. It has another frisson of electricity chasing up the root of his cock to his insides, and Jack tries to laugh weakly, but it comes out more as a breathless moan that he’s sure Lucius doesn’t miss.His skin’s still tingling as he withdraws slowly, flops down on Lucius’ bed beside him. “Fuckin’ hell,” Jack wheezes. “Better than you expected?” Lucius asks slyly. “Fuck yeah, that was amazing.” “Cute,” Lucius says, rolling onto his back. He’s still tapping away on his phone. Jack lolls his head to the side as he catches his breath. He watches him for a quiet moment, the screen’s light catching in the smoky glitter on his eyelids. “Who’re you texting?” “Izzy. He asked if I’m going to be scening on Saturday night.” Lucius types something else, and Jack watches as a different coloured text bubble pushes up into the chat. “Told him about your little kink.” Jack throws his forearm over his eyes, groans. “You didn’t.” “Don’t worry, he’s into that.”Oh. Interesting. Jack peeks at him beneath his arm. “Don’t go getting any ideas,” Lucius warns, shoving his phone under the pillow and crawling over to Jack. “You said I could do whatever I wanted to you, right? You wouldn’t go back on that now, would you, daddy.” Lucius’ fingers trail through his chest hairs, his nail flicking Jack’s hard nipple. Jack swallows. “Nah.” Lucius arches an eyebrow, digs his nail in. “No,” Jack tries again, his breath trapped where Lucius is touching him. “No, wouldn’t dream of it.” “Good.” Lucius grins. He reaches behind himself, and Jack doesn’t need to see to know what he’s doing. He licks his lips, keeps them parted for the next bit, as Lucius says, “Because you made an awful mess that I think you ought to help me out with."